Enter Dictator Cadaverous and General Libido.

fish day was fantastic, truly it was. bethany and i went along with my mother to thrift stores, starting out the day by blowing my money on a little glass goblet (which would later be forgotten in ashley's van) and two bottles of jones soda. god, i love me some jones soda. i have this nasty little habit of shaking everything i drink, and i don't drink soda all that often, so, being as distracted as i was by the idea of fish day, i shook up my jones soda, opened it, and was sprayed with sticky crushed melon drink. great. we went to the bargain box, where i tried on some random crap and laughed hysterically at my image in the mirror.
then we were off to ashley's, where we flopped down to watch The Fantastic 4 while we waited for ashley's mom, tanya, to get ready. the three of us had different opinions as to which Fantastic 4 hero we liked the best. can you guess which one i liked? no, no, think about it first. do you really think ashley or bethany would go for the huge, creepy rock dude? that's right, i chose the rock dude. now, i'm not saying i'm romantically interested in the dude, i'm just saying i like him. he's so sad. i just want to hug him, cheer him up a little bit. bethany liked the awkward elastic guy ("imagine what else he can stretch!") and ashley liked the jerk-off flaming dude.
and away we go! we headed down the new bypass - which i had never been on before - to ottumwa. we gave tanya an extreme craving for cigarettes with all of our blabbering, screaming, and - on bethany's part - hysterical squealing. we hopped out of the car at aldi's grocery store or whatever, leaving tanya to smoke while we ran inside. we spent a fairly decent amount of time there while tanya collected her month's supply of groceries. the three of us ran around, leaving tanya to herself, but we saw her discussing us with strangers on more than one occasion. one dude was openly pointing at us and smiling broadly at her. yeah, we're awesome. after that, we went straight to THE DOLLAR TREEEEEEEE, the most amazing "everything-for-a-dollar-or-less" store i have ever been to. i mean, it's honest! dollar general claims to be a dollar store, but it's almost kind of a rare occasion when i find anything good for a dollar there. well, of course we had a grand ole' time at the dollar tree! we ran through every aisle, candy and toys alike, talking way too loudly about god knows what. the whole place was full up of "I LOVE YOU" balloons, which i made sure to kick when they drifted too close to the floor. ashley made me go into convulsions by playing with these nasty skull toys (there was even an Iron Man one, what the hell) that had little bubbles full of fake blood and maggots inside so that when you squeezed 'em, the blood and gore came out of their eye sockets. after that little episode, we ran to the holiday section, which even had st. patrick's day stuff already. i put on a tall green-and-white striped hat and pink-and-white oven mitt, and then i chased ashley across the store, chopping at her with the oven mitt and demanding that she give me back the dollar that i loaned her. well, it turns out that stores don't like pseudo violence, because soon the intercom came on with a panicked woman's voice saying, "security, please scan the aisles." ashley and i quickly turned our attention to the candy, exchanging a panicked look before beginning a discussion on airheads and warheads. bethany, apparently, was staring at holiday sunglasses and laughing at our misfortune. we didn't get into trouble - we never do - and we probably didn't learn a lesson. hurrah for ignorance!
FISH TIME, FISH TIME! tanya drove us off to SUPER WAL-MART, and we rushed to the fish aisle (taking a few moments of slow-mo for bethany's video camera). bethany and ashley had no trouble at all with picking out their perfect fish: $.28 feeder goldfish, each one maybe an inch long. bethany picked out a flashy one with a rad black horseshoe type mark on the top of his head: King Gabrielle, and a plain, kind of sickly-pale (in a cool way) one... uh, i keep forgetting her name. ashley picked an orange-and-white, koi-looking one: Cristoff, and, uh... a multi-colored one?: Gary. okay, i wasn't impressed with the teensy fish, though i did love my friends' choices, and i was panicking because my last goldfish died in less than twenty-four hours and i didn't want to kill anybody else. i was checking out all the prettiest, most expensive goldfish, with flowing fins and pretty scales, but every time i chose one, tanya would look at it and say, "no, it's sick." so i didn't get a cute, chubby little goldfish. i got the little feeder fish like ashley and bethany, and it didn't take me long to fall in love with them. Dictator Cadaverous is bright orange with a white face and, get this, an orange mustache. General Libido is... uh... i think he's multi-colored. he's small. i bought a new vase/tank thing for them: some awesome, tall thing, with walls instead of inhumane, vision-altering bowls. it was $15, which i didn't really want to spend, but i figured it would be okay, since my grandma and grandpa had shown up unexpectedly this morning to drop off my christmas present: $50.
