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One of those crazy teen blogger types. Completely bribe-able with coffee. An INTP.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Time Machine Hugs

There are times I hear a story about someone from history and think, "God, I wish I could just travel back in time and hug them." Not in a congratulatory way, but in a consoling way. These are people who had no idea just what an inspiration they are, hundreds of years later.

  • Copernicus He was so afraid of offending the church with his work On the Rotations of Heavenly Bodies- which challenged the traditional, church-endorsed geocentric (Earth-centered) view of the universe and replaced it with a still-technically-incorrect heliocentric (sun-centered) view- that he didn't publish until he'd grown quite old. And even when he published it, he had it dedicated to the Pope. He died about a year afterwards.
    The hug? I'd hug him and find a way of telling him not to worry, that he's been right all along, and that eventually the church is going to give in and acknowledge his genius for just that: genius.

  • Galileo Another guy who just had no idea, bruh. This guy was locked away- by the Catholics, of course- and forced to recant his support of Copernicus's heliocentric view. He did for the telescope what Gutenberg did for the printing press; that is to say, he may not have invented it, but he sure as hell improved upon it. He was so incredibly frustrated by the fact that his peers swallowed the information fed to them and made no move to challenge the church's claims about the nature of the universe.
    The hug? I'd hug him and tell him what an absolute boss he is, and how in the not-very-distant, relatively, future, scientists gladly butt heads with the church and challenge everything. And, if I could, I'd download a couple Carl Sagan videos ahead of time and find a way to translate them so he could understand.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011


Someone- though I certainly have no idea who- once said, "Love is giving someone the power to destroy you, but trusting them not to."

I've never given someone in whom I was romantically interested that level of trust. If things didn't work out, I didn't want to be left with a broken heart. And, invariably, things wouldn't work out (generally with me being the one to end things).

So when I got past that one-month mark in my current relationship without having qualms about the relationship or contemplating dumping him or anything of the sort, it struck something in me. For about a week, I distanced myself from the world while I considered the situation. I wasn't finding myself fantasizing about future relationships, I didn't find everything he did irritating, none of that.

I'd previously come to the conclusion that because my biological dad and my mother separated when I was two (and I haven't seen him face-to-face since), and then my mother and the man who raised me separated when I was thirteen, and then later my mother and her fiance broke things off, I have a bit of a commitment issue. I'm always looking forward, at the end, at what is going to wrong and fuck things up to permanently end the relationship. Because with every other guy, I'd caught myself doing that (if I hadn't already lost interest).

But with this guy... instead of picturing us fighting when it's time to go off to college, I picture us discussing things, and going to colleges near each other. He acts like we're going to be together forever- get married, have kids, the whole spiel- and it doesn't bother me like it always did with everyone else.

Saturday, December 3, 2011

My "Type" (or: Why I'm Dating My Boyfriend)

My "type" has apparently undergone a drastic change. If, six months ago, you had described my current boyfriend (of three weeks so far) and asked if I'd date someone like that, I probably would have given an emphatic, "Hell no."

He smokes. He failed Biology. He isn't taking any AP classes. He used to be quite the right-winger.* He sometimes often mixes up "your" and "you're." He was Church of Christ for the longest time.**

But you know what? We've known each other for years, and have been good friends for a couple of those. A few months ago, I was going through some rough emotional times (including things that I posted on this blog and things that I couldn't quite put into written words) and he was the first one I thought to call, crying, when I needed it. He and I can talk for hours at a time on the phone. He can make me laugh when I'm feeling like shit. We have the same sense of humor. He knows that occasionally I need a bit of space.

Outwardly, we're very different. But if you look a little bit further inside, I think we match pretty well.

*He recently stated that he would totally marry Jon Stewart. So there's that.

**Now he's a very tolerant agnostic, probably agnostic theist if he had to choose, who frequently jokes about gay sex, Jesus, gay sex with Jesus, and everything else my friends and I are going to Hell for joking about.

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Refusing to Pledge: an Incredibly Brief, Largely Copy-and-Pasted Legal History

In 2006, in the Florida case Frazier v. Alexandre, 434 F.Supp.2d 1350 (S.D. Fla. May 31, 2006), a federal district court in Florida ruled that a 1942 state law requiring students to stand and recite the Pledge of Allegiance violates the First and Fourteenth Amendments of the U.S. Constitution. As a result of that decision, a Florida school district was ordered to pay $32,500 to a student who chose not to say the pledge and was ridiculed and called "unpatriotic" by a teacher.

West Virginia State Board of Education v. Barnette, 319 U.S. 624 (1943), is a decision by the Supreme Court of the United States that held that the Free Speech Clause of the First Amendment to the United States Constitution protected students from being forced to salute the American flag and say the Pledge of Allegiance in school.

In West Virginia State Board of Education v. Barnette, 1943, 319 U.S. 624, 63 S.Ct. 1178, 87 L.Ed. 1628, the Supreme Court, overruling Minersville School District v. Gobitis, 1940, 310 U.S. 586, 60 S.Ct. 1010, 84 L.Ed. 1375, held that a West Virginia State Board of Education resolution which required children, as a prerequisite to their continued attendance at public school, to salute the flag and recite the pledge, wasunconstitutional as applied to children of Jehovah's Witnesses since it denied them freedom of speech and freedom of worship. In rejecting the resolution the court held that the state could not "prescribe what shall be orthodox in politics, nationalism, religion, or other matters of opinion," nor can the state "force citizens to confess by word or act their faith therein." The majority (it was a 6-3 vote) found that the freedom asserted to refuse to participate in the flag salute did not interfere with or deny the rights of others to participate.

The standards established in Barnette have been expanded and clarified by subsequent lower court rulings. The Maryland Supreme Court invalidated a requirement that students objecting to the flag salute stand while the rest of the class recited the Pledge of Allegiance. See State v. Lundquist, 278 A. 2d 263 (1971). In 1973, the Second Circuit Court of Appeals ordered a school to allow a student to remain quietly seated during the flag salute. See Goetz v. Ansell, 477 F.2d 636 (2d. Cir. 1973).

In 2002, Section 171.021, RSMo (Missouri Revised Statutes) was amended to state that "every school in this state which is supported in whole or in part by public moneys shall ensure that the Pledge of Allegiance to the flag of the United States of America is recited in at least one scheduled class of every pupil enrolled in that school no less often than once per week. No student shall be required to recite the Pledge of Allegiance."

I want to print these out on a single sheet of paper and carry them with me so that next time my theater teacher- or anyone else, for that bloody matter- tells me I have to stand during the Pledge I can refuse, then hand her the paper.

None of these cases are in a court in my state, but I think the general message is pretty clear.

Saturday, November 12, 2011

I Got a New Phone

Holy poop. I have a Droid now. LG Marquee, to be specific. Only bad part is typing on touch screen, but I'm sure I'll get over it.

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

My Grades Have Gone to Hell

I made an 81 (an 80.8, really) on the first part of a test in Chemistry, and a 67 (a 66.666...) on the second part. I'm missing lots of assignments for this quarter in Spanish 3. Edit: "Lots" being relative. The way our grading system works, you average the first and second quarter together to get the semester grade. Both quarters are fifty percent of your semester grade. I'm missing one of very few assignments and made a terrible grade on another this quarter, so it's a very low grade (a D!) being averaged with my B from quarter one to get my shitty-ass semester grade.

Only three people in Chemistry passed the first part of that test. You'd think the teacher would realize that if only three of twenty-something people pass an examination, it may not be us. It may be his sorry ass. And that maybe he should really get his lazy-ass self into fucking gear and do some legitimate motherfucking teaching. Maybe even engage us students. Fuck him. He can suck a dick.

It would seem he has yet to put those grades in. Or maybe he has, and my extra credit from last semester is just really kicking ass. Edit: Logic! He hasn't put them in yet. There's not a terrible grade under Q2.

Here's a snapshot from the online grades system:

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

I Loathe Picture Day

I hate picture day with a fiery passion.

It's mostly with vanity in mind: I can't stand having a picture of myself I can't get rid of. I hate pictures of myself. I look terrible. I'm the least photogenic person one could ever possibly meet. It's just bad. With most pictures of me (taken by friends, family, or myself), I get a say in whether a photo is shown off or placed somewhere.

Not so in this case. This gets put in the yearbook, and if it looks terrible, you get one chance to make it up- and even if the second picture makes the horrible first photo look like a work of art, they'll still just put the second one in the yearbook.

No control, and I look like shit no matter what.

I loathe picture day.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Junior Year Sucks Major Dick.

Just saying.

This blog is called [[insert complaining here]] for a reason. And a damn good 'un at that. I complain. Profusely. Here we go. If I type this quickly enough, I can get back to Facebook-stalking the shit out of my latest male interest and still have time to make and use my damn flash cards.

At the same time that my school switched from a block schedule (four classes per semester, ninety minutes each a day, for a total of eight per year) to a, I dunno, regular high school schedule (seven classes a year, forty-five minutes each a day, the same classes all semester), I switched from taking regular old "smart people" classes to taking goddamn college-level classes. Fuckin' bullshit.

I'm now dealing with AP Calculus AB (not too terrible, probably my favorite subject overall), AP English 3 (not terrible in and of itself, but the workload can be irritating and I honestly don't give a flying fuck about symbolism or whatever the fuck and am of the opinion that most of it is utter bullshit), AP US History (which has potential for being mildly interesting if it weren't for the son of a bitch who teaches it), AP European History (tolerable, if only because the teacher is awesome), Spanish 3 (much more of a bitch than Spanish 1 and 2, which I really should have expected), Theater 2 (my easy class... for now; I think later this year when we do the show/production/play/whatever the hell my teacher is calling it today, I'll just have a breakdown), and Chemistry (I only slightly tolerate science- and even that is only for the cool shit- and this class is all the worse because, as a state-required class, it is super-easy and incredibly tedious; at least the teacher likes me).

