The Ultimate Christmas Playlist

There are several indicators that my house is the most commercialized version of the Lord's birth in the area.
1. Santas are everywhere. They are holding books of carols, riding in sleighs, combing their beards. They are bears in disguise, old floppy men, and figurines in snow globes.
2. There is not a single Jesus in this household. Not one cross, not one Bible on display. There is, however, a small nativity, which my mother said, "does not fit in" and is going to be removed.
3. Half of out house is "whimsical," the other half is "traditional." Jesus was neither whimsical nor traditional. He was Jesus. And the twenty-fifth of December is Christmas. Not meant for themed mantels. Let's not even talk about the animal tree; it doesn't have anything to do with the ark.
4. Our stockings were ordered from Pottery Barn. No sweet displays of familial affection, knit from Grandma. Nope. Grandma don't knit.
5. The fact that right now, as I right this, I am fulfilling my assigned duty. It was passed to me because I do a shitty job of cleaning, and my mother honestly thinks this is really important. No joke. I am creating the ultimate Christmas playlist on iTunes. I'm for real. And it is taking me quite a long time. She keeps passing me more and more CDs, Barbara Streisand, the Rat Pack, Perry Como, one after the other.

And, woah, it is overload. But somehow, I will admit, this commericialization doesn't ruin the holiday at all for me. I'm just so happy. I don't know, really, what about Christmas it is for me. I do like lights, and I have always loved happy music. And I sure do enjoy presents, and when I do give them, I like it. But it isn't the whole together aspect, or the warmth and love, I don't think. I mean, look at all the stress it causes in my family. But yet, maybe it is all worth it. For those few hours, in the deep night of Christmas Eve or very early on Christmas morning, maybe all the stress, all the unhappiness of preparation, maybe it all kind of washes away. And I love it.

Merry Christmas.
I hope you have a wonderful day, really.
And I'll talk to you soon.

I look back

and I don't think I'm that stupid, or confused. I don't think I'm that immature. I don't think I was lost.
I look back and I just don't really have any idea - and maybe that says it all.
I look at myself now, and I've got a good idea, just no drive.
Maybe that's it. Then, I had drive. Now, I'm just tired.

Top Ten Things I Like To Eat And Not Feel Guilty About Later:
1. Any type of healthy cereal; see Kashi and Cheerios. They are so good, so I don't know why I gravitate towards Golden Puffs.
In some ways, maybe my choices will be the death of me.
2. Fruit! It just makes you happy.
2A. Specifically, fruit salads of happigoodness.
3. Toasted peanut butter/honey sandwiches. Yes.
3a. Waffle-wiches. Enough said.
4. Ice cream in mugs because if you just have one mug, that means you aren't having too much. And it's so good.
5. String cheese, though I've been eating it so much lately I'm kind of getting tired of it.
6. Carrots and ranch dressing. Yes, yes, and yes.
7. Rye bread with cinnamon butter. It's just so good.
8. Mashed potatoes!
9. Egg noodles. (Speaking of with, this and the prementioned withh me present at Thanksgiving. Yes.)
10. Tomatoes, especially in the summer. As is tomato and mozzarella paninis, as in just-tomato sandwiches, as in I love you.

And, maybe she's right, maybe these are the things that define me.
She as in Ayn Rand.

As in, as in, as in, I'm pretentious.
The word pretentious is pretentious, I love words like that.

I've got a lot to do. Me? Go shopping tomorrow?
But maybe that's the problem. I'm making it weird for me to go shopping for tights and a sweater. Do I like the dress? I don't mind it. Why do I not bother? I don't mind it. Is it the problem that I don't mind? "I could never see you in a dress!" Fuck you, I could never see you naked, thankgod,thankyou.

You might think I'm angry but I'm smiling and calm.

I love best friends that schedule things for other best friends, like Taylor is doing for Kimber. I do.

1. Clean my room, tonight. It's a bit of a mess and a cat has thrown up in my closet but you see, I am God, it'll be easy.

Audrey, Disney Scene-It is here!

2. Do homework/missing work, once again find my paper de passsword/username because I'm a loser like that, in the way that I lose things. Not basketball games though.

3. Get some money for holiday shopping. (Get-rich-quick scheme 1: nada.)

I love holiday shopping. I don't understand how people hate it. I think it is one of the best parts of the holiday season. Materialistic? Probably. But some things do make me happy, that's my right. That's my perogrative. But I've got this bass line...

LOSE YOURSELF! (Loser.) You had it coming.

And what person is this in? 1,2,3 Or E. All of the above.

Yes, I am installing the Zune Updated Software, Yes, finally, after months of clicking "Remind me later," Yes I'm awesome.

4. Buy Zune USB cord, for where has mine gone? With the cowboys?

The generation that emerged from a shithole. That's just the way my mind works. Can you hate someone for that, I don't think so.

If you type a sentence one letter at a time is it more sincere? Thus, presents my argument for having sex before marriage.
I'm not backspacing in the blog post, except when there are typos. It's a self-correcting live-feed of my brain. Like the book, but minus the adcertisements.

Zuneware has been successfully installed! I wonder what this means for my life!
You know something is newly installed when you find it on my desktop. I like to hide my virtual things I guess. That sounds so creeper.

I've got a lot of feelings, maybe the answers lie in these brain-feeds. Can that be our new blog name? Brain-feeds? Maybe I'll do it myself and see how you feel about it?

Things I'm Pretentious About:
1. Music. I am so proud of the music I like and listen to. It's redic. Pride and prejudiced. I like when Elizabeth tells me I know "every freaking song," I think of it as a talent.
2. Books. I feel the same way about books as I feel about music. I just have to own them.
3. Politics. I think I am pretty snotty about being a liberal. Snotty? No. Just, in these matters, it's one of the few things I really think I'm right in. I don't mean to, and sometimes I feel bad, but I guess that's just me.

I think that's it. Maybe no?

All other things I am unabashed. Good word.
I might go sleep with Emily? I can't sleep, I'm not tired, I'm thinking constantly. If only I could turn my brain-feed off.
So sci-fi.
"I'm just visiting." Where will the future take us?

I am so afraid of physical memory dumps, they need to stop, and they need to stop now!

Maybe I'm excited to go dancing with myself? But I don't mean masturbate, I mean shopping. More holiday thinking? I think I think more this time of year. Maybe it's the spirit?

What time is it there? Are you tired? Are you scared?

How long will the blog be here? Will I regret asking that?

I might go sleep with Emily, in her tiny, uncomfortable bed. She's amazing.

"It won't translate." What all is lost in translation?
Feeling?

I hope to never have to accept that it's over.
I'm smiling.

I think it can always be made right, I just don't know how.

"I'm in a world apart,

a world where roses bloom."

I'm content. Maybe because it seems as if, right now, I have time. I don't like to be rushed. I like to saunter. I like listening to Louie Armstrong. I like to sit and think a bit, and then stretch out and read for a while, and simply smile for a moment. I like to be lazy. I don't think it is lazy, really. I think it is enjoyable. So maybe it isn't lazy, just thinking. Maybe.

I don't like this place you are in, I can state simply enough. Why is much more complex. I wish you would slow down a bit and join me right here, where I sway along the rose-surrounded path.

I just finished all of the government terms, and I'm about to start of the other half of the study guide. Then, cello, running, a shower, pre-calc, and SAT studying for an hour or so.

I like this plan.

I like plans. I like lists, I like schedules. But I like spontaneous occurences just as much. I like random bursts of song and surprises. I like random warm days when it has been cold and random cold days when it has been warm. I like happiness in the middle of sadness, and sometimes,sadness in the middle of happiness. I like long breaks when I've been busy and a random spurt of business when I've been on the couch for too long.

I like movies.
I like globes.
I like lamps.
And I really, really like flowers.

And I'm going to go now, to be in a happy place called my paradise, which others seem to think is just a green couch in the kitchen with a yellow blanket. But, no. It is much, much more.

I think I'll go read.
Maybe I won't run...

"You'll

always have me around."
I am asking that a lot lately.
What if I just...didn't? Or, even, what if I did? None of this is spurred from depression or any of that, no, it's from, well, honestly.
What if I did?
Would I be okay? Dissappointed? Am I young and angsty and stupid?
Probably.
But,
I'm also ingenius, dammit.

That just made me smile.

I like...
Smiling by myself, or making myself laugh. It's just a good feeling.
I like cold feet in the process of warming hope. It's a miniscule form of hope.
Folk music. I like it a lot.
CHRISTMAS, WHICH IS COMING UP!
And good sleep.

I'm in a weird mood. Stressed, aware, unrelaxed, missing you...
But, also, calm?
In a way, for some reason, the only way I can imagine someone feels right before they get into a life altering car accident.
Metaphorically?
What will be my car crash?
Hm.

I'm addicted to what people think, not really about me though.

Hm, hm, hm...

A lot of hm's.

This weekend was really, really good.

I was not a big fan of the MacBeth play, but I am really liking the play.

This is such an interesting time in life, internally, expternally.

I don't really know what to say. I'm kind of at a I-have-a-lot-of-feelings-but-don't-really-know-what-to-say place in my life.
Hey ya, mixed berry.

Good morning, sunflower.

"And, speaking of high school...

I never passed that."

I wonder if, sporadically, we just upped and dropped out of high school? What would happen then? Or, possibly even worse, we completely failed it? How would everyone react? I think I would be quite depressed for a little bit, and then I'd realize that the situation is really, truly, and completely...hysterically funny.

I like dancing, too. I was home alone today, and I put on my headphones and went downstairs to clean, and I realized that I can kind of shaking my hips as I walked, and then I started all out dancing, going crazy and singing at the top of my lungs, and Hank was excited and he started barking and running around, and I was chasing him and shaking my head and getting my Beyonce on. It was a good time, really. I like random moments when I'm home alone, singing and dancing and being stupid. Comfortable. I like being comfortable. I like no stress, no anger, no sadness. I really, really do like happy. I know most people imply they like happy, but I really do. And maybe, yeah, I like to hide my problems. I like to think that everything's a-okay, but that's how I'm comfortable. And that's how I like it. And occassionally, I break down, yeah, but then I can go back to my happy universe. I'm happiest when I'm happy, you know? I'm happiest when other people are happy, too. So maybe me wanting to change the world is purely selfish--I don't care if these people are happy, it's simply that if they are happy, I will be even moreso. But I hope that's not why.