the ride home was moderately quiet for some time, while we stuffed our faces with gummy worms and tried to make sure our fishies weren't bumped around to death. after a while, though, ashley put in her panic at the disco CD (yeah, yeah, hipster friends, grimace if you will) and we listened, me singing quietly, all my my lonesome. ashley doesn't sing in front of her mom, and bethany didn't know the songs. soon we were replacing words in the dancy songs with "FISH!" so that every song was about fishies, whether it made sense or not. it was pretty exciting, and i was sad to go home, but Dictator Cadaverous and General Libido needed to get settled!
it's amazing how quickly i lost my good mood. i swear, the moment i walked through the doors, waves of hostility hit me and knocked me over backwards. my kid brother, jace, didn't seem to notice how pissy the atmosphere was; i quickly concluded that he was the reason that mom was so "GRRR." he followed me to the kitchen and stood right next to me, which i do not appreciate, and when i told him to go away, he just scooted his chair a little bit. it ticked me off, it really did, because it wasn't like mom greeted me, or cared about the new members or our household or anything, and jace is just kind of a brat sometimes. i explained to him that i was rinsing out the new tank with hot water to kill the germs, and he said, "you can't kill the germs, because germs aren't alive." i told him that they were, ask mom, and he went to mom, who abruptly told him that no, germs were not alive. well, he was awfully glad to hear this, and came running to rub it in my face that "mom said," and i got really pissed. i asked mom why she would tell him that, and she said something along the lines of, "i don't want to get in the middle of your retarded arguments with a four-year-old," all angry-like, though i hadn't even started an argument with the kid, i had just told him to ask mom. why she had to lie to him to end the "argument," i do not know. telling him the truth would have had the same effect: someone would have been wrong and that's it. but heaven forbid that dani be right! oh, no, that just can't happen! eh.
anyway, during all of this, Dictator Cadaverous and General Libido were still in their bag, which was floating in my old tank, which had all of the room-temperature, already-cleaned water in it. i was letting them adjust, y'know. well, i decided they had been in there long enough, and took them out to pour the water into my new tank. i cut off the top half of their bag and poured some of their old water into the new stuff, then i crammed their half-empty bag into the new tank's water, for more adjusting. well, as i got ready to do the dishes, i heard a sickening POP, and all i could think was, "oh crap, how did their bag pop when it was cut open?" but then there was water gushing all over the counter, and i realized that the nice, new tank had snapped clear in half. i quickly rescued my little babies and put their bag in the sink while i desperately tried to avoid making even more of a mess. eh, it was definitely unavoidable. Dictator C. and General L. are fine, sulking in the old tank, which is safely placed on my nightstand. they haven't figured out that i've fed them, but they'll get it eventually. i'm just ticked off that i managed to cause my new, snazzy tank to explode.
i really hope my new fishies aren't dead in the morning. that would be pretty depressing. i might just cry. not because i'll be depressed about two, insignificant little feeder fish that lost their lives (though that would make me a little sad), but because i couldn't even keep something alive for a day. it will prove that i am a pro at killing fish, even when i don't want to. granted, this does make me a pretty wonderful fisher(wo)man, but i don't even want my gamey fish to be killed! i don't eat fish, so i just throw them back in the water to live their sad little lives. i don't want to kill them! so hey, if i'm crying tomorrow, that's why. everything i try to house in a tub of water dies. and my cats get run over, die of leukemia, get full up of maggots, or piss on my bed. waaah, i SUCK at taking care of things! do you see why i won't have children?! i would be such a downer that i would make them kill themselves, if i didn't accidentally kill them already.

