friendship is rather like bread.

Soup.

Love meeeeeeeeeeeeee. But not reeeaalllllyyyyyy.

Ew. soup. It's cold now, because I waited too long for it to cool so I wouldn't BURN MAHSEELLFF. I apparently butcher myself, according to a person I dont care about....justkidding. heeheehee.

...We would sing and dance around... because we know we can't be found! I'd like to be under the sea in an octopus' garden in the shade...

Uugghhh. Purple. :D

WOW this whole thing sound really suggestive, but I think I'll keep it because it's about gym class XD

Gypsies

I wish I were a Gypsy, living in Romania, or France though not those who are being kicked out because countries in the EU not wanting to deal with their nomad-ness.
Another ballad:
There were three gypsies a come to my door
And downstairs ran this lady, O!
One sang high and another sang low
And the other sang bonny, bonny, Biscay, O!

Then she pulled off her silk finished gown
And put on hose of leather, O!
The ragged, ragged, rags about our door
She's gone with the raggle taggle gypsies, O!

It was late last night, when my lord came home
Enquiring for his a-lady, O!
The servants said, on every hand
She's gone with the raggle taggle gypsies, O!

O saddle to me my milk-white steed
Go and fetch me my pony, O!
That I may ride and seek my bride
Who is gone with the raggle taggle gypsies, O!

O he rode high and he rode low
He rode through woods and copses too
Until he came to an open field
And there he espied his a-lady, O!

What makes you leave your house and land?
What makes you leave your money, O?
What makes you leave your new wedded lord?
To go with the raggle taggle gypsies, O!

What care I for my house and my land?
What care I for my money, O?
What care I for my new wedded lord?
I'm off with the raggle taggle gypsies, O!

Last night you slept on a goose-feather bed
With the sheet turned down so bravely, O!
And to-night you'll sleep in a cold open field
Along with the raggle taggle gypsies, O!

What care I for a goose-feather bed?
With the sheet turned down so bravely, O!
For to-night I shall sleep in a cold o

King Of Anything

"Who cares if you disagree? You are not me. Who made you king of anything? So you dare tell me who to be? Who died, and made you king of anything?"

We are all entitled to our own opinions. Yet people still feel the need to pass judgement on what you say or think about something. Well FUCK THEM! If I were encountered with disrespect because of my opinions, I'd tell the "disrespectee" my opinion on them. At least I'd have the balls to tell the person my issue with them up front and not by bringing down their opinions.

There's an entire world of possibilities out there just waiting for each and every one of us who are willing. I will not sit back and let someone blind me from that world by telling me I can't do something. I know someone who had a dream, a dream that her own mother told her she would never achieve. Because of her mother she let go of the dream. She was lucky though; as time went on and she began to dream new dreams, she ignored her mother's opinions and is now in the process of fulfilling them.

You are in control. You matter. Your dreams matter. Take charge.

Guess What? Time for Another Story

Story time, this time I'll try to be more imaginative, which I doubt will happen because my thoughts all end up in the same place: out of my mushy brain, I was going for something else right there but it didn't happen. oops. Today I was told that I am like rosemary, maybe it's my love of cooking that brought people to this conclusion, though I think I like thyme better, just the word reminds me of pretty things and long summer days eating brie in parks. Also it reminds me of ballads I used to sing as a kid when life was simple and straight forward and you didn't have internal mind debates in your brain that make your eyeballs feel like they are gonna pop out of your head, but you all know the ballad? Are you going to Scarborough fair. Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme. Remember me to one who lives there. Who once was a true love of mine.

