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.

MP Shorty? Peppy B?

I have eaten an abnormally large amount of junk food today. For some reason, only junk food sounds appealing, and everything else makes me want to barf up everything in the inner systems of my body. Also, I am constantly tired and hungry, which is not a good combination, especially when I can't sleep, so I've just eaten. A lot.

Other than that, I'm good.
My nose is scabby, however.

Ah, I'm proud of you and your honors self. How is your schedule? Since you know we have Algebra together, I assume that we have it today, and I know that I also have History and Latin on A days, which, together, could be quite overwhelming.

I had a dream about a pet store last night. There were fish involved. And pie? Or cake? I don't remember.

I am sorry that you didn't take that comparison as a compliment. Sure, you're kind of scrawny, but I have never noticed you having strange ears, so I think you're safe. I bet he is an adorable cat, really. I'm glad you don't have to continue on with sports names. That would be awful.

Sure, there are things people can do to make others not like you. If you killed someone for no reason, Abby, I would probably not be your biggest fan. Though there usually seems to be some sort of reason when people do not-so-good things.

My father does not think you are stupid. He said you are rather smart and was impressed with your knowledge of literature. He is just unsure because he isn't a big fan of artists in general. But, he's an accountant, so what can you do? He doesn't mean half of the negative things he says about Herron, or he does mean them, but he has no clue, really.

My cello temporarily died.

Abby, you cannot force me to be happy, just as I cannot force you to eat or enjoy life at the moment. I'll read you a story, okay? I'll make you spaghetti, I'll give you a head rub, and I'll say "I love you, too" instead of "thanks" when you say, "I love you." So, YOU be happy. The world is glorious. Think of leaves. And warm rain. And laying on the hot driveway in summer after it has soaked up the sun's heat (this is one of my favorite things ever, but no one shares this love). Good times. "We've got a lot, don't ever forget that." BAM! Smashed with your own lyrics! And Margot isn't sounding like she's got a lot, really, in this song. I mean, snorting crack in the bathroom while her boyfriend picks up chicks? She's hanging from a rope, actually. And yet, she still remembers (or should remember) that she's got a lot. Good ol' Margot. She's always got her nuclear so-and-so's.

Not everyone leaves, Abigail, and I really wish you could smoosh this tidbit of information into your overworking brain.

The definition of love in the dictionary nearest to me is one of the longest I have ever seen. I think it is like on a test, when you don't know the answer, so you go on and on and on about things you are unsure about, hoping to sound smarter, or wishing that somewhere in that lengthy explanation sits the answer, waiting to be read. And, boy do these definitions vary. Woah.
1.a. An intense affection for another person based on familial or personal ties.
1b. A strong affection for or attachment to another person based on regard or shared experiences or interests.
2. An expression of one's affection.
3.a. An intense attraction to another person based largely on sexual desire.
3.b. The deep affection, tenderness, and concern felt for a person with whom one has or wishes to have a relationship based on sexual attraction.
5. (I skipped some) And intense emotional attachment, as for a pet or treasured object.
6. A strong enthusiasm.
10. A zero score in tennis.

Okay. Never does it ever say how to achieve this, what to do when achieved, and how to tell whether or not love is real.

Sidetracked. Who knew that the planet Venus in its appearance as the morning star is called Lucifer? Not I.

Dictionaries are so strange.

I wish I had the ability to be more forgiving. To not automatically judge people for their pasts or their presents. To accept and not show any disgust or disapproval. People who back out that easily on a single flaw, or even multiple flaws, don't love you. Or maybe they did believe they loved you, and you thought they loved you, but they couldn't love the real you, past and all, because you didn't make it apparant, and now that it is out, you are a different person in their eyes, and they don't feel like starting over and loving someone else. They just want YOU back, the one they knew. They want the one they loved back. So they could love you, and they could really, really, extremely want to love you, but you don't exist any more. Not the you they had "an intense affection for based on familial or personal ties" for, but this new you, which is really the old you.

"Christ!" The Ragpicker shouted, shielding her eyes from the unbelievable bright sun and awakening the Ticketmaster, who sat up slowly, aching for more sleep now that she had finally achieved some. "What?" She said, lowering herself back down, unfazed by the blaring rays of yellow. At this the Ragpicker laughed and looked down at the vibrating phone next to them, knowing it was the Ticketmaster's before even glancing down because of that recognizable and constant noise it released. "Running out of battery." She said, and opened it to check the time. Her own face, though several years younger, smiled up at her. "Really?" She asked, and the Ticketmaster grabbed the phone, a definite red creeping up her cheeks.

Pet Peeves
1. Mispelling "your" and "you're". Drives me insane. It shouldn't. I am not english teacher. Still, I always want to edit this on people's papers.
2. Drugs. Really. I try to be sympathetic with most things. Understanding, maybe. Be drugs, I just cannot understand. I try to read about people overcoming addictions and stuff, to better my understanding I guess, but I can never feel sorry for the person. That movie we watched at Stephanie's bugged me to no end. And yet, I still cried, which was weird, because I didn't like any of the characters.
3. When people flip their eyelids inside out. Creepy. Uncomfortable.

How has your day been? Not well, it seems. I guess I can call you, since you won't call me. Loser.
Oh.
A blanket.
Finally.

Bones collide.

Audrey, I'm fine, really, and if I'm not, will be. "Possibly later, possible not," but in this case, it will be eventual. We do have Algebra 2 together. Also, I am taking honors this time around. We will see how that goes.

Diego is the one Emily said looks like me. I find that kind of mean because he is the ugliest of them all. He's scrawny and has weird ears. Thanks? We have to give them names that have to do with the Super Bowl because the animal shelter is having this event in two weeks called the Puppy Bowl and everything (including the animals) has to be Super Bowl themed. This is the only time it will be like that.

Audrey I think you're great just because most everything you do is great, or you atleast put 83832 hours of effort into it. I wouldn't stop thinking you were great if you got an F, or if you decided to take a nap for a week instead of doing something. I don't expect anything out of you (if that sounds mean it's not supposed to). I just, I don't know. Don't feel pressured because I think highly of you, I guess. But then again, I always do, so what I suppose I can't really say anything.

I hate when people say there is nothing you could do that would get me to not like you. Wrong. I know plenty of things I could do to have people not like me. It's just all about self-control I guess.

But your dad thinks I'm stupid. I guess he's kind of right, though. I barely have any common sense or book knowledge. I'm proud of B's, what is that? It's not like I can prove otherwise.

I've eaten. Stop worrying about me, really. I'm fantastic.

I'm sorry my last post was so hateful and sarcastic. I've had a problem admiring the world lately. But you, you need to admire the world and all it's glory. So you be happy, okay?

I don't think Heath Ledger killed himself. I don't think suicide is easy. I think it's easy for people to say it's easy, but really, I think that'd be the hardest thing to do.

We were mocked in theatre class. Stephanie and Taylor did an interpretation of us. Taylor (me) told Stephanie (you) she loved her and was nuzzling and then all Stephanie (you) said in return was "Thanks." The hearthache.

I feel hate because I don't want to hate. I just hate getting so involved that it hurts, and I hate being hurt, and I hate showing I'm hurt but I'm a horrible liar and I'm horrible at being indifferent. I want to yell. I want to sleep easy. I want to stop staring at the same spot of my ceiling when I lie down and I want things, once I think them, to go away just for a little bit. I want things to get better and easier, just for a little bit. I want someone to hold my hand and my head and let me sleep for a couple of hours. I want someone to stay. That's what I want. Instead I will organize my math binder.

I don't know what keeps me caring. Love? But who even knows what that is? Not I, not I. The human mind is very complex. Certainly makes for a good story.

It's hard that nothing is refutable. It's scary, really. You can't go back on anything. Should you tell people about your past? Is it necessary? What if it's bad? Sure, if they love you regardless, that's good, that's really good. But, you know, they could very well leave. They could think you're weird and crazy and not see what's worth sticking around and what do you do with that? I suppose what you do with everything, pick up and move on, but what if that's what keeps you right at the line of okay, these people that stay. Maybe you know they don't love you unconditionally, but that's better than having no one.

The Ticketmaster layed her head on the Ragpicker's conversationable stomach and smiled as she listened to it's odd gurgles and babbles. They found the regular constellations like Orion's Belt and The Big/Little Dipper, and made up there own, like the Space Heater, and the St. Bernard. The Ticketmaster didn't speak for awhile and she heard the familiar snoring of the Ragpicker. The Ragpicker hadn't taken her Zyrtec, so although she couldn't breathe, she didn't turn far away. The Ticketmaster fell into the best sleep she had since the last time they had been together.

My Pet Peeves
1. Repetitive Noise - like when people continuously knock or bang on something, over and over. It kills me.
2. Pacifiers - They make my teeth hurt and make me shudder.
3. Really Loud Noises - That just make you cringe and hurt your head.

Now you go, Auds.