Dictator Cadaverous, or Kaiser... Kaiser What?

hey, all! guess what? i am preparing to purchase a new victim in my line of fish terrorism. i'm pretty sure i'm getting a goldfish, since i've got goldfish fodder in my room (from my ex-fish, Megrims, his name being a synonym for the bluuues) and i really want to try to keep a goldfish alive for at least three days this time. Megrims died in less than twenty-four hours. i've got my whole "death-bringer" routine down to an art.
so now i am cramming my head full of words from thesaurus dot com, and of course the words i'm searching are all morbid or creepy. i can't have a fish with a regular or cheerful name! where's the fun in that? besides, you can't have "Dictator Rainbow" or "Kaiser Puppy-eyes" or anything like that. so, if you're confused by the meanings of any of my possible fishy names, look it up.
hmm... Kaiser/Dictator Bellicose? hmm... still not as cool as Dictator Cadaverous, right?
yes. right. anyway, i've been having some issues recently, but i'm beginning to think they were all in my head, and now everything's being blown way out of proportion and people could be confronted and it's not okay. everything would have been fine and not overly-wild if mom hadn't wonked out and called the priiiincipal. but no, some people like to make life a little tougher than it is (god, i love song references that no one else recognizes). gahr, i'm sure everything will be just fine. i'll just wait for the whole thing to blow over.
i think i'm actually handling it pretty well. yeah, my heart goes a-thump-thump-thumpthumpthumpthumpthump about the whole thing, but it's all in my head at this point. also, several other peoples' heads, which is not okay. i probably should have kept quiet about the whole thing. so right now the only conflict is mostly internal, y'know, man versus self, dani versus guilt/insecurity/confusion/worry. but it's okay. it's okay. i'll just fill up on the happy songs and dance and sway.
i'm also having some romance issues, but it's nothing i'll get all depressed about. it just makes me wonder, and it helps me to see that i am totally creep/stalker-esque and i should probably tone down on that just a bit. oh, well. nothing too serious. hormones, y'know? it's not like i'm madly in looove or anything. just slightly in lust. it happens.
Kaiser/Dictator Libido? hrmm...
oh, man! hahaha. one of the synonyms for "libido" on thesaurus dot com is "the hots." i find that amusing.
Dictator/Kaiser/General? Gauche. hmm! General Gauche... not bad, not bad... but i think ashley might frown on the same first letter approach. but it's a different SOUND, y'know? but, hrm, it sounds an awful lot like "General GOSH!"
teehee, Dictator Damnable. i believe ashley would definitely frown on the double-D thing. (hee, double-D).
hrm, why is it that "tremendous" can be both awful and wonderful? the synonyms all kind of contradict each other. heh, i guess that's how it goes sometimes.
Dictator/Kaiser Conure? it's a kind of bird. i've got to make things stranger.
it's silly, when i got Megrims, mom was suggesting all sorts of laughable-atable (shhh, it's a word) names, like Sharky and Jaws and just all sorts of eye-roll types of names. and i'm sure it would be SOOO mysterious: "oh, yeah, wanna come meet Jaws?" "oh, i bet that's your fish, huh?" "damn." whereas with a name like DICTATOR CADAVEROUS, who's gonna know? "hey, wanna come meet Dictator Cadaverous?" "say whuh?"
Dictator/Kaiser de Trop...?
Dictator/Kaiser Loquacious (sounds like a hooker with big hair)...?
Dictator/Kaiser Garrulous...?
Lieutenant Mundane...?
y'know, it's all bethany's fault that i want all of them to have a title before their name.
Kaiser Fuhrer. heehee, that's kind of redundant, isn't it?
Dictator Oligarch?
POMPADOURASAURUS (sorry, sorry! awful reference to a webcomic).
Dictator Truculence?
BOB BULLET WOUND.
LARRY THE LYCAN.
PENELOPE THE CANTALOUPE (rhyming, of course).
oh, god. argh, argh. i'll just tell you how it goes, okay? maybe i'll even send you a picture of the little dude or dudette! and no, i don't care if it is a chick fish, it's going to keep one of these manly-man names (excluding Kaiser Loquacious).

