You do not have any of your **secret** photos on facebook. Not that I checked. Not that I had to immediately show Rachel, or anything. Very disappointing.
I have decided that the reason our number of blogs decreased was because we talk on the phone and see each other way too much. I can only think of one solution. That is no good, really. No fun.
I missed ice skating. I opened the door and they walked out, seriously. So we went to the mall instead, all too tired to do anything, so we stood in Nordstrom for a while and tried on several pairs of gloves. Then I kidnapped a small child, but she ruined it by saying, "Mommy?" as we were running away. Actually, I was running. She was tucked under my elbow in what was probably an uncomfortable position. I knew them, so it was okay, I think. Just slightly freaky. How did Memaw like the Roman exhibit?
You and your 1,400 illegally (I will never believe that it is legal) downloaded songs. All those artists not making any money...
Good. Thank you for confiming that we will indeed have class together. I was completely lost there for a moment.
Oh, I won Disney Scene It. No need to worry about that. I will ALWAYS (except for when Rachel beats me ONE TIME) win Disney Scene It.
I have a lot to do as well, but it's okay. I love the summer. It seems I am always content. There is nothing you really HAVE to do then. I mean, yeah, I SHOULD be volunteering, or taking summer classes, or finding a job, but that doesn't matter because it is summer break. I just sit and read and think and watch old movies and sometimes accomplish items on my list of things to do for summer.
It is definitely good to be adaptable. This is one quality that I do not posess. I think being sociable and overall positive (as you are) would help.
Someday, you will own Goldflower Hotel with its sign for those who are illiterate, and it will become so grand that Jay-Z and Beyonce will stay there whenever they visit Canada, which will be quite often because they will be the godparents of our adopted children, of course. Ah, I can't wait to be best friends with them.
I WAS JUST THINKING ABOUT THAT! That we should all stop with everything for a moment. We're all right with what we have. Maybe not medicine, but if we keep going with advancements we're going to destroy all morals and have no fun. That is my worst nightmare, I think. That nobody is going to care and we'll be incredibly lazy and we won't think about history any more. Last year in ceramics, Mr. Renwick asked what we would die for, and we had to list as many as possible, and one of mine was history, but nobody understood. This aggravated me greatly.
My nose? Nope, yours is way cooler. Much more flippy. And cartilidge-y. I don't think I spelled that correctly. Rachel is swiveling my chair so that I am typing at an extremely difficult angle. It is definitely throwing me off some. I am also a big fan of your **secret**. This is the second secret I have mentioned, and it sounds pretty creepy, so I have finished mentioning **secrets**.
Of course we won't be violent cloud-hunters! No violence is necessary when capturing clouds. This is going to be great. It needs to be in spring. Cloud hunting in cold weather probably wouldn't be as much fun. We should also find very pretty jars to collect our clouds in. I can't wait to say that I have a cloud. Our safari jackets will be extreme--ah, hats and nets. We need to find nets like they use for jelly fishing on SpongeBob.
I don't know. I may buy some with my Christmas money. I don't need clothes, I'm good with cello...what else would I spend it on? I kind of want a wall map, though. I always have. Rachel used to have one, and I asked for it when she thought is was lame, but I think that they threw it away. Maybe they didn't? I need to ask immediately!
I bet I could get us at least a couple of those Buddy Pass things from my cousin to fly for a reduced or free rate. Yes! I am determined to fly in whatever way possible. I've always wanted airplane peanuts. People talk about them like they are no big deal, but it is hard to be so "inexperienced", you might say. I would give anything for a sample of airplane food. Now that I have had a detention, this is my new obsession. I think this one might be a tad bit more interesting. Let us go get passports!
Confusion is the strangest of all the feelings, even guilt. I guess because you don't know what brings it on, really. It is just there. Does confusion even qualify as a feeling? What is it, exactly?
I always start with "and" and "but" and make short, stupid sentences when I write on here or e-mail people. I guess I don't do much more informal writing than that. Sometimes I write randomly, but then I think how stupid it is, and then I feel bad for thinking that I am stupid for trying to write, and then I stop anyway.
If I hear one more thing about stock from my parents, I am going to scream.
Today I was telling a story about my dad and I laughing at something, and my friend Erin was like, "You guys have such a funny relationship. It's like you're exactly the same." I love when people tell me stuff like this, as much as I act like I don't. I adore my parents. They make me chuckle. And liking them makes me feel better about myself, like I have matured from the phase where you hate everything about your parents. Such a stupid phase, really.