I love being warm when I'm cold. I love hot chocolate and Christmas songs and cartoons. I simply cannot wait. Again, it's happy, and I like it. Christmas, I mean. It's just so...wonderful.

I think I can go to Macbeth tomorrow, happily. I'm excited. I really like Shakespeare at the IRT, especially on the stage we're going to. I saw Twelfth Night there, and it was fantastic.

Must run.
Well, not really run.
Must dance.

I just remembered something wonderful,

something fantastic.

Something exciting.

Happy one year blog anniversary!

"And all of the things we found so hard to say,

maybe now they'll..."
Not everything has to be finished.
And, you know, I like that.

I did something today that you are going to be very proud of.
I saw Mamma Mia!.
Yep, and I liked it, and I smiled, and I laughed, and well...and well. That is what.

I like slow songs but I like to dance too. I do like to dance, with people. With the right people. The people that make me smile. I like holding hands, and feeling different hands. I like not worrying about who is seeing me hold whoever's hands because there is this attatchement that, even if I tried to pull away for public acceptance, well, I can't. It's too wonderful not too. I like shoes that are just a little too big, but they somehow fit perfectly. I love goofy people that are goofy looking. I love good hair days, although for me my hair is always greasy when I have them. I love confidence and the days I have it. I love talking about anything and everthing, and when conversation flows. When new thoughts come up. When there are little bickerments but it keeps moving forward.
I love that.

I love when someone that is really warm sits next to you, and is all warm and wonderful and cuddly. It's a good thing.

I am not at school. And I feel better, I'm excited to go to school tomorrow. I am going to basketball practice, though. Ha.

Audrey, you are a really good writer.

Lineweaver has really good assignments.

I hope you would like to come out of your blanket tent soon. I am holding your Halloween candy hostage. Not really. I will slip as many pieces under the blanket as you need me to. I will wait, as patient as a saint.

I like falling asleep early when I'm really, truly tired.
I like being really, truly tired, because I feel like it's a reward for trying really hard. I like knowing that I tried really hard. I don't know all the time, and I wonder if that means I didn't try hard. I do not know.

I've got some things for you, yep.

Things I am thinking about.
1. Childhood memories - They can be sad, but I seem to also be sad about the good ones. I wish I never saw the pictures of naked people at Emily's dad's horshoe league clubhouse thing. I wish I would have been protected from that. Television made me feel better though, so I've got that. I don't want to wish, I'm okay where I am.
2. I need to find my house key. It's obnoxious to climb in the window, every single time. It's old news.
3. In the picture, my teeth were as yellow as my hair. Agh.

I told you to be patient
I told you to be fine
I told you to be balanced
I told you to be kind
In the morning I'll be with you
But it will be a different "kind"
I'll be holding all the tickets
And you'll be owning all the fines

My, my, my, we are growing up. It's wyrd.

I'll call you tonight, I'll see you tomorrow, I'll be better and so will you.

Good day,
Audrey Elizabeth. Good day.

"Yes I would, if I could, I surely would."

Today was not cold fall. Today was wonderful. I just wish I were more energized. The black abyss that is your TV and the narrow valley that was my place on the couch did not aid me in my quest for sleep.
I like pictures that hang without frames. I like finding CDs that appear to be blank, and then you listen to them. Old mixes from seventh grade with "It's Raining Men" on them. Twice. I like mechanical pencils and crappy pens that bleed ink occassionally. I like paper clips, and not when they are decorated. I like when my family has dinner together, and conversation flows. I like when Katie does poorly at soccer; I will admit it. There is a sense of competition with my nine-year-old sister. And I like boxes. I like putting the ones from the post office together. I like cardboard.

I don't want to go back to school. Really, I like school. I like having homework. I like learning, and tests, and weird projects. But I'm simply not feeling it right now. I would rather read crappy teen novels and eat Halloween candy by myself under the covers. I want a tent. A giant white tent that is fluffy and wonderful, and at night it covers me like a blanket, but during the daytime it will allow the sunlight to glow through slightly, beckoning me outside. And maybe I'll leave my giant tent. But maybe not. I will on my own time, and no one, not even sunlight, can make me.

I'm tired. I'm achy. But I'm calm. I'm ready to watch Cinderella with Katie. To be honest, I like my mom telling me I have to stay home once a night during the weekend. I was glad to hear it. I like being home. I like watching simple children's movies. I like falling asleep early.

I want to read and write and grow up like a sunflower.
Maybe I'll reincarnate into a sunflower. I'll give that a few rounds. A whirl.

They kissed.
Yep. They did.

I don't know why I'm writing this, really. You won't see it for a while. You're at Memaw's, which doesn't have a computer, so you can't check it. But you're used to not having a computer, since you spend all of your time there now.

But maybe the blog isn't about when you'll read. Just that you will. And that in itself is a comfort.

"I feel I must interject here,"

Agh, it's fall. Cold fall. Not boring, "official fall" but still green fall. It's cold, windy, colorful, gray fall. And it's sort of wonderful.
I often feel badly that I do not memorize things. I want to know my favorite poem, I want to keep by heart a passage from Shakespeare, I want to do that. I will.
I want to start re-reading what I have read. Instead of making a To Read list, why, I suppose I'll make a Have Read Part Two list. I want to understand them know as I did not when in my past. Why I feel like I could understand it now? I do not know, but I feel as though I could. Which may or may not mean I can. I could very well end up dissappointed, but somehow, I feel like if I really try, I won't. So it has to come naturally forced.
Time.
I am also glad to be back here in the blogosphere.
It's an old home.
I've also had a good weekend. Mostly spent with you and Memaw, but very well. I did something I thought I would never do.
I enjoyed MCL Cafeteria.
I see these people and their experiences and wonder if they mean something to me. If wondering that they mean something, if that makes them mean something. Sad that, when I lay in bed, late at night, I wonder mostly about people I've yet to know. Or never know. Sometimes it's better that way.
No one is ever just friends. "Just" applies that there are no attatchments, I feel like. "Oh, it's just that." Just. No, no, no just's here. Plenty of tied heartstrings.
The Cyclops (a kitten with one eye) is that the vet's office. Crossing my fingers.
For what, just good luck, I suppose.
I know the feeling of things dissappearing. It's very weird. Like you can swear it was there, but it isn't. Either there are different versions or recent renovations, I prefer the vision that was in my mind.
Laugh, laugh, laugh. It's the best.
I have charges at the library again. But no CD's, so it'll be a lot less money! And let's see, well, I think I'll always forget the due dates of my library books. Memaw wonders how I am so careless, I smile at my consistency to forget. It's kind of plesant in a way.
I can barely see and have not been checking for seplling mistakles, typos, or grammar errors. Do pardon.
I'm listening to Last.Fm for the first time in a long time. I always put in the same artist to play related aritsts. Ha.
You having texting? That's going to be so weird. Be prepared to be forever bothered by me.
I have tha same exact feeling that I did blogging here the night of Thanksgiving, getting ready to go shopping with my Mom, around ten or so. Weird. Kind of anxious. I think I will go drop off my library books in just a bit.
Got my grades and I'm at a point where I could go for the worse or for the better nad it's good to feel confident in knowing that I can make myself go for the better, now.
And there's motivation.
Good times ahead, I think?
Winter has the opposite affect on me in regards to seasonal depression, I think.
It makes me happy.

By the corner of 16th and Deleware being your place of employment, are you implying that you are a prostitue? Ahaha...


"Cheer up, won't you?" the Ticketmaster asked after a long, awkward pause. The Ragpicker sat back a little and sighed, looking at the Ticketmaster reather curiously. The Ticketmaster, always having something up her sleeve, or being thought to, simply smiled, then grabbed the Ragpicker's dirty but comforting hand and lead her to a place that the Ticketmaster was once known for complaining about: The Abbey Coffeehouse. "Let's get you something to drink," said the Ticketmaster, leacving the Ragpicker in the serene entrance of the Abbey. Minutes later, a frazzled Ticketmaster came back with hot apple cider. "Sorry that took so long, the service is still as if I were here." Then the Ticketmaster leaned in again, only this time to...

Ahahaha, two points.

Well, I'm off to actually be a person now.
??
Bye!

"Wait a minute--wait a minute, here."

Well, hello there, cyberspace!
It has been much too long since we have become connected, and I'm glad to be back.
I've had a good weekend. After you left, my dad popped in Monster's Inc. for my mom and I to watch the end scene that we love so much, but I fell asleep almost instantly, my mom never came to watch it, and Katie was playing SIMS. So my dad watched it all by his lonesome, until I woke up for the last ten minutes. And then, our favorite scene wasn't even there! I swear! It completely disappeared. Saddening.
And then, I went to HSM3, for reals, with Eileen. And we laughed together, which was nice. After which, we headed over to Jessie's, and what happened there is sworn to secrecy. Sorry. You shall never know. But it was a good time. We made cupcakes, and ordered pizza, and I stole slushies from the others who bought them, since they had money.
And today.
Nothing. I went to the library. They took away $40.00 in charges, so now I'm only up to seven. Only, ha.
What have you been doing?
I've tried calling you,
because I have good news phone wise.
Such as texting in the near future.
I'm serious.

"So what have you got to do today?" the Ticketmaster inquired, optimistic about the rest of the day. Just as she asked, the Ragpicker's phone started ringing it's oriental jingle and the Ragpicker looked down at the caller ID and sighed. "Well, let's get going," she said rather reluctantly. The Ticketmaster didn't understand the hint of sadness, but decided against asking again. "Well, alright, let's be on."

That was the last one, I believe.

They headed off towards the Ragpicker's place of employment, being the corner of sixteenth and Delaware. Here they sat for the majority of the day, and although they longed to be alone, they made the most out of this time together, people watching and making fun of old Herron students who did not recognize them, the Ragpicker in, well, rags, and the Ticketmaster having a normal hair color. They shared hot chocolate, as it had begun to turn slightly chilly, and they gave head rubs for the first time in a long time. And then, in a not altogether unexpected move, the Ticketmaster leaned in towards the dirty face of the Ragpicker.

Oh, golly.
I hope you are having a good time.
Call?
Bye.