Tuxedos, Tousled Hair, and Terrible Luck.

oh, silly me! i'm an idiot.

what is it that people do on friday nights, anyway? here i am, stuck at home, all by my lonesome. not a soul is on instant messenger, and suddenly i realize that the internet is my entire life. it's my entertainment: webcomics, video games, music. it's my social life: e-mails, instant messages, strangers on MMO's.
well, geez, i didn't know that avoiding people leaves you utterly alone on the weekends!
oh, boy.
what do i do? should i call someone? i've got nothing to say. should i go to sleep? it's only seven forty-five. do i watch television? i hate TV. do i watch a sad movie and bawl my eyes out? no, i'm not in the mood for sentiment. do i draw? i've got no motivation, no inspiration. do i sing? i've got a terrible cold and sound like shit. do i dance wildly on the coffee table in front of the big window that you can clearly see from the street? possibly.
oh, geez. i've read three-hundred and forty-five QC comics in the last three days. for the first time in a very long time, i am bored. i mean, i can normally find something to do. i sit around and giggle to myself, i play dress-up with clothes that i actually own and wear, i prance around my room, half-nude and wearing a plastic crown. i go on walks. damn it, when's spring? i want to go to howard park and swing in the sun. i want to walk to the coffee shop, slow down conspicuously in front of the door, then run off to circle the block two or three times before i finally get the nerve to go inside, if i ever do.
damn it, i know exactly what my problem is. fuck you.
but ooh, i get to wake up at seven tomorrow morning to go help out at the special olympics, which i am terribly uncomfortable with. i won't have any friends there, and i'll just sit in the corner complaining about whatever menial task i'll be given until someone snaps about what a bitch i'm being. mom's making me do it. i'm so exhausted and ill, and i would really like to sleep in on a saturday morning, but no, fuck that shit! mom wants me to be a good person, to feel good about something i do, which apparently means putting myself into positions that make me want to cry in frustration.
mom's also trying to get me to go to prom. sure, you know i've been invited, and i've been thinking about it... but... we don't have the money for that kind of fancy shit, and i can't dance, anyway. grrr. rargh. harrumph.
damn those speech team-ians and their districts tomorrow! while they're off, having fun with their theatrical selves, i'll be sitting at the special olympics all alone. goddamn it, why am i not in speech team! oh, that's right, i'm too much of a coward to go to auditions!
okay, so i'm acting all emo, as i am known to do, but i usually type what i say in a sort of contemptuous manner, like dani is too good for her emotions but she'll let them show their faces, just so that they can get a glimpse of the world that other peoples' emotions get to experience. that's right: i'm an ass to my own emotions. i mean, i must be. if i wasn't, wouldn't i be in a relationship by now? it's not like i haven't had the chance. argh, argh. i'll have to do some self-excavation (does anyone else see how dirty that sounds?) and find out exactly why i'm depriving myself of normal, fun teen stuff. and while i'm digging around (in my brain), i'll tell you all about it! won't this be fun!
yeah, well. maybe another time. i'm kind of busy at the moment. y'know. it's friday. i've got other things to do besides sit around on my ass and blog all night.

terrible haiku time!