I got a bunch of posters for Schools 4 Schools and such today. We are going to have a meeting next week, the day is undecided. Friday, if you aren't doing anything, I think I'm going ice skating and stuff with Andrea and Sara Swan and you are supposed to come along, if you want. I'm going to go organize my math binder now. Do something. I hope you are feeling better. I would call you and ask you personally, but I don't want to wake you up (again). Hope you are doing well, or atleast better. Good night.

Don't worry about me smiling, Auds. You smile.

Maybe you will take a moment out of your sorrow

and read this?

I hope you are okay, Abby. Actually, I am going to call you. Right...now.

Is Diego the one Emily said looked like you? Do you see the resemblance? Why do you have to give them names that have to do with the Super Bowl? That's no fun. Are they always going to be themed.

I hate when people think you're great. Or good even. Because then, whatever you do, it will never be good enough. Ever. At least when people dislike you, or don't know you, or kind of think you are a loser, you can do something impress them. But when people like you, you're screwed. Because then, you'll NOT impress them, and they'll stop thinking highly of you, and then they won't like you.

Which stinks, pretty much.

My dad sends his love. And, I quote, "I like anyone who makes my daughter happy. Even if they dress funny." Hmm...plaid pants, anyone?

Have you eaten recently? The worry.

That congratulations sounded pretty sarcastic. Actually, your entire post sounded slightly hateful. It is worrying me to no end. I need to sleep. I need to stop.

RIP, Heath Ledger. Poor guy had some problems that could have been solved, I bet. This whole killing yourself is taking the easy way out in most cases. Then again, I don't think I could ever do it.

Kleenex.
Needed.
Immediately.

I hate this. Whatever this is. I am unsure. But I want to hate. Isn't that awful? Do you ever feel like this? Like you just absolutely need to hate something? It truly is awful. I shouldn't be writing when I feel hateful. I promise I will try to not say anything too horrid.

The minds of others are probably just as confusing as yours or mine. Or Heath Ledger. Or Queen Elizabeth. Or Hank. They're all insane, really. It's the insanity that makes things interesting. It's the insanity that makes things worth caring about or thinking about.

Just because people die doesn't mean you shouldn't care about them or feel anything toward them. That would result in an entire world of cold. Everyone dies, but we've managed to get over this fear so that we can be happy. Or at least okay. And we make mistakes. We always so things that could have been done differently, or better, but we keep on going, because we can't do anything else. If we stop to think about it, the world isn't going to stop, and we'll just miss more of the future taking our own sweet time dwelling in our hated past, and then we'll dislike that new past that was once the present because we didn't take the time to enjoy it or gain anything from it.

Kleenex with lotion! Yes!

"Why do I always have to make the decisions? You know that I am awful at deciding things!" the Ragpicker said, though at the same time, she grabbed hold of the Ticketmaster's sweaty palm and led her down the not-so-busy street. They walked for what seemed to be five hundred miles (though they sang that song, so it wasn't quite so bad) until they stood facing a dark silhouette of a large pile of dirt, weathered only slightly from the years that passed. They trudged upwards until they found a comfortable place at the top where they could sit and view the stars, which were abundant, making the night slightly chilly.

Nope. You were first for the pet peeves. I decided on the list topic, you comply. Unless you don't want to, which should then result in your coming up with a new topic. Why did Marc Anthony just come on my iPod? I am so cool, and you definitely know it.

Good-bye, Abigail.
Smile.

"I'm staring at the asphalt wondering,

what's buried underneath, where I am?"

Today was very weird. I slept a lot, but in the way I got what I needed but it doesn't feel any different. So I don't really feel all that rested but at the same time I'm not tired. Indifference.

I've bonded with Diego, a cat with stick-straight ears, one curled, and a cow-esque hair pattern. I woke up and he was curled in my legs and now he is exploring my room. He's alright. We have to give all of the kittens names to do with the Super Bowl. They leave in two weeks, and then we get new kittens. Emily loves them, so I'm fine with it now.

I do wear clothing. Just not when not necessary. Who knew he would be coming over? No one did. So why would I wear clothes for a visitor I did not know would be showing up? I refuse.

I don't understand my stomach. My mom tried to make the day better by ordering Chinese and pizza and hot wings but that just made me feel even more sick. Ah, whatever.

I'm so glad finals are over.

I wish it were summer. I feel like swimming.

I can't believe "Angry Kitten" is spreading. Definitley the new phenomenon.

I love the number of constellations I can make with the dots in my ceiling. That's what I love.

You succceeded at bolding and italicizing. Congratulations, really.

I always say things before I think. Except not really always. There are a lot of things I don't say. Or that I'm going to say, but by the time it gets to my mouth I'm out of courage to say it. I think with the things I just let out I'm getting better at, though. At least giving more thought to. I don't know.

I bet they do have sparkling lemonade. They should at least. March New Year's will be good.

"Saved by the grace of Elizabeth." I have yet to listen to my St. Rose CD. I will do that tomorrow.

Your past is a part of who you are and what you become. It's unavoidable, obviously. Sometimes I try to avoid it anyways. You can't get away from your past because it's in you.

That Jesus song is insane, really.

I wish I knew what was in everyone else's head. Just for a little bit atleast. I'm tired of mine. Diego is snoring in my lap.

I should think highly of you Auds, and I do. And I will.

I believe everyone is a good person, when you get all the way to the bottom of it. There are just a lot of bad things. I have a lot of those.

Your father is right. It's okay.

I wish everyone's voices cracked forever. The puberty packets you get in middle school are amazing. I wish we got them every year of our lives. They make me laugh.

Thank you for that spontaneous tidbit that rhymes. I wonder what in our brains recognizes other people's voices. Or them, for that matter.

This doesn't happen to be the one where you match people's voices with other's portraits, is it? It is that one, and no, I haven't finished it, that's why I need help.

Waiting is the most frustrating thing, really. It makes things better sometimes. Sometimes it makes things worse. But that's life.

I can't see you being very intentionally rude to anyone other than me, really.

I'm tired of knowing people. I like how The Painted Veil put it. Something along the lines of everything ends up dying regardless. You can't stop it, or if you pretend it's not happening your just going to wake up one morning and they'll be gone and you'll feel even worse because you didn't make the best of the time they had left and that's extremely selfish of you and you didn't even say goodbye but how could you because you couldn't get over there but they are a part of you and you should have been able too, atleast call or something, but somehow you can block out things like that. Too bad it all comes back anyway. It's weird when you look at your present a couple of days ago, and how in retrospect you wish you would have changed them. But that's that.

Things do get better. I just forgot that often they get a lot worse first.

As she heard the noises of the pizza parlor closing up, the skin on the Ticketmaster's forehead turned into the infamous washboard and she looked across at the Ragpicker. "Well, what now?"

The only other dictionary name I can think of is Roget. That's a good idea.

I can't really think of my pet peeves at the moment. You go first. I'm going to go lie down and read or something. This is relatively short, and I apologize, I just don't have much to say. I hope your night is going well. Goodnight.

The Scholarship Book (eleventh edition)

Crank it up, we have thrirty-five more posts to complete this month to reach our goal for January. Get read-ay!

You were naked in front of your male old neighbor?
Abigail.
We don't do that.
Time to start wearing clothing.

Oh, Lordy, you and your sick stomach that comes at the worst possible times. Ribs? Tacos? Get sick when you don't have the rare joy of being presented with anything edible.

I may scream soon. Physics. What is this?

It is a mermaid color! Right on with your noun/adverb comparison! Crazy. Hello, Ariel, welcome to land. I hope you are happy here.

I had taco salad. It was good, but for some reason, saying that made me want to barf it all up. I need to run, but I'm so full that I'm sure it is physically possible. Ugh. Beef. Not so good. I need some water. I got to ride in Alison's car! It isn't the same without Rachel and Katie and warmth, though. I just want it to be Spring! It is killing me deep inside. I looked at the leafless trees and became so sad. Tell Emily that her "Agry Kitten" video is spreading. I showed my sister, who showed my dad, who showed some woman at work. Where is this going to spread? Insane.

Degrassi! I forgot for a couple of hours there. That will lift me from these gloomy spirits. At least I no longer have to worry about writing a concerto.

I love globes.
And old paperbacks.
And polka-dot cups.
And cowboy pants.
And ladders.
That's what I love.

Bold.. Italic. I hope this works.

How has your day BEEN so far? I don't know how long this will last. Maybe a while.

Done.

People should spend five minutes on constructing one sentence. Sentences are important. I wish I thought for a minute for each sentence that will come from my mouth. Instead, I say stupid things.

Add March New Year's to our list. We can have sparkling lemonaide? Do they make this? It sounds more spring-y than sparkling grape juice.

I just purchased a song entitled, "Jesus Christ" on iTunes. Hmmm...has Elizabeth influenced me so greatly that I am now buying gospel music?

You can't forget your past. Or, you can yourself, but somebody or something will ALWAYS be there to remind you. The whole escaping-your-past thing never, ever works in the books or the movies, which I'm not saying are always right, but I think they are. You have to cope with the crap you've done and make the best of it. You can remake yourself, but not what's around you. There's never total control.

You seriously have to listen to this Jesus song. It may be my new favorite, ever. I am bringing my iPod tomorrow to share.

