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?