That said, I'm just in a terrible mood today, so you probably shouldn't take any of that ranting at face value. I've been feeling like shit all day. All fragile and sickly and whatever the fuck.

I'm just going to get offline and make some flash cards now. I hope you have fun doing whatever non-AP fun shit you're doing. Fucker.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Where the Mind Wanders, the Heart There Lies

I read something (okay, it was a picture that popped up while I was using StumbleUpon) recently that said that if you wanted to know where the heart lies, you must look where your mind wanders.

It certainly makes me question what exactly the fuck is wrong with my heart and mind.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Dig Dug and Other Such Discouraging Activities

Well, I may kick ass at Bosconian, but I suck ass at Dig Dug. Really. My legitimate highest score today was 1850. I always either kill myself (fuck going backwards, fuck those red cars, fuck that entire game) or those homicidal/suicidal/maniacal red cars fucking kill me (fuck those guys).

Also, what the hell are the brown things in the track? Is it mud? Is it a hole? Is it a muddy hole? What the hell kind of track am I on that they can't do some proper fucking upkeep? Honestly.

Also, I have a Tumblr now. It's one of those other discouraging activities. It's not really very interesting (mine, I mean, not Tumblr in general). Hurr's a link if you want.

Luna is a tag/label for this post because I'm currently located at the home of my friend, who I have christened Luna.

Monday, September 19, 2011

Poems: you are pretty

Poems: you are pretty: I have looked at the sky a whole whole lot I have felt of the sunshine too. but never have I ever looked at or felt anything as pretty as ...

I Want a Love Story

I want a love story. I want that falling feeling, the crash of lips and the fingers in the hair.

I want a love story. I want staying up late in each others' arms just because.

I want a love story. I want coffee and pizza at three in the morning and you.

But you're fictional.

Saturday, September 17, 2011

Photo Recovery (Not Quite a) Fiasco

My grandmother was moaning about how she'd lost all the pictures on her camera. "Oh, I've probably deleted them all. I'm so stupid!" Never-ending. So I go to Google.

Back up about a week, and you'd see Nama (our nickname for my grandmother; it comes from my brothers being incapable of pronouncing Gramma when they were little) snapping pictures of the ocean on her vacation, then running out of room. So she bought an SD card, popped that sucker in, done!

Back to now: "I got all the pictures off the SD card, but not off the camera itself. They won't show up."

I download VaioSoft Recover Manager, an absolutely wonderful little program. Worked like a charm, and in, like, less than thirty seconds, I had ten pictures sitting on her desktop. Unfortunately, these were not the pictures she was looking for. I ran VSRM again. It only found the same pictures. I banged my head against the desk, and then-

"Wait, can you save pictures on an adapter?"

I have a strong mental image of my laptop's AC adapter and feel the urge to kick a baby. Fortunately, I manage to downgrade my frustration to, "Uhm, what?"

"Yeah, I pulled out this little thing when I was putting in the SD card, and it said 'ADAPTER' on it."

I go to Google again. I begin to have a hunch. I go to Google Images and point to a certain picture. "Did it look like that?"


"Exactly like that, or only similar?"


This is that picture. You have to click it, because I'm not explaining the joke here. If you don't understand it, click here for information.

My goodness. When I go home (I'm at the office at this very moment, really shouldn't be blogging), I'm going to retrieve the photos from her MicroSD card.

Thank God they worship me for such sorcery instead of crying out, "Burn the witch! Burn her!" (I've been reading a lot about the Puritans lately. So sue me.)

Saturday, September 10, 2011

Fuck Unhappy People

Note: I wrote this yesterday but could not post it until today due to a retarded router.

It pisses me off to see people in what should be perfect relationships bitching and making a huge deal out of every little thing. It's just incredibly rage-inducing. Today at lunch, we were making sex jokes galore. (So, business as usual.) We have a game we play called the Word Association Game. One person says a word and then we go in a circle saying the first word that comes to mind. Example:

Person 1: “Fun.”
Person 2: “Playground.”
Person 3: “Roleplaying?”
Person 4: “Kinky.”

Anyways, Xeno laughed at a joke that was made about him and another guy friend of mine having anal sex (which, for the record, is almost certainly only a joke and in no way true). His girlfriend- a good friend of mine for ages- got super pissed off and for whatever reason he had to apologize. I do not understand this at all. She makes jokes just like the rest of us, and it's certainly not the first anal sex joke we've ever told about Xeno. He finds them amusing (or, at least, he laughs at them).

Eventually, Xeno laughed at another joke- God forbid someone find something using the word “boobies” amusing!- and he got in trouble with her (who I will now be calling Penelope) again. This time he didn't apologize. It was fucking stupid of her to both a) get angry with him for laughing- fucking asshat, he was laughing more at the facts that our friend had chosen the word “boobies” over “breasts” and that this word had been associated with “crayons” than any real demeaning joke- and b) expect him to apologize. So she got pissed (imagine that! If you knew her, you'd be the exact opposite of surprised) and stormed off to go sit with her back against the wall a few feet away. Of course, she was positioned right within Xeno's line of sight and pretty much out of everyone else's. He said nothing, and the table continued the game sans Penelope, not even acknowledging her departure. She coughed. We continued the game. She said something along the lines of, “Thanks, guys.” I don't know if the rest heard her, but I ignored her, as I felt that she was being very ridiculous overall and I know myself well enough to be certain that if I spoke to her, I'd go off and she'd get pissed at me. It shouldn't have mattered, though; she's pissed at me 90% of the time anyways. God knows why. Apparently I'm just a terribly abrasive person.

Gahh, fuck people who can't just be happy. I wish everyone around me would just smile and laugh and not be so fucking uptight and needy and clingy and demented.

Monday, September 5, 2011

Grargh, Boys

I don't want to go on a date with Kirby. At all. I don't want to hold his hand, and I don't want to kiss him.

My brain is one crazay bish.

I just want to toss Kirby to the side and ask out Mr. President, but I... don't want to. And I think I just now figured out why.

What happens when I get a date with someone, or at least get to the point where I know they really like me? I stop liking them.

I think I just really want to keep liking Jacob, and subconsciously I believe that if I get him on a date, I'll stop liking him. Well, more like consciously believe. 'Cause it's true.

Anyways, yeah. Grargh, boys.
Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Scream: Mary Surratt Edition

Mary Surratt. You've probably heard her name before. She was the first woman to hang in the United States. She was convicted of conspiracy to murder Abraham Lincoln. Bad person, yes?

Except her *military* trial was rigged. Basic rights were grossly denied her. She shouldn't have even had a damn military trial, she should have had a civil trial with a jury of her peers, not a bunch of generals- good friends of Lincoln, angrily grieving their loss.

Still, she was just a bad person who just got the harsh treatment she deserved, right?

Her attorney, Mr. Aiken, asked a DC court for a writ of habeus corpus with the argument that the military tribunal had no jurisdiction over his client. The writ was issued at 3 AM. President Johnson cancelled the writ at 11:30 AM. She was walked out to hang at 1:15 PM. From the scaffold, one of the others set to hang (Powell) said, "Mrs. Surratt is innocent. She doesn't deserve to die with the rest of us." She complained that the bindings about her arms hurt, and the officer preparing her said, "Well, it won't hurt long."

Bitches be bitches.

Why do we not learn of occasions such as this in history class? Is it because that may spoil our allegiance to the flag? We are being indoctrinated into the national cult, the history of which we are not even fully aware.

Please, take your time to learn a little about the hell some have gone through at the expense of liberty before you go around declaring America to be the greatest country in existence.

Monday, August 29, 2011

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Not In Outer Space

I had a moment the other day during AP English. Not a normal moment, a special one. I had a realization.

What are the two biggest opposites humans know of? The distinction we can all agree on? Night and day. All of humanity, for as long as we've been around, have known of the Night and the Day.

But there's no night and day in outer space.

If our biggest distinction doesn't hold any weight in the vast majority of the universe, why the hell should it matter if you're black or white or Asian? Or gay or straight or bi? Or a Democrat or Republican or libertarian or anything else?

It doesn't.

P.S. I drew a picture I really like that goes along with this idea. If I can find a scanner, I'll upload it.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

I'm Completely Full of Shit.

Honestly, I am. And I never really know what's going on in my head, it seems.

The past few weeks, I've been completely pro-President and, uh, con-Kirby? Un-Kirby? Anti-Kirby? Anti-Kirby, that's it. Decidedly anti-Kirby. But then, as I was going to sleep a few nights ago, I muttered, "Let me dream about the guy I need to be with. Dreamdreamdreamcupcakes..." and fell asleep. I do not remember my dreams from that night, but the next night, I had a very distinct dream involving Kirby. (Not a sex dream, just a cute little "Awh, how adorable" dream. Pervs.)

And when I woke up, I felt all warm and fuzzy.

And when I got to school, I felt all warm and fuzzy.

And when we worked together in theater, I felt all warm and fuzzy.

And when Mr. President asked me for help in calculus, interaction that only two weeks ago I would have thrived on? I didn't really feel all that warm and fuzzy. More like... laminate. I helped him with the equations and went back to my own work.

My brain confuses me.

But you know what? Today was the happiest I've been in a good bit.