Everything starts out "just being in your head", so I figure that the stuff that's all in your head could quite possibly be some of the most valuable information there is.

Woo-Hoo! Abby Braughton gets sentimental on me! Yesh! Aw, Abby, thank you for thinking so highly of me. You probably shouldn't, but thank you. I didn't know cuddly until I met you. This really is a good thing. I have become far less, er, uptight? (I don't know if this is the correct word) from knowing you. And you are a good person, despite what you may say.

Congratulations, Adamo, on your recent coming out. We are very excited for you.

Sorry about my father. He grabbed my phone without my noticing, and then I tried to get it back but received a glare in return. He really is a good guy. Just slightly frightening to those who do not share this sense of humor. He likes my new favorite song, though, which is always good. I am very excited to make you listen to this.

I love when guy's voices crack. This is the funniest thing ever. Why don't girls get to have cool voices when going through puberty? All we get are obnoxious aunts telling us about our "breast buds" and embarrassing talks with our mothers about periods. No fun in that. I love how people have different voices. How you can hear someone and be like, "That's so-and-so, obviously". It is the greatest, really. I don't know how you sound, but if I heard your voice, I would definitely know it was you. Hmm...is this like a mating call, possibly? I heard you from across the way, and immediately I knew in my heart you would stay (spontaneous tidbits that rhyme!).

I would greatly enjoy helping you with this project. This doesn't happen to be the one where you match people's voices with other's portraits, is it? Did you ever finish that one, because it sounded quite fascinating?

I hate waiting. Isn't it weird, how patience comes with time? You have to wait to be patient, and when you finally understand the concept of time, you don't need it as much. I don't know. It just seems kind of ironic.

I'm not sure I understand your diss (which I just figured out last year was short for "dismiss"). You know you could never be intentionally cruel to me, Abby. I have decided that, as unselfish you may claim me to be, I am extremely rude to people at times and have decided to try to be better. People do not laugh at these remarks, especially when you say them in your *CRAZY* music class with no one to listen to you.

Ah, Jesus song came on again, and my heart lifted a considerable amount.

I am so, so happy that Memaw likes me again. Really, that and the Jesus song, and I am ready to go. Sure, I haven't really studied Latin. That's okay. I'm pumped for life.

That's no fun. Staying with someone and not getting to know them. That would stink. We are here to learn more about each other, I think. To learn from each other. There are SO many people to learn from. Why doesn't everyone get started?

I don't often think of people's underwear. Now I'm thinking about it. I've bought Jessie underwear. Emily's bought me underwear. Eileen's borrowed my underwear after laughing so hard she peed her pants. I wonder if Tyler wears boxers or briefs. Actually, I think we've had this discussion. I'm pretty sure it's boxers. This is interesting to think about. I know your underwear, Spiderman, and Elizabeth is always running around in her panties (I just started laughing really hard). Man. Fascinating.

I like thinking things will always, always get better. You know, I bet they will. The decline of something always brings out the best in something else, I think. I appreciate your optimism, greatly.

Being oblivious as usual, the Ragpicker did not think to wonder about the phone call, and as she was too busy picking the mushrooms off of her pizza (a ritual--she knew the Ticketmaster ordered too much gunk on her pizza, and didn't like telling her that it was disgusting) to notice the Ticketmaster's flustered expression (she never was good at lying). They lingered at their table for as long as possible, until a shout from the back was heard. "Ladies, I'm mighty glad ya'all are back, but it's twenny after 'leven, and I've got to get back home. We're leaving early tomorrow for a cross coun'ry trip on our cycles. Just me and some of the buds, traveling on the open road..." As they stayed and listened for another half an hour to the entertaining man's stories, they constantly smiled at one another. How good it was to be back.

Well, yes, he will enjoy being outside, but once it gets cold out, we are NOT forcing Francis outside. Rachel just told me about her friend (ish) who has dogs named after dictionaries. Webster and she doesn't remember the other. I like that idea. And he will be sleeping inside.

My house was on there! Now, that's love. I do like your Memaw's house. I still have to get a library card. Brownsburg is always out of books. I will feel so...guilty, though, leaving my beloved library. I won't completely go, of course. Still need to volunteer.

Okay, list three of your biggest pet peeves. I love hearing these from people, until it is something I do, and then I feel really guilty. Let it out.

I have to go do...something. Sleep? Study? Eat some more? Listen to "Jesus Christ" five hundred and seventy-three times?

This means war.

Time has had the oddest flow today. I woke up early, and it was going kind of slow and I took my time and got to school thirty minutes early. English went by pretty fast, then Physics went by very slow. Then your seminar went by especially fast, and Algebra went by pretty slow, and your Latin went by pretty fast. (Already that's a lot, BUT THEN...) I get home around five, and I fall asleep right away (what is this sleeping?), and I wake up to our old neighbor in my room (this is around 5:30) I don't exactly wear pajamas so I was trying my hardest to get him out but Emily had no idea and so in retrospect I look really rude while she was trying to make conversation, but really, forty year old men cannot just drop into your room when you are not expecting it (he is like another dad, but still, very awkward). Anyways, that was the slowest five whole minutes of my life. He had no idea, which made it less uncomfortable, I suppose, but seriously. I have never felt so perplexed in my life. Anyways, so I wake up around six (sidenote: the parents left for the funeral home right when I got home [my mom's friend's dad passed away], so through all this they are not here) and I am about to get up when I decide no, I want to go back to sleep, so I lay back down and around 6:15 Emily comes in my room and we get in a fight about something but she ends up lying in bed with me and I cuddle up to her but then she pushes me out (OF MY OWN BED) and I get upset and she leaves and I lay back down but I'm all agitated and hurt so I can't fall asleep for awhile and my whole house is really, really cold but I fall asleep regardless and I wake up around 7 where I was informed Mom and Jay picked up Taco Bell so I went downstairs to eat and I had two soft tacos but my stomach has been really weird all day and I feel the need to throw up but I can't just force that action. Anyways, I ate that and then watched a little bit of Terminator 3 and it just stressed me out and now I'm here. I think I'm bringing in the painting I made this weekend to school tomorrow instead because of 1) I don't feel like driving to Memaw's to get my other one, 2)It's not nearly as good, but that's okay with me, 3)It's certainly interesting.

I will never get another mohawk. Actually, I'm not going to say never, but I just don't think I could do that (let alone to Memaw). She hated it. She never said so though. She's the definition of passive agressive. She just makes fun of me now relentlessly for it. Got to love her. Man, everytime I think of her she just makes me smile.

Thank you for telling me I look goofy in the good way, Auds. I guess the Secret Admirer and Julia think the same thing.

I have started bathing more regularly, you have been aware of this. I don't know why, it just kind of happened. I can't wash my hair much though. The green has already faded so much into this blue color and this "blue color" is intense. I feel like I am turning into a mermaid. It's a very mermaid color. (Taking the liberty to use a noun as an adjective.) (I take that liberty a lot.)

I am excited for this Hemingway book, really. Thirty-five pages in, yeah! That probably means about ten pages in regular print books, although. Oh, well. I've decided I'm only going to start getting one book at a time, becuase more often than not I get too overwhelmed and only read 1/4 of every book.

I decided against turning on my television tonight, only because I know I will watch two-thousand nine-eight-seventy-teen episodes of Degrassi and not be able to turn it off. So, no.

You and that concerto. Past the two minute mark! I have to hear it, Auds. It'll be my most favorite song ever and I'll play it (in my head) all the time. Really, really, it's killing me.

I need to get started on my history final, that I do. I figure I will do that tomorrow. I also need to do my cheat sheet for Algebra 2. I'm so glad she's letting us have those. I really want to know if it can be double-sided. Maybe I will make two? I have a lot to do and it's already 8:13. I hate realizing that you did something you didn't really have time for (in my case, sleeping).

Okay, Auds. This is how you bold or italicize. All you do is type the word, highlight it, then either click the bolded 'b' in the top left, or the italicized 'i,' also loccated in the top left. It only shows up as a code in the draft, but once you publish it, it is as set.

It is so crazy how carefully you must construct a sentence to get your mood and point across. Sure, it's not like we spend five minutes on every sentence, or even one minute, but there are so many possibilities for saying something that you have to make sure it's a certain way, how you want it, I guess.

Let's have a New Year ceremony this March, Auds. There are so many definitions for "new," but I suppose "coming back" is one of them. New life. Staring over.

I wonder if anyone has totally started over. But wouldn't that require forgetting your past? How is that possible without the help of MIB gadgets? Or do you not forget your past, but kind of use it to your advantage? I don't know, I just don't get it.

Water is one of the best tastes in the world, I think. Except the water at school. The water at school almost tastes soapy, and I don't know what that deal is. Atleast teachers don't really get mad if you bring your own water.

It's crazy. I hate when people say "It's just in your head." Why is it just in my heaD? Is it really just there? Then why am I thinking it? Why is it in my head? I almost feel stupid. Like my brain isn't smart enough to know it's not real, but a lot of things go own "just in my head" regardless.

