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If the world was about to end, those who were the Left Behind would be running amuck. Even though I am Catholic and don’t believe in the Rapture, I still think that if the end did turn out this way, there would predictably be mass chaos. And everyone says the end is now. With a woman and a black person running for President, the world is doomed. This isn’t my opinion, but it seems to be the media’s perception of it; or at least, the conservative media. I am excited to see change, but I dread it as well.
And Be Sure To Say Please
Whatever happened to courtesy? Nobody says “please” and “thank you” anymore. Even when you see someone in the morning and ask them how they are doing, they will almost always respond, “good” or “fine”, even when their world’s falling apart. That goes to show how little we really care for others these days. I want this world to be more honest and trusting. It would be great if we could go on long trips and leave our front doors unlocked without worrying about someone breaking in. In an ideal world, that would be best.
And The Jackass of the Year Award Goes To…
There are so many people I would nominate for that title… but I’d probably pick Justin. Stupid drunk bastard. I am not mad at him, but more disappointed that anyone else. He went away to the Air Force, and I didn’t hear from him for a while, then he comes back saying that all he does is get drunk and attempt to get laid. He also thinks he’s some sort of vampire. He’s my good friend and I care about him, but I want him to grow the fuck up already.
Twelve Angry Men was the name of a movie I saw literally three times in my high school career, and each time I saw it, I liked and appreciated it more. Angry men in general probably suffer from irritable male syndrome, which is very real. It’s a theory stating that men have hormonal fluctuations that are similar to PMS in women. I swear that my boyfriend is living proof of that theory. Back to angry men; they are not fun to be around, especially when the anger becomes physical. Give them all a Midol and a football game.
I have a lot of angst, even at the “adult” age of 19. No matter what