I Worte a Post, Hope You Don't Mind

I will discuss things that bug me. More specifically, thing that bugs me. I hope you don't mind. When people ask if "you mind", I get mad. Why? Usually because it doesn't matter if I do.
"I'll be joining the student council meetings. Do you mind?"
Yes, but I'll say no because there's absolutely no value in my response. She'd be in the meetings anyway. People on hope-you-don't-mind power trips irritate me. I mean, maybe I would've been neutral towards whatever twist you've thrown into my life, but the question reminds me that I am not in control and might not like it.
Sheesh.
I'll keep blogging. I hope you don't mind.
See?
SEE?

Santa?

Well, friends are shifting and that's promising.
I think I'm in a good mood. I am..hopeful? (bad, I know. I need to put my all into emo poetry, Eric). Perhaps it's the carols convincing me this really is the most wonderful time of the year. Maybe it's just time to be happy? Don't get me wrong, I still miss someone dearly. But, it's time to indulge myself in 5/4 time and Db major.

Plaque in the Track

I can't force poetry out.
Not even prose.
All I can do is admit that I read a heartwarming piece of text.
I won't be returning one until I can find a good photo from elementary school.
=]

Thanks for the delayed consideration.

Things I am not:
A starfish
A gecko
A box of Lego
A child's fingertip
A planarian.

Priorities.

Hm. You see, I'd be more hard on you if it wasn't the case where you'd pick the drugs over me. But there's this crossroads of saving people. I'd retort when you said that we never have time together if I knew you wouldn't think that your habits didn't get enough of your time either. I miss you. Fuck

Hello, Universe.

Fuck you, too.
=]

I hate.

Krysta told me to blog. No one reads it when it's relevant so I can say anything, correct? I hate Lucie Manette; she is so tedious and painfully nice and dull. The Liberals and NDP's are off being retards again but it wasn't a good move to put out attack ads on the Conservatives' part, either. I hate ignorant people in positions of authority. I hate how I feel isolated and then subconsciously seek to keep myself that way just to be a bitch. At least my working on music is going well. I hate math class. I got parabola's, and all that trigonometry but functions just don't seem like they'd help me as an individual in society or whatever the schools are trying to tell us they're helping us become. I hate how things aren't as simple as they should be. Two people agree they're both lonely but won't get together (mostly because one's a hypocrite and just a fucking dumbass -sometimes). Love is a fucked up thing. I hate how my locker looks as plain as one you'd rent for only hour-long periods of time at a train station or something. I can't seem to create anything visual. I hate how my room seems so small, and how I'm so tired. I hate the fact that I'm so hateful. I don't understand how I've been able to relate with the me from 3 years ago ever since that me came into existence. I wonder why I should be jealous of random ass people even when my mind thinks it's in the right place. Where did all my words go and where did I go? Why is everyone so afraid? What the fuck am I doing on a blog..have I not heard of MySpace; it seems to be more suited to sniveling.

A little strange

When nosebleeds are shamefully relished
When the kids are sneaking bandages instead of liquor from their parents' cabinets
When children would sooner blame themselves before they did society

My life.

So Sims wouldn't even start up...I resorted to playing Fallout 3. After about 5 hours of that, it decided it would crash every two minutes. Finally, I have arrived at Singularity which is Sahweet. Hehehe. This shows how much of no life I have.

Hm,

So I walked around Hicktown. No one was out. I don't know why I was hoping to have people in my sights; Jason is the only person conversation-worthy and that makes me sad as he painfully reminds me of someone I won't name for a while and that whole situation. So while some people are off having fun doing pot and having parties- I assume, at least, that my fellow Hickfolk are having parties because there are so many parked cars- I am sitting around feeling monotonous. Crap, that word makes me sad. Hmph. So I went online and no one was on. So I watched TV...anywho, I fear that if I continue to type, I'll sound more and more like a character of Sylvia Plath's devising. Hmph. I miss..life? Or at least the happy delusion where I thought I had one.