"I have no idea what's going on, and I'm loving every second of it."

Friday, August 19, 2011

Shitty Classes

Well played, county board of education. I'll take your shitty US History class, I'll dance your little dance.

Prepare to put up with me ripping your curriculum to utter shit.

That's right, I have a copy of Lies My Teacher Told Me lying around at home, and I'm fairly certain my textbooks is one of the ones targeted. And the teacher told us we're going to have read the whole textbook by the time we finish the class.

Get ready, HHS.
Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Suddenly, I'm Agnostic

Six months ago, I was lying on my back and staring up at the ceiling, wondering what would happen if I decided I didn't believe in God. I eventually reckoned that, despite my instincts, there would be no explosions, no Voz de Dios, not even a bunch of light getting all in my eyes. That was when I first realized that the world would not fall apart if my religious beliefs ever crumbled to bits.

For a few months, I was okay. I was forced to go to church, which I found- and still find- horrid. I was told by my step-father not to turn into an atheist.

In church, I started to see little inconsistencies in the Bible. The differences between what the different preachers taught. The bigotry and hypocrisy as well. It bothered me.

Then, I started wondering what would happen if an atheist led a good life, helped tons of people, and was generally a good person. Would they still be sentenced to an eternity of burning? My brain was starting to refuse to even try to make sense of it.

I asked for opinions on the good!Atheist subject on Facebook. I got into a discussion with a Christian (fairly laidback guy), two strong atheists (one of whom was trolling for about fifty comments, pretending to be a crazy fanatical Christian), and a newly-converted Wiccan (he's "trying it out" at the insistence of his girlfriend; in my opinion, you don't "try out" beliefs, you believe them, but that's a different story entirely).

I walked away from that conversation an agnostic theist.

Not even twenty-four hours later, and I'm a strong agnostic. I can't prove the existence of God, and neither can you. (Just don't let any of my relatives hear that this is what I think, heehee. Not kidding.)

Probably the best summary I could find is this: "I believe that it is simply not possible to ascertain whether there is a divine godlike force at the heart of the universe. The question is unanswerable."

And just a quote that works for me: "I find enough mystery in mathematics to satisfy my spiritual needs." -Tom Lehrer

Not Stressing

I would just like to make a brief post from my mobile phone (I apologize if there's a thing at the bottom saying this was sent from my BlackBerry, I haven't dug around in the settings to get rid of that because honestly I don't care 95% of the time).

There's a difference between not stressing about schoolwork because you don't care (random high dude sitting behind me in Chem) and not stressing about it because you know you're going to do fine (me). The latter group should almost never be lumped in with the former. They are generally very different souls.
Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Get the Fucking Message

I thought I had made it fairly clear to Kirby that I had lost all interest in a romantic relationship with him; apparently not.

I do wish he'd just get the fucking message.

I thought I had made it fairly clear to Mr. President that I had a fair amount of interest in a romantic relationship with him; now I'm not so confident about that.

I do wish he'd just get the fucking message.

I thought I had made it fairly clear to Bitch 1 and Bitch 2 that their insults against my clothing and remarks about my lack of popularity don't bother me; clearly not.

I do wish they'd just get the fucking message.
Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Notes to Future Boyfriend #...4?

Dear Future Boyfriend,

Argue with me. All the time. We can call it "debate" if you want. But enjoy it. Make it fun. And if anyone attacks my beliefs, even the ones you don't completely agree with, stand up for me the same way I would for you.


P.S. Sorry for ambiguous numbering, no WiFi, so I'm emailing this post in from my phone and am only half-certain this is the fourth one, and am too lazy to look it up.
Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Church and Minivans

Waiting in the church parking lot for the first service to let out so we can go inside for the second service. In a minivan. Practicing fucking Bible verses so Bitch 2 can be all churchy and wonderful and perfect.

And I got a literal half cup of coffee. Not a half of a coffee mug: a half of the cup measuring unit. After no sleep (literally, I pulled an all-nighter, which I will admit is my own stupid fault).

Clearly this is a good morning.
Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®

Notes for Future Boyfriend, #3

Dear Future Boyfriend,

I hope you're fictional-esque, by which I mean I hope you have some of the traits of my favorite fictional characters. I hope you're funny and sweet and intelligent and enjoy teasing. I hope you're not afraid to up and kiss me when you want.

Basically, I hope you're the kind of guy that if you were fictional, I'd be in your fangirl army. No pressure.


Saturday, August 6, 2011

101 in 1001

Yup, I'm jumping on the bandwagon. I have 101 specific goals that I want to complete within 1001 days. Here's my list. I'm going to add a page to this blog with my list of goals so you can check in and see which I have and have not completed, if you so wish.

This ought to be fun.

I Blame Disney, Those Bastards

My sisters are bitches. Bitch 1' s goal is for everyone to think she's better and cooler than everyone else, and Bitch 2's goal is to be popular. And I blame Disney.

Mind you, I'm not blaming the classic Disney. Nothing wrong with Cinderella or Snow White in my book. What I'm blaming is Disney Channel and the bullshit television they insist on showing. All their shows are about getting famous, being popular, trying to be "normal." The worst part is that they're directing all this nonsensical bullshit at kids around age nine. These are kids in approximately fourth grade. No wonder middle schoolers are so awful.

I think kids should watch Nick, though I think that's just due to my personal preferences. I mean, I find iCarly to be the funniest shit on television.

Friday, August 5, 2011

Notes for Future Boyfriend, #2

Dear Future Boyfriend,

When I cry, you don't really have to say anything to try and cheer me up. Just hug me and don't let go. Brownie points if you make me a cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows. Another suggestion is to make me watch a raunchy comedy film or some stand-up comedy (from the privacy of my own computer or television, of course- please don't drag me outside into the real world after I've been sobbing).


Notes for Future Boyfriend, #1

Dear Future Boyfriend,

I have an unhealthy obsession with Nutella. It’s a bit ridiculous. And oddly sexual.

Don’t judge me.


P.S. This series is completely inspired by- and this first post is completely stolen from- the tumblr Dear Future Girlfriend. It is absolutely fabulous, and I heart it. You should really check it out.

100 Day Picture Challenge

You know that ridiculous 100 Day Picture Challenge thing that's been floating around on Facebook? Well, I decided to do it... on a blog. I hope you've enjoyed this little bit of shameless self-promotion.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Addicted to One-Shots

No, this isn't some drinking game in which every round you take one shot for some arbitrary reason, though I may eventually come up with a fanfiction-related drinking game. Yeah, that's right, we're talkin' fanfiction up in here.

For those not in the know, a one-shot is a one-chapter fanfiction. They tend to either be adorable or involve a character's death, sometimes both.

Anyways, I have become addicted to writing one-shots. They're just so easy! Instead of having to type through the boring bits of lengthy multi-chapter stories, I can get out the adorable moment with minimal effort! It's not quite cocaine, but I still feel the addiction is damaging (to my writing abilities, anyways). On the other hand, I've gotten better at writing romantic moments.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

I'm Making Up Some Bullshit Now

I have a friend- more of an acquaintance, really- who happened upon my blog. Thankfully, he is not the sort of acquaintance to rip my privacy to shreds by passing around the link. Hopefully. Not that anyone would really find anything that I write here all that interesting. God knows why he bothered to read through all my posts.

Anyways, he has been bothering me to write a post about him. Actually, he calls it writing a blog about him, which is a gross misuse of the word "blog." A blog is a collection of posts. This is a post. On a blog. I will not be writing an entire blog about him, just a post.

*big sigh* Moving on. This is a post about Viper.

Viper is 7' 5" tall, and weighs 350 lbs, easily 360. He can bench press- literally- a million pounds. He has saved the world fourteen times that I am aware of, and quite probably many more that I am unaware of. Viper is, to put it frankly, a badass.

There, are you fucking happy, Hunter?

Sunday, July 31, 2011

Top 10 Things Every Parent Should Know About Teenagers

10. Our music is often the opposite of yours. It's very rare for my dad's musical tastes to line up with American Top 40. My mother has it a bit easier, fortunately.

9. We will fool ourselves into thinking we're completely and utterly in love. Don't mess with us about it; it's embarrassing and will only make us resent you. Just be supportive, please.

8. Unless we're willing to text you in school, you're not cool. Often you guys try way too hard to be cool. My dad fails. My mother wins. It's just how it works out.

7. We hate it when you bitch about us in earshot. If you have to do it, at least make sure we can't hear you. It hurts.

6. There are multiple versions of us. Not in a schizophrenic way, necessarily. I just mean that I act very differently around my parents than I do around my friends, or around my aunts and uncles, or here on my pseudo-anonymous blog. Just realize that you may not be seeing every aspect of your baby's personality.

5. Two out of a hundred parents think their little boy or girl has sexted. Thirteen in a hundred teens have done it. I'm not saying go through our texts or anything (that's a gross invasion of privacy, or what we teens like to call not fucking right), but just keep a bit of an eye out. But keep in mind that thirteen of a hundred isn't very many. Odds are, your teen not only hasn't sexted- they despise the thought of it!

4. Facebook has different privacy levels. You know how I told you that you see a different side of your teen than his or her friends do? I was being literal. Your teen can hide posts, notes, pictures- pretty much anything- from you on Facebook. Do with this information what you will. (Yes, I'm fairly sadistic, ratting out on my fellow teens like this, heehee.)

3. We like gift cards more than gifts of clothing. As much as you think you have our style down, you probably don't. Instead of buying forty dollars in clothing, give forty dollars in gift cards on the condition that whatever's bought has to get your approval (if you have a particularly sneaky teen, you may want to check the receipt as well, just to make sure you're seeing all that he our she bought!).