To be honest, I didn't really know how unselfish and caring people could be untill I met you, Auds. I guess I'm just used to having pretty shallow relationships, where the same thing happens everytime and it's barely noted. The same fights happen, the same apoligies are accepted, and it all just kind of makes you feel like you are just existing throughout the weekends, not really where you are supposed to be. Like you can't really do anything else, like you are not above it. You changed that, though. (And thanks, by the way.)

I have come to the realization that I love speech impediments. Really, more people should have them. Even myself. It's kind of like an accent, and I think that it's makes the monotonous drawl of the day seem much more interesting. Why make fun? Usually it's a lot easier on my ears. The only thing I can't really stand is when people talk like they are about to cough. It makes me want to cough over and over and over, but I really can't. That's the only voice that really gets me. It's crazy how people sound so different. I wonder why. I wonder how I sound to other people.

I will find the right thing for myself. It all comes in time, in little hints, I suppose. I suppose that is just what it is, my "coming of age" story. Ah, well. It's certainly interesting. Auds, I promise I won't tell you I'm happy when I'm not so you don't have to worry about that. It's interesting how "possibly later, possibly not" is basically a motto for everything in life.

I want to walk around in some random place and ask these complete strangers that exact question and see how many answer me truly. That's actually an art project I've been working on. I need help, if you'd like to help me out.

Don't apologize for answering that much, really. I like it. I know exactly what you mean. I don't know what these things are for me yet. I'm sixteen, I haven't nearly been everywhere my life is going to take me. I don't know these places yet, these experiences, and the emotions they will draw out. I don't know how much I can feel of something yet. Yeah, maybe if we had charts and graphs and slideshows, we'd get our answers, but we don't. So I guess that's just another thing we've yet to figure out.

A Rocket Eraser? Ah, lucky! I love when my sister makes me things. Really, my heart swells to the maximum. We do have good sisters (regardless of how I feel about some of them at the moment). It's so nice to have siblings. When no one else wants your love you've just got more to give to them. Oh, Emily. I love her, so much. My life would be so different if she wasn't here. I would be so different. I am so thankful for her.

I do love people, I do. Just sometimes it's so hard. When your brain and your heart say two different things, it's this all out war. I'm lost as to what to do ninety percent of the time, I'd say. It scares me to think that I could be making really bad decisions without me really knowing it.

I know I need to stop letting my past affect my future so much. It's not that I hold grudges, but I don't make myself vulnerable enough? If that makes sense? I close myself off to much, especially after I get hurt? I've been acknowledging it, I suppose that's a good step. I've been acknowledging a lot of things, lately.

Time is going crazy. It's weird to think about.

After you get the award, huh Auds? Yeah RIGHT. Good luck, really. You are going to need it. Would you like some lemonade when you are done? I'll be bored waiting, might as well give me something to do. DISS.

If you are making something sound beautiful that you don't think is beautiful, I think that is pointless. I don't understand why you would do that (unless you are being paid). It's dishonest. I don't respect that. Now, if you want something you think is beautiful to sound beautiful, I respect that.

I think grading papers is all about the content, really. Not necessarily the aesthetics or the rules. That's how I would grade papers, anyways.

I am sorry my phone kept you up for about an hour. I knew that was going to happen. I really am sorry though. I'm glad two months falls on a Wednesday, really. Perfect! Also, I found out that their dollar menu is quite extensive. Lucky us! I'm glad you like the addings to the profile. Are there any details to our story I'm missing? I have checked my email, Auds, and I'm touched, really. Thank you. I turned in my paper half finished anyway, and I'm getting it tomorrow morning to work on it more.

Okay, we won't necessarily be criminals, that sounds dangerous and scary. Just people who do illegal things, but not the hardcore illegal things, just like entering when you are not supposed to or out past curfew (which was your doing, might I add). The end of February I might get pretty upset. That's not so far away. I get sort of downtrodden thinking about it.

It is my accepted duty to get us to eighty on the list. Bring it!

How was your Narnia event? I forgot to ask! I need to start volunteering somewhere. I want to do something with children. I think that I will work on that this week. Ah, Auds, you and your impressive cello skills. Good job.

I had a nice little phone conversation with my grandma, and I told her you would like to talk to her about reincarnation, and she said "Well, she'll just have to come over soon then!" What is this? I would like to be a dog, I think. I'm warming up to the species. We will see how this kitten deal goes.

I've always wondered if really, there is no one exactly like me. There are a lot of people. I just found your pencil in my pocket. I like that we are made up of everyone else. It's not so, I don't know. Life isn't so lonely, I guess. We are all just like each other. It's like that "John Wayne Gacy Jr." song by Sufjan Stevens. You would like it. (Plus one for new CD?)

I disagree. You can stay with someone and not really let them get to you. I don't mean not affect you, more like get to know you. You just keep it very shallow on your end. I've experienced this. But, there are people you are with and you let your guard down without really noticing it. I agree in that way.

Oh, fruit in general. I really want some. I love fruit. It's so good. I'm thirsty now.

Should we be proud of what we are doing, though? Becuase, honestly, I feel like a lot of the good things I do (or things I do that I should be doing anyway) that I am proud of are canceled out by the things I do wrong. So most of the time I feel like I don't deserve to be proud of myself.

The world having an "our book." Ah, that's so nice. It makes me smile.

Sometimes I picture people naked just to laugh. Or I always wonder what kind of underwear people wear. I'm usually pretty right on, but I've been surprised. Oh, the places my mind goes.

I think someone has to be right. I don't understand how it all these debates and wars and craziness can just be a big empty blog of nothingness. That scares me. It can't be. Well, it can. but I don't think so.

I won't slam your head, Auds, I promise. I hate being upset in front of people. I'm getting worse at hiding it though. I guess because it's more built up. Funny how everything that is built up is hard to let go of. I hate not being "okay" for people. I try to just keep down unrill I get alone. Even then I don't really let go untill it all just comes out.

I wonder where we will be in one hundred years. Someone will do something. That's what I have in my head, atleast. Things have to get better, because they always do. Sure, things get worse often before they get better, but okay, if that happens, atleast it'll still get better. And maybe things should get worse, maybe that'll help us.

"Of course I remember! My phone went off that day. I bet that made a very good impression," laughed the Ticketmaster. Right as she was about to reach for another piece of pizza, they heard a familiar 'rrrrrr' of a vibrating cell phone. "Oh, do I remember that sound," smirked the Ragpicker. The Ticketmaster smiled and pulled out her phone to see who it was. The caller ID read: Garfunkle. "Oh, ah, it's nobody." The Ticketmaster had totally forgotten about him and looked uneasy as she put her phone back in her pocket. What was she going to do?

I think Francis will want to be outside, mostly, though. Atleast if I were a dog and I lived on a farm, I would want to be. What could we grow? Well, maybe we could find out how to make a turtle live for awhile. I like turtles. But we don't have to. We will always have food too. And game nights! Our kids will probably grow to hate Scrabble and Disney Scene It. Also, Word of the Day calendars! YES!

Places I like to be...
1. My Memaw's house - She has food, a very warm and comfortable bed, and plenty of love. I can always relax. She also has Scrabble, Sorry, and cable. Good times are guarenteed.
2. The library - I just want to sink in one of the chair's and read for awhile. Maybe have a bottle of water, maybe not. It's so relaxing, and I feel like I can actually get things done there.
3. Any restaurant - I love eating with people. Not even necessarily a restaurant, just having dinner at someone's house. It's so nice and fun. Eating and being with people you love. Best thing.
4. Your house - I am fed untill I burst, you have a very warm bed, and it's never boring. I do apologize if I come over too often. I'll give you a break, eventually.

Your turn to make a list.
I have to go off and be productive now. I am thirsty and I need to clean my room.
I will probably call you soon to ask about English and to make sure you are showing up tomorrow morning, or if you are not, setting my alarm for an hour later.
Good night.

Huck Finn Loves

"How old people already know that word"...I laughed at this, quite hysterically, and then stopped abruptly at the snot in my throat and nose. Too much, too much. Oh, no, never get another mohawk. You can't do that to Memaw. I don't think the green in your hair is overwhelming. I think it looks good, honestly. I would tell you you look goofy if I thought you did. Well, you do look kind of goofy, but in a good way? Like, the way someone with green hair should be goofy? A good goofy.

Oh, goodness.
Mom: "Audrey, have you showered yet?"
Me: "Yes."
Mom: "Good (ten second pause)...just because you hang out with Abby doesn't mean you have to have her bathing habits."
Dad: "Abby doesn't bathe?"
Me: (laughing) "She bathes."
That wasn't supposed to hurt your self-esteem. It is just the way of this household. If Rachel happens to read this, she will know and laugh.

Since we have parted, I have almost fallen asleep in the car, chewed three pieces of gum, showered, read three pages of my book, listened to thirty songs or so, watched three episodes of Degrassi, watched part of Titanic, written thirty seconds of my freaking concerto, sat in the living room for approx. forty seconds, completed twenty questions of my history final, read your blog entry, gotten lectured for leaving the lights on in my room ("This is saving the environment, you know! Isn't that what you're always talking about?!"), and started typing out my physics study guide. It sounds like a lot, now that I look at it, but it definitely was not. At all.