The Friendly Internet People

The friendly guy I met on the internet turned out to be..his age. Shock.
While Krysta and I were sandwiched between a mob of 20 000 sweaty people (a large percentage of which were shirtless) after Maiden, I had some mysterious liquids poured down my back. Ick.
Jenna has decided that the person who was shirtless next to her was cute..so much so that she'd be willing to use her special line, "You make me so hot, my upper arms start to sweat." Rawr. That is all for now. PS: I want John Myung's babies.

No Prose For Sarah

Oh, the earth's surface crumples up like a paper ball and I am lost in a crease.

MY FRIENDS -RHCP

My friends are so depressed
I feel the question of your loneliness
Confide 'cause I'll be on your side
You know I will, you know I will

I love all of you
Hurt by the cold
So hard and lonely too
When you don't know yourself

Uh huh

Sarah has sad skeletons.

Mmmyup.

So, I've taken into the consideration that my last entry did not have a copious amount of swearing and that perhaps my little spiel at lunch was false advertisement.

*cough*VOTE 5 SARAH!subliminalmessaging*cough*

Well, I don't have much to say; MOGA is Friday and I'm probably going to want to wear shorts (gasp is expected). I mean shorts, not lesbo-gear (as is typical with someone such as myself). The only dilemma is that I'm so freakishly pale, I disgust myself and potentially innocent onlookers. I hope I can get a somewhat-tan within the next two evenings.

Now, you guys need to blog. 'Tis no fun writing everything for my entertainment alone.

Stretch Marks.

Fuck you, stretch fucking marks.
Well, knowing that I was able to compose a sentence that was 40% the F word, makes me feel accomplished.

Huh.

Well.

I guess I'm on a blog. I don't really have any anonymous inter-web alias goodness, so here I am.
And now I think I'll leave.

Bye.

I Miss You

Bodies in crude form. <- I thought I saw that in my last post...mes yeux ne marchent pas.
Well, now that the shocking things have been dealt with, I suppose I'll ramble; at least it will be better than the nothing you guys're writing. I want to be in student counsel but am afraid of going to the work to campaign. I haven't done my math homework in 2 weeks- I mean, even brought the book home. For the first time in mathematical history, I am lost. I believe that I'll fall asleep after 30 minutes of listening to someone else talk. I hate feeling like the oldest person in my house. I look at people and wonder if they have the same relationship structures I do. I can't wait for school to end- that is a lie. I still have no idea what I want to do with myself. The guitar doesn't seem as fun as it used to. I shower and nap because I have nothing to do. That way I can tell myself that someone called or messaged me but I missed the excitement instead of waiting and having nothing happen. I just noticed that this is getting depressing. I am listening to City and Colour again. The hardest part about picking my dress-down outfit tomorrow is deciding on the pants. I'm at the top of the ladder, I think. And the people falling over themselves at the bottom seem to be experiencing more excitement. How's that for a blog post?

Education is are goal.

So first, I had to put up with the people in kindergarten who shouldn't be there. They shoulda said, "Send your kid back next year." They didn't. The new goal? Pass the kids through to elementary school. Then the new goal became having the kids go through to highschool. Now the diploma means nothing and people who really should be getting special treatment and not invading my grade are passing highschool. Thank you education ministry. It is, however, always pleasant to know that the standardized testing created to prevent morons in the workplace is lowering its standards. This is worse than when the NDPs decided that at an award ceremony, everyone got an award because everyone has their qualities.

Speaking of awards, I'd like to give McGuinty one- or however you spell Dalton's last name. He is hereby awarded with the title of...person-who-doesn't-pay-attention-to-the-issues. Thank God though, he will be saving us from 13L toilets. If he was dictator, people would be starting black markets of incandescent light bulbs, pit bulls, and toilets. I think this is when you realize things are going horribly wrong.

