The Unknown Post

Oh, no. As I listened to my friends discuss their schedules and how they aren't in classes with each other, the MOST HORRIFYING thought occurred to me, and I must admit, I am quite distraught. Abby, what if we no longer have APUSH together? What will we do?

Ah, I'm happy you were in a good mood (I say "were" because you wrote that post several days ago. I would just like to note that I am not neglecting the blog necessarily, but have been spending a large amount (a lot) of time with you...we forgot joint post!). I love being happy, but I like being content maybe even more. The idea that you are okay with how life is seems like it would last longer than a temporary joy at some sudden happening. Is this bad? It probably isn't even true, either. I wonder at my mind, most times.

AH! You slept! I am incredibly proud.

Rachel said that Plum Pudding is a brand, which I guess makes sense. Have I already told you this? Probably, actually. Ah, well, that's okay.

HAPPY TWO MONTH BLOG ANNIVERSARY!

I despise computers because I don't like feeling so inferior to something. It isn't good for the mind. Not encouraging. Plus, I can never figure out how to work them, which adds to the inferiority. I wish my nose would stop sniffling.

I am all in for cloud-hunting. Add that to our list immediately. I'm just going to save up for a plane ticket. I don't need to stay anywhere, just get on the plane, fly somewhere, walk around, and fly back. I wonder if anyone ever does this. They should.

Ag, you worry me so greatly. You could be in the greatest mood ever, and I would still be concerned. I am still playing with my silly putty, by the way. It has melted somewhat in my coat pocket. Song ends.

I am so confused at life right now. Maybe we should make it a rule that you can only write on the blog when you are happy, since I feel guilty that you will be reading this. Maybe not?

You don't have to wear the attire, though if you would like, it would be a nice little addition to the experiment. Now that I am no longer vegetarian, what will my New Year's experiment be? I really want one assigned.

I have wanted hot chocolate for about three hours, but nobody else wanted it. I think I will go make some.

What do you mean, "fit in"? I read that, and it sounded slightly snotty, but you must know that I am truly curious as to what you meant.

I just stared at the wall for about four minutes. I have so much to do.

Circles are crazy shapes, truly. I can't find a Kleenex. My silly putty is in a bowtie shape, and I had bowtie pasta tonight. I was tempted to see if Evil Lamp was hot, but decided against it in order to preserve my pointer finger. Why do we call what we want to be "dreams" and the thoughts that we have as we sleep the same thing? Very different, I believe. Which came first? Tomorrow is Thursday, a day of which I have always been a fan. I bought a warm sweater today. It is a rather ugly shade of brown, which is why I believe I liked it. The silly putty has remained untouched for several seconds now, curiously disturbing me. I think, maybe, that I might throw it away? I wonder if I will feel at all sad?

Maybe make "better" people? That could suck. I haven't used that word...ever, I believe. I don't like it. That could be awful, is more comfortable.

I have never read Feed. What is it about?

That was a long split in the blog. I saved it as draft last night, and here I am once again at 5:35. It feels strange, like I shouldn't be writing with such a split personality. I went to sleep really early last night after my family complained about my mood and woke up at seven, ready to kill someone, so I tried for two hours to fall back asleep as I watched Golden Girls. I finally did and slept until roughly 1:30. Twas nice.

AHHH! I hate when people tell me this, especially if it is something I HAVE been waiting to ask for quite some time. If you can't talk about something one moment, what makes a different time better? I don't understand.

Being different from how I used to be kept me up for about an hour last night, and I kept freaking out. I like your theory about how we are who we are, and maybe certain things were not shown at certain moments, but they were definitely there the whole time. We always have the potential to be something or someone else, I guess.

Dobby is the greatest fictional character, period. I wish he and I were BFF's, because I would totally knit him socks, and I would appreciate some mismatched ones in return.

Speaking of crazy songs, what is this "Labyrinth Pomp"? In-sane. I am slowly, slowly going through this CD you gave me such a long time ago. It is so long, though, so you can't yell at me, I am only trying to decide what I like. I really like this song by Rachel's freaky Latin band Reik. It is so, er, intense? even though I don't know what they are saying. This is why I love instrumental music so much, because you can tell what the meaning is even though you have no words.

I really want to go somewhere. Not here. Like, some crazy small town in Wisconsin. Or Michigan. Or Canada. As much as I love the snow, there isn't much of it, which makes me wish it were spring so badly. I love grass, even though it gives me hives. And leaves! I love when the trees grow their leaves! Ah, it makes me extremely overjoyed.

As the Ragpicker finished her phone conversation, obvioisly avoiding the words "I love you" throughout the enire chat, she snapped her phone shut and looked up at the faint Ticketmaster, instantly filling with an unbearable guilt. The Ticketmaster avoided the question she longed to ask, instead grabbing the hand of the Ragpicker and simply stating, "Let's get something to eat." The Ragpicker smiled in return, and the pair turned down the busy sidewalk, leaving pain behing them for whatever instant time would allow.

I hate feeling like I should be talking "smarter" around others, and when I think in my head with words I feel comfortable with, I always sound better. I like when people write how they think or how they talk. It makes much more sense to write like this.

An hour and a half? I really have no idea how long I have been writing this one. It feels like five years, mainly because it has been split so drastically.

My room is clean. Really. Except not my closet, which is all right with me.

45 entries for January. Get ready. Slow start though. It is 2008! We haven't made a list in quite some time. Your turn to come up with one.