"From that day on, till I hit the bed

Amsterdam was stuck in my head."
Oh, boy, I was right on something related to music while arguing with you.
Is this amazing, or what?
As I looked at last.fm for any music to listen to while playing my beloved Zoo Tycoon, I can across Peter Bjorn and John.
Remember that time when I said that I liked the name Bjorn best out of the three of them, and you said that Peter Bjorn was one person?
No, it is not.
They are two separate musicicans. And then there is John, somewhere.
But, he is beside the point, the point being that there are THREE and the name Bjorn for a guy is out there. And this, this makes my heart sing.
And, also beside the point is the fact that this poor blog has been neglected since the month of about February. That is a long time, but I think it'll be okay, as long as we write on it once and a while. I say we both have to hit it up at least once a week. Agreed?
And, also, I am now looking up the Jay-Z "30 Something" lyrics, and...it doesn't have anything on there, meaning what I believed to be "tudah" was probably just a strange sound emitted from the throat of a genius, as you previously stated. So, there you go, you have regained some respect.
When I asked the iPod what tomorrow would be like, it replied with "Lazy Days of Summer" by Nat King Cole. I think this is a good sign.
Good-bye.
See you in a week.

Rest ye weary head.

I want a nap. My stomach hurts. I have to write my whole rough draft tonight. I have to write my student governent speech. There are quite a few days left in the week. I'm a vegetarian now. Oddly enough I think it was because of an incident with an onion today. I wish I thought more before I speak but I always ponder if that would make me different. What is different? It's all there, I think. I want to get out, play some tennis, I wish I knew someone around to play with. It could be fun. It's rather cold though. I found something awesome today but it cost much too much. I need to clean my room and it feels like I basically just did. I want to see a UFO again, I feel like my judgement would be much more educated now. I feel like studying, but not doing work. If that makes any sense at all... I need new underwear and bras. I'm going on a health craze, once again the onion incident being a catalyst. I want to work on my iPod too. I think cuddling with a kitten would be nice right now but the ones we have at the moment are rather vicious. My glow-in-the-dark crucifix has not ever glowed in the dark and I wonder if that bugs me more than I think it does. Maybe it'll glow once I believe in Christ. I wonder if I will, or rather if I do. I want to have time to read again and I want to organize my book shelf. It's time for PESTO PASTA!

That's just what is in my head for now.
Just for now.

Music is too loud

for my screaming head, so I put on some soothing cellos. Which I know still qualifies as music, except it is on a completely different, higher level than the rest of it.

I bought our flowers!
With no help from you, by the way. They aren't too exciting, except for the giant sunflowers that will be arranged in such a manner that will be like a secret garden, as Sara said would be fun. I really am quite excited for this. So is my father, who says it will be good for such a "city girl" as you.

I don't feel like years were stolen from me. I think that the years I spent as a kid without caring about time were probably the most eventful, and the most productive, and probably the overall best years of my life. Later, I will probably think that years were stolen from me. It fascinates me how a year can seem so long when we live it and so important, when really, we all are probably going to live until we are eighty, and a year spent in hiding, or a year where we do nothing, or a year in which we do everything, well, it really won't be that important in the end. And yet, it also fascinates me that one single year, this one-eightieth of my life, can change the rest of it entirely, even though it is such a small fraction.

Time does kind of scare me, just because nobody knows anything about it. Do we understand the concept of time when we grow old?

I don't know.

I have so, so much to do. And I haven't really started at all. I haven't cleaned my room. I haven't run AT ALL. I'm not very far into Crime and Punishment (which I almost called War and Peace, proving to you just how much I don't care about it). We still have to work on Physics. Yet, I don't really care all that much. Well, kind of.

We do have a lot to do. The list is long--do you have the new one, or do I? Actually, I'll probably see you before you write back, or call you at least, so, really, it won't make much of a difference, me asking you.

Good-night.

P.S. Sara, I know you told Abby to post on the blog if she got the job at the IMA, and I see that she has not. She is now an intern. We are all very, very proud of our little worker.

"All alone in the world,

and you came and followed.
But you gave me lots of reasons and you gave me things to swallow."

I like things too, I'm sure.
I like the night
and warm feet
and watching movies
and getting nothing done.
I like the weather getting warmer
and lacrosse
and letters
and books
and time.
Most of all, I like time.
I like knowing (as much as you can know) I have (should, atleast) quite a bit of it left, too. But also, at the same time, it doesn't feel like enough.
I feel like some years were stolen from me. Does everyone feel like that?
Like when you are a kid, you don't know how important that time is. You just don't know. And if it screws up, well, there's no going back. I wonder why that's such a hard concept for me to grasp. Things are better now although. "And getting better all the time."

I'll come back. As soon as possible, I'll come back. I wish I could have stayed for spaghetti. There is so much to get done though, that of course, I haven't started. I will though. I need to get occupied.

It's kind of funny how things fall into place, really. How people know things, how people don't know things. I don't know it just kind of makes me laugh. Life is being pretty good. I'm excited for break. True story.

We have a bunch to do over break, I will pass the list onto you tomorrow, ma'am.

Four words? Hm, well, here goes.
1. Although - I use it a lot and I like how it sounds.
2. Forward
3. Retrospect
4. Kinetic

Those are the four right off the top of my head, atleast.

Time to clean!

A Pretty Sound

I like things.
I think.
I like rain
and warm weather
and happy piano
and sad cello
and bagel bites
and warm water
with bubbles
and flowers
and miniature blue calculators.

This is my version of "Raindrops on Roses" because I think I need it. I believe your absence is depressing me, and I don't like it. Come back, dear.

I think I'll listen to upbeat music.

I think that writing should be a way of being honest. Even if a story is fiction, the author is still giving insight into his or her mind, which is the deepest and most potentially secret-hiding part of humans there is. So, really, even if an author or artist tries to keep something hidden, art and writing are expressions of the person creating it, and things are going to be revealed. No matter what.

We really must finish Close Encounters of the Third Kind. I need to know how it ends. Not that you haven't basically told me everything.

We need a new list. What are your four favorite words...in any language, I guess, but I don't think it will make much sense if you put random German on your list. However, if you would like, it will be acceptable.

And we kind of watched Incredibles...does that count as knocking it off of the list?

Ah, I'm glad Memaw still loves me. Her approval of me has become more important to me than I thought it would.

I'm glad you like my house.
I like it too.
I will be living there when I'm thirty, probably.
And we'll go and fly more kites than you could ever imagine. On the mound, too. And we'll look at my favorite firefly place and have crazy adventures. And cloud hunting, which we STILL HAVE TO DO.
NO exceptions.

We do have time.

"We know we had the good things,

but those never seem to last. Oh, please just last."

I really liked that excerpt from Raise High The Roof Beam, Carpenters, (well, I'm assuming it was from that.) I think I'm going to read that after I am done with The Great Gatsby. Really, underlying themes are so, well, I just don't understand. When I write atleast, it's just a way to be completely honest. To put it all out there. Maybe that's the problem though. The themes the authors are getting across they don't want their names attatched to them. Possibility. I could see that.

I called you and talked for two minutes and called you back later because I'm in a talkative mood and I'm staying home tonight. Okay, just got off the phone with you and I told you about all that so there that goes.

You didn't force me, no worries Auds. I promised you I would call. I call you every night regardless. Well, or you call me. So it's all good, aye?

We've had this blog for four months. Cuh-razey how things turn out. Really. I'm very happy with it all, though.

Memaw still loves you, no worries at all there. Really, I don't understand what happened, but she asks about you still and compliments you and blah, blah, blah. She was mad at me for not making us finish Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Obviously, it's my fault? Aha, it's all okay. We have to finish it this weekend. And watch The Incredibles.

Music is very good, si.

"So what have you got to do today?" the Ticketmaster inquired, optimistic about the rest of the day. Just as she asked, the Ragpicker's phone started ringing it's oriental jingle and the Ragpicker looked down at the caller ID and sighed. "Well, let's get going," she said rather reluctantly. The Ticketmaster didn't understand the hint of sadness, but decided against asking again. "Well, alright, let's be on."

I miss the warm weather already. It was so good. I can't wait for it to be like that all the time. I loved flying a kite. Really, it was really fun. We'll have to make it a point to do it more often. We have to try it off of the mound too! Oh, it'll be glorious, really. Tell your family not to worry, really, and that I love them very much. Did I just want to get home? Funny joke. I love your house. It's a lot more home-y.

You just might expand? What does that mean? I hope you call again tonight, I need help with math. I need to clean my room. I need to practice lacrosse and run. I need to do schoolwork. Oh, golly. Well, I've got seminar first period tomorrow. Ah! I can't write you a note tomorrow because you can't be there. That's so unfortunate, that's my favorite part. Well, this is just messing up everything. Aha, just kidding, you have fun on your skip day, really. Tomorrow is Tuesday! Yeah! That's one day closer to the weekend! We also have finish Close Encounters and watch Indiana Jones! So much to do. It's alright though, we've got time.

Talk to you later!

"I have scars on my hands

from touching certain people. Once, in the park, when Franny was still in the carriage, I put my hand on the downy pate of her head and left it there too long. Another time, at Loew's Seventy-second Street, with Zooey during a spooky movie. He was about six or seven, and he went under the seat to avoid watching a scary scene. I put my hand on his head. Certain heads, certain colors and textures of human hair leave permanent marks on me. Other things, too. Charlotte once ran away from me, outside the studio, and I grabbed her dress to stop her, to keep her near me. A yellow cotton dress I loved because it was too long for her. I still have a lemon-yellow mark on the palm of my right hand. Oh, God, if I'm anything by a clinical name, I'm kind of a paranoiac in reverse. I suspect people of plotting to make me happy."

I'm sorry if you have tried to call; I have no idea where my phone is. I'm hoping to find it soon, though. More like I'm hoping it will spontaneously pop up, but it won't, sadly. I feel quite guily for not having it, as I forced you into agreeing to call me.

Happy four-month Blog Anniversary!

I have to buy a bouncy ball for Ceramics class. And I really, really, really need to earn a fifty on this sketchbook to bring up my grade.

Oh, life, and money, and raising it. It saddens me that for everything has to revolve around money. We can help each other out in various ways. It doesn't have to be money.