Speaking of horribly wrong, I got to watch my mother grind with our neighbour...and learn the shimmy...and show everyone how they're "supposed" to move their bodies in crude mating ritual form...and learn the bend n' snap. Enough said.

Mmyes.

Did I already use that title? Probably.
I hereby mention that Jenna and I are hanging out.
Just droppin' in to say BAM suckas! I happen to be a consistent blogger.
That is all.

Sexting

Seriously guys; it's a pandemic. 39% of teenage girls have sent sexually graphic texts or images. Says Tyra Banks.
So I was happily eating my Crunchie bar made of toffee and chocolate goodness when I started to become a victim of cyber sexual harassment. Jenna was sexting me.
So I decided to get a drink.
She hasn't said anything else yet..perhaps she feels rejected from putting- oh wait, nevermind.

The universe: still big, and I don't really want to deal with it right now. It leads to existence and whether or not everything is a figment of my imagination. "I think, therefore I am" you know all, that stuff. Would I like to trip out now? I think no- ...
...
Haha, I didn't vanish.

Anywho, everyone I've only ever seen in the hallways or being an idiot is probably at the dance right now..shaking their underage booties, as my dad would say. Speaking of idiots. The people on my bus are idiots- all fighting to stand at the front so they can get a close-up view of the road, sticking their heads out windows, practicing karate- they remind me a little of excited dogs in a car.

When the Lights Come on, This Whole Place Gets Ugly

Hmm. Listening to Born Losers and eying the toast on my desk. I should probably get rid of it...although over a day old, the "butter" substance is still shiny and fresh-ish-looking. I guess you could say I feel alive. Sorry Phillip, for turning you into a pessimist. But I am very appreciative of my friends. Very.
I'll end this with two lines.
"What doesn't kill us makes us bitter whores."
Followed by:
"Go put it in the ground."
Gotta love Matthew Good. =]

Goin' on 4

Well, satchel no longer needed.
Say hello to my potential 4th death.
This means you can look forward to a 4th birth.

Take Two

Mr. Gallagher calls me by my last name. Today was the first day he acknowledged my presence...
"What are you doing Wednesday?"
"School?"
"No! The Talent Show."
"Okay, well I'm doing the Talent Show."
"But what are you doing in it?"
"Oh."
Oh dear, I say. This is worse than that time Ms. Burowski saw that I had an IEP and treated my like a 'tard for about 2 weeks.

PS: Does this not count to get me back in the blogathon lead/tie?

We Are The Humans

So today I got to partake in my most awkward auditions ever. However, I got in for the robot goodness and am pretty sure I did for my morbid song, =] Yay.
Meanwhile, I'm doing what? Being my biggest/only fan and listening to a recording of said morbid song to look for improvements.
Seeing as Zach never comes on here, I should discuss my dilemma...his birthday. What to get? It was WOW time but now all that's left on my list is bacon, cheese, and a satchel. "Why not fill the satchel with bacon and cheese- or have a bacon hunt where you hide random bacon pieces throughout his house so that in four months, he'll find the missing piece to his birthday collection?" Well, the latter doesn't seem too practical and the first leads me to the following questions...
WHERE DO I FIND A MOTHERBLEEPING SATCHEL
Second, if a man purse is of equivalent sketchiness and value to a female one, wouldn't he want to pick it out himself?
Hmph; I don't even know how to pick out a female purse.

Our Education Like Such As

Pretty, plastic girl in a blue dress sure can butcher words.
The best characters off of Red vs Blue are being brutally murdered.
The "I wanna be with you and make believe with you song." makes me want to smash my head through a wall.
This is a lovely day.

Offended.

I am a tad.
No.
I'm insulted.

I'm Pregnant.

I am pregnant with incubating thought children.
Yes, they take my iron, my calcium, my peace of mind.
Assholes.
I just want a little knowledge that this pregnancy with bring something good with it. A little hope, y'know?
I don't want to alienate my friends with my pregnant woman hormones.
The father will stay- but I know that he won't the be same.
Maybe I'll end up alone.
With a devil child.