2. The bedroom is our safe haven. Here's a short tale for you: my father dug through my stuff. I guess he was looking for drugs or something. He then told me off for having a little jar of chocolate frosting in my dresser. I never trusted my father again. The end. Moral of the story? Don't overstep any boundaries unless you have a damn good reason to do so. Be gentle.

1. We do love you. Really, we do. It's just that we don't always like you. You're kind of irritating sometimes, you know?

Saturday, July 30, 2011

My "Perfect" Guy

I swear, this should be the last guy-central post for a while, my darlings. The one I posted about last night? Yeah, I've been thinking about it, and no. See, that's what does me in: thinking. Anyways.

To entertain myself, I've been taking these quizzes to see what my perfect guy would be like. Of course, most of them require you to have a certain amount of knowledge about him anyways in order to answer the questions. Based on the questions and my answers, he's a vague idea of my "perfect" guy. (Random aside: it's weird to think that my future husband- or husbands, if I'm anything like my mother, hehe- is out there somewhere. God knows what he's going through.)

He's definitely good with words. Witty is a good word to describe him. He's funny, for sure. Not into slapstick, much more into smart and clever humor. And sex jokes. He's not the best kisser in the world, but it's enough to make me feel alive. He's tall enough for me to at least rest my chin on his shoulder comfortably while dancing. His friends are fairly geeky, but I like them and they like me. He wouldn't abandon them to spend all his time with me; the very idea of that is sort of offensive to him, really. He's probably good at math. Sexual enough that when I make an innuendo he'll be able to shoot one right back at me, but not so overtly sexual that it's uncomfortable. Definitely someone with whom I could talk about more spiritual things. He's open-minded enough not to mind my antics, but grounded enough to know when to pull me back into the real world. One of those guys that always seems to have reading material on him, whether it's a book, a magazine, or a news article he pulled up on his phone. He can definitely make it through an issue of Wired! A bit of a ponderer, a bit of a wanderer.

That's all I care to type up or think about for now. *le yawn* So much for "vague idea," eh?

100 Facts About Me

A couple of the people I follow on Twitter have started doing this thing where they tell everyone one hundred things about themselves in one hundred tweets. As I don't have the capacity to force myself upon my followers like that, I decided to run with the concept and simply post all one hundred facts in a blog post instead.

1. I have commitment issues, but I'm working on those.
2. I seriously adore my friends. All of them.
3. I have this habit of making awkward situations even more awkward. (This was shamelessly stolen from my favorite comedian in the whole wide world [besides, of course, Dan Cummins], Mike Birbiglia.)
4. I'm proud of my ability to laugh at myself.
5. I write fanfiction.
6. I skipped a grade (I did the first semester of kindergarten, then after Christmas I did first grade).
7. My favorite color is either red or purple, but my favorite thing to see is gray. (The sky when it's about to rain, wet pavement... well, maybe just anything associated with rain.)
8. I love rainy days. Clearly.
9. I have a minor caffeine addiction that comes out to play even more so during the school year. And it fucking plays rough.
10. I pretend I'm badass sometimes.
11. I have the most awesome glasses ever.
12. I watch documentaries voluntarily.
13. I'm addicted to Harry Potter.
14. Without mascara, I feel naked.
15. I dislike pink, but just realized that my pink tights are my favorite tights, my BlackBerry is pink, and the laptop I lifted from my mother is pink.
16. I want to work at Starbucks.
17. I love strawberries.
18. And chocolate.
19. And chocolate-covered strawberries.
20. My right eyebrow is always neat, and my left always looks fucked up. No, I don't do that on purpose.
21. Coke, not Pepsi. But definitely Pepsi Max over Coke Zero.
22. My iPod Touch got stolen in the eighth grade. Fuck whoever did that.
23. I know too much.
24. I always have to predict the ending. Maybe that's the basis of my commitment issues, haha.
25. Dust irritates me.
26. I always sleep with my blanket stuck under my feet. Otherwise the monsters and/or sharks will grab me.
27. I can't have my legs outside the blanket. That demon from Paranormal Activity will take me.
28. I adore headbands!
29. I have no cleavage unless I wear my ridiculous push-up bra and cross my arms.
30. According to my Facebook, I work at Grammar Nazis. I'm the chief, because I'm that hardcore.
31. I love tennis, even though I suck at it.
32. All my friends have had this one math teacher other than me.
33. For three of my four math classes I've taken in high school, I've had the same teacher. I love Mrs. McKnight- she's a BAMF.
34. I overcame my fear of being in front of others by taking Theatre freshman year.
35. I have a mini-panic attack whenever I make a mistake.
36. I love wearing high heels and don't get uncomfortable after walking about in them.
37. I drink too much milk.
38. I'm addicted to the internet.
39. Electricity intrigues and vaguely frightens me.
40. I hate wearing eyeshadow.
41. I have absolutely no idea what I want to do with my life.
42. I love skinny jeans.
43. I love hot chocolate, and I drink it during the summer.
44. I guess I'm kind of a bitch sometimes.
45. I'm damn hilarious.
46. I like math.
47. I find stickers to be awesome.
48. I dislike the practice of smoking weed.
49. I think guys in ties and glasses are hawt.
50. I'm a vegetarian, and I ain't fuckin' scared of him.
51. I love you if you get that reference.
52. I have strange-ish taste in music.
53. I want to move to either London or Seattle.
54. I resent the fact that my mother and step-father are putting a limit on how far I can go for college (and I have to go along with it, as I won't be eighteen until the very end of my freshman year at university).
55. I lovelovelove baby carrots, especially with ranch (dipped or drizzled, I really don't care).
56. I reorganize periodically because I feel like I have to.
57. I was adopted at age eleven or twelve by the guy I called Dad, Daddy, or some variation thereof from the age of four up until fifteen. (Now I call him by his first and last name, haha.)
58. I have four siblings, four step-siblings from Mother's re-marriage, a step-brother from my dad's marriage, and a half-sister from my dad's re-marriage. Urgh.
59. I don't want to have children.
60. I wish I had a British accent.
61. I think in a British accent most days.
62. I enjoy coloring pictures.
63. I named my desktop Luke, my laptop Deb, and my calculator George.
64. I have this horrible habit of inflicting water damage upon my mobile phone.
65. I have a record player and about fifteen vinyl records (including all but one Beatles album).
66. I used to have pet chickens. Then they were destroyed by some stray dogs.
67. My first boyfriend told me he loved me after two days, and since I was so shocked I just naturally told him I loved him, too.
68. I'd rather be deaf than blind.
69. I constantly crave potatoes in some form or other- fries, mashed potatoes, hashbrowns, tater tots, chips... it doesn't really matter.
70. I can easily type over 80 wpm.
71. My mother and biological dad, Vlad, had a cat whose name was Russian for a phrase for which the approximate English translation is "Dumbshit."
72. I vaguely remember a fat white cat named Yoda that hated my mother- especially when she was pregnant with Bitch 1 and Bitch 2 at the same time- but Mother has no recollection of this.
73. I like grilled cheese, especially with ketchup or tomato soup.
74. I think Spanish is a sexy language, and I love speaking it.
75. I let the toilet paper roll off the top, not out from under..
76. I leave the shower curtain open.
77. I leave the toilet lid down.
78. I tend to be a Jack... er, Jane-of-all-trades and master of none.
79. I read all the books with Dewey Decimal numbers 1-100 in my middle school's library.
80. I read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows in three days, but I would've finished it more quickly if my mother hadn't kept giving me chores. At least I pre-ordered from Amazon.
81. My first flute was a piece of shit we bought online.
82. I forget to sleep.
83. I forget to eat.
84. I forget to bathe.
85. I love businesswear, as long as it can be cute/sexy. Pencil skirts rock.
86. I swear like a fucking sailor sometimes.
87. I loathe attending church. I love Jesus and all, but fuuuuck.
88. I'm big on Linux. Originally this was only because I hated Vista and Ubuntu is free.
89. I sleep with my regular pillow, two smaller pillows on either side of me (so the monsters don't get me, duh), and a stuffed Cogsworth (from Beauty and the Beast, the little clock dude!).
90. I cry fairly regularly. That wave of... I don't know, but it's the opposite of ecstasy, comes over me and I end up curled up in a ball sobbing until four in the morning.
91. I like falafel. A lot. Nomnomnom.
92. My first role model was Anastasia, in the animated film.
93. My first legitimate role model was Hermione Granger, and yes, my parents did resent that a little.
94. My mother had a rule when I was in fourth grade that I had to go outside during the day, as until that point I would stay in and read. Much to her chagrin, I simply took my book outside.
95. I firmly believe my sister (Bitch 1) is a sociopath.
96. I know that everything will work out in the end.
97. I enjoy walking places.
98. Being in the car- for as little as five minutes, with certain cars- makes me woozy.
99. I like things that are on fire. Just not my home.
100. I firmly believe I'll be truly happy someday.

Friday, July 29, 2011

Ever Fallen In Love (and All I Blog About Nowadays is Dudes)

Yeah, like the Pete Yorn song. From the Shrek 2 soundtrack. "Ever fallen in, in love with someone you shouldn't have fallen in love with?" (It's stuck in my head.)

I think I may have a chance at experiencing teenagery love. You know, the average adolescent relationship with a first kiss and no "I love you"s and a bunch of movie dates.

All I've been blogging about lately is guys. Ugh, I'm such a teenage girl sometimes.