Music can make me so sad.

My grandmother made spaghetti tonight, but it was not as good as Stephanie's, which was a shame. She still doesn't remember what grade I am in, nor does the rest of my family, and she seems more obsessed with a certain lame cousin's show choir than with any of the Brinkers girls combined. It's aiight, however.

With the end of the movie, the Ragpicker realized that she did, as previously mentioned, have tasks to complete that day, and with dread in her heart, she mentioned to the Ticketmaster that they must be on their way. Naturally, the Ticketmaster was to come along, for as they had been reunited, they were not likely to ever voluntarily part, but she knew that the following actions would, indeed, hurt the Ticketmaster, and it killed her inside that they must leave the calm sanctuary that was the stuffy dollar theatre.

It was so beautiful today, and I realized just how much I prefer the warm weather and what a difference in my mood it makes. I made my family listen to what I considered to be "Spring Music" all day long. They kind of wanted to kill me. They are worried about you, by the way, and keep asking if I have talked to you. I have to remind them that I CANNOT FIND MY PHONE, at which they shake their heads. My mom kept asking, "Did she want to leave? Was she sick of us? Why didn't she stay until tomorrow? You know I would have driven her to school! Did she just want to get home?"

Kim is here.
I am studying for Physics.
I don't want to make this blog entry long because I want you to respond tonight.
But, if you don't, I just might expand.


La. La. La.

Rejoice, rejoice.

I've gone through a ridiculous amount of mouthwash today. New compulsive habit?

I should be reading chapter seventeen, or finishing a painting, or doing something, but I'd rather be talking to you, so here I am.

You did not come to Memaw's "tomorrow." We will have to do that next weekend. It will also be the first weekend of March! Meaning New Year's! This will be quite the eventful weekend, true story. I think you will tire of me much sooner, if you are not already. If you are, I apoligize.

My Valentine's Day was fine. Stop worrying, Audrey. I come through.

I haven't been thinking much the past couple of days and it's all kind of hitting me slowly. I need to stop talking.

I am at the library once again. Agh, I'm so mad. Sometimes things are just so ridiculous. It doesn't make sense, Audrey. It doesn't at all. I'm going to Memaw's around 10 when she gets home. I'm going to go to the mall and get a pair of khakis I think too. I don't know. Hm. ASDFGHJKL

You will hopefully be spending this Friday with Memaw. If you have to babysit, don't feel guilty. And do go hang out with Emily Bobel and Eileen on Saturday. I'll paint or something. It'll be fine.

I won't stand up for myself, ever, I don't think. I don't mind when you tell me do something. You'd never tell me do to anything bad. You love me too much. I don't mind doing things for people, either. Just when people tell me how they think I am or what they think is wrong with me, it makes me kind of really mad, but I'll get over it. Not that mad. Just guilty, because there is always the possibility they are right and always the possibility that I just have no idea. Gar. I don't want to yell at you. I don't think I ever will. You don't give me any reason to, and even if you did, I probably still wouldn't.

Spring break will be very, very good. True story.

Why have you been dreading the future? I'm more optimistic about it, really. I know things are really bad right now, and they can't really get worse, or even with that, they can, but I've got a couple of people that make it a whole lot better. It'll all be alright soon enough, and really, it kind of already is. I just need to get some things done. Or maybe I need to take a break. I don't really know. I'll do whatever comes to mind.

It's kind of chilly.

We got a lot of ideas for raising money. I'm excited. I've got a lot of e-mails to write. I requested Murtadha (spelling).

Who knows when I'm supposed to hear about anything? Internship at the Ambassadors for Children place, IMA, things are busy. Weird timing. I hope things work out. I don't want to work at McDonald's or Arby's.

I like comfortable cars. Then again, maybe I just make myself comfortable. "Way more fresher, with way less effort."


They made it to the movie about forty-five mintues early, but that was okay. They bought popcorn and Skittles and Coke and sat near the back and waited for action. Only about for people trickled in before the movie actually started. As the lights dimmed the Ticketmaster looked at the Ragpicker and smiled. The best movie ever was, for the second time, on the big screen.

I'm going to go get a pair of khakis or something. Goodnight, Audrey.

I hope your cello went okay. I still want to hear my concerto. I'll serenade you with my banjo in return, I promise.

Ways to Save For Hot Water

I should really be sketching, or finishing an algebra worksheet, or reading Chapter 17 in the history textbook, but I thought, "Why not write to the wonderful Abby via our fabulous blog?" So I am.

I get to go to Memaw's tomorrow! I just remembered and it made be quite excited. We will be spending the entire weekend together again. And then once more next weekend. You will tire of me soon, and I won't be too hurt, unless it is a permanent tiring of. I am also wearing the greatest Valentine's gift in the entire world around my neck so that I can get a reaction from Eileen. I am really excited to see her face at this. I hope you are doing something with Stephanie, dear...

I like things that make me think. Or things that make me realize something, or remember something, or like something. It's nice.

One day, I will say something to you slightly commandish without realizing it (I know I can be somewhat bossy), and you will just say, "No." And I'll be all, "What?", genuinely confused, and you will say, "No. You're wrong," and I won't even be mad that you criticized me/called me wrong because I will be so overjoyed that you finally stood up for yourself. The day you yell at me will be somewhat sad, but momentous.

Ah, yes, camping and riding bikes. Greatest Spring Break Camping Trip Ever While Other People Are In Florida/School/California/Europe? I think so.

At this point, I am excited for the future, which is new, because I have been dreading it for a while. I think as long as I don't have to make any official decisions, I'm good. When time comes to decide, however, I will be a hot mess. Or, as things have been going, a rather cold one. I need socks.

Tuesday. Invisible Children Meeting Tuesday. Which is good because I don't have to run Tuesday. I know you will act like this is just a coincidence when really you have memorized my running schedule and had to make sure I would be there. It's okay. Act all you want. I know the truth.

When are you supposed to hear from the IMA? Sara Swan was talking about it today, and she asked when, and I said that I didn't know. That makes it sound like I did, but I kept it confidential. I really just didn't know, actually.

I'll let you talk to my mom if you really want to, Abby. And I've always like station wagons for some reason. I like Rebekah's mom's car. It seems like fun.

Why wouldn't you admit that you've memorized my taste in food? It's alright, I know you love me mucho.

They hopped onto the lovely blue tandem bicycle and pedaled down the busy road with the Ticketmaster on the front seat. After swerving sharply several times to avoid hitting several vehicles/children, the Ragpicker shouted, "You aren't much better at riding a bicycle than you are at driving that car!" The Ticketmaster turned to scowl jokingly. She realized that this was not such a great idea after her pedal skimmed a nearby tree, and she shifted once more in her seat.

Alison is here, and I should go bond with them before I leave again. Not that they thoroughly enjoy my company, but it is nice to think they do.

Hahahahaha.

"'Cause there's no comfort in the waiting room,

just nervous pacers bracing for bad news." This is quite possibly one of the saddest songs in the entire world, but it's very good and very right-on, and I'd rather people hear it than not. I really like things that put you in perspective. Songs, programs, books, life. It's nice, to be put into perspective. To get a new view on things. Or not necessarily new, but refreshed.

I liked your Kanye reference, by the way. Liked it a lot. Yes, I'll go with you. I've been to the U.S. Space & Rocket Center. It was quite possibly my favorite place ever. I haven't thought about it in forever. I used to really want to be an astronaut. That was my dream in elementary school. More like I wanted to find aliens. Really, I don't understand. I'm absolutely terrified of them but I love finding out about them and oh, golly, it's just crazy. Yes, we can eat space food and go to Mars. Let's start building our spaceship.

We shall VLOG it up. Also, I think our joint post would have been genius if the keyboard wouldn't have mysteriously unplugged. I am going to write my english paper tonight. Although we don't have a printer and no one can edit it for me. I'll find a way. I always do. I don't always just doddle elephants. I've become quite the expert at cubes and flowers, too. Back off on my elephants. I am so bad at focusing. My mind is too all over the place, all the time. Actually, not all the time.

But we are all gradually exploding. I suppose that's what "losing it" is. Finally exploding.

You have nice hair. It's quite possibly the flippiest, softest hair in the entire universe and both of those adjectives are positive when it comes to hair. Don't do anything drastic to your hair. That would be devistating.

I don't remember what was to be discussed later. More than likely it has been because I wsa with you for 56 (*) hours since that was written. Hollah.

I don't expect people to take my advice. I said that. Moreso, take yourself in consideration. Do you ever take people's advice? Well, when someone tells me to do something, I more often do it than not, because we both know how good I am at standing up for myself. I can be defiant for a week or so, but to me it just makes me sad and I feel bad even it's something I truly believe in so I just give in and try to believe whatever I'm being told this time, and just hold on to the hope that things will be different later on.

I think it's impossible to listen to anyone completely. Life gets too much in the way of that, so even if you did, you wouldn't be able to do it consistently.

I want to ride my bike right now. Too bad it's -894 degrees outside. Really, too bad. That's also one of my goals this spring/summer. Get out in my bike more, even if I do have my liscense. Riding bikes is much better. We should go to Brown County with our bikss. PLAN! WHEN WE GO CAMPING WE WILL BRING OUR BIKES! Yes. Check and mate.

That will be so crazy. You driving. No push, Auds. But, you do have to get your driver's liscense to drve a Vespa around.

Something has happened ot me. I'm looking up colleges, I'm planning out things... I don't know what the deal is. Maybe I'm scared because I only have two years untill I hit college and I'm not prepared at all (or am I?) and I've got all these questions and I feel like getting answers now and I know what I need to do and ah, it's just crazy. I need to get on track. I will? I am? Agh. My own hypocrisy kills me. Oh, I have questions on a couple of math problems too.

I think I am in the spring cleaning mood. I need to do so also. I shall remind you, you shall remind me. Ready, break!

I;m excited for your newspaper article. I'm excited for the Invisible Children meeting Monday.

It's so hard to judge on what's selfish or what's needed on some circumstances. Gah. Just what to do in general sometimes is so hard to judge.

I think selling your soul can be figuratively possible. I think you can do it without meaning too. I also think you can get it back, kind of like redemption through suffering.