DUDE!

IN A SOCIETY, WE SHOULDN'T NEED RULES- THEY LEAD TO JUDGMENT WHICH LEADS TO A SUPERIORITY COMPLEX- WHICH LEADS TO CLASS- WHICH LEADS TO CLASH.
IN A COMMUNITY, WE SHOULD HAVE NO EXPECTATIONS. DUDE, I LOVE EVERYONE I THINK.

Mmmmyes, Mmmmyes

(The above should be said it an somewhat frown-shaped-mouth whilst rubbing ones hands together greedily- see a fly for reference)
Well, it's things like this that get me awarded with the status of being "quite up to date" from Krysta.
Speaking of being up to date...where is everyone? I've been writing the occasional word salad but you guys (should be said in the way I would say it if I was being left behind in a hallway) have very much neglected your blogs.
So it's time for MY update on life, the universe, and everything.

• Krysta is with the Swiss kid, O'Neil. I believe she is only in it for any mustaches he may make available to her.
• Nicole's married to Zack- BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE- he's her boyfriend. Teehee. Nicole and Zack sittin' in a tree...H-U-G-G-I-N-G! (Had to avoid going X-Rated there)
• Jenna and Mayhew; never saw it coming. Heh. I will now gift them with Star Wars related names...(May)Hewbacca and Jenna the Hut.
• Phillip..in the process of developing the status of phenom with the ladies. Location: unkown.
• PAT'S IN A RELATIONSHIP AND IT'S COMPLICATED
• The universe continues to be very big.
• Everything is the equivalent to nothing- in perspective, of course.

So that's that.
Eat your veggies, get at least 30 minutes of mild exercise a day, and did you know that "unkown" is considered misspelled to this cyber spell check?

?

Angry post was here.

I've Lost it

I don't know what "it" is defined as.
But I think it's gone.

Symptoms I've been experiencing:
-writing songs in major keys
-writing things that do not orbit around death and murder
-inspiration?

What happened to the old me? I seriously do not know. What I do know is that I find little things that remind me of dead people (like bubbles in my tea) and that makes me happy.

I feel new.

Hello?

I'm here because my only other option is to be in bed.
If I'm in bed, I won't be asleep.
Here is the best of the two.
The internet; big. And full of people who want to sell you stuff.
So big that writing small posts is like throwing the little fortune cookie papers into a bottomless pit.
Chances are no one will stumble upon it before the paper has yellowed and shriveled.
But it still technically counts as a reaching out.
The thought that I could die any second scares me.
More, it upsets me.
But mostly.
I'm afraid.

So, my morbid piece of music and lyrical accompaniment has taken a turn for the worst.
I'm not singing about murder; that is so... Prozac-induced.
I somehow went from a minor key to a major key.
I want the gloom back.
-_-

Hello, Clipboard and Stethoschope-Equipped Man

Well. Calls from teachers are never a good thing.
I've never had one before.
I've never done anything wrong.
But nonetheless, almost falling over in class and looking like an actual vampire has its benefits.
Double vision episode doesn't help my case either, or fatigue, or head aches, or lost concentration, obsessive thought patterns, "poor breathing habits", staring blankly.
So, to the doctor's I go. Yay.

Thank you Phillip, for supporting my relationship with diet colas.

Now onto more serious things! ... (Ellipses should be used always- even if you've already used punctuation and there is nothing to be mysterious about.) We missed teacher slave day. What happened to Mayhew beat-boxing? The Pokemon them song being part of the morning announcements? Shame... Luckily, I've found a small deposit of Nietzsche and Sartre in my basement for some light reading- to replace the frivilous things I lack. -_-

I'll think of something entertaining and decent to say when something entertaining and decent happens. For now, I'll continue to fit as many chords into my Eminor progression. (Three-chord songs piss me off). Go forth and multiply, eat all of your vegetables, and put the toilet seat down.