I think I'm in a good mood right now. Despite the fact that I have quite a lot of things to do, I'm all right. I'm relaxed, in a way, which I am not used to. Even this entire break, I have been flipping out over things that I should be doing in the back of my mind. Now that I have confronted the problem, I guess I feel better? I kind of can't wait to get back to my normal schedule. School just might be some sort of relief.
Man, that was a harsh paragraph. What makes it sad is that is was true, how everybody is a critic and we all have problems that we can't share or we will be looked down upon. But maybe that's what this thing called love is all about? That we CAN share these secrets, or at least most of them, without feeling like a freak? But, you know, hopefully we won't always hide these secrets like they are some huge pain in our stomachs, but realize that they AREN'T that weird, after all, and maybe others won't see it as so strange. I think that has a lot to do with it. How we view ourselves. I really do think more highly, I guess, of those who have confidence in themselves. But does this create some sort of cycle, where those who don't have confidence feel like freaks and are pushed lower and lower?
Ag. I don't know. Whenever I write a long paragraph on here, I look back and think, "well. That doesn't look like it makes much sense", which it usually doesn't.
I think that dreams are possibly more organized that the life that I am living right here, right now, which is actually not saying much. The ruler is also a fascinating tool, dealing with how it began. That really is insane. I do have a strange affection for ugly things, particularly "ugly" colors. Maybe I pity them? Who knows?
I love that chorus. The style of singing in the 40's, period. I have searched forever to find a proper adjective to describe it, but there is absolutely nothing. They were much more creative with their terminology. Aunt Aloha might be slightly creeped out if you created a nickname for her now, and it sounds as if the one you make might not be so positive. Be nice, Abby. And not vulgar.
If we all told the truth, it is quite possible that we would all be much more compassionate because the things that people usually don't tell are the painful things. If we let these all out, then maybe we can share and learn? This sounds so pathetic, but it could be beneficial.
I love to be the chosen one. It makes me feel important. Include some more Peter, Bjorn, and John if at all possible. I also like the Format and Ben Kweller. Not to be picky or anything.
I believe you have stopped with all of the ahaha's, which I did not realize until just now. Sad. I never thought I would miss those.
Okay, you and Ogie. I don't think he had a last name, meaning you cannot take it when you marry him. Whoops, sorry.
I thought you were talking about Rebekah there when you mentioned both being able to pop your jaw, and I was lost. I still am, as I don't know who Beck is. A rapper, I am assuming? Or maybe you did mean Rebekah, and she will become quite offended when I thought she was some rapper.
I think I act like that sometimes, that whole, "you have no choice" thing, actually, which makes me feel slightly horrible. And we DID venture out into the Southside. Sure, I was scared for my life, but I lived, didn't I? Yup. Congrats.
FILL OUT THAT APPLICATION!
Ah, I love trees! They are the one thing that I really do not understand in any way but truly love despite this.
The Ticketmaster's lack of control over her words was something that the Ragpicker both loved and missed, and this "slip" made her laugh, her heart filling with joy for the first time in years. "I thought I had been okay, actually, until I ran into you, and it is then that I realized how horribly I have been living in your absence." she said honestly (and, might I add, rather smoothly), adding, "and yes, my love, I have been thinking almost constantly about you, too." The Ticketmaster smiled not-so-shyly and looked up again as they neared the familiar stomping grounds of back in the day. The Ragpicker laughed once again as she realized where they were headed. The Ticketmaster's ability to make her chuckle left her feeling content, and she welcomed this feeling with open arms.
Poor Tolstoy. He just wanted to prove how smart he was, and it seemed to have worked on most people. Nothing can slide past you, Abby!
This blog has been particularly easy to write. Is it possible to have a blog-writing mood? I almost always like writing on the blog, but some days it seems much more simple to record thigs. I am sorry you kept having to erase. You know I don't care if it makes no sense. It might to me, but now we will never find out.
Oh, themes. Okay.
1. An english flat belonging to some stylish, retro elderly woman who collects vintage drapes. Is this a theme? It should be.
2. Robin Hood's treehouse. Or any treehouse, actually. Lots of leaves and secret entrances and the constant smell of s'mores and big windows. Yup.
3. The year 1962. I'm not sure why, but I think it would be fun. The 60's seemed like a good time.
4. A really cool farmhouse out in the middle of nowhere. Not really themed like a farm (like, not with cow wallpaper or anything), but with old, scratched-up wood floors and really clean white walls and a bright yellow, really comfortable bedspread. I'm thinking that's pretty specific.
That was a long entry. It took a while to write, too. Woah! 10:22. I have to do something, I guess. What should I spend my last night of break doing? Good luck on your application.
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