So anyways, this one shall be referred to as Mr. Gatlinburg; it suits him. He's a friend of mine, has been for a while. He's very funny, and pretty charming as well. The kind of guy you'd want to put his arm around you, I s'pose. And maybe this is the hormones talking, but *psst* I don't even care that he failed Biology three times.

I should totally care about that.

Also, this is my first time blogging via email. How's it look?
Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®

Monday, July 18, 2011

Little Moments

Over the second semester of last year, there were... moments. Moments where I caught myself feeling way beyond what I probably should have. I don't even know this guy's favorite color. I have no idea what kind of music he listens to. But are those arbitrary things? Do they matter? I think they do, but I have no idea. I've known (well, known of, certainly) this guy since the seventh grade. We never really spoke a ton, even though we've had every math class together from the seventh grade forward. That changed last semester, though.

We were all hanging out in the science classroom before class. For whatever reason, I brought it upon myself to make fun of him (we're talking about the President here, the same guy I've been rambling about the last few posts). When the teacher said we were going to draw random seats, I said something along the lines of, "God forbid I get stuck sitting next to you," to the President. So, of course, I ended up sitting next to him for the first half of the semester.

I had the sniffles something awful, so I was rather noisy that first week of the semester. At some point, the President said, "Well, that's attractive," and all of a sudden something in my head clicked and I thought, "Oh, no!" a la Mike Birbiglia. I thought it would go away, but of course it didn't. By Valentine's Day, I was dating someone else, and when he asked if he could be my Valentine, I said no in a more snippy manner than intended. He just said, "Oh."

Before then, we'd joked all the time about how clearly I was desperately in love with him, and at some point he'd tripped up making a joke about babies and had somehow managed to imply that I was going to have his babies. (I'm laughing just remembering it- at first he stuttered, trying to fix it, but then he just went along with it, which was even funnier.)

After that, it was weird for a week or two. Eventually we got back to normal, though we didn't joke about being in love with each other as much. I go back and forth between thinking that it's because he realized I liked him and didn't want to egg me on and that it's because he realized he liked me and didn't want to accidentally seem too obvious.

One time in the library, we were sitting talking at one of the tables- our math teacher was off doing something or other and had sent our class to the library for a few days- and we were talking about all the books in my bag. I said something about how they weren't going to fit in my purse, and I believe I started pulling things out of my purse and stacking them rather precariously. Of course, my calculator (a lovely bulky TI-84 Plus, my little baby) fell, and he caught it against my leg. Either he held it there for a second too long, or my mind stopped time for a moment. The latter is incredibly likely.

And then there's the time we did a science experiment involving burning metal solutions to determine which metals burned which color flames. The teacher, being an advocate for general safety and not catching on fire in the classroom, warned us all to pull back long hair and long sleeves. I pulled my hair- which I'd been wearing down regularly (without putting any effort into it) since it was cold as fuck- up into a bun while the President pulled his sweatshirt off. Which, by the way, he looked very good in, but even better out of. He can really pull off a t-shirt and jeans. Anyways, he looked at me and said, "You look... different with your hair up." I don't remember what I did, but I probably shrugged or some such. When my dear friend... hmm, what shall I call her? Oh, I know, Luna! When my dear friend Luna came over, she (as usual) told me I was looking exceptionally sexy. So, of course, I said in a very clearly-joking arrogant voice, "Yeah, [the President] here thinks so, too." And Luna and I laughed. But I thought- I could have sworn- I heard him say something along the lines of, "That was the message I was trying to get across," or "That was the general point." It was a while ago, so I don't remember the exact phrase, but it was something like that. But I think I imagined it.

To quote the great Brad Paisley, "Yeah, I live for little moments like that."

Friday, July 15, 2011

Issues to Rival Those of a Magazine Rack

I'm going to try and go through all my relationship issues- and all my issues that may even vaguely affect my relationships- and get them out into words. I think it might help me feel better. Usually when I have something to write about, I start writing and realize that either a) what I'm writing about has zero significance whatsoever, or b) there's not enough substance to create a post around it. So, yeah. There are a lot of shitty-ass posts you guys get to miss out on purely because they aren't worth posting.

Oh, and maybe in the future I'll just print this out and give it to any male who wants to be in a relationship with me. Ooh, that's either the best idea I've ever had or the worst. Aww yeah.

Issue #1: I'm bound to stop liking him.
It has happened time and time again. When I found out that a guy likes me, it destroys all chance of me liking him. I have no idea what causes it. Theories include a) I enjoy the chasing ritual too much for my own good, b) I'm afraid of commitment, but my hormones make me like boys, c) I want a guy that's a challenge, so much so to the extent that I want the entire relationship to be a challenge, and me knowing he likes me just doesn't provide a challenge, and d) I'm so afraid of getting hurt that the minute it threatens to become a "relationship," I back off. My personal favorite is theory c, but I think deep down it's a mixture of all of them.

Issue #2: I fully expect the relationship to fail.
I just do. I don't really know why. I have a theory, though; they say that people's attitudes towards relationships are greatly influenced by what they saw with their parents while they were growing up. Whether that's true for everyone or not, it would certainly be fitting for me. My parents have not had the greatest relationshit history (see Issue #3).

Issue #2b: That, or I expect it to never end.
At first, this doesn't seem like an issue; it just seems like a little girl fantasizing about dancing with her Prince Charming. And, on a certain level, that's exactly what it is. (Shit, throat going dry, eyes watering, gotta go in a different direction...) However, it is a problem. I'm not going to magically have a happy relationship just because I want one. Everyone fights, and every relationship has its rough patches. I can't just expect that since I'm elated for the first five minutes, everything is going to work out perfectly. But I do expect that. Hell, for one example of what could go wrong, just check out Issue #1. Crap's for real.

Issue #3: My parental units... they're fucked up.
My mother and my birth father divorced before my first birthday. I didn't see him or speak to him until about a decade and a half later. I still don't call him Dad. My mother and the man I grew up calling Dad divorced the winter I was in eighth grade. It came straight out of the blue to me. I only call him Dad when I'm around him or someone who might tell him I call him by his full name when he isn't there to hear it. My mother was engaged to a very dependent man through my freshman year. She kinda sorta kicked him out of the house one weekend the summer before my sophomore year while I was at my "dad's." Speaking of "Dad," he married a gold-digging whore who led me to have suicidal thoughts and behaviors and refused to leave her despite the fact that he- along with my mother- had made a very explicit promise that we, the children, would always come first. Apparently what that meant was that we, the children, would come first until "Dad" got some fresh pussy. I can't believe I actually typed that. I'll be done with this topic now.
Issue #4: I can't decide about physical stuff and PDAs.
On the one hand, I hate couples who stand in the hall and make out. They're fucking annoying. They're almost as bad as those people who walk reaaaaally slow and in a line, blocking everyone who isn't daring enough to push through them Red Rover-style from doing something as simple as walk to third period. Yeah, I know, I'm refocusing. Back to what I was saying. I like the idea of making out, to be honest. Lips touching, hands running through hair and roaming the body... that all sounds good. Hugs, on the other hand, I find incredibly awkward. I hugged Pansy Boy good-bye every morning outside my first period class. I hated that shit. I look retarded when I hug people anyways. Now, a chaste kiss? I could probably make that work. But in public? It depends. On what? I have no clue. I have a feeling this is one of the ones that will work itself out in its own time, without the therapy necessary for Issue #3, hehe.

Issue #5: I don't want to have to say, "I love you." 
Maybe this is less an issue and more of a pet peeve. I don't really know; I haven't been in enough serious relationships (at the time of writing, I've only been in one, and I ended that after a month) to know if what I feel is normal. I have this major aversion to saying those three little words. I think this aversion stems from the fact that my first boyfriend, Pansy Boy, told me he loved me after, oh, I think it was two days. We got together through text over winter break. We'd known each other for maybe a week before the beginning of winter break. We flirted incessantly over Twitter and via text. He asked me out, we had a few snow days... we hadn't seen each other for weeks, and he told me he loved me. And I panicked and told him I loved him, too. I felt like I had to constantly tell him I loved him throughout the relationship. Looking back, even Pansy Boy can admit he was a needy bitch. But acknowledging it isn't enough. That crap has stayed with me.

Ugh, I think I'm done for now. Too much heavy stuff, and halfway through this post I had to run and complain to Rissa about the President (not Obama, the guy I've nicknamed the President for the purposes of this blog).

Damn You, Spreadsheet of Truth

I often come up with unorthodox solutions to help me with my problems. In situations in which most people would turn to a best friend, I turn to a friend I only barely know. So, of course, in a situation in which most girls would scratch their pretty little heads and shrug their pretty little shoulders and put the matter at the back of their minds, I turned to a spreadsheet.

I have this thing with spreadsheets. They make me feel... safe, I suppose you could say. Spreadsheets, graphs, charts- they all give me a feeling that everything is going to be okay. They're comforting. Call me OCD, call me a freak, I don't care.

Here's the situation: you know the nerdy boy I've been pining after the last few posts (who, for clarity, we will now call Kirby)? Well, as is the usual when I like someone and they like me back (I think I may write a post about that particular issue of mine), my feelings for him sort of faded. And by "sort of faded," I mean I can still see myself dating him, I just don't see myself kissing him, and when I think about him, I don't get that little lurch in my stomach. Unfortunately, that means I won't let myself date him (I refuse to allow myself to date someone to whom I am not even slightly physically attracted, as I believe that relationships should have a healthy physical level). I don't think it's anything he's done; it's just me being me.