I might need those several hints, because they are absolutely not coming to me. ARGH

Just like you can change a sentence by moving around its words, the punctuation makes a huge difference as well. It is so crazy. The English language is crazy. Everything, everything is crazy.

It should start in March. Good idea, Abby. I would be so much more pumped for the new year if that were so. It seems more "New Year-y" as well. Everything is coming to life again. Isn't that the definition of "new"?

My life is like that, basically. Like, "Stop" when I feel like going or "Go" when I feel like stopping. This is all in my mind, of course, but that accounts for a lot, the stuff that's in your mind. That's you.

I think everything smells. I think everything tastes. I hate when people say that water has no taste, because it has one of the most distinctive tastes in the entire world.

I have begun to realize that just as "you don't know what you've got til it's gone", you don't realize how something horrible something is until you've moved on to something better. Schools, for example. I didn't realize how out of place I was at Brownsburg until I came to Herron. I don't know what letters I don't like right now. Well, not "s", since I can't say them well with my retainer. I like soft "a".

I hope you find the right thing for yourself. I wish I could help, but I guess this is one of those cheesy things in books where "you have to do this for yourself"? The coming-of-age story of Abigail. I will believe you (somewhat) when you say you are happy now. But what if you tell me this when you aren't? You can't say you are happy and will be. It is one of those, I'm happy at this moment. Possibly later. Possibly not.

It really is the most difficult question to answer. I was thinking about this the other day, actually. I want to walk around in some random place and ask these complete strangers that exact question and see how many answer me truly. Honestly. I say not many. I wonder how many would have a reaction to the question, and what this reaction would be. It isn't a simple question. Or maybe it is, but the answer will never be. I don't know if I am happy. I'm here, and I'm dealing, and I'm enjoying myself, but I don't know if I have achieved happiness because I don't know, exactly, what my definition of it is. You know? I don't know when I am happy and when I'm not and when I'm content. Well, I know, but I don't know the extremes of these emotions. I just want to record my feelings at every point of my life and compare to find what level of happiness I can achieve and what level of grief or anger to which I can reach or, I guess, stoop. Or, I can achieve any level or happiness, grief, or anger as can everyone else? But it isn't as common? Or it is more common? So, I am unsure. I think I'm happy. I'm smiling. I'm relaxed. I'm reading, I'm playing the cello, I'm listening to music, I'm talking to people I love, I'm thinking--all the things that "make me happy". But what if there is a whole other level of happiness that I do not know? I bet you didn't expect this much of an answer. Sorry.

Katie gave me a gift--it is a "Rocket Eraser". Or, she let me have it because she had no use for it. Anyway, it is green and sparkly, so I'm all good. We have good sisters, I believe. I have decided that I like loving Katie. I am over the stage where I feel the need to fight with her constantly. I am over not hugging her when she goes to bed and laughing when she gets yelled at. Now, that seems so horrible.

Wait the job thing out until the IMA. Maybe look for some applications, though. It wouldn't hurt to keep looking. Though, I agree, I'm not sure if the blind students have the same ability to help at the museum as you do.

Oh, golly, is this the point of the blog where you leave and write an angry paper? Abby, you love people. It is good that you hug everyone. It is good that you talk to people that you don't know. It is good that you make people feel like they have a friend. You are not being a whore, you are being a kind person. Nobody blames you for liking people. And it is NOT a senseless thing to depend on people. Maybe not too much, but I think, if necessary, you would be able to count on yourself and nobody else. But, this won't have to happen. There are people everywhere. There are NICE people everywhere. Why do you think there are so many of us? So we can depend on each other.

Time has gone by so quickly.

Good title. I hope I win. I will apologize to the pain I have caused you AFTER I get the award.

I didn't say you have to compare things to a flower. I'm just saying, making things poetic when they can be said in normal dialogue creates unnecessary work. But then, sometimes making something not beautiful sound beautiful is good? Maybe fortnight has the same origins as barycomb. Or John Barlycorn, rather. I think grading papers would be so difficult. They could have bad grammar, bad spelling, and even bad organiztion, but what if their ideas are really good? What grade do you give them? I think I would rather my paper have good ideas than it have impressive grammar.

I am sorry I haven't finished this, you did leave your phone at my house (story about THAT later...I am vary angry about this, by the way), and it is okay we did not go to Rally's. That will be two months? HAPPY ONE MONTH. I am also a big fan of our new profile. Check your e-mail; I sent you your physics problems because you need to finish them before second period and you left them at my house.

Oh, goodness, us being criminals. That is really going to happen. Just wait. And sorry you can't braid my leg hairs. Not just yet. But again, wait. The end of Feb, and we shall have a leg-shaving ceremony.

Get us to eighty items on the list. We have a lifetime to complete them.

I haven't actually been bored for a while, either, which is good, but it's like I'm one of the two extremes, and not being bored means I've been crazily busy. I got two and a half hours of volunteer work in today, though, so all's good, and Mr. Tong said I did "VERY good!" which made me smile to the X-TREME.

I would like to talk to your grandmother about reincarnation. It is fascinating, but not many people will talk to me about it. Or I don't want to bring it up in random conversations. I hope I become something fun. Like a whale. Or maybe a rare type of bird. Or a puppy who has loving owners. How are your kittens, by the way?

I like when people say certain characteristics are like someone else's, like, "You are ____, like ____." but not when they just say, "You are like ______." It makes it feel more personal, and it usually makes more sense. You are an individual because even though broken apart, you may be one hundred different people, put together you are you. Nobody else has all of these peices fitted together in the same pattern.

I guess staying together means growing closer and automatically learning about each other. So maybe it all goes together without us realizing it?

Strawberries are very good. I also like really, really good peaches. There is nothing better than a good peach, but nothing more disappointing than a bad one.

It is okay to be proud of doing the things you should be doing. People are never proud enough of themselves. Even those with crazy egos.

We can begin an "our book" with the rest of the world.

Do you know the people in my art class? Imagining them naked is not the solution. That never helped me, anyway. I don't think I've actually tried this, ever, actually.

If no one is right, we would all be lost. But we are anyway. Is anyone right? Ever? This worries me greatly.

I'm glad that you care enough to let me slam your head into the wall. You are welcome to do the same to me, I guess. I can't guarantee that I won't be like, "WHa-HaT?", but I would try to have control until you feel better. I guess the shoulder would be the best place to cry. I try to not cry in front of people. It stresses me out, anyone seeing me sad. And they always ask, "Are you okay?", which I obviously am not, and this makes me cry harder.

Maybe we really are barbarians, and hopefully, in one hundred years, they will look back and think, "How could they have acted in such a manner?" I say hopefully because this will mean that we have progressed and become, essentially, "better". That would be nice. To think that we could continue in a positive path. Knowing that we wouldn't have to rush things. But we do, because we are in rapid decline, and somebody has to do something.

The Ragpicker chewed slowly on her first slice of pizza, blanking out as she looked at the blinking lights surrounding the familiar, yet aged, pinball machines. When she finally glaned up, the Ticketmaster was finishing up her third peice and downing her Dr. Pepper. At this, the Ragpicker laughed, waking the Ticketmaster from her own trance and finally breaking the unease that surrounded their small, dirty table. They joked as if they had never parted about the owner and his wildlife license, more Angry Kitten videos, the freaks that both worked with, and the beginning on their relationship. "Who was it that said that there is nothing better than an inside joke kept for three hundred years?" asked the Ragpicker. "Our man, C.S. Lewis. Remember reading those? That first English class together?" The Ticketmaster continued, bringing up even more chuckles as they thought of their seats placed next to each other and that beloved English 9 teacher.

Francis is NOT going to be an outside dog. He will sleep inside with the children. Or on his big, ripped-up dog bed next to the fireplace. What a lovely home this shall be! I like fish too, so we'll have some of those. Turtles never work out. Mine died. Quickly.

1. Alison's car. It makes me happy, sitting in the backseat amongst the junk and debris with her blasting rap music. Many a good summer spent in that car. I can space out easily and read or take part in crazy conversations about our crazy lives.
2. The mound. I will actually be quite sad when they take this down. It is nice for star-gazing, cheerio-eating, mud-sliding, reading, and, as found recently, sledding. I hope one day to play my cello on top of it. I think it would be fun.
3. Herron High School. It is a good place, HHS. I like it there, whether I'm talking to random people in the hallway or in class. Sure, I'm not the most social person, but it is nice to say hi to everyone there.
4. Jessie's kitchen. It is nice and familiar. And it usually has pizza. Or doughnuts. And lots of movies and gossip that doesn't affect me but still makes me chuckle. Lots of vitamins as well, which I am usually told I should consume once in a while. Maybe I'm talking about the old Jessie's kitchen, as we haven't hung out in there for a while. Well, I take that back. It hasn't been the same since her mother started hating me. But I still love it.

Your turn.
Goodbye. Have fun studying.
Argh.
Studying.
Physics.
Oh, well. Joyous.

Now that's fantastic.