I was once baby sitting and they had this song book that I grew up with sitting on their piano. I was bored and waiting for them to get back, and flipped through all of ballads (they are all together) and I knew all of them, and mostly they were all about the same thing; true love dying. It would appear that that is the style of the English, Irish songs, but I think it says something about our culture as a whole.
ooh remember that one song:

In Scarlet town where I was born
There was a fair maid dwelling
And every youth cried well away
For her name was Barbara Allen

Twas in the merry month of May
The green buds were a swelling
Sweet William on his deathbed lay
For the love of Barbara Allen

He sent a servant unto her
To the place she was dwelling
Saying you must come to his deathbed now
If your name be Barbara Allen

Slowly slowly got she up
Slowly slowly she came nigh him
And the only words to him she said
Young man I think you're dying

As she was walking oer the fields
She heard the death bell knelling
And every stroke it seemed to say
Hardhearted Barbara Allen

Oh mother mother make my bed
Make it long and make it narrow
Sweet William died for me today
I'll die for him tomorrow

They buried her in the old churchyard
They buried him beside her
And from his grave grew a red red rose
From her grave a briar

They grew and grew to the steeple top
Till they could grow no higher
And there they twined in a true love's knot
Red rose around briar

oh, how love prevails. I don't believe in soul mates but it does give me happiness that sometimes others do.
I was supposed to write a story, not some shitty angst heap with a rose growing out of it.
So a story.
uhhhhh
Once upon a time there was a beautiful woman who the whole community adored and was the town's princess. Most of the men pinned after her, and all the women wished they were her. Though even though they were jealous of her no one could hate her because she was so kind and smart. Among these "fans" lets call them, was one lonely girl who disliked this woman, on the sole reason that this woman did not pay attention to her like she did others.

to be continued? I guess???

Nomes

Finger Puppets AVEC GODZILLA

Fledermaus and I are here and we're watching Godzilla for our French project, but we're not really paying attention. She and I are having our finger puppets make finger puppet love and making fun of the Americans in the film, and being jealous of the hot Asians.

I, as we speak, have a pirate, a King and queen frog, and two kittys on my fingers. YAY FOR PUPPETS :D She has....a dragon. And We made Godzilla his cousin, ROD.

ROD IS GODZILLA, GODZILLA IS ROD. JASPER, HOW IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY..Oh nevermind, Im done with you. Fledermaus and I are also talking about dreams that we've had in which we make out with random people. Hooray. I just really love these pants. And how ridiculous this movie is.

Hi, this is Fledermaus. Pokémaster told me to just write it like she would. So I'm going to try. I've already butchered her identity. oh well. There's a head banging mermaid on Pokémaster's finger and she is in a cliche relationship with a stripy pirate who lives over on the index finger ("OH THE THINGS WE DO FOR MERMAID LOVE"). Plus there are a couple of siamese kittys and a polygamist moose. Together they are the citizens of Tokoyo! The Dragon on my finger WON"T SHUT UP! He's all "Awww, look at ROD . He thinks he's all that. That is totally photo shopped man, I mean, that kid is tiny. I have pictures to prove it. Back me up froggies."

The froggies, his cousins, say "Yeh. ROD is puny. I'm taller than ROD fer cry'n out loud."

The citizens of Tokyo are plagued by MOLTEN HOT WATER. It'll cook you ALIVE. And it's a major contributer to global warming.

This is my first time posting here….oh the pressure.

These people you see Around me, They are amazing, but I believe that their literary talent far eclipses mine, especially that of Fledermaus (who has a magnificent name). But, I believe I shal talk about my life, since it is a topic I seem to know the most about. You see, I was born in a winter of ice and snow. A winter where, coincidentally, Paper Crane was also born. It was very cold (when is it not) and probably unpleasant, but its good I got that over with way back when I can't remember any details. Anyways, where was I. Oh yes, winter of ice and snow. So after this winter I grew a little bit, then a lot, then a little, then lots more, and this trend continued on until present. There, my life in but a few sentences, which make it seem like I was far to little for far to long, oh well.

Numbah 40

Well, we got to 40, guys. and October isn't even over yet. I CALL 50TH POST.

I feel like writing something with meaning instead of talking about pokemon and random crap in short bursts of....mastery. So, here I go.