So, while I'm pondering that, along comes a boy we will call the President. Why? Oh, you'll find out. God forbid he ever reads this blog. *shudder* If any of my "readers" who know me still actually read this, and you figure out who the President is (because honestly, if you know me and even know of him, you'll figure it out), you'd best not tell him about this blog, or so help me I will kick your ass. And cry, probably.

Now, I used to have quite the crush on the President. Unfortunately, none of the signals I was sending out seemed to get any reciprocation. I resigned myself to the fact that I was being obvious, and that if he liked me, he would have asked me out by the end of the school year. So... I gave up. I gave up, and (shit, now my throat's going all dry and my eyes are getting all watery) I listened to Bulletproof ("I'll never let you sweep me off my feet," indeed) a thousand times over, and I got over him. I actually stopped talking to him for a period of time. I don't think he noticed, but... maybe he did. I don't know. The first week of summer vacation, getting it off my chest, I told him that when, on Valentine's Day, he'd asked if he could be my Valentine and I said no, I'd actually meant to say yes, but I didn't have the guts to go back and fix it. Of course, he asked me about the message later, and I just told him that I was frolicking about telling people all the things that had been stuck in my head all semester, and that this was all brought on by a Mountain Dew overdose.

Anyways, I thought I was completely over the President. That I was totally into Kirby. But no, the President just had to come along and fucking mess everything up. Actually, he didn't "come along;" he just responded to my starting a conversation. I sent him something along the lines of, "ello there!" and we went from there. The conversation ended with us having gone back in forth in nonsense (him in French, me in Spanish) and having created a Facebook page for his run for presidency (hence, the President), him going off to bed to sleep, and me wondering what the hell had just happened.

I realized some things while thinking about that conversation: a) I like doing ridiculous things for no reason, and b) the President makes my heart beat and my stomach tickle. Oh, and c) I really need to work on typing things right the first time.

Because this just put me in an absolute tizzy, I ran to the only available comfort... a spreadsheet (see, Persephone is asleep and Ember is at the Deathly Hallows part 2 premiere without me, the little chit). Down the leftmost column (column A), I put all the traits I value in a guy and how much I value them on a scale from one to ten (one being least, ten being most).

Example: Friendly (7)

Then, at the top of columns B and C, I put their names. After that, I just worked down each guy's column, giving him a score for each trait. For example, for Spontaneous (which was worth eight), Kirby got a five and the President got a seven.

At the bottom of column A, I put Total (164) because total, the value of the traits ended up being one hundred sixty-four points. Then, I added up each of the guy's point totals and put them in the Total row.

Kirby got 118.5 points (or 72%), and the President got 133.5 points (or 81%). It's not a wide margin to win by, but I may have upped Kirby's scores a bit for fear I'd be unfair due to my recent feelings as of late, and I may have brought the President's scores down for the same reason.

I think the reason I like spreadsheets is that they tell me what I already knew in a manner I can't ignore. It's fact now.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Emotions and Other Crazy Little Things, None of Which I'm Going to Mention are Called Love

I don't understand why... okay, fuck it, here's a song lyric really quick that seems to apply fairly well here:

I'm thinkin' maybe I can't have relationships, 'cause lately they're not makin' any sense... and baby, you're the one thing on my mind, but that could change any time. ~3OH!3, Double Vision

That's pretty much it for the past few months. I've been sitting here wondering if I'm even capable of having a legitimate relationship, nothing has been making any miniscule amount of sense, and it seems like even if He (and I'm not capitalizing to mean God, I'm capitalizing to mean whichever boy/man/male I'm into at the moment) is the only thing I can think about, soon enough it'll be someone else.

Also, you absolutely must listen to the comedy stylings of Dan Cummins. He is one seriously funny little bitch. That joke's called "Not Actually a Gender-Neutral Noun."

Monday, June 27, 2011

Level Up!

The nerdy guy I've been pining for the last few posts? Yeah, he asked me out. It was kind of adorable, really. We do this thing- it's sort of like a game- where when the conversation begins to wane, we'll ask each other questions. The questions asked range from "Favorite ice cream flavor?" to "Koopa Troopa or Diddy Kong?" to "If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?" to "Which do you value more, intelligence or sense of humor?"

We'd had a bit of an, er, "exchange" earlier in which he called me pretty, so one of the questions I asked was, "Do you actually think I'm pretty?" He answered yes. My next few questions were fairly arbitrary. I told him it was his turn to ask questions. His first question was one he'd already asked in the past (ice cream flavor).

Then, he asked what I would say if he were to ask me out on a date (hypothetically speaking). I told him I'd say yes, "hypothetically speaking," of course. Then he asked me out (realistically speaking, that time). And I said yes.

And then we spoke of flan.

Friday, June 24, 2011

I Wish I Was a Yippie

A while back, Xeno lent me Abbie Hoffman's book Soon to be a Major Motion Picture with the condition that after I read it, I would give it to our school's library. I'm not incredibly ashamed to say that I have not held myself to my promise. It's a really good book. I intend on finding a copy at McKay's or a similar bookstore and giving that to the school library.

Anyways, the book kind of opened my eyes. Things happened in the sixties and seventies. The anti-war movement, moves for free speech, the Chicago Eight! Not to mention the levitation of the Pentagon, Pigasus, and the throwing of money into the NY Stock Exchange.

I'm at work doing nothing- for there is nothing for me to do- so I defaulted to Wikipedia mind-expansion. I read the entire article on Abbie Hoffman as well as the article on Yippies, and now I really wish I'd been born in the mid-forties so I could've been a part of everything that happened during the sixties.

Friday, June 17, 2011

Relationshit Rambling

So there's this guy. Same guy I was describing last post. He calls me "m'lady" on Facebook, or sometimes "madame." He uses old words and lolspeak in the same sentence. I don't know him like I knew Pansy Boy or Macarrones or even the President. The extent of our interaction has been Facebook conversations. Over 3000 IMs and messages have been exchanged, according to Facebook.

But I can't make myself be rational like I usually am. With Macarrones, it was all, "I'm not attracted to you in a romantic manner, therefore we shouldn't date." And with Pansy Boy, it was, "I can't stand you and your sense of humor ninety percent of the time, and my life isn't a romcom, so we shouldn't date." With the President, it was, "You don't feel the same way. I get it. I'm moved on now." Edit: Bahaha, yeah right. "Moved on," my ass.

But with this guy, I can't be rational like that. I can't just say to myself, "You don't know him." And it sucks. I'm not good at just giving it all up and being happy, especially after the whole Pansy Boy ordeal and all my new little rules and self-discipline about using the l-word. I'd say, "Maybe he's here to tell me I have to break those rules," but, like I said before, my life isn't a romantic comedy. My life is a shitty indie film. There's a difference, and I accept that.

And at the same time, I don't even want to try to be rational. Anyone else in my situation would sit here and listen to Lily Allen and smile like a fool and say, "Fuck the work for my online class, I'm getting on Spiral Knights." But no. I'm me, so of course that wouldn't work.

The fuck do I have a blog?

By the way, the title of this post should link to the most awesome virtual mix tape ever for the state of my mind right now. You're welcome.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

There's This Guy

Okay, so there's this guy. Boos from audience. A random crowd member screams, "Give us some real news!" Oh, shut up, George. Anyways, the guy. Yeah. Oh, all right, I'll tell you about him, if you insist.

One time he asked, "Why are we the same person with different genders? And operating systems?" It stuck with me (obviously). Absolutely cracks me up. Because we really are eerily similar. I don't really know if they're deep similarities or superficial ones; I can never tell the difference (you know me, I can hack the shit out of your computer and dress to kill, but I can't- yet- understand the human mind). But we are similar on certain levels.

He gets my sense of humor. I don't have to explain the joke or defend myself after saying something snarky. Wanna know why? He's the same way. When I say something without thinking, he doesn't make me feel like I really should've thought that one all the way through, darling. No, he just lols or luls or whatever it is he's doing that day. And I appreciate that.

He makes me feel just right, intellectually speaking. I don't feel like a genius talking to him, but I don't feel like a moron, either. That's very important to me- I don't want to feel like an idiot when I'm talking to someone, but I don't want to have to explain every other word or thought process. And with him, it's neither of those. It's like for one of the first times ever- and I don't mean to sound like a bitch here or to be snippy towards anyone else- I'm talking to someone I think I can relate to. He's about my age and on a similar intellectual level, from what I can tell. That hasn't ever really happened before. It's quite fun.

He has plans for when the zombies come. Really? That's just fucking awesome. There is nothing as absolutely hawt as someone who could survive the motherfucking zombie apocalypse. 'Nuff said on that.

He doesn't seem to mind when I swear. At least, I don't think he does. Unless him telling me that his parents snoop on his computer so to keep it clean was a lie and he just doesn't like it when I swear. Hmm. Now I'm paranoid. (I watched the Matrix for the first time tonight- can you tell?)

He seems to genuinely want to talk to me. And that, my friend, is probably the most important thing of all. 'Cause I want to talk to him, too.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

I Imagine

I imagine what life will be like when I'm older, when I know what I want to do with my life, when I can buy a red futon and dark coffee because why the hell not, it's what I want to do and I'll do it because I can. I imagine what I'll be like, what He (because there's always a He with me) will be like, if maybe I already know who He is. Sometimes I hope I do, but then it snaps and falls and I desperately hope I don't.

But back to imagining.

I imagine what it will be like to have to work through the summer and not get a nice break every few months and to not be able to sit out by the pool all day. When I imagine that, I cry and I start to think that maybe Xeno had the right idea when he said he didn't intend to live past his 20s.

I imagine what it will be like to be fucked. To clutch a sweaty body, to be held tightly as... well, we all know how that works.

