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.