I have to sketch. I have to paint. I have to get my work done. I have to clean. I have to schedule meetings and do research, but hey, I've picked out a 20% project topic. UFO'S! I've already got a book on it. There are plenty more where it came from. I am good to go. I also have surprises to work on. Yeah, yeah, yeah!

I'm listening to Mahler's Symphony No. 9 and it's very uplifting. I love classical music. I miss the symphony in the park. I can't wait untill that starts up again.

I can't wait for your sunflower garden. It's going to be awesome. I'm going to look into volunteer opportunities, maybe do something at the children's museum or something. I really hope I hear about this IMA thing soon. It's so frustrating. But, I just found something very interesting...

I hope you rmom is alright. I wanted to talk to her but you hung up when I thought you were giving the phone to your mom? Maybe I was wrong? Who knows. I'm emailing people about volunteer opportunities. I'm pretty excited about some of them.

I got another talk about getting my own car today. I just want better gas mileage. Anything, I'm cool. Really, I'd like a station wagon, but I'm not a chooser.

(I had meant to say chocolate chips... I realized that after I posted it but I just didn't do anything about it...Why do I admit I've memorized how you like your food?)

"You never fight for it, still." said the Ticketmaster, kind of expectant in a hug from the Ragpicker. The Ragpicker turned quickly around and grabbed the Ticketmaster in a very tight hug and responded with a "Well, what can I say?" The Ticketmaster smiled and they walked to her double-seated bike because the movie theatre was all the way on the Westside of the city and there was no way they could walk there, despite all the walking they had done. They got to the bicycle that was chained to a stake that you could tell a sign used to sit atop. "Did you steal this one?" inquired the Ragpicker, half-jokingly. The Ticketmaster smiled secretly and wouldn't tell. Maybe, once again, the Ragpicker was right on. "I can't believe you got a double-seated bike. Why would you have this?" the Ragpicker went on. The Ticketmaster was still smiling but at the question it kind of faded and the Ticketmaster obviously had a reason but got really embarrassed so she looked at her feet and sort of mumbled under her breath. "No MUMBLING," the Ragpicker smiled, remembering that was the Ticketmaster's favorite part in Willy Wonka.

Well, that was longer than planned.

I do love Lucy. So, sue me.

I'm listening to party shuffle. I'm in a good mood, despite the day from 3:30-4:30 was quite off, but I'm not going to object anymore. Maybe they're right.

I shall be calling you about those math problems, unless you call me beforehand.

You know I can tell the difference between "baby" and "Abby." Also, you have begun to call me "baby" more and more. Or, atleast the equals, like "sweetie" and such. Don't even deny it. It's nice. It's better than freak, that's for sure.

People sure have become quite honest in their sleep. Weird, since some people used to never talk, and now they have struck up quite the habit. It sure does make other people smile though.

"I wish I could buy me a spaceship and fly"

That would be fun. Time to go. I'll miss you, Abby. You are welcome to join me in my spaceship adventure, if you'd like. We'll eat space brownies. And recycle.

Our poor joint post didn't exactly work out. Next adventure--VLOG! Hopefully, that will be a success. I hope you have written your english paper. And not just doodled elephants on the side of the page. Don't think I didn't see that, Abby. I certainly did. Focus.

Let's not explode, actually. That would be a good time.

My mom just pointed to my hair and said, "And what does this do. What is this? Hmmm?" My poor hair.

What is to be discussed later? Has this been discussed later? Don't expect people to take advice. And never listen to anyone completely. That would be awful.

Oh, I love riding my bike. I just don't do it enough. That is a resolution. I will ride my bike more. And go outside more in all. I don't spend enough time outside. Also, I will work on the driving thing so that one day, I will get my license without telling a single soul and drive over to your house and SURPRISE! it's me. That will be fun. Too bad it will be in fifty years or so.

I'm glad you're keeping under control with your little SAT prep books. I am proud. I need to clean my room and OR-GAN-IZE immediately. Maybe tonight. Probably not. Remind me to do so by the end of the week, please.

It is impossible to only take yourself into consideration, but then again, it seems important to make some decisions based solely upon yourself. I don't know. Maybe just to some extent. I have to write my newspaper article.

Apparently, some people are honest when they sleep. So, maybe if we can record everyone in the entire world when they sleep, we can find out all truths. Hmmm...not so sure how that would go.

It can't be possible, selling your soul. Completely impossible. But it is a fascinating idea. What could one possible sell his sould for?

I have to sketch. I want to sketch, actually, but it is conveniently timed to the week when sketchbooks are due. I also have sur-PRISES to work on. Hoo-rah.

I felt a change a'comin'.
Yup.

I need to look into those sunflower seeds, because I believe they have to be planted by the end of March, which is coming up somewhat soon. I'll talk to my father, I guess. When he gets home. Have I ever expressed my extreme dislike of tax season? It keeps my dad away, which stresses my mom out, and a stressed Toni is never, ever, ever good. Ever.

"Oh. How She Move. That was a great movie. Great. Uh-huh. Wonderful. Yep. Lovely." she angrily jabbed at her food with each adjective. Somebody was obviously not so great at forgiveness, and the Ragpicker, defeated, stared sadly at her waffle (which had chocolate chips, not blueberries, because the Ragpicker despised blueberries). After a few moments passed, the Ticketmaster laughed and said, for the thousandth time, "You're supposed to fight for it!" and the Ragpicker smiled as they paid Norma Mae Something or the Other and walked out of the small restaurant on the way to their favorite movie.

What was that "I Love Lucy" quote? "You've got some 'splaining to do!"

I just downloaded a really great 70's song. It sounds like something your mom listens to at ten in the morning while cleaning.

Good-bye.
You know, "baby" sounds an awful lot like "Abby". Just to point that out.

"These two sides of my brain

need to have a meeting. Can't think of anything to do, my left brain knows that all love is fleeting, now." If I hear one more thing about anything, anything in the whole entire universe, from apricots to Zanzibar, I will tic-toc-explode. Into eighty thousand billion pieces. Actually, I think it's all a matter of slow, gradual exploding. We don't notice when we are in seventy-nine thousand billion pieces, but something about that eighty thousandth piece, we just all of a sudden know. No, no, it's no fun.

What is this "the" change? Things always get better with the weather, or maybe it's the association with summer and no school? The association of no school with a much lessened stress/thought level? Better weather is just nice. Sunny, a little breezy weather. It's relaxing, refreshing. I'm excited. It brings on five million more adventures, and those are always fun.

I think advice is very flexible. When I give people advice, I never expect it to be followed in the fullest. I never follow anything in the fullest (which I'm kind of battling in my mind about, but to be discussed later), so why expect anyone else to? I don't. So, don't, full on out don't. Refuse, and argue. It's all alright.

You should get on last.fm. That's all you type in the URL box. It just might change your life. Just, maybe.

Refined. That's a ridiculous term. I don't understand it at all. Who can... I don't even know. Nevermind.

I can't ever picture you driving now just because of your resistance. I figure when the weather gets nicer I'm going to start riding my bike a lot more often. I think next week when I'm all rested up I'm going to start running and going to the gym and all that. Get back in shape for lacrosse season. Oh, my.

I have a lot of homework to do. It's saddening. I probably know how to do half of it, so that's a plus. Don't worry about such things? Audrey, that was the biggest lie I've ever heard in my entire life.

Ah, library fines. Awesome. Guh-reat.

EVERYONE LEFT! I just called my mom and they are at El Azabache. Haters. Looks like I'll get an early start on everything. I've finished Plath and Bukowski, so done with my books. All I've got is homeowrk, SAT prep, and cleaning. Wow. What have I come to? It's kind of nice though in a lot of ways I'm keeping tab of in my head.

I have to write my english paper! Almost forgot about that one! Agh. Whenever I just consider my interests, just my interests and what I want, it's so much easier. But then I never do just thar. Who can? Then you're selfish. Ah, stress, stress, stress.

I like politics. I like issues. Not the fact that we have issues, but just, I don't know, I'm interested in solving the world's problems. Helping to do so, maybe.

But 'troubled students,' I don't get it. Everyone's got their troubles. What's the difference, when it all comes down to it? Everyone's troubled.

Latin tomrrow, oh man. I like Latin, so not really "Oh, man," but more like "Alright." I want to learn French, Zulu, and some Eastern language. That would get some good bases covered, I think.

"Disco was not my mistake, it was the mistake of a nation." That made me laugh.

But, you know, maybe gradually, maybe, just maybe, we can all be honest sometime. Put it all out there. But we all have to improve. Sure, there will be many, many setbacks, but there will also be steps forward and advances. I'm optimistic to it happening. Maybe someday, there won't be so much fear of who we are, of who your neighbor is. I hope it is. I want to hope it is.

I'm sorry about your scabs. Maybe some Neosporin will help? Awe, poor Butternut.

I think our souls are just kind of like your emotional connection with your body and mind, maybe also your conscience. Maybe? I don't know. That's what I think of it as. I think selling your soul kind of like selling out your conscience? I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. Gah.

Choices are so weird. All of the things you have to consider. Hm.

I'm fine. I told you that.

It's always makes me laugh when getting in trouble sounds so appealing. Really, sometimes, it just does. I'm talking about a revolution for the better. It is very appealing.

The Ticketmaster was still obviously thinking about it, so the Ragpicker had to think quickly to change the subject, which she was never good at anyway, but tried. "So, uh, you know that movie theatre where they play old movies?" The Ticketmaster barely acknowledged her and replied quite coldly, "Yes." This made the Ragpicker nervous, but she kept on. "Well, there playing How She Move. Maybe you'd be interested in going with me?"

I want to play Scrabble. No go.

I came across that quote on that Blog that I always read.

You have some explaining to do.

Goodnight.

Burma Might be a Peninsula

Whew. My mother has left the house for what I estimate to be approximately twenty minutes, meaning I have about twenty minutes to write on the blog. If I hear one more thing about homework, test scores, or stupidity, I will explode. Which would certainly not be fun.

I'm glad you are ready for the change. Well, not "the" change. The change in seasons. It sounds like a good time, I think. I thought about rolling down the car window today in History and how much I enjoy it, and I got really excited, until I remembered that the allergy doctor told me I shouldn't do this anymore. But that stinks, actually, so I would rather not listen to this little bit of advice.

