Notes to Future Boyfriend #5

Dear Future Boyfriend,

I think I found you. :)

Love,

Me

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.

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."

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.
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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.
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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®

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.

Love,
Me

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®

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.

Love,

Me

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.

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).

Love,

Me

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.

Love,
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.

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.

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?