I just got off the phone with my Memaw. I love her so much. Today she went to Goodwill, of course, it is Senior Discount day. She is also buying me cupcakes? We talked about word of the day (John BarleyCORN, not COMB as I had previously thought), how old people already know that word (she already knew it), my pants (why does that seem to come up every single day?), and of course family. I definitley forgot to tell her there is green in my hair. She's going to kill me, in the most loving way possible. The one thing about her is she is definitley grandma to a fault. She will associate my green patch with fishnets and mohawks (she does not deserve that twice, no one does), and it's going to be quite the conversation. Maybe I'll tell her it's a political statement. That won't do much, but it's worth the try.

I haven't done anything all day. I didn't get Rally's, surprisingly. I stopped and got some soup on my way home, came home and ate it while watching Degrassi (the marathon is still on!), and just have layed on my floor and made constellations in my ceiling and played with my socks and haven't really thought. We have Doritos! My life is a party.

I have figured out how to bold and italicize. I really want to give you a hint. Tomorrow I will ask you if I can, and I will be very persistent. It's an amazing thing. Adds a whole new element. Okay, I think I will give you several hints.

I cannot wait untill it is completely warm either. I don't like indecisive weather. I'm ready to be able to wear my shorts all the time. They are just so comfortable. Anyways, warm weather always makes everything better. It just motivates you. The New Year should start in March. I think there would be more fulfilled New Year's resolutions if it did. Warm weather makes everyone warm inside. I wouldn't say life itself takes a hiatus and stops being so dramatic (but it should), but everything is definitley better. Ah, I can't wait.

I should start being excited for tomorrow, instead of keep being like "I can't wait untill 3459458 days from today!" But, life is being weird and I can't help it. Maybe I will be able to soon or something. Life is so weird.

Ahaha, if you do suggest a date, make sure you do it in front of the Freshman or Mrs. Koehring. Really, make sure your timing is precise. What are these circumstances? I swear, if this whole thing results in me being cuddle/head rub-withdrawn, oh will I be livid. You do not understand. You did not see me. You heard me, but much after. Sometimes. While you are doing something, do you ever in your head think "I am being so stupid..." but you just can't stop? You keep going. Half of your mind is pushing it along and the other half is trying to stop it so you are just kind of stuck? I hate that.

I remember when I was little I was told if you eat a food all the time you will end up smelling like it. I wonder if that's true. How would people that eat celery all the time smell? I never thought it really had one. Is there a smell that doesn't smell? Is that possible? To not smell like anything?

Smell is a weird word. I'm beginning to learn I don't like words that have double letters. Except repeating T's or R's. I like sharp letters. I only like soft letters when they are whispered (i.e. B).

I hate when my body, the shower, and my bed is cold. My room, really. I just, it's not comfortable, and I am a big fan of being comfortable. Strangely how easily I get uncomfortable.

It's not that I'm not happy, Audrey. Not at all. I have times where I really am happy. I'm just not content, I guess is the way to put it. I don't know what to do with myself, or what I want to do, and it's frustrating, because I know what people want me to do, but those same people are telling me what I want to do is more important, but I know I could very easily dissappoint them, or do something to just mess it up. And I'm also asking "Mess it up? Who cares?" because when it comes down to it, I should do the right thing for myself, but I don't know what that is. So really, Audrey, believe me when I say I'm happy. Because it's relatively true, okay?

And what about you Audrey? Are you happy?
I think that's a really hard question, but I want to hear your answer.

I love when Emily says cute things. It's make me so happy. I love when she laughs, it cracks me up. Or when mom will say something and she'll roll her eyes and look at me and smile like we just had a moment but really she's being very "I hate my parents" stage-y but I'll side with her anyways. I also like when she draws me pictures, or offers to help me with Webkinz. I love her so much, really, I do.

I have homework. I have Physics (which in saying that, just remembered it's not due untill Monday!) and I have a painting to finish, and I think I'm going to be doing a different independent project because I'm just too nervous about the one I made (I like it's safe haven at Memaw's), I have a theatre project to do (I think I have a good idea), and just life in general.

For the IMA thing, Rebekah says they are only sending applications to Herron, Broadripple, and the School for the Blind (I know I sound like such a jerk when I say this, but really, how can they do it?). Anyways, I just have to wait for that to appear, and that let me release a very deep breath. I hope I get this. It would make everything so much easier. No, really, I just wish I knew if I was getting it or not. At this point, it doesn't make sense to get a job and have to quit in March if I do get the internship. Ah, frustration.

Tegan and Sara are really nice writers. They don't really use metaphors, they basically just write it out. I am NOT unfaithful, Auds. I really, I just don't get it. Why am I a whore? What have I done? Have the freshman also said something about me whoring myself or something? Is it because I hug too many people? I can't help it. Why can't people just understand that. That I just like to be close to people. But, you know, I'm probably at fault. I need to understand them. It makes me sad though. I hate rumors and mean words and I don't know. I just am so tired of people being mean.

Canon in D Major just came on and it uplifted my spirits.

Mom and Jay always go to bed so early. We are talking nine o'clock or before. It's craziness. I usually tuck in Emily (as you have witnessed), and then it's just me. Which is so weird, because I'm really not a loner type. Sure, sometimes I am, but usually I need someone to cuddle with and talk to and play games with, maybe tell me a story. I need to do something with myself. Stop depending on people, it's such a senseless thing. Oh, who knows?

"I want to talk about music and movies, and yes, goodlash!"

Papers, papers, papers. Always puttin' holes in yo' soul. (Yes to spontaneous tidbit that rhymes!)

Why is "lbs" funny? I do not understand. I always end up pronouncing it "libs" and sounding unintelligent. You and my sister are now contending for my mental contest of Hidden Strength of Actual Women Bodybuilders Who Beat Me.

You can say things poetically without comparing your love to a flower or something. I always thought things like that sounded stupid. But then again, I do like what Craig (of Degrassi) just said, "I just want to bottle up this moment and get drunk on it forever." I thought that was a good metaphor. A simple one. It didn't go on and on, but it said it and it made perfect sense. It was nice. It was honest. I can't stress over how good it is when someone really writes. I don't care if they talk 'lYk3 DiS,' if it's honest I'll respect it, and usually like it. But it's not about what I like, I suppose. Where do these words come from (fortnight)? Honestly? Sometimes I truly believed they were made so people in the future could use them for Word of the Day calendars. Oh, if everyone could just be honest.

Fine, Audrey. Tegan and Sara lyric war? Fine. I'm kicking it from their old album.
"You went away, cause you said you couldn't love me, and I went away, cause all I do is love you" That is all.

I always wonder! Who does get the free iPod? Who does get the winning laptop? Who doesn't know the answers to these questions, and why are they so obvious to some people (me)? I want to meet someone that has one something off of one of those ads. Do we really get viruses when we click them? Or is it just a really bad repuation for those ads? Like, one time, some guy clicked one and he thought that caused the virus, when really it was the 9883 clips of porn he has loaded on his hard drive. Poor ads. Really, who is behind them though?

When does running start with Hobbs? I have to remember to see your legs tomorrow. I will be so sad the day you shave. I love when the thought randomly pops in my head that you haven't shaved in so long. You can't help but smile. I wish I could braid your leg hairs. That would make me so happy. Extensions, possibly? I'll have to be content with smootheness during running season, it seems.

We do not have school the twenty-first. Your reasons are much more legitimate than mine, but you know. I love random days off school. Not saying that Martin Luther King Jr. Day is random at all, no, he totally deserved a day in all categories that day-deservers should have, but just the fact that some Monday in the end of January, we don't have to go school... Refreshing.

Oh, Auds, do not get upset. I do know, actually, and if you had an inkling that I called other people or had another blog, I know you would be quite hurt and it makes me smile. Just because you love me.

I don't know why I am obsessed with alens. I need you to check out this book I have though. It is crazy. Also, you will have to watch the specials that occasionallly run on Discovery and History with me. I get so into them. Really, I've more than likely seen all of them, but I watch them, over and over. It's just so scary but I'm so fascinated.

I promise I will never walk in the park with Valium, Auds. I love parks. They are so nice. I like the one by my house a lot. I want to sneak into the water slides before the pools open. Bwfore the water gets filled in and before they take the covers off and just explore. I'll do it in the middle of the night, and you shall be my partner in crime. Someday, Auds! We will be like criminals, without the record.

If you think sixty is enough, fine. Since I already know you did it, if you don't want me to add to make eighty, fine. I won't. I apologize that I get really into these things. It's done. Sar-ee.

Okay, tomorrow I will get up and say to myself, "Today is the day I get to say hello to Auds and sing her a spontaneous tidbit that rhymes!" Sounds good. If that actually is my first thought when I wake up, I will laugh hysterically. Oh, Lord, it probably will be because I'll be thinking about it. Awesome.

Those headphones are quite weird. I suppose they are better for when you run, though. I always end up taping mine to my ears. I probably look pretty weird, but it works. Lobes (as in ear lobes) is such a weird word.