What should I get on? And do not make fun of Enrique. I'm sorry my tasted are not as refined as others might be. Or are they more so? We shall never know.

Poor little Butternut. I would rub your head if I were able to, and you know that. I apologize I cannot drive. One day. In fifty years or so.

I am extremely proud of you for asking for homework. You are doing quite well. Don't worry about such things. Also, I talked to Sara about your pukey library books, and she said that her mother would not lose any respect for you just because you got sick. You couldn't control it, so stop fretting. Fret is a fun word.

I'm writing that english paper, and it is actually exciting me for my future, a little bit. I thought it would stress me out completely, but I've realized that when I write what I want to do, without thinking about what other people want me to do, I feel much better. Ambassador would be fun. Eileen wanted to be in the U.N., but then went on to describe her hatred for politics. I'm pretty sure the U.N. has to deal with politics, but I didn't want to burst her happy little bubble.

I should have timed when my mother left.

I think it was good, but maybe she shouldn't have stressed just HOW much the school is for troubled students? I don't know. I don't want to know how my father feels about that.

I think Latin is okay, but maybe something that I could speak to other people would be nice. And not, like, strange people who live in Indiana thinking that it is ancient Rome.

Yes, I believe we are always lying. Always, always. It is insane, but we can't do anything about it. Because there is NO WAY that everyone will be completely open. And really, I'm not so sure that this would be a good thing. Everyone being open, I mean. Sure, it is great to get as much as you can out there, and it is important to express your feelings, but everything? Impossible. Maybe lying, as you said, keeps us together. But it also keeps us apart, if this is at all possible.

The scabs that have formed under my nostrils from blowing my nose so much are beginning to peel, and it is quite uncomfortable.

Do we all have souls, really? What exactly is the soul? In Dorian Gray, he "sells" his soul for eternal youth, but it is always right there, in the painting. He always has his soul. I don't think that this is giving anything away. It says it on the back, actually. I was just thinking about it. Whether or not we could sacrifice ideas and morals for something else.

What is the connection between lying and lying and telling the truth and standing up?

Maybe you don't have a choice entirely, but you can try to influence yourself, or you can try to make others influence you, or you can work on overcoming whatever mindset you have that is blocking you from any other.

You're fine, Abigail.

Revolution! Fun times, maybe. Maybe not. It seems like a frightening idea, which might be why stirring things up sounds so appealing.

"Err...selling...goods...stolen...errr..." was all that the embarrassed Ragpicker could mumble. The Ticketmaster, who had always seemed to think somewhat highly of the Ragpicker's intelligence, did not approve of her work as an illegal trader, and at this mention of the despised job, she frowned. "Oh--still up to your old ways, huh?" she said somewhat angrily. The Ragpicker patted the Ticketmaster's sweaty hand, and they let the argument slide for possibly the millionth time.

I hope Memaw played Scrabble with you.
We played Go Fish today in Seminar. Good times, I'm tellin' ya.

Surprise brownies are almost finished.
As guilty as I will feel after for eating S.S.'s birthday food,
I think I will eat a small piece.
Very small.

What is this quotation from?
I like it, I think.

Oh, goodness.
I am in pain.
Farewell.

Lots and lots of pain.
Argh.//,klal;ksdfj

"And yeah, I know,

they'll get you down. And yeah, I know, they'll drag it out." It is 52 degrees out, Auds. Fifty-two. It's raining, but it's fifty-two degrees outside. It's February fifth, it's Tuesday, and I'm damned ready for spring. I'm tired of this, whatever this is. I kind of like it, just because it has been around for so long, and it's familiar and I'm used to it and I don't really know how to deal otherwise, but I'm quite aware it's time for me to get uncomfortable.

Auds, you should get on . Seriously, it's amazing. Click on 'Listen,' enter an artist you like (I'm not guareenteeing it'll have anything of the Enrique Iglesias sort, it's more of the Tegan and Sara/ The Postal Service type...) and it plays a bunch of artists that are like what you like and it's just nice. It's a nifty little service. Nifty.

Scratch that about me coming back Wednesday. It may be Thursday, but probably Friday. I tried. My mom is stopping by to get my homework though so I don't get too far behind. That was my idea, I thought you'd be proud. I wish oil paint would dry faster. I wish I was in a two foot radius of a gospel choir that would sing and rub my head. That sounds perfect. I wish you would come over and rub my head, but you have to go to school. I also wish oil paint would dry faster. Really, twenty-four hours is plenty of time. I am DONE sounding like a twelve year old boy, I am seriously over it.

So, I'm on the one hundreth plus one post. Nice, nice. It's a good blog, iy is. It's raining quite nicely outside. I just stood out there for about seven mintues. Rain is so nice. I think it goes right under Ovaltine with things I love about the world. It made me feel a little less sickly.

We are quite the dedicated bloggers. Good deal. Potato, Auds, potato.

We shall go cloud hunting very soon. Speaking of which, I made you a surprise today, hoping to make up for the fact I was in absence on the perfect cloud hunting day. Your surprise won't lose any of it's meaning, I'm very excited. My heart is smiling and anxious, I promise.

I don't know why I am getting so many. I didn't do all that well on the PSAT. I did alright, I suppose. Better than average, but still, nothing really impressive. I have to do better. I think I am going to try and get National Merit. I think that sounds neat. Maybe I'll be able to do it. I don't know, though. It's kind of like getting all A's, but maybe a iittle easier? I don't know. I've been thinking a lot about education and where I want to go and all that with all this down time. I'm thinking maybe an ambassador, get a doctorate in international studies maybe, take history classes, also I'd probably have to tackle a couple for languages, but it's all in the name of saving the world. Or, maybe a psychologist, or an international journalist correspondent, but I'm not so big on that one. I don't know yet. Maybe just an airplane stewardess. I don't really know.

I just read the article on the Star's website, and it was a good article, I thought? Maybe I got it totally wrong?

I'm glad your sister enjoys her twisty markers. I love them, and glad I could pass it on. I need to get some more, speaking of which.

I hope you are in my Latin class. That will be good timse. Stephanie and I always get done a long time before anyone else. I like Latin class, regardless if it's clicking or not. I would much rather learn French or Italian or Russian or Spanish or German or something, you know. Something I may use. But there it is. I'm sure it helps somehow.

So, do you considering not telling everything a lie? If no one asks, and no one tells, is that inadvetently lying? I suppose it is. I suppose, it only causes problems if you don't put all of it on the table, but what to do when you know this metaphoric table would give in and crash to the floor if you put it all out there. Once again, it comes to being scared of people leaving. If I put everything out there, I am not sure at all people would still like me. Why take that chance? Why take it all off just to wish you never had? So, it's kind of good when people lie. It, sadly, keeps people together. Maybe.

When you are depending on something, you become aware you are depending on it, then you become so terrified it's going to leave you usually ruin it. Or you make things a mess and extremely difficult. I'm tired of lying. I wish things weren't so difficult where people felt like they had to.

Do I really have a choice in the things I believe in? I don't think so. I think it comes and changes with experience. If I could believe in ideals and silly, happy things instead of the cynical, ruthless things that fill my head, I would. If I could, I would, it would make no sense not to. I don't think people have a choice in their intuition. I think it comes and goes on it's own.

People change. People pretend things are okay and don't talk about them. People will things to die and simply feel guilty about it later, but do nothing. I've been one to do this myself, I'm not saying it's only other people. I'm plenty to blame myself, which is why maybe I feel it happened to me so often.

Everyone feels annoyed. You shouldn't feel guilty, no. It's nice you haven't yelled at her in a long time. Emily hasn't yelled at me this week on account of how I've been so sick, and it's nice.

I'm kind of very angry. I have to go to the doctor tomorrow at 1:30, along with Friday morning at 8:30. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I'm going to get (also) medicine to make me sleep, medicine to help nasuea, and coughing. Gah! ASDFGHJKL

So. maybe keeping it in, if we keep doing it, isn't that just a temporary solution? We keep having these mean thoughts, day after day, and we keep keeping them in, so we don't hurt anyone's feelings. Maybe if we let them out, showed it to the world, we'd stop thinking so. We'd become easier in the mind. Smoother, nicer, with time. Let it out, maybe.

It's true. Nobody knows anybody. And the way things are, I think it's the precise time to start a revolution.

The Ragpicker, while walking to their booth in the middle, answered "Sandy, of course." The Ticketmaster could still not get over this wonderous bond of the Ragpicker and the random Waffle House janitor, but didn't really have time to contemplate it as the hefty waitress came over almost right as they were getting comfortable. "What may have ya?" she asked, obviously not interested, but doing her job. "Ah, well, the usual, I suppose," answered the Ticketmaster, and blushed to let on that she goes her so often. "I'll have the same, but with blueberries in the waffle," said the Ragpicker. The Ticketmaster moved around untill she found a comfortable way to sit in the hard, wooden bench, and looked at the Ragpicker. "So, uh, what will you be doing today?"

I don't think I would want to play for Perry, just because of the people I know there, really. Maybe I'll join some rec league or something, I don't know. Maybe I won't. Whatever, whatever. I think I am going to inquire if I can go to my Memaw's tonight. Maybe she'll play Scrabble with me. I don't know.

"I mean, it's time. It begins with us, not with politicians, the experts or the teachers, but with us. With you and with me, the ones who need it most. I believe with everything that's in me that the whole world is begging for healing ... the same kind of healing I desperately needed and finally feel has begun with you ... it's not game over yet, it's just the beginning, but it's up to you. I'm calling for every kid to seize the air. Steal it, it belongs to you. Speak out, they can't stop you. Find your voice and use it. Keep this going. Pick a name, go on air. It's your life, take charge of it. Do it, try it, try anything. Spill your guts and say shit and fuck a million times if you want to, but you decide. Fill the air, steal it. Keep the air alive ... Talk hard."

I agree with Lineweaver, I'm really not a fan of exclamation marks.

Tajikistan is not an island

Happy day after out three month blog anniversary, Abigail. I am sorry that I might have momentarily forgotten. Never, ever again. And...this is the 100th post! Counting drafts, of course.

Good ol' February. Actually, I kind of despise February. But, it is another month closer to my beloved spring, which is always fun. This month will, however, be a blessed one for the blog. And we definitely beat out all of our blog buddies. Sorry, guys, but we win.

