Rejoice, rejoice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's kind of chilly.

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

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

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


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

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

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

Ways to Save For Hot Water

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hahahahaha.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, that was longer than planned.

I do love Lucy. So, sue me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I felt a change a'comin'.
Yup.

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

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

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

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

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

"These two sides of my brain

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, library fines. Awesome. Guh-reat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I'm fine. I told you that.

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

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

I want to play Scrabble. No go.

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

You have some explaining to do.

Goodnight.

Burma Might be a Peninsula

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

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

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

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

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

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

I should have timed when my mother left.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're fine, Abigail.

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, goodness.
I am in pain.
Farewell.

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

"And yeah, I know,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tajikistan is not an island

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

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

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

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

I saw a commercial for twisty markers today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"There's a tough word

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I want to watch a movie.

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

I do eat Audrey. Stop.

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

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

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