It's weird how some things become familiar. I've never really become familiar with much though. Not that I haven't had the time, not that I haven't been there, no, it just hasn't happened. Maybe that's why it's so hard to get used to things. I like having everything always new, kind of. Well, just atleast in some ways. I don't get bored with much. I don't think I've been bored in a long time.

I'm in an alright mood, really. I'm ready for the weekend!

Who has this control? I always wonder. Maybe God, maybe something else? Maybe some random little speck of bacteria? Not that this is a sad thing. I don't think I'd be dissappointed even if it was nothing. That's not something I base my life on, still in debate in my brain whether I should be or not. I think that is going to be a very long debate. Reincarnation is very interesting. My grandma believes in it, and she has a lot of books about it. You should talk to her about it sometime. She's really good at converasation, and she makes sense.

Of course our children will like each other. It'll be a good family. Home cooked meals and game nights, all the ways. I don't know what will happen when our kids go through the "I hate my parents" phase. Our kids will be too cool? Hopefully?

Oh, you were too worrying, Auds. Admit it.

I don't have a consistency in my mood at all. I think it's because my brain moves really fast. I think a lot of things at one time. Hardly ever am I calmed down. I'm pretty good at controlling myself, though I'd say. I know what you mean by "easily swayed," very much. It's not that I'm unconfortable. Just when I'm something, I am also the other. I don't really know how to put it in words? I'm happy but I'm sad, I'm angry but I'm calm, the list goes on and on. All kind of at once.

I want to hear every detail of this Narnia event!

I take much pride in having healthier hair than Cameron, and the fact that I am the only head rub recepient. Really, your head rubs really are appreciated, Auds. My hair smells very good and feels very clean, by the way. Maybe it'll stay the same for tomorrow morning so you can experience it?

Okay, tomorrow, we will start talking about the Blog, and I will just say how to bold and italicize. (Which I have done none of this entry. Weird.)

I like when people say I remind them of people I like. I don't like when people say I remind them of someone I don't like (obvious). It freaks me out either way though. Knowing I remind somebody of someone. That somewhere in their brain, they connect me and some random person. Some character. And that we are related in that way. I feel like I'm not an individual, because every single part of me can be related to somebody else. It's overwhelming to me, really.

I like knowing everything about someone. There is nothing I don't want to know. I'm just curious. I want to learn. The more I learn, the more I feel, the more experience I get and I think that's a big part of it. I'm addicted to people's lives. Their stories. I just love them. I get attached though, and I suppose I should work on it, but I can always do that tomorrow (being very relative). I don't mean to pry. I don't mean to be rude or anything, really, and I probably am. I just don't realize it untill much later. I don't think about it when I'm talking. I would never want to know everything right away, not at all. That thing takes a lot of time, it takes people staying around and staying together.

I really, really, really like strawberries. They are just the best food sometimes. I don't think I'm never not in the mood for strawberries.

Okay, Evansville office chair racing. Also, Herron (the new college) is really good for it too! We could have two tournaments? I also like sliding around in my socks. Have you ever played tag on a floor you can slide around in with your socks? Amazing. Oh! I know the perfect building for that. The National City one downtown. We'd have to go after the bank closes, though. The building is still open though, no worries, Auds.

I am lucky to have met you, Auds. It freaks me out what kind of things I could be doing, and it kind of, sort of, makes me proud what I have been doing. In a really little way. Not much. It's what I should be doing, why should I be proud of that? I don't know.

Who says I have the right to stand up for myself, Audrey? I don't understand you there. Honestly, when someone criticizes me, or says I'm wrong, they very well could be right, and I know this. Sometimes, maybe even often, I agree with them. Every argument they give me is something I've already thought of myself. It's not like I've proved much in any direction. I know it's allowed to stand up for yourself, but I don't believe I should, because I agree with people that say I'm wrong. (If that makes any sense.)

I wonder where the phrase "my book" came from. Who comes up with such catchy phrases? A mishmash of words off the street, happens to roll easily off the tongue? Is that all it is? Very well could be. Someone is just very clever? It starts off as something, ends as another? There should be an "our book." That sounds so nice.

For some reason that reminds me of the Greeks and how they would exile someone for ten years, and how it was no big deal. "Please leave, you can come back in ten years, have everything back." How there was no shame in it. The family still got along and everything. I don't know, I just think that is so weird.

I would tell you to just imagine everyone naked, but you've told me of the people in your music class, and I wouldn't be able to handle those people naked, so I don't know if you could or not. You will do amazing, Auds. Your concerto will surpass the normal, as does many things you do. I don't say this to put pressure on you and say no matter what it'll be great. No, in fact, it very well could be awful. Just how I know you, I'm sure it won't be. I'll be sure to keep an open mind though.

I get nervousness at the worst times, it feels. Well, nevermind, it's not like being nervous is ever convenient.

You did put "Fiddler On The Roof" on my CD. I don't like the beginning because people are talking. I have something against CD's where there is talking. Like interviews our conversations. I just get annoyed.

No concrete answers? Oh, that scares me, but in a way, why does someone always have to be right?

I will explain 'bold tags' to you tomorrow. We will go through a Blog tutorial, if you will.

If you were really upset and slammed my head, no, I wouldn't be upset with you. I would just hope you'd feel a little bit better afterwards, and maybe not slam my head again, but if you needed to, I suppose I would let you. Maybe after the second time you'd just be willing to sit down and talk, but if my head being slammed helped you out, I wouldn't be upset. I'd just hope that someone had Tylenol for afterwards.

I never took crying on someone's shoulder as a metaphor. If I were to cry on someone, that's where I would aim I suppose. Maybe it's just because I am a nuzzler and what I do anyways. I don't know.

My grandma called. Oh, my. She is just so great. Her dinner with Myrna went well. She's so, I don't know. She is amazing.

I am really bad at that. When I get into whatever I'm reading I have a bad habit of moving my lips (like I'm talking but really I'm just reading what it says) and I quite often end up doing what it says. Or it'll say something and it will sound weird so I will do it to see if it is actually possible.

Urge people to become more understanding and open-minded. That's it. I think judgement, as in how we view other people, is totally different than judgement, how we view right and wrong. Two different types of judgement, if that is possible? Or maybe, it's kind of in degrees. Criticism affects people in such different ways. Some do something about it, some hide from more of it. Some do both. Some do something totally different. I wonder why?

Acting correctly... I always want to know where these standards came from? What differed us from "barbarians?" Why are "barbarians" called that? What started it all? I'm glad that people do act correctly, but really, what all consists of it? I don't know. I'm glad I'm taught things, but who figured out what to teach, and why?

"Well, uh, not much, really," replied the Ticketmaster, after a long pause. "I, um, well, I've been basically everywhere. Emily lived with me for awhile, but then left because she started this animal shelter and apparently struck a deal with YouTube to have weekly podcasts or something. She's become quite the celebrity." It was interrupted by a burst of laughter from the Ragpicker and the Ticketmaster smiled. "I wonder how many "Very Angry Kitten" videos will be made?" the Ragpicker laughed. "Oh, Lord. I do not know if I want to know." The Ticketmaster stopped there and looked at the Ragpicker. Her pupils were still just as large. There was silence, and the Ticketmaster sensed the Ragpicker wanted to know more, but where to start? How to start? So she completely changed the subject and offered the first slice of pizza to the Ragpicker.

Francis better be an outside dog. Why can't you just be a fish person, Auds. Maybe a turtle? That'd be so much easier. I guess I won't complain. On with Francis. That is a nice name for a dog, I must admit. You would leave me for a dog? Oh, this makes me nervous.

Hm, new list. How about top four places that you like to hang out? Once again, make it a selfish list. Don't consider other's opinions. I'm thinking this entry is pretty long. Let's see, it's 11 o'clock. Tomorrow is Friday. I hope the weather is nice.

See you tomorrow, Auds.

It's too easy humming songs to a girl in yellow dress

I am tired, but deem in necessary to at least begin on this next post. Sure, I might only reach a few paragraphs in depth, but that's okay.

I see you have figured out how to bold and italicize while writing on the blog and have found it an interesting tool. Someday, I too will learn this, but until this wondrous day, you are not allowed to hint. Hmmm...ctrl and B? I tried. I don't think it worked quite perfectly.

I can't wait until it is completely warm, and it is completely March, and life is completely wonderful. I don't like any of this halfway stuff. I almost cussed there. Almost. The anger!

I would suggest a date, but it seems a little inappropriate with the current circumstances in which we are dwelling.

I am in a writing mood! I think it was that persuasive paper. I was in. the. zone.

Here is the break in which I escape to my (cold) bed without taking a shower because the shower is (cold), and I plan on wearing several pairs of socks because my feet are (cold), despite the (warm) weather.

I know you hate when people tell you this, Abby, as you wrote in your last post, but I really, really, really want you to be happy, and even though you keep saying you are, I do not QUITE believe it. So goodbye. Good night.

Ah. Good afternoon.
Katie just grabbed my sketchbook and said, "Can I draw you a picture? Can I draw you a picture so that you'll remember me forever?" It was the cutest thing in the entire world, I'm pretty sure.