I am thinking that today would have been the PERFECT cloud hunting day. But no, you had to go barf all over your bed and skip school. I even had an extra-special surprise for you if you happened to show up, but that can wait until Wednesday. It will, however, lose some of its meaning during this massive break.

I've only gotten Ball State, which is slightly disappointing. Rachel said not to worry, however, so I will try not to. I know I don't plan on attending Ball State, however. Herron was in the paper today for our ISTEP scores. And yes, my father read this article.

I saw a commercial for twisty markers today.

I think I might have your Latin class now? I'm not sure. I know I have to switch my ceramics, according to Mr. Owens, and I'm sad, because I had a class with Andrea. It was nice having someone in my art class for a couple of days, there.

But you'll never get an honest answer! There is always a slight lie mixed in with every question/answer, which is what bothers me. I'm glad your sister isn't actually in jail, and that that was just an example. I was slightly worried. I like familiarity. Who likes too much change? Sure, it's what we cling to, but maybe we need something to cling to. Sometimes, it is NICE to depend on something. It is nice to think that something will stay the same, even if it isn't true. Maybe it is bad to lie to yourself, but I do it an awful lot, and if it is the only thing that gets me through whatever, I'll stick with it. I know how you hate lying, but there is absolutely no way to escape it completely.

You don't have to believe people leave. This is your own choice. You can switch over. It isn't that difficult. Not everything has to have proof, and you need to think that someday, someone will come along and won't leave. You can think this. I don't want to force you into believing anything, but really, Abigail, I'm right here. And I'm not leaving. I'm not the type to break promises. Somebody told me that one time, I think. I could be making it up, though. Don't wear down, please.

I would just like to point out that I haven't yelled at Katie in a very, very long time, and this little slip of annoyance was not major AT ALL, so I shouldn't feel guily about it, right?

LIFE IS NOT SPITEFUL. I am going to do something drastic pretty soon. What, I am not sure. But it will happen.

We all have such mean thoughts. All of us. Everybody. And the "nice" people are just the ones that manage to keep these thoughts inside. They still have them. But secrets have to be kept, because each thought that we don't voice falls under this category, I believe. And we can't speak everything. That would hurt way too many people.

I don't think I know more about you than you do. You can't know about people unless they tell you. This wasn't directed toward you (I read it, and it sounded slightly angry), but the world. And, as you have said, nobody tells everything about themselves. They keep it. Which is why I don't know anybody, and you don't know anybody, and nobody knows nobody. Which I'm not exactly sure makes sense, but oh well.

"We don't say the Lord's name in vain," the Ragpicker said, as she raced ahead. Both accelerated at a constant rate until it was a race quite similar to those had years prior on the stairs, this time not on an incline. At last, the Ticketmaster pulled ahead, as always, with the Ragpicker close behind her (or, kind of close behind her). They entered the freakishly small restaurant and were greeted with the smell of cheesy eggs and orange juice, as well as a sweet little janitor without front teeth, whose first words to them on this particular day were, as always, "What do you call a girl with no arms and no legs layin' on the beach?" He didn't miss a beat, which was rather surprising for his abnormally heightened age.

I'll think of a list later. Now, I will work on Physics. Actually, I will look for your black notebook that I have been using, containing my Physics notes. It would not be so good if my parents found it and opened it to one of the first three pages.
Mr. Clark talked about the tennis team today, actually. But don't get your hopes up. Maybe you can play for Perry? Would they allow that?

"There's a tough word

on your crossword. There's a bed bug nipping a finger. There's a swallow. There's a calm. Here's a hand to lay on your open palm, today."

Yes, we should stop neglecting the blog. January is over, as is our deadling. It's February the first. Weird. It feels kind of fast but not really. Yeah, yeah, yeah. So much for forty-five. We still have failed to do a joint post and our blog will be three months old tomorrow. We should probably get on that, or something. I think regardless we had more posts than any of our blog buddies.

My laptop is fixed. My PS2 is fixed. My room is extremely messy. I'm sweating. I'll end up cleaning my room tonight, more than likely. I have a full tank of gas. I have a weird part at the moment. I slept for a couple of hours when I got home. There are a lot of empty cans in my room, and bags. What happened to the snow?

I should start reading that Madeline, true story. I'll get on that, so we can have these intellectual conversations. I'm still not done with Hemingway, sadly enough. I'll probably finish that. If I don't, I'll have to renew it for it's due the fourth.

I'm starting to get letters from colleges? I think it's via the whole PSAT form. I've got one from Evansville, Ball State, and Valparaiso? Weird. I've got a knot in my hair. Got it.

My schedule is changed. I'm excited for this 3-D project. The whole making a puzzle out of the bust. I think it'll be cool. I don't really like group art projects all that much, though. I'm over it.

Everyone's deeper than their actions, and no one really knows what's going on unless you ask and get an honest answer. Impressions are worth nothing, and I don't understand why they are still considered. Why do we need to be defined? Humans attach theirselves to familiarity because we're too scared to do anything else and, in my opinion, fear is the biggest authority of all. What's really the difference with anything, if you get the same result? Why would my sister be put into jail for serving alcohol without proper liscensing for the same amount of time a sex offender would be in jail. Is that not ridiculous? Or, do I just not know the real reason behind the time limit. Maybe it is right, I just don't know anything about the so-called justice system. Very possible. Why really think you know anything? It could be changed, or you could be wrong. There's that to consider with everything.

My soul didn't temporarily die, Audrey. Still there. It was a joke. I know I love spaghetti. I remember. It hasn't been forgotten. I haven't forgotten anything. That's not a problem.

Don't let me convince you. Fight with me. Tell me I'm wrong. Get me to believe otherwise and have some hope in something. That's okay with me. I'm open to the possibility. Just right now, at this moment, in this chapter of life, I don't believe it. People that you are told stay by you, for me, they haven't. And I'm not one to admit defeat. but it's worn me down. It's almost like it gets worse as time goes by, when I'm suppost to be getting over things. I just don't want to fall under the category of one of your worries, okay? I can be independent, I always find away, regardless of how right or whatever it is. I'm versatile. I'm resourceful. Just, in the case of people, and them leaving, I don't want to be.

Right timing is just something that is hoped. You are right. It's not there. Life is too arbitrary and spiteful to let that happen.

If someone doesn't actually like me, I just get hurt. You know, you are told how often, "Don't take it personal." It's all personal. Everything in my life gives me some sort of feeling, some sort of reaction. I'm not content with acting. Life isn't a performance or a rendition of what it's wanted to be, it's the only real thing we've got, and I don't want acting. That hurts more. It's untruthful, and we all know that's wrong.

I'm usually happier when I'm making someone else happy. I have no idea what will make me happy. I don't think that's so much wrong, just sort of dependent. Eager to please, I suppose. That's just kind of annoying.

If we keep secrets, is it okay if they are bad? Or, putting it out there, maybe that's kind of like redeeming yourselves? Can someone really like you when you have secrets? Is that, sort of, untruthful? That's what I'm wondering. Is it okay? Would someone like me if they knew everything about me? I don't think I would try. I wonder if anyone has.

I want to watch a movie.

Am I really a good person, Audrey? You have no idea, or maybe you have more of one than I do. Maybe what you think of me is more correct than what I think of myself just because it's myself and who's entitled opinion on themselves is necessarily correct? I keep secrets. I still fold, I still hide, regardless if I know whether it's good or not. Once again, fear is the greatest authority and in no way am I brave. Do we really have the same flaws? I don't think so. Sure, we've made a lot of the same mistakes in our own lives, but really, to say they are the same flaw? I don't know about that.

I do eat Audrey. Stop.

"Well, I know a certain old man who has missed your jokes," the Ticketmaster suggested, wondering if the Ragpicker would still remember their box of a favorite breakfast restaurant. "...You mean to tell me the Waffle House is STILL open? And that man is STILL alive?" The loudness of her voice was all the same and it made the Ticketmaster smile even harder. "Yes, of course. Why would you ever think it would go out of buisness?" the Ticketmaster questioned, half joking. "No, no, of course not. Just... Well, let's go," the Ragpicker sped ahead and the Ticketmaster had to jog a few steps to catch up to the quick acceleration. "My God, slow down!"

Three Things I Wish I Was Really Good At
1. Math. It'd be amazing to not struggle with it. To be just naturally gifted with numbers. It'd be nice. I need to work more for my SAT. Randomly my famile has decided I should get national merit? As to who I am and my intelligence level is unknown? Fantastic.
2. I wish I was better at guitar. I'm alright, really, but I'm not insanely good like I would want to be.
3. I wish I was a really good runner. Like, be able to run thirteen miles and still be barely sweating. In good time, too. I just think that'd be cool and I'd be in tip-top shape, but actually, I don't really need to be, seeing as Herron isn't having the tennis team.

It hasn't snowed here (it's all leftovers) but I want to go sledding regardless. Maybe I'll go on a walk. I have called you but got no answer. I smile plenty. You smile, okay?

Wendy's kids meal

If you do not call soon, I will surely be trying to contact you to see how your appointment went, but for now, I will work on this blog, which has been neglected for ONE WEEK. I really feel quite awful about this.

I ate Chinese food today! It made me so extremely happy. Also, Project Runway is on, and I have had to read, practice my cello, e-mail Rachel, and talk to Eileen. It doesn't take much to make me happy. AND Jesus Christ just came on iTunes. Life is good, I think.

Two peanut butter sandwiches! Look at you! Aw, Abby. You should get started on Madeline tomorrow so that we can have intellectual conversations about my favortie piece of literature of all time.

Did you change your schedule yet? You probably should get right on that, as the actual deadline was yesterday.

Man, it really has been a long, long time since I have written. This is a record, definitely. But, I have been sick, and you have been sick, and I have been over (twice), so I think we KIND of have an excuse. Not really, though.

I would probably still like you if you killed someone, because it doesn't change you, really, because a person is a lot deeper than their actions every once in a while. But maybe we are always defined by our actions. How else could we be defined? Do we need to be defined? I just confused myself to the extreme. So I put on some Beyonce. There is a difference in not paying a parking ticket and killing someone, Abby. In one, you are stealing somebody's life. There is not normally an excuse for this. Though there is usually. I guess, if somebody didn't pay a parking ticket for some elaborate reason that involves darting the law and avoiding paying money to the government because they don't want to support homeless people and people with bad medical incurance, this could be worse than someone killing somebody as self defense because they are about to be raped and shot. That was nice. I don't think we CAN put crimes on different "levels" because they go into way too much depth and reasoning. We can't put anything on any level, because there is always more thinking to be involved.