YOU ARE GETTING SLEEPY.
VERY SLEEPY.
CLEAR YOUR MIND OF ALL THOUGHTS EXCEPT THE SOUUUNNDD OF MY...TYPING!!!
Sleepy yet?
Kay, fine. that'll have to do.

Iz Gotz me a ROSERADE. Oh crap.....Pokemon....

Eggs and Hills and Bipolar Weather

Sometimes I feel like crying for no reason. It's such a weird feeling... being so overwhelmed with emotion... but you really have no emotion to be overwhelmed with. It's as if your body's just like "you know what? I'm gonna make you gross and snot drippy and take away your ability to communicate coherently for no reason whatsoever"
It's like snow that lasts for three days. It's supposed to be warmer this week. I feel like the weather is just taunting me. It takes away all the anticipation and finally snows, making everything beautiful and quiet... and then decides to make everything wet and brown the next day. No point.
Stupid weather.
Alberta is supposed to have the second best weather in Canada.... but at least all the other provinces are consistent in their bad weather (or good, in the case of British Columbia)
Oh well, it certainly makes life more interesting.
Not like wanting to cry for no reason, that just makes you feel sort of pathetic... and wet...
Sigh...
Such is life.
Life is such.
I feel like I need to say something all deep and meaningful now... but all I can think about is that I'm alone in the house, and despite the fact that I feel like it should be all peaceful and stuff... it's just kinda giving me the wiggins.
Nobody ever uses that word anymore... wiggins. It's such a fun word too.
However I dislike it's meaning. I don't like having the wiggins.
Crap.
I'll write some happy stuff now.

~

Take my hand?
I'll lead you to a house on a hill.
And we can sit in the middle of the floor and play cat's cradle until the sun goes down.
Then we'll lay down together on the big feather bed and tell each other stories.
And when neither of us can speak anymore, we can close our eyes.
And I'll place my head on your chest and let your heartbeat drive away the monsters.
And we'll sleep and sleep and sleep.
In the morning the light will wake us, punishing us for leaving the windows bare.
I'll make you eggs and toast and tea.
And we'll leave the house together.
We'll roll down the hill.
We'll laugh, and laugh, and laugh until we cry.
And we'll sit there, at the bottom of the hill, laughing and crying and laughing and crying.
And there I'll leave you.
A perfect moment in a perfect dream.
Oh how I wish you'd take my hand.

Gays - It Gets Better

Over the past month, talk about the 9 gay suicides has been spread through school. People are talking about how they're going to help make things better for LGBT people. But just yesterday there was an article about yet another gay suicide.

Joseph Jefferson was a 26 year old gay youth activist and became the 10 gay suicide in a month. Even being a gay youth activist, Jefferson took his own life for being what he wanted people not to be afraid of being. Many video blogs (such as the "it gets better" project) are pushing youth to be who they are and to fight for their beliefs.

Seeing this number rise hurts me. When I found out I was gay, I didn't know what to do, much like many others of my age group. I'm not proud to say that I had thoughts similar to these 10 victims, but I quickly changed my mind when I looked at what the world had to offer me. That was three years ago when I was living in a small, close-minded town. Now I'm going to an arts school where people are accepted and I feel safe and happy being who I am.

So for any of you out there who are scared of being you or considering suicide, I want you to know that it will get better. Find someone to talk to. Someone you're close to or someone you know you can trust. I know from experience that there are always people who care for you. Myself and all the other people making blogs and videos and are fighting for gay rights care for you. You are never alone. Don't take away your chances to be happy. It does get better.

I feel the need to write something, though have no idea what the hell to write about.
That is my out look on life "What the Hell"
Today I was sitting somewhere and realized something: the word or phrase thank you does not hold much value in today's world. Also it's so odd, why can't it be one word? Thankyou as apposed to Thank you. the latter to me seems as you are commanding someone to thank them self's, and that is just odd, though I guess it could come from "I thank you", and shortened, though the people who decided one day to shorten it should have thought of what it ment before they did anything. I bet the were sitting around a table smoking pipes because they were all old gentlemen, because we live in a sexist culture, and were like: " how can we screw up the english language even more?"