I have no homework, and yet, I feel incredibly busy. I might just go and take a nap.

I looked up some Tegan and Sara lyrics because I just could not understand everything they were saying, but now I know, and it makes me happy understanding them. They are actually quite nice lyrics.

Cabbage-head, how are you? I hope you have had a wonderful day. Your sleepy encounters made me chuckle. I see now why you are unable to sleep ever. Though they usually go to bed QUITE early, do they not?

Get working on that English paper, kiddo.

I apologize for being so strong and powerful. Don't make fun of those who secretly weigh four hundred pounds. I love how pounds is abbreviated "lbs". It kills me.

Metaphors are like the whole saying things poetically so that nobody understands you. Sure, it sounds beautiful and intelligent, but I would rather have people know what I'm getting at. Sorry, Shakespeare, you ARE good, but there are better writers who don't make people feel stupid. Isn't that the whole point? What is this code for the educated? This is why stupid people get stupider, and smarter people get smarter. Let's NOT be limited to a couple of books, just because we don't know what a fortnight is.

Ah! Abby, "you're not unfaithful, but you'll stray"! Perfect!

Why do people create these online ads where you choose between "Britney Spears, Oompa Loompa, or Jessica Simpson" so that you can win a free iPod? Do you even ever get a free iPod, or do people make these for kicks and giggles? I know that we were always told in school not to click on them and they are all a huge joke, but what started this, and are they all jokes? I think I'm going to start clicking on them. Sure, my computer will get a virus, but it's no good anyway.

Oh, goodness, once running starts with Hobbs, I might need to shave. I haven't shown you them in a while. Remind me tomorrow. You will be A-Mazed.

Do we have school on the 21st? Please say no, please say no, please say no. I have my reasons, most definitely.

I don't know what you would do with the rest of your life. Maybe return to all the other people you make out with? Hmmm....What if she was so right, and you are this huge whore, and I had no idea? I might actually get upset. Just not in front of everyone. You will never know...


Oh, goodness, alien movies. I don't know if I'm prepared to see you get terrified. What is this obsession of yours?

AHAHA! I used it, there. For a second, I forgot that I was reading Belle and Sebastian lyrics and thought I was reading your post, and I was like, "Why does Abby want to take a walk in the park and a Valium pill?" It was really actually quite concerning. No walks in the park with Valium. Walks in the park are good, but no Valium.

Well, nobody elongates your name, and nobody shortens mine, so I guess we had to be different. I have been brainstorming for my ten items I am supposed to add to the list (because having sixty is just not enough, apparently), and you better get excited. Oh, gosh, I just looked down and saw "Vienna boys choir", and that's it. Yes!

Tomorrow you get to wake up and say, "Today is the day I get to say hello to Auds and sing her a spontaneous tidbit that rhymes!" That is your assignment for January 10th. Wo-hoo!

I hate those headphones that go around the back of your head. They don't look comfortable or correct.

I hate saying that something doesn't look right, because who am I to judge, but sometimes things just do not look right.

I am just is a jazzy mood. That is the only way to describe it. I am ready. For what, I am unsure, but I am!

It is weird having so much control over something. I wonder how it was decided that we would become people. Really. Did we already have our minds all set, and they (whomever they may be) were all, "This one has good ideas. Send 'em down." It confuses me to no end. Maybe, one day, I will know. I'm hoping for some answers, at least when I die. I think reincarnation sounds so exciting. THAT is the new frontier.

NO HOMESCHOOLING! We will be busy parents with jobs to do, we don't need to spend all of our time teaching ungrateful children. I hope our kids get along. The whole, big brother protective thing. I always wanted that. Rachel's been good, however. What happens when they go through their "I hate my parents" phase? What will we do? I'm not worrying about this. Not actually. Nope.

I'm easily swayed with about everything. Maybe it is good to easily sway with your mood? Nobody wants to be happy all the time, and certainly no one likes to be sad. My mom used to tell me that I enjoyed being sad way to much. This makes sense, you know? Like, if I were anything but depressed, I would be out of my limit, and this would be uncomfortable. One can become so used to being sad that they wouldn't want it any other way. There is comfort in consistency.

I get to work at the library on Sunday supervising a Chronicles of Narnia event! Ah! I love Narnia!

Ah, we could never abandon all head rubs. Today in music, Cameron was leaning in on my shoulder, and I automatically reached for his head and played with his hair until I realized that his is much thinner and less fun than yours, leading me to realize that it was NOT yours, and I removed my hand, you would be happy to know.

You have done a lot of numbering, as well as bold and italicize (which I STILL have not figured out--no hints!).

It is sometimes nice being compared to people because you have some idea of who you are, or how you are perceived (which is important to everyone, despite what some people say--you can't completely not care how others see you). That is, until you feel like people think you ARE that person, which becomes annoying. I can't think of anyone anyone is exactly like. I like not knowing everything about people. I try not to pry, though I tend to (not as much as SOMEBODY, however), but it really is nice having something to grow close to. Not that I don't want to know this, but I want to talk and "bond" before I learn everything. Does this make any sense? I don't want to know everything because I eventually want to know. Ag. I have no idea.

Romaine lettuce, yogurt, strawberries, and carrots are all supposed to be part of the daily diet, I have just informed. Good to know. Good. to. know.

I went office chair racing with Rachel, Anna, and kind of Eileen when we went to visit her in Evansville. The Business building has the perfect floors, chairs, and ramps for this. If you ever go to Evansville, we will have to participate, because I'm telling you, it is HARD-CORE.

Abigail, I am lucky to have met you. I do like this. To think that someone has benefited by someone else's presence is a nice idea. Very kind and unselfish.

Most of what you say are theories and ideas and cannot be proven wrong--they are what you believe, and absolutely no one has the right to tell you they are completely wrong. They can offer other theories and ideas, ones that may refute the ones you are speaking, but they cannot come out and say, "This is stupid. And wrong." And if they do, you have the right to stand up for yourself. This is where you are weak, Abby. Stand up for yourself when people say you are wrong. It is allowed. At least in my book, which is all that matters.

What is this "my book" that we all speak of. Is it the mind? The heart? Is it all of our thoughts and opinions put into this massive book? What is we all started saying, "Our book", as in the collective thoughts of everyone everywhere? That would be pretty darn cool.

I am no longer sure I like my concerto. I'm just worried I'm not going to be able to play it, now. I'm not used to playing in front of people. Really. I hate nervousness.

I was not aware that I put "fiddler on the roof" on your CD. Man, you have been truly blessed.

I'm starting to doubt all concrete answers that might exist. Their existence, I mean.

I think I found the bold? Is this bold? Gosh darn it!

I'm sorry if the rest of this is written in bold. What are bold tags? What happens if you put them everywhere? Oh, gooseness.

Abby, I would never hit you if I were in a bad mood. I am usually able to walk/run/ride my bike/write/dance it out. But, maybe one day I will enter the school angry at the world and slam your head really hard? Are you saying this would not upset you? Your shoulders are not too bony to cry on, and anyway, I always thought this was a metaphor for having someone there for you when you were upset. I probably completely made this up.

I'm glad you appreciate my quoting.

Do you ever read something really descriptive, like, "she waved her hand in circles in front of her blurry eyes, aching for the ability to see" and you realize the next minute that you are waving your hand in little circles in front of your eyes? Is this just me?

I understand. Urge them? Judgement can be the worst and the best thing in the entire world. It makes up feel horrible, but then, without it, we would have no idea what is good or bad besides instinct, which usually isn't enough. If I weren't constantly criticized by my mother, I would be a much different person. Sure, one with a higher self esteem, maybe, but one who doesn't have any idea how to act kindly or...er...correctly?

Thug nasty? If this is a music term, it is obviously proving my point, as I have no idea what you are talking about.

"My mom...well...when she discovered that I had been living in the streets, it hurt her pretty terribly. And the idea that you were no longer in my life nearly crushed her. No one to make spaghetti for? My, oh my, poor woman. Dad's as oblivious to everything as he usually is. Neither of my sisters have spoken with me since...since the breakup." At this, the Ragpicker looked down at the enormous pizza that had just arrived. Speedy service. She cleared her throat (coated in a thick layer of snoat as usual) and spoke once again. "How, um, how have you been these years? What have you been up to?"

I hate when Hank wants food and I never have any. Even if you do not want to, you will always have to give our Saint Bernard (which I have decided should be named Francis) and scraps that come your way, or Francis and I will be gone out of your life for. ev. er.

Three Most Desired Possessions
1. Really massive, old-school headphones. I have always wanted a clunky set. Possibly in a neat color? I'd take the black too.
2. A hard-cover, hard-core dictionary. It can be old or new. I'm not picky. I love my pocket dictionary, but I think it is time to move on.
3. Good allergy medicine. I know you are agianst medicine, but I really need some. Soon.

I hope you have a wonderful time writing and sitting by your open window.
I will go play my cello.
It isn't like I NEVER do this. Not like every spare moment is spent with it being played.
Good-bye.
That was
a
short
novel
I
am
pretty
sure
and
I
will
extend
it
by
typing
one
word
per
line
.