I imagine decorating my apartment. I imagine the little red futon and the shitty coffee maker. I imagine the view out over my little private Hell: suburbia. And I don't imagine that I'll mind, because it will be my place to call my own for as long as I keep paying the rent, my refuge from the real world.

I imagine... I imagine being just like I am now, only older. I imagine meeting, meeting a guy and thinking, "Oh my God, he's so amazing," and then, not falling, but absolutely crashing into love and then getting so worked up and analyzing what he says and doesn't say, and oh no we're still in the friend zone, and hating myself for being so inadequate that I plummet back out of love, only to discover later that maybe had I made the right move at the right time, everything would have turned out perfect. And I imagine wondering what the hell is wrong with me that I managed to mess it up like that.

I imagine sitting, alone but for a bottle, crying myself to sleep because nothing is turning out the way I want it to. I imagine reaching into my wallet in the checkout lane and realizing I don't have enough to pay for all these groceries and having to walk, ashamed, back and downsize the milk to a half-gallon and put back the Nutella and switch the cereal out for oatmeal. God, I hate oatmeal.

I imagine my dead-end job, drudgery of the worst sort.

I imagine not just not-fearing death, but welcoming it, crying out for it.

I imagine a boy with blue hair and a military jacket with peace symbols sewn on. I imagine getting offered a cigarette and politely declining. I imagine trading conspiracy theories, reminiscing about the "good old days," those days we never really thought we'd smile at. I imagine a slower development of emotional attachment, something genuine and fragile, but slowly strengthening.

I imagine a little house with a white couch. I imagine dying my hair blond for the hell of it, not caring about the looks I get or the snide remarks my mother aims toward me. I imagine getting a kitten for Christmas, a little Siamese baby. I imagine it nuzzling my hand.

I imagine a wood floor, a large mirror leaned against the wall. I imagine my feet are encased in ballet shoes and I'm teaching my four-year-old what I remember from my dance classes all those years ago. She doesn't like it. She wants to play basketball, Mommy. I imagine that would kill me.

I imagine now a beauty with flaming red hair and emerald eyes. She's forcing me against the wall, asking what the hell is wrong with me that I'm living like this. Her freckles stand out behind her badly-done fake tan.

I imagine my hair in a bun, brown again, the bland brown eyeshadow and mascara and not-quite-red lipstick. I imagine the pantsuit and the barely-there, 1.5-inch heels. I imagine that I've succumbed to life, that I haven't worn a skirt or dress in years. I imagine that I've missed so many soccer games my daughter hates me, and the worst part is that I don't care any more because the Prozac has finally kicked in.

I imagine sipping the coffee behind my desk at 10:30 PM, ignoring the frantic calls from my husband, the voicemails asking where I am. I imagine wondering if I should even go home. I practically live at the office anyways.

And then I imagine imagining running away. And I do it. I just up and fucking get on a plane and get out. Yeah, it's cruel, but they'll live without me for a few weeks. It won't be permanent, it'll just be until I get to be myself again. Then I can come home, claim temporary insanity, and everything will be fine again. Except it won't.

I wish when I imagine things I could see happy endings.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011


Another one got caught today, it's all over the papers. "Teenager
Arrested in Computer Crime Scandal", "Hacker Arrested After Bank
Tampering"...Damn kids. They're all alike. But did you, in your
three-piece psychology and 1950's technobrain, ever take a look
behind the eyes of a Hacker? Did you ever wonder what made him tick,
what forces shaped him, what may have molded him?

I am a Hacker, enter my world... Mine is a world that begins with
School... I'm smarter than most of the other kids, this crap they
teach us bores me... Damn underachiever. They're all alike. I'm in
Junior High or High School. I've listened to Teachers explain for
the fifteenth time how to reduce a fraction. I understand it. "No
Ms. Smith, I didn't show my work, I did it in my head..." Damn kid,
probably copied it. They're all alike.

I made a discovery today. I found a computer. Wait a second, this is
cool. It does what I want it to. If it makes a mistake, it's because
I screwed up. Not because it doesn't like me...Or feels threatened
by me... Or thinks I'm a smart ass... Or doesn't like teaching and
shouldn't be here...

Damn kid. All he does is play games. They're all alike. And then it
happened... A door opened to a world... rushing through the phone
line like heroin through an addicts veins, an electronic pulse is
sent out, a refuge from the day-to-day incompetencies is sought... a
board is found. "This is it, this is where I belong..." I know
everyone here, even if I've never met them, never talked to them,
may never hear from them again... I know you all.

Damn kid, tying up the phone line again. They're all alike... You
bet your ass we're all alike...

We've been spoon-fed baby food at School when we hungered for
steak... the bits of meat that you did let slip through were
pre-chewed and tasteless. We've been dominated by sadists, or
ignored by the apathetic. The few that had something to teach found
us willing pupils, but those few are like drops of water in the

This is our world now, the world of the electron and the switch, the
beauty of the baud. We make use of a service already existing
without paying for what could be dirt-cheap if it wasn't run by
profiteering gluttons, and you call us Criminals. We seek after
knowledge, and you call us Criminals.

We exist without skin colour, without nationality, without religious
bias... and you call us Criminals. You build atomic bombs, you wage
wars, you murder, cheat and lie to us, and try and make us believe
it's for our own good, yet we're the Criminals.

Yes I am a Criminal, my crime is that of curiosity. My crime is that
of judging people by what they say and think, not what they look
like. My crime is that of outsmarting you, something that you will
never forgive me for.

I am a Hacker, this is my Manifesto. You may stop the individual,
but you can't stop us all. After all, we're all alike.

The Mentor

That was shamelessly taken from one of the realistic missions at HackThisSite.org, my new favorite playground.

Friday, June 3, 2011

Lady Gaga is My Role Model

She really and truly is. I went to a concert of hers at Bridgestone Arena on Tuesday, April 19, 2011. I still have the ticket on my desk, wedged between my monitor and my central (bass) speaker. During that concert, I laughed a lot (during her monologues between songs) and cried a little (when she spoke about loving ourselves) and smiled more than I think I've ever smiled before.

Lady Gaga is a beautiful human being. She preaches tolerance. In interviews, she doesn't focus on her body or give out diet and exercise tips like most celebrity women. The Lady may not be conventionally pretty, but she knows how to work it and doesn't shy away from doing, wearing, and looking what and how she wants to.

She's self-confident, she knows what she wants, and she's going to do whatever she wants in order to get it.

In other words, she's exactly how I want to be.

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Schoolwork Over the Summer

I don't mind it. I, personally, have to read two books (Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and Invisible Man) and answer one to two composition notebooks' worth of questions about them. For my own personal bettering in literature, I'm also working my way through The Norton Introduction to Literature: Shorter Eighth Edition. That's for AP English 3.

I'm also taking Personal Finance online this summer. I've always been able to grasp things quickly and teach myself when necessary, so why not? It's a required credit, and I'd rather take it in a month over a summer rather than spend one-seventh of my senior year wasting my time with it.

Now, I can understand why, after a certain point, homework can seem ridiculous- for example, the 10-minutes-per-grade rule: that you take your grade (for a high school junior, that would be 11) and multiply it by ten to get the number of minutes you should reasonably spend on homework. I, personally, never spent 100 minutes on homework last year, as a sophomore, and I don't intend on spending 110 minutes on homework next year.

Then again, I've never done very much of my homework at home, preferring to do it during "wasted time": in the car to or from school, after a test in a different subject, after the teacher is done lecturing but the period isn't over, etc.

I know that I have- or at least, I used to have, before my little break- a few readers in their teen years. What do y'all think? Homework? School work over the summer? Down with education?

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Megan Fox (From a Chick's Point of View)

I've never been one to shy away from the fact that I have a very sexual mind. When I see boobs, I see boobs. Not breasts. I mean, I don't wanna feel them up, but I do compare them to my own. I often think about what I find attractive about men, and I think about what men find attractive about women.

One of the things that always comes up when guys are talking about hot girls is Megan Fox. It's like she's an entity, not a person.

A divine being?

I can admit as a straight chick that Megan Fox is a very attractive woman. But have you seen her thumb? It's pretty funky. Google that shit. If I was a dude, that might distract me from the rest of her body. Ewwh.


Lately, I've been incapable of writing. Obviously.

I have all these ideas for posts, but I can't ever just put them out there.

I had a breakdown a while back. Though they say it's impossible, I think I've lost my "gifted," and with it my confidence in my writing ability.

I know it's a bit late to announce, and a bit obvious, but I'm going on an indefinite hiatus.

Friday, March 25, 2011

Another Obnoxiously Lengthy Survey

Time you started this? 9:15 PM
Name? Artemis
Nicknames? Arty
Date of birth? March 13th
Sex? Female

Height? 5'7.5"

Eye color? Hazel

Where were you born? Indianapolis, IN
Number of candles on your last birthday cake? Five. But I turned fifteen. Thanks, Ginga!
Pets? Two cats at my mother's, one dog at my father's
Hair color? Medium brown
Piercings? One in each ear

Town you live in? Music City, USA
Favorite foods? Penne pasta
Ever been to Africa? No

Been toilet papering? Nope

Love someone so much it made you cry? Oh yes, animals and humans alike

Been in a car accident? We went off the side of the road, but we didn't hit any other cars. Does that count?

Croutons or bacon bits? Croutons

Favorite day of the week? Saturday, because I can sleep in and not worry about sleeping in so late I won't be able to go to bed for school

Favorite resturant? Cancun, this Mexican restaurant nobody else seems to like

Favorite flower? Roses

Favorite sport to watch? I don't enjoy sports

Favorite drink? Either Coke or sweet tea

Favorite ice cream flavor? Chocolate! NOM NOM.