That is all for I am sleepy and want to sleep in my cozy bed, I have 3 comforters and 2 knitted blankets because I'm cold. eww it snowed, though by the end of the day I didn't mind it because it smelled like christmas! I love christmas cause that means a good fondue! and me being warm and Manderin oranges. if people wanna get me something I would go for a box of oranges cause I can, and have eaten a whole big box of those in a day... I was somewhat sick after, but had fun. I love those things!
yumm.
I will dream about them.
Nomes.

Lockdown

I'd like to announce that I've read all of your posts. You are not alone. I am here at my computer, slouching slightly in a way I'm sure will bring on incapacitating spinal pain in years to come. I have read your words. How unreal they have made me feel. I could be reading an estranged fiction, but I'm not. You are writing it from the real world, and it makes me think: if you are real then what am I?

A codfish. Only a codfish.

Seriously, now, I am almost convinced that we aren't living in the same world. Somehow you have become squiggles and scribbles, or more accurately, italic type. How have you transitioned so seamlessly from three dimensions into limitless dimensions? Goat jumps on flying turtles. See how NORMAL that sounds, that reads, that tries, that ties, that disappears into my brain.

I've stopped. I've lost feeling in my hands. It is so very chilling underground. I am surprisingly aware of each hair on my head. Some do the electric slide to the tingly music of static. Other secrete oil, or something. I'm sure that there's a beautiful scientific word for that. Is my head getting smaller? Have you ever felt a pang, or a jolt, or a stab and wondered what invisible phantom has inflicted it on you? Ow, my foot.

Damn nose bleed.

Right then. Somedays I put my hair on trees so that birds may make nests out of it. Gross. If anyone is ever murdered under that tree, I will be a suspect. Sad.

benefits to life:

• pie
• cats
• radiohead
• cooking shows
• coffee

Nomes, for you

Our Very Own Gay Boy

Is he ever going to write anything? I feel like he's missing out on some very important subjects, and very important posts by ME that say what I'm WEARING on MONDAY... Oh, silly boy.

On the subject of boys I've noticed that there are many attractive ones. But lots of them are real douche bags. And it's depressing, because sometimes, they seem like they could be uber awesome, but then they're all..immature. And selfish and stuff.

HAH, angst. :D I thought we promised no angst! I guess I'm a rebel.

I don't really know what to talk about....( I[z] GOT[z] [ME] A JOLTEON!!! HOORAY!!!)

Harry Potter lives in my brain. With Pictures.

Hey kiddies, lookit what I can do :D

I can speak to you through pictures. How cool is that? Pretty cool. Yeah. Who's awesome. ME :DI can do this due to the fact I have no other talents other than annoying you through picvture words.

PICTURE WORDS. WITH HARRY POTTER :D

My brother likes to vomit

Weeelll, I don't think he actually "likes" it. He started crying...

Poor little man.

My mum made me butter chicken stirfry stuff with rice and spinach this evening. And it was really good. And it was made even better because at the grocery store, when we got the chicken, there was a really awesome looking guy stocking shelves, and my mum was talking about yogurt, and I kinda said really loud "MOTHER, YOUR SON LIKES YOGURT. BUY HIM YOGURT." And the guy I hadn't noticed until I said that looked at me and it looked like he was trying SOOOOO hard not to laugh. It's kinda like Mr Jorgenson, cause I was talking about Midnight Oil, and he was trying not to laugh at me for liking old music.

Ohh well. So, kids. I'll be wearing white and blue overalls on Monday, don't laugh at me cause I'll look like a train conductor. Be prepared for the awesome.