something about you
makes me want to just, you know
strangle sick kittens

you are not my type
for one, i don't like your face
secondly, you suck

i'm diggin' you, man
but the operation has
made sex difficult

i don't think i am
correctly making haiku's
butchered sentences

sometimes i just wish
i was a sex offender
so i could rape you

haiku's aren't my thing
in fact, i hate poetry
but i keep typing

so, i was thinking:
silly putty's in an egg
it is not egg-like

i stepped in that stuff
-still talking about putty-
my shoes were sticky

hmm, i don't know why
but someone's at the door now
no, i have no friends

i'm kidding, you know
i'm only having some fun
slightly morbid fun

i am quite simple
you over think things too much
i just want your bod

could we possibly
pretend i'm not doing this
like i have a life

kittens are so cute
i especially like when
i kick through their skulls

tell little johnnie
that his perfect, loving dad
killed his mom tonight

i could be dancing
on the coffee table now
okay, i'll do that

I Fail at Anger

that's right, friends... already, i have walked away from my whole "FINE. LET'S NOT BE FRIENDS," thing. when do i ever do it? oh, i have tried so many times, with quite a few different people, and i always end up trying to teach them a lesson, trying to stay away until they apologize, they forget about me, or they come crawling back, tears streaming down their face as they cry out about how i was so right and they're terrible and their whole life has turned around and it's all because of me... yeah, that doesn't happen. none of it happens. turns out, i have this problem where i see the good in everybody, and though i try, i have a hard time over analyzing things and sticking with the ideas i come up with. basically, i over analyze things just so that i have something to do. also, so i can walk home all in a huff, telling myself (at full volume) about how terrible people are. but once i throw my tantrum, everything's even better than before. it's like my kid brother: if something doesn't go his way, he starts throwing an absolute fit. he cries, he screams, he threatens you. he almost genuinely seems like he is a depressed child and almost makes me feel bad about whatever i have done to make him cry. but then the commercials are over and he's the happiest kid alive.
besides, this guy's my buddy... creepy as he is. i can't stand to hurt my buddies on purpose. i do it on accident all the time, sure, but on purpose? that's just cruel. it hurts me, too, though i can't deny the sort of dark smugness that rises up in my chest and curls my lips into a malevolent grin. eh. that doesn't last long, as you may be able to tell.
thing is, stuff happens, but in the long run, it doesn't matter in the least. the prom situation(s) don't even matter to me anymore. yeah, it happened, but so what? it's done and over with. i can decide to drag it out by continually bringing it up in a negative fashion, or i can accept that it happened, it was bad, and it's not bad anymore! it doesn't matter! it's done. today, i have no problems to deal with. well, besides the fact that i'm a total pussy and any sentiment from anyone or anything makes me all teary-eyed. *sniffle* so what if my buddy did post a happy blog post for once because i'm not angry with him? no big deal. whatever, y'know... it doesn't mean anything to me that i mad him sad, and then i made him happy for once... no... big deal... him being happy... shouldn't make me teary-eyed... "tears of joy" are a lie! perhaps i have developed sudden and unexpected allergies. that explains the runny eyes and sniffly nose.
hmm, perhaps i should bring up my physical ailment. mom says i'm a hypochondriac, but hey, what if it turns out to be something serious and i die in a month? at least the people who read my blog will be able to tell mom and dad what has been going on. anyway, for quite some time now, i have been unable to eat much of anything without feeling ill. it's been especially bad this week. i'm not sure if it's just because of my suddenly moody stomach, which is now greatly affected by all sorts of emotions, such as: nervousness, lustfulness, anger, sadness... uh, pretty much all extreme emotions. on wednesday, i know what i ate, because it worried me: two pop-tarts (at 3:30 PM - first meal of the day... i felt awful afterwards), one cookie (eaten in slow, teensy bites to avoid the inevitable tummy ache), and a few bites of s'ghetti. i dunno, maybe that's not as bad as i think it is; i don't know how other people eat. all i know is that i've always been a total junk food addict, and suddenly sweets damn near make me gag, and milk seems to be the only thing i can have without my stomach squirming in protest. what am i, a newborn baby? i've been complaining about the lack of salty foods around the house, because i assumed that if sweets made me ill, salty foods would taste and feel better. well, today mom bought me a whole bag of lay's classic potato chips, and i could only eat four or five chips before i had to put them away. previously, i would have been able to eat half the bag and feel just peachy afterwards. but hey, it can't be all bad. with my sudden lack of desire to scarf down all the dead animal muscle in the house, i've been eating nothing but veggies (a rarity in this household, so not very often) and drinking mostly nothing but milk. my problem now is the fact that i keep trying to eat junk food. i want to be able to. i don't want my stomach to be weak, when it's been EXTREEEEME all this time... goddamn it, someone tell me what to do.