Warner Bros. or Disney? Disney
Favorite fast food restuarant? Taco Bell

Carpet color in your bedroom? This weird off-white color

How many times did you fail your driver's test? Haven't taken it yet

Whom did you get your last email from? Mr. Z, I think

Which store would you choose to max out your credit card? Either Staples or... Staples
What do you do most often when you are bored? Surf teh interwebz

Most annoying thing to say to me? Uf. Perhaps anything starting with the words "You shouldn't..."
Bedtime? According to my parents, 10:00.
Favorite TV show? Criminal Minds
Last person you went out to dinner with?: I dunno, probably my parents

Been out of country? Yes! I've been to Canada, Mexico, Belize, Honduras, Jamaica, the Cayman Islands, Costa Rica, and I spent fifteen minutes in an airport in Panama.

Believe in magick? Not in the Harry Potter sense, but yes

Ford or Chevy? Ford

What are you listening to right now? Persephone telling her boyfriend all about her blog

Have you ever failed a grade? No, but I've skipped a grade

Do you have a crush on someone? A few people, actually

Do you have a bf/gf? Not at the moment

What are you wearing right now? Jeans and my "Club Soda, Not Seals!" tee

Would you have sex before marriage? I dunno

Have you ever had a crush on any of your teachers? Ha, yeah

Are you a virgin? Yes

Do you smoke? No

Do you drink? No

Are you ghetto? Sometimes

Are you a player? Not at all. Maybe a flirt/tease, but not a player

What are your favorite colors? Red and purple

What is your favorite animal? Cats

Do you have any birthmarks? Some exceptionally dark freckles on my right shoulder

Have you ever gotten your butt kicked? Like, literally? Yeah. My friends and I kick each other on the ass every once in a while

Who do you talk to most on the phone? Persephone

Have you ever been slapped? Not that I remember, but it doesn't seem unlikely

Do you get online a lot? Most definitely!

Are you shy or outgoing? Pretty shy around everyone but my friends

Do you shower? Yes, I shoot for every day. Sometimes I forget, and it irks me
Do you hate school? No, I love it!

Do you have a social life? Chyeah

How easily do you trust people? Too easily, I suppose

Do you have a secret people would be surprised knowing? Definitely

Would you ever sky dive? I could probably get talked into it

Do you like to dance? To techno music! It makes feel geekhetto

Have you ever been out of state? Lots of times

Do you like to travel? It's one of my favorite things!

Have you ever been expelled from school? God, no!

Have you ever been suspended from school? No, no!

Do you want to get out of your hometown? I wouldn't mind visiting for Christmas

Are you spoiled? I don't think so

Are you a brat? I repeat: I don't think so

Have you ever been dumped? Well, this one guy went and made out with another chick after our first date-ish hangout session- but no, I've never been officially dumped

Have you ever gotten high? No

Do you like snapple? Yeah

Do you drink a lot of water? Not enough

What toothpaste do you use? I don't know

Do you have a cell phone? A pink BlackBerry Curve, and I adore it!

Do you have a curfew? No, but if I ever pushed the implied limits, I'd probably get one

Who do you look up to? Hermione Granger- pretty and smart, in one package!

Are you a role model? I hope so
Have you ever been to Six Flags or Cedar Point? Six Flags Kentucky Kingdom

What name brand do you wear the most? I have no idea

What kind of jewelry do you wear? Obnoxiously dangly earrings

What do you want pierced? Meh; I like having my ears pierced

Do you like taking pictures? Sorta

Do you like gettin your picture taken? Not unless I have a million chances to make it look perfect

Do you have a tan? Not right now, but by the end of July, I'll look Mexican- well, I'm tan right now, but this is as white as I get

Do you get annoyed easily? Not particularly

Have you ever started a rumor? Not intentionally

Do you have your own phone or phone line? I have a mobile phone

Do you have your own pool? My dad has one, and my mom's condo complex has one

Do you prefer boxers or briefs? This is a moot point?
Do you have any siblings? Two sisters, two brothers, a step-brother from my mom's marriage, two step-sisters from my mom's marriage, another step-brother from my dad's marriage, and a half-sister from my dad's marriage

Have you ever been played? Probably

Have you ever played anyone? I've been a bit of a tease, but I don't think I've ever played anyone

Do you get along with your parents? I usually get along with my mom and step-dad, but my dad and step-monster and I have a fucked-up relationship

How do you vent your anger? Writing

Have you ever ran away? I thought about it

Have you ever been fired from a job? Nope

Do you even have a job? I work around during the summer, often playing secretary

Do you daydream a lot? I come up with little stories in my mind

Do you have a lot of ex's? Two and a half

Do you run your mouth? Just a little bit

What do you want a tattoo of? A little wolf paw print on my left hip, right below where my low-riders' waistbands are

What do you have a tattoo of? Nothing (yet)

What does your ex bf/gf look like? Don't have one at the moment

What does your most recent crush look like? Nerdy/adorkable

Whats her/his name? Like I'm gonna tell the internet

Are you rude? If they deserve it

What was the last compliment you recieved? I was told I dress very professionally, which (even though I'm a high school sophomore) I take as a compliment

Are you flexible? Sorta

What is your heritage? My biological dad is from Estonia

What is your lucky number? 27

What does your hair look like right now? Pulled back in a ponytail, frizzed out to the extreme

Could you ever be a vegetarian? I am a vegetarian!

Describe your looks? Tall-ish for a girl (5'8"), not a very curvy build, but not much muscle either; curly, nearly uncontrollable brown hair down to my shoulders; hazel eyes; pretty

If you had to completely dye your hair it'd be what color? Hot pink

Would you ever date someone younger than you? Been there, done that
 Would you ever date someone older than you? Definitely

When was the last time you were drunk? Never

How many rings until you answer the phone? One or two- as long as it takes me to read the caller ID and decide if I want to talk at that moment

Have you ever been skinny dipping? In a hot tub- don't ask; it isn't nearly as scandalous as it sounds

If yes, when was the last time? About a year and a half ago, probably

When was the last time you went on a date? Uf, it's been a while
Do you look more like your mother or father? Most people say I look exactly like my mother, but my mother says I look exactly like my father

Do you cry a lot? Too much, in my opinion

Do you ever cry to get your way? I have before- it works best on younger male teachers who don't really know how to react in that sort of situation

What phrase do you use most when on the phone? "Yeah" or "Mhmm."
Are you the romantic type? I don't express that side of myself- I feel it, I just don't express it
Have you ever been chased by cops? Ha! No

What do you like most about your body? My long legs- they go on for miles and look great in high-waisted bottoms

What do you like least about your body? My (lack of) boobage: I'm a 34A on a good day. On a bad day? 36AA. FML

When did you have your first crush? Who knows? Probably kindergarten

When was the last time you threw up? A week ago exactly, in the middle of a Macy's. It was about a half-hour after I'd eaten lunch, and I was walking quickly to the bathroom when all of a sudden I couldn't hold it down anymore. I just dropped (to get close to the floor for as little chance of it getting on any fancy-ass clothing as possible) and threw up. There were still fully-formed noodles. It was gross. The sales ladies were very nice about it, though.

In the opposite sex, do you prefer blondes or brunettes? I don't think I really care, but there's only ever been one blonde I've had a thing for

Do you ever wear shirts do show your belly? No

What about cleavage? I show off my non-existent cleavage, yeah

Is your best friend a virgin? Yes

Have you ever beat someone up? No. I've wanted to, though

What theme does your room have? Classy

What size shoe do you wear? 8 to 8.5 (US)
What is your screen name on AIM? d0ttyreid or something like that

How are you feeling right now? Stuffy

When was the last time you were at a party? My birthday party, the day before my birthday! If that doesn't count, then the time I went to Fadia's

Have you ever given a lapdance? Nope

Have you ever recieved one? No

Has there ever been a rumor spread about you? None that I'm aware of

What is one of your bad qualilties? I'm kinda a bitch

What is one of your good qualilties? I can be really sweet

Would you marry for money? Not just for money

What do you drive? I don't drive

Are you more of a mommys or daddys child? Mommy's little girl, only because my dad and I have issues

When was the last time you cried in school? I teared up when I made an 86 on a physical science test a few weeks ago, but my last real cry was last semester, when we watched Schindler's List in English. That movie always makes me cry a little.

Would you ever hook up with the same sex? Probably not, but never say never

What kind of music do you like? All kinds!

Would you ever bungee jump? I could be talked into it, probably
What is your worst fear? Either the dark or sharks

Would you ever join the army? I've considered it before, but my decision at this point is no

Do you like cows? Moo! (That's Cow for yes.)

If you were to die today, what would you do? Kiss every guy I want to, punch my step-brother in the face, and cuss out my step-mom

If you had one last thing to say to someone before you die, what would it b? "Tell Dimitri that I've always loved him, and I always will." I don't know a Dimitri.

Do you like to party? I like parties, but I don't really like to get shwasted

Moons or stars? Stars

Coke or Pepsi? Coke

Favorite scent? Either sweet pea or licorice, though licorice is a bit strong for long periods of time

Favorite band? 3OH!3
Would you ever dye your hair red? I'm actually begging my mother to let me dye my hair reddish-brownish

How many languages can you speak? One and a half. English, and I'm getting there with Spanish. Sé que hablar un poco en español, pero no es alguno especiale o fantastico.

What time are you finishing this? 9:59