Tastes so pink

I am eating strawberry icecream that looks and tastes so pink.
The kind of pink that happens when there are just a few clouds at sunset, so the bottoms all turn freshy rosy pinky, and the tops are bright orange at first, and then turn dark purple and then the whole sky is dark dark blue, with a few stars peeking through, winking like they're full of secrets. That's what this icecream tastes like. Right this moment, I'm thinking of doors. how symbolic they are. I could shut my door and have it mean thousands of different things. But usually, when I shut my door, I just think that I'm too embarassed to show my father that all I do is sit on my computer, or watch the BBC production of sense and sensibility or try on different outfits trying to piece together something that will make me look suitably ethereal, but also down to earth. Spending the weekend with my father, just us. It's gone well so far. We are sort of the same. We like to be alone, but when we are together, we don't have to struggle for things to talk about. Or we don't have to talk. We just understand that talking endlessly doesn't always result in saying anything.
Glasses shopping was not as easy as I thought it was going to be, but in the end, I found some lovelies. I'm 'sleeping on it' as my father puts it. But I know. They're wonderful. And they make me feel brand new. And safe. Tortoiseshell frames, with a little wing at the tip. They make me fly, those wings.

Make Believe Extension

I have an imaginary friend named Olivia. She emerged from the corner of my grade five gymnasium when the family dance was in full swing and everyone one was dancing, but not me. I sat in the corner, sickened by the disco-ball and practically throbbing with the radiating beat of bad music. She looked like the little girl from Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang. Wonderful movie, and you should watch it. The child-snatcher always got to me.

Olivia is filthy and Raggedy like Ann and has big froggy eyes. Her hair is stringy and white. She has no pores. That's how you know she's imaginary.

"Why aren't you dancing? Why are you clinging to the wall with such determination?" I asked her.

"I am cursed," she answered simply. "If I touch the ground I will die 'til I'm dust."

"I'm sorry."

"That's alright," she tittered. "If I don't touch the ground I'll live forever."

"That's not so bad then," I said.

Olivia was my traveling companion. If I was in the bus or the car and zipping along at a frightening pace, she would appear. She ran along telephone lines and fences and highway signs. She leapt from car to car with squirrel-like agility. My stomach would twist in fear and I would open the window and beckon her in. "No," she would say. "I can keep up." How that girl shook me, frightened me. "We never see each other anymore," she said to me a year ago. "Where have I been?"

Olivia is the only one who won't leave. I watched as Stella, my lost, sea-sick mermaid evaporated. Rose, the delicate babe, and Diana, my pessimistic Asian ghost girl, left and never came back.

Diana looked GOOD in purple.

Purple Day

Wednesday, October 20th, 2010. Okay, purple day was wondrous, because I love purple, and I wore a lot of it. BUT, it inspired me to write my social paper on Harvey Milk, and gay rights and now I have an uber hard topic.

THANKS PURPLE DAY.

Imagination

Flygirl, i agree with you. I used to have an imaginary friend alice who my sister made up for me so I'd stop hanging out with her. she was cool, and could teleport, though she only did that when she forgot her hair brush which was like every time we went out. Now I just daydream/ fantasize about real world things like my homework being all done, and me getting 100 percent on it all, or walking down the hall ways and talking to people I don't normally talk to. Though maybe that's just me.

Sun chips are yummy, but their bags are too noisy. They are being discontinued, because the bags are considered "noise pollution". How sad, that no one seems to care that they are 100% compostable. Noise pollution. We get used to cars, and sirens, and aeroplanes, and our "brutalist" architecture. Our generation tends to just blot it out with music. Music is pretty great, but there's nothing like just sitting in an empty field, or in a lagoon full of golden reeds. And hearing those frogs, or birds, and the splash of the carp in the water. I like to sit in my attic-resembling bedroom when no one else is home, right in the center. It's sort of airy, and light because it's on the top of the house and you have to climb two sets of stairs, but you really feel on top of things, and in more than one way. The windows are nice and the light is blue because the summer is gone.