My Heart Has No Say In The Matter

today has been quite troublesome, actually. well, this whole week has been rather troublesome, and not just for me. first off, i would like to inform the public of the missing iPod, George, who was lost at the library by bethany, who misses him dearly. bring George home!
now, for me, i've been having my usual troubles. for one, i was asked to the prom by a friend, who is just that. a friend. i said no, of course, and he expected as much, but he's just so moody... he's a total chick. more so than me, i believe. i recently asked him to tell me off, and he did. he didn't understand why i wanted him to tell me off... i told him that i needed it. i needed someone to get me down off my high horse, whatever. well, that... and the fact that if he tells me off, it gives me the right to tell him off. fantastic, right? he's always saying "i can't be just friends with you." so, today i told him, "you can't be just friends with me. so don't be." and - get this - i walked away! i actually walked away. i'm so proud of myself... i never have the heart to go away, to leave them behind, and i finally did it.
so on the walk home, i was telling myself how men always have an ulterior motive - no, it's not secret, women just refuse to acknowledge it - to get into a chick's pants. i was telling myself how every little thing a guy does is all so that they can get laid. every time they compliment you, they laugh with you, they flirt, they smile, they wink... it's all for sex. but then i came home, and i watched a movie. well, hey. who knew movies could actually help people learn a lesson?
the movie i watched was "My Best Friend's Girl." well, i won't spoil the movie for you - it's a good 'un - but the chick in it is in a relationship, and the guy is suddenly all "I LOVE YOU" and the chick's like, "woah," and dumps him, and starts fooling around with another dude and trying things out and just having fun, being just friends with the dude who's madly in love with her. he's amazingly desperate, and instead of going, "aw, how cute," i kept thinking, "ew, gross. he's terrible." and i had this awful feeling that i was kind of like her. granted, i'm not having sex with random dudes or anything, but i feel like i'm hurting my suitors who claim to have strong feelings about me. the movie shows the side of guys that supposedly exists but no guy ever wants to show: the sweet side. the desperate, lovestruck mess inside of every guy, y'know? so i felt really terrible about myself, like i am just crushing the hopes and dreams of the lovestruck puppy inside my suitor(s?).
so i've got these two conflicting ideas: all men are in it for the sex, and men are all secretly desperate for love. and then this other thought comes to mind... what if i'm the one with the ulterior motive? what if, secretly - so secretly i don't even know about it - i'm a total nymphomaniac? or what if my motive is to emotionally destroy every guy i can get my hands onto? i don't think i'm capable of that one, though, so just what if i'm secretly a nympho? yeah, i doubt it, too. i'll be sixteen next month, and i've never been kissed. what's even better is that i've had the opportunity, and when the moment of truth came along, every muscle in my body tensed and screamed, "NO!" i freakin' told the guy he could kiss me (yes, i know, friends... how disgusting), but my body had other plans. my brain says, "why, sure, ole' chap, why not?" (my mind has a british accent, obviously) and then my body goes, "OHMYFUCKINGGODWHATISGOINGONHERESTOPITRUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!" and i listen to my body. that's what i think goes down.
but then i get all realistic and think, "dani, your brain controls everything that your body does. it's not possible for your body to fight it. it does not have a mind separate from the one in your skull. therefore, you're lying to yourself (which is oh so common), and you don't actually want to be kissed by anyone at any time." which, in turn, probably proves that i am not a nymphomaniac.
i know everything i have been saying in this post is pretty much worthless, because i haven't decided on what i believe to be true, i haven't given you must juicy gossip to share with your busybody friends, and i haven't inspired you to do anything life-changing. but hey, do i ever? i do these posts to help me. these rants help me get out all my thoughts, to see the concrete forms of what's going on up in the ole' attic. then i can compare them, argue with myself, and figure out which idea makes the most sense. understand? good. just thought i would get that out there before i went on.
i should mention that, after my suitor asked me to prom, i went to my bestest guy friend for a little bit of sympathy. you know what he did?
he asked me to prom.
now, most chickies would find this fantastic for me, because i've so obviously had a thing for the guy for a very long time, and he knows it so what do i care if he ever decides to read my blog, but there are a few issues. firstly, i would like to say that i just can't take him seriously. he asked me on teh interwebs, so i don't know if he was making a huge joke of it... at first, i thought he was, but then he said some fairly serious stuff, so i guess he really was asking me, but here's my second point: i'm his back-up plan. we've dated before, and it just doesn't work. we both know this, i think, but the fact that we get along now seems to make him believe that i'll go out with him on a whim, whether his or mine. he's got a whole list of chicas he would like to go out with, and i'm at the very, very bottom. i imagine that their names all have their fancy, swirly fonts, in gold, and i'm... black verdana (which is, by the way, the very font i use for all of my posts, my e-mails, and maybe my instant messenger). thirdly, he says that me going to prom with him would prevent me from having to go with my nutjob suitor, as if he only wants me to go with him to get me out of a tight spot. and when i said that my nutjob suitor wasn't just unhappy about prom, but my whole "no-dating" scene in general, my bestest guy friend proposed that maybe i should just go out with him, to get my suitor off my back. so it's all just a plan to save my skin, which is sweet, sure, but for some reason, i'm not sure if it's genuine. i sincerely doubt it, in fact. i don't get why guys have to be so mysterious, lock up all their goddamn feelings and leave us girls guessing. tell me, bestest guy friend, do you really just want to help a friend out?
what really bugs me is that i spent all this time sitting around doing nothing, isolating myself from the world, walking, talking to myself, etcetera, etcetera, claiming to be finding myself, when really all i was doing was avoiding conflict with humanity, enjoying nature, and talking to drown out any thoughts that may have occurred. i got to the point where i didn't do much thinking; i just acted, without thought. i've been thinking a lot in the past few days, and i resent that. now, i do believe that i found out a lot about myself in my time of seclusion, but i won't pretend that i started out trying to. i just started doing nothing, and pretty soon i realized that i was becoming more acquainted with myself, and i was absolutely euphoric. (if mom read this, i guarantee she would be saying, "god, you're such a meditator," right about now.)
i'll let you know what i decide, alright, blog of one to four viewers? if you even read this massive post of contradictions and nonsense, i appreciate that you're obviously a creep that is trying to learn all about my world's current events.