Why did your soul temporarily die? This is not something to kid about, Abigail. I am going to try to bring you spaghetti tomorrow, in hopes that you will consume it. You love spaghetti, remember?

Don't tell me that people always leave, because I don't want to believe it, and you can be quite convincing. I just don't want to fall under the category of your greatest fear.

Nobody ever gets the timing right. Right timing does not exist.

It isn't that we never meet worthwhile people, Abby. But why do we need to know who likes us, and who doesn't? People will at least usually ACT like they do, so why can't we be content with this? Why do I feel the need to question whether or not people agree with me, or find me funny, or interesting. This is saddening. We should all be content liking ourselves. If we do, nothing else should matter. But it does, and we can't change that, and we rely on others to make us happy, and we feel the need to be loved, or appreciated, and then we do things we wouldn't normally do to make other people happy, and that's wrong. And not wanting to tell every single detail of your life, and maybe wanting to keep some things to yourself, shouldn't really be an issue, but maybe this drives people away, keeping secrets? But, secrets are what we keep to make people like us. I really want to watch 10 Things I Hate About You now. It seems like a positive time.

Abigail, you are a good person. And this alone is an admirable trait. If it makes you feel better, I will say that you are the scum of the earth and refuse to think highly of anything you do, but only to your face. Secretly, I will I-DOL-IZE you. Well, not idolize, but I will continue thinking you have good qualities that you do not seem to be aware of. And quit folding. And hiding. But I can't just tell you to do that. I fold. I hide. Everybody folds and hides. That's what we do, as people. You have the same flaws as everybody else, just maybe to a different extent. We all share the same problems, but some of us have them more extremely than others. I still don't understand guilt, and never will.

The Ragpicker smiled and nodded, without thinking of where she was headed. So they stood up, stretched, and walked down, the Ragpicker leading the overly-excited Ticketmaster. As she strolled the familiar path, she realized the difference it made to be with someone else. How greener the leaves looked. How less disgusting the dirty puddles appeared. How lovely those street hot dogs smelled at ten in the morning. She looked sideways at her glowing acquaintance and grinned, asking what the Ticketmaster would enjoy for breakfast, hoping that the Ticketmaster would eat SOMETHING.

Three Things I Wish I Were Really Good At
1. The cello. I can play it, but not well, and I would really, really, really like to be successful at it, because I like it oh-so-much. If not the cello, I really enjoy the harmonica.
2. Conversations. One day, I will drop all awkwardness behind me, and people will be amazed.
3. Advice. People need it, and I would like to be able to give it. But only good, non-controlling advice. There is nothing worse than receiving advice that gives you only one option.

It has started snowing, at which I was so joyful. Not because of the snow day, for which I am not that excited, but because I realized that this means I will get to go snowing. And I love sledding. So, hooray for snow. This is the, what, 18th post for the month of January? Out of 45? It's okay. Life's still good.

Good-bye, Abigail Rose. Smile. Like the Nat King Cole song.

"If you need to picture me naked,

it's cool." BEST COMMERCIAL EVER! I love, love, love this commercial. I think I laugh times eighty million every time. Oh, man. Commercials really aren't that bad. I don't see why people complain. On the whole, I like them.

I had two peanut butter sandwiches. Also, I realized I think Amanda Bynes is really funny and she is cracking me up on What I Like About You. Oh, man. Too, too much. Can not take it, haha. I don't know what is going on with me. I am laughing almost constantly. Guess who might be going to Elizabeth's! Me!

My schedule is weird. I don't know how much it will change because they accidentally put me in Latin 1. We shall see.

I have the same dream a lot.

I just don't like being compared to the ugly cat. I don't understand. Hurts my feelings. Oh, well.

Not many people look for the reason behind why people did things. They just look at the fact that they did it. And sure, that may be wrong, but it still happens. So that's that, and people leave, and sure they were never really that close if they left in the first place, but I would rather have someone not get so close and stay than get that close and leave.

You need to call me because Andrea has informed me of the plans tomorrow and I called your telephono but got no answer and I'm about to be picked up to go to Elizabethan's so I shall talk to you then!

I just got back from my grandma's house. It was nice. I got over there about eight o'clock and I read a bit and we watched Notting Hill and it was really good as always and then I read more and went to bed around midnight, and best part, I slept for ten hours and thirty minutes. I woke up this morning about ten thirty. I woke up a couple of times during the night but nothing at all and I just fell back asleep. It was nice. Anyways, today my grandma and I went and saw Juno. It was really good. I liked it. So did Memaw. I've been wearing the same thing since Thursday. I should probably change. Oh, well.

I hope you are feeling better. Memaw gives you her best wishes too and asked if you needed to sleep in her water bed, and it made me laugh really hard and she hit my shoulder and called me unsympathetic. Lies! I am very sympathetic to your condition and I hope you get well soon. Which you will. All in good time.

I wonder if we are going to end up keeping Diego. Weird.

So if I do kill someone for no reason, you wouldn't like me. But aren't I still me? If I kill someone, that doesn't change you. Or does it? I think it just changes how people percieve you. When someone finds out something about you, no matter how big or small it is, their view of you changes. You can't stop that. I just think that's weird. If you murdered someone, I don't think I would really care that much. That sounds really heartless, I suppose. I don't really know how to put it. I'd still be your friend. I'd still invite you over and ask your sister to get on Webkinz. It wouldn't change anything for me. But you said you wouldn't be my biggest fan. I don't understand why. Because I did something bad? Well, isn't a sin is a sin is a sin? But not really, because we put degrees to them. Hence two years in jail for not paying your parking tickets versus the death penalty for murdering some guy. I just don't get it. Murderers aren't bad people, I don't think. I don't think anyone is a bad person. I just think there are bad things. Bad experiences leading to bad feelings which can lead to illogical actions. I just don't get it. Arg.

Your dad knows what he's talking about. He seems reasonably successful and he certainly isn't stupid. I'm not an artist. I'm just myself. I'd never call myself anything, so I don't really know, actually. Maybe Herron isn't that great. You probably are better than what it is. Sure our scores aren't impressive, but everyone is doing better than they were, and that counts for something, surely? I'm as proud of my improvement as much as my lack of self-confidence allows. I do know for a fact I'm glad to not be where I was two/three years ago, especially in the academic sense. I know I'm not where I could be, maybe even where I should be, but it's more than I was and I think that should be considered. For everyone. Maybe you aren't improving. But it isn't all about academics, it's about you and taking what you are and improving on that, or becoming more of what you are. I think that's more of what high school should be about than grades. But I'm only sixteen, who knows if I'll still think that ten years down the road.

My soul has temporarily died. Kidding.

I'll be alright, Audrey.

Everyone does leave, Audrey, and I'll continue to argue this with you. Sometimes they come back, sometimes they don't. Sometimes they come back and leave fifty million times, sometimes they don't. All in good time, everyone leaves. Whether because of you or for themselves. I just want to meet two people, friends, lovers, whatevers, that have stayed together for fifty years and are still happy. I don't understand why it's so hard. I don't understand why people leave. I've never met anyone and felt like I wanted to give up on them. I've been weary of people, sure, but never to that point. It just makes me sad.

I don't understand love at all. Not at all. Why question it? Why try to explain it? That might make who you love leave. I think love is real when you just know it. I think that's really it. I think people fall in love a lot more than they think they do. Or they know they have, but they just don't consider it. It's in the back of their mind. Or you don't want to know that you have so you completely block it out, but you still know it. It's still there. I don't know if this makes sense to you, but that's what I think about love.

Who knew that matches were called lucifers? We did, as of yesterday.

People are so strange. Life is so strange. Music is so strange. Good job to people who can get the timing right.

But why would you want to know who loves you and who doesn't when you could very well end up alone? To me the prospects are too scary. Sure, no one will ever get the full you, because you'll always be too scared, and maybe that's holding a lot back and not good at all, but I'd rather not be fully extroverted and alone than introverted and with someone. Maybe that's a huge issue, but that's that.

I don't really think I have a problem being forgiving. I have a problem of not knowing what's good for me. I wish I thought well enough of myself to know what is good for me. I don't really understand myself, or anything for that matter when it comes down to it. So I just kind of fold where people tell me to fold and hide when I don't feel like facing anything. I know that's not admirable in any form, and I wish people wouldn't admire me. Sure, I may be a likeable person, but I'm not admirable. I'm not brave, I'm not honest. I just say what I feel like I can say at the time and move on. Except not move on, it all kind of stays in my head, all the time. Once I heard someone say a good person is not measured upon how many good things they do, but how much guilt they feel. I don't think that's right. I don't think if you don't feel guilty you are worse off than anyone else. I think you are quite alright, and I admire you for being able to do that, because guilt controls a lot of me, and it'd be nice to be free from that.

"You see, I, uh, well, I, just..." the Ticketmaster tried to find an excuse as to why her wallpaper on her cell phone was still the Ragpicker's face. It was really obvious, but who wants to admit to the truth. "Well, you see, I just, I forgot how to change it." The Ragpicker saw right through this and smiled. "Okay." "Do you have anything to do today?" the Ticketmaster asked, obviously hinting at hoping they'd get to spend more time together. "Yes," the Ragpicker replied, but in a regretful tone that made the Ticketmaster take the rejection a bit easier. The Ticketmaster decided to go ahead and take the chance of being annoying and around to much and asked, in an obviously eager tone, "Well, can I come?"

Okay, new list. How about three things you wish you were really good at. They can be whatever, of course, no restrictions. Go on, now. I hope your day has been well. I'll probably be calling you later to ask about Algebra, but I'm kind of scared to do this because I don't want you to be sleeping. I have to go fix Memaw's phone and buy some art supplies but then I shall be home to work on my homework. I thought your Adidas pants were mine and I was really confused because they felt so different, then I remembered you had left your things here and they were yours. So that's the end of my fun story.

Good day, Audrey Elizabeth.

I have quite fancy socks on.