Most of all, it's wonderful because I feel like I've climbed up Jack's beanstalk in to the clouds, and there is no noise. Recently, I've come to the consclusion that maybe living with my Dad when never the right thing, because now all I want to do is live with my Mom, because this house feels nicer and it's almost like I have forced myself into feeling like my Dad's house was a home, because it was convenient. That was a really long sentence. Anyways, I don't know how the wolves are relevant, but they make me giggle, and I think that's reason enough.

Water ( also, general states of awesome. )

It's just SO GOOD. I love water, a lot. I heard some girls the other day (who looked scarily anorexic) that said they hated water. And I was all, in my mind, "HOW!?".

It's just so amazing. Like water type pokemon.

Maybe I should write something actually deep and intriguing for a change instead of writing about pokemon and Buddha... Or was it Jesus? Anywhores, I guess I could talk about what I'm thinking , because my trains that leave the station of brainhood end up being about astro physics and/or pumpkin pie.

I'm thinking about general states of awesome, if you were wondering. General states of awesome are just things that people find uber amazing and that make life a little bit better. Like getting a strike when you go bowling (Face it, if you get a strike, the world turns shiny and happy for a little bit until you have to bowl again.)

• Another general state of awesome is like... When you see somebody that you haven't talked to for ages, and you totally have an amazing moment of reconnection and it's like you saw them yesterday.

• Or when you pwn noobs on COD. Yes. These are examples of general states of awesome.

Well? You expected something deeper and more intriguing? Sorry non-nerds, I can't appease to everyones deep and intriguing needs.

I am the Ghost of Posts yet to come...

Curly, swirly metal binding: I see RIGHT through you. I will change my name to Fledermaus, then Wallflower, then Quantum, then Blue Nose, then Armored Lace, because if I fail to define myself all will crumble like cookies and brownies. I spent hours in the kitchen under a frilly, floral apron that I created with my mind. No one in their right mind would wear that apron, and it made me look like I picked the last item of clothing out of the poor box: so obnoxious. No sane person would wear it, let alone pretend to wear it.

Sanity. What an INTRIGUING theory. I think that insanity is an excuse for cowards! What did you call me? A cowardly lion, how dare I even pretend to be shy and insignificant when I am neither! Or, am I both? I can't seem to find the truth, though I lick its feet like the toadie I am.

Interesting fact: A toadie is an assistant who is devoted to his/her master to the point of self destruction. The term originated with a traveling salesmen whose main enterprise was the auctioning off of rare toads. During his pitch, he would order his assistant to lick each toad to prove their lack of virulence. Charming!

Are you a brilliant person? Probably. I love you, and Tuesdays are tough, but you'll get through them. PokéMaster would you like to go for a walk?

Real saints can give even when they themselves have nothing at all. Is caring shallow?

Mad Mind.

HHHHHHHHHHHH. Isn't H a funny letter? In chemistry, H represents hydrogen, which is a bit of an oddity of an element itself. Hydrogen forms bonds with both metals and nonmetals. It is the only bisexual element. Does it prefer one over the other?

Hydrogen: I'm bisexual.

Well, you can't join the army.

And the hydrogen bomb went blissfully unused.

Make Believe

Why don't we play make believe anymore? 

it's like, as soon as you 'grow up' your imagination stops, and you can no longer work up the magic that you used to. Fairies used to be my friends. Mermaids used to swim with me through the red sea. Somehow I lost them. Somehow real life became so much real-er. I'm not sure if anyone else feels this way.  I'd love to be that little girl again. Going to witch academies with my fellow imaginary connoisseurs. Pretending that I could walk on light beams, and dance with vines. It's hard to get that back. I'm so wrapped up in being in highschool, orthodontist appointments, decorating my room. I've not even thought about the way things used to be. How lovely they were. Maybe I'm alone in thinking like this. I wish I could whistle. 

Pregnancy Shorts

So, hey there kids. I wore my mum's pregancy shorts to school today, and I think they had traces of crack on them. Because I was like, wigging out today. But I love them because they're all teal and amazing. And go up to my belly button but still look normal. Hahahaha, Oh my Goodness.

Mikey is with me and we're chillin'. I love having a five year old brother, it's just really awesome. I hope you guys forgive me for being a random cretin but THE WORLD NEEDED TO KNOW ABOUT THE PREGNANCY SHORTS

And the Jesus bracelet. But that's another story

(Espeon is perdy. And so is Lapras.)

The Goat and Jolteon.

Goat, you make my life a better place. I know the horrors of unfulfilled Gay Boy love, it is a horrible horrible feeling. :D Oh well on to Jolteon. Weelll, one of my favourite Youtube vloggers Kristina Horner of ALL CAPS and fiveawesomeirls (and also Seattle...) posted a video about toothbrush bracelet making, and it also mentioned her favourite pokemon. Flareon.

So, anyway, I decided that I would research this Flareon pokemon and see why it was her favourite. I came to the conclusion that Jolteon has a better chance of staying alive in battle, but Flareon has a stronger attack.

I think.

>> This is the video, kids. >> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FX73zfyf1aU
>> This is the online Pokedex.>> http://www.pokemon.com/us/pokedex/

Anyway, I hope you all have a wonderful Sunday, and I shall see most of you tomorrow. :D

On The Subject of Wonderful People

Are people wonderful?
This is an often pondered question.
As a whole, probably not.
Cause the bad ones can be pretty darn bad.
But that's not saying that there aren't any wonderful people out there.
And those wonderful people make wonderful friends.
Friends who you can start a blog with to talk about nothing in particular.
Friends who you can make fun of endlessly and they'll still talk to you.
Friends who understand that some people are just crazy some of the time, and get over their craziness and give them hugs.
Friends who I want to receive hugs from because of my craziness for a long, long time.
The human body needs company to survive.
And not just when all other food sources have been used up and cannibalism has come into the picture.
We could not survive without the love and affection for others.
Honestly, if we weren't told that we should be living by other people, why would we even bother?
I like philosophizing.
Like this thought that occurred to me yesterday that our entire existences could just be elaborate dreams in the heads of babies in another dimension.
WOULDN'T THAT BE CRAZY!!??
The whole "I think, therefore, I am" thing is totally true. Cause even if we are just a dream, we truly then exist as a baby in another dimension.
Hence we do exist.
That made little to no sense.
That probably sounded a little crazy.
I need a hug.
I think this blog post started with a point.... but I can't for the life of me remember what it was....
I'll go check...
Oh right! Wonderful people.
We need more of them.
Lucky for me though, I never have to look far to find one.
Yay for wonderful friends being wonderful people.
I feel all mushy now.

How about, hurray for not arguing over something so silly! As far as I'm concerned, angst is pointless, but that doesn't mean you can't be profound or deep. Let's all just be positive and as optimistic as we can and make this enjoyable. Yes? Alright. And I really think the order of things has gone to hell. So is it agreed that we can all just post when we have something important to say?

PS

I'm voting bonar for mayor. 

well...

I disagree goat. I think that while angst can sometimes dominate minds, it is not going to win the battle against this blog. a wee bit of angst is sometimes okay but something like, "oh my god I have two english projects due, and science homework, and I also have to have time for a shower and i hate the way i look right now, why did I dye my hair, it looks purple oh god those jeans look bad on me, my pants don't fit anymore, why do clothes stretch, I don't own any nice shirts, can I wear heels to school, why is my room messy all the time, I have to paint something for moira and I am not inspired, and there is a moth in my room, but it's hiding from me and I can't see it it's going to turn into the moth man and molest me, then make my chest into a boob vest!" as a whole blogpost will get unhealthy and boring for everyone, and it's relaly quite unproductive. if you don't have something productive to blog about THEN DON'T BLOG! okay I'm done now.

testing

testing testing testing

i think it's gonna work

p.s- i am just going to remind everyone that angst should please be KEPT TO A MINIMUM. otherwise this blog will become a boring snake pit of angst.

Gyarados

It's been confusing me lately, how do you pronounce gyarados properly!? Everyone has been telling be "Guh-ay-RAH-dohs" and I'm like it's "Guh-EYE-rah-dohs". IT'S SO CONFUSING.

Oh well.

Anyway, how are you guys? This is actually my first time blogging so I may say really werid things, that will make me sound like a lame person. And being lame is not very fun. No siree.

I'm sleepy now. <3

Jitters

Sorry everybody, I should prolly get my own blog, I find this quite amusing. Please delete this if you want, but people mainly Collin need to get on the band wagon and start posting shit that prolly no one will read but us, that's all ok though, just us I mean.

Take deep breaths. now
in
out
in
out

it feels like someone tickling you from the inside out
or you ligaments just feel and kabbooly, that rhymes with tabooly, you know the really good salad with bulgar wheat and lemon juice and parsley and olive oil

it's like you wanna hug someone real hard and not let go. painful
but still good like when you bite the tip of your tongue really hard
and when you let go you should feel restored to your original self
but it never works. you still feel just as jittery like you want a slab slowly press you until your bones have all cracked and you can't feel anything anymore.
like that.
jitters.

Are we there yet?

On my way to the Cabin:
Father: Look! Its a Harem of females. Where's the buck holding them together?...
Me: The buck is... the baby?
Father: What?! No. Its the Big male deer.
Me: .... I thought Polygamy was illegal in Alberta.
Father: They're Mormon deer.
Mom: ...?...

I suppose this would be the basic comical happenstance to the unknowing person, but to those with their higher-thinking thought organs whirring in there skulls, they would hypothesize at a higher level.

When did global religion become a household (or in this case, highway-held) common theme for humorous suggestions in day-to-day conversation? When did it become okay to use peoples ethnic backgrounds in the basis of our nonchalant interactions?

I am not trying to shine a light, nor ameliorate, but am simply purposing a conundrum.

My answer? Somewhere between eighth and ninth grade.

Story Time.

Even though we have some sort of order set up, I was looking at this page and it looked so empty, so I though to do the logical thing and post something. I have no inner mental debates I wish to share with the few reading this thus, I have decided to write a story, the ones you read in the picture books to kids at age 2? The ones that have the big ass pages so that I assume are just there to infuriate me to the point of throwing things like goats sometimes do.
SO here goes:

Once upon a time in a kingdom where people all magically looked hot all the time, even when they were in the predicament of being sick to their stomachs lived a group of elves. These elves had pointed ears and all had different 'callings' let's say. There was a fall elf with beautiful long red locks and big green eyes, she lived in the trees and blended in with the leaves. There was the winter elf who flitted across the air turning all objects she touched into a harsh cold, she had hair that was almost white and a frosty alluring presence. Then the spring elf, not quite warm though not cold like winter, some where in between a mixture of all seasons. The summer elf was something else she was a free spirit that loved to sing and dance and wore beautiful colours all the time, nothing could get her outlook on life down at any point in her small joy filled life. As you can see I have now covered all 4 seasons, but there are 2 more characters that remain. The water elf, who had blond hair and piercing blue eyes, she was untouchable, and had air about her that seemed to radiate her goddess tendencies. The last character to this not so much of a story was the ground elf, or gnome. She had long brown hair that was almost black, and was, well, some called her pretty. She, liked to sit nestled in between to tree roots inconspicuously and observe the other elfs, particularly the water elf, who had grace that the little ground elf could never capture. One day the water elf said hello, although much more eloquently, and the little elf was elated. The next day the water elf went back to being her usual unapproachable self and the small elf felt dejected and foolish for having false hope.

The end.

Tomorrow is appproaching.