I Hate Poetry. Here You Go.

the love in your heart
is only the need
to be touched.
the love in his
is only the need
to get fucked.

Christmas? New Year's? Nah. I Would Rather Complain.

well, hello. i hope you all had the most fantastic holiday season of your life. i hope you got all the presents you wanted, made realistic new year's resolutions, and spent lots of quality time with your family and friends. i know i did. but, as the title of this post implies, i'm not going to talk about that right now.
instead, i would like to talk to you about school. fun, right?
well. it's sunday. tomorrow is the day i dread, for that is when my winter vacation comes to an abrupt end. i'll get up at 6:30 to get a big "good morning!" from my fifty- or forty-something degree room. i'll tear my retainers out of my mouth, throw myself into a scalding hot shower, and after that, i'll be greeted again by my freezing bedroom, where i will throw on my favorite and over-worn pair of jeans and one of my new t-shirts. then i'll go stand outside and wait for the bus for twenty fucking minutes, and i'll be on my way. exciting, right? i fucking know. and then, oh, and then, i'll either endure through shitty choir and sing retarded songs, or i'll sit in band with new songs, a broken saxophone, and a complete lack of enthusiasm. second period will be great, because we were supposed to read all of The Midnight Assassin and i'm only on chapter nine. sixth period will be heavenly as well, because that's U.S. History, which is definitely not my favorite subject (what do i care what this stupid country has accomplished?) and we had some big-ass assignment that i could not finish because i was sick, then we had snow days, and i'm the best at procrastinating... but i don't have any more room to procrastinate... see, we had to write our outlines on this stupid Inspiration 8 program that i do not have at home, so i couldn't send it to myself and grah. ms. gevock says that that particular assignment can make me fail the class. great. that's just what i need. another reason for me to be grounded and another big scratch on my college plans.
oh, who needs college? you know, i've always wanted to go, ever since i was a little kid, and i always knew i would be the one person in my family to finish... but it's not going to happen. i've been thinking just recently, and i wonder if i should just get a winnebago and drive around the continent, stopping to smell the roses every now and again. i can let my hair grow long and unruly, enjoy nature, and meet thousands of amazing people on my adventures. i don't know how i'll make money... i haven't figured that part out yet... but perhaps it will have something to do with writing. now, i know you can't tell from this blog, because i don't capitalize and i'm not trying to impress you, but i can write. i think. i'm pretty good, and with a few more classes, maybe composition and journalism, or instead of journalism, advanced comp., depending on how difficult regular-type comp. is, i can learn and improve on my writing ability. so there. maybe i can sell a couple of books, make some dough, drive around some more, sell some cartoons just for fun, try to sell more books... i suppose it would be pretty difficult, if i cared about cash too much. but i figure i won't spend much anyway, so as long as i've got money gas, food, and 'bago bills - how would they send them to me, i wonder? - i would be fine. well... it sounds like fun to wander, but i doubt it'll happen.
so if i don't go to college, and i don't wander, what will i do? i guess only time will tell. whatever happens, happens, right? whatever. if i don't like how things end up, i'm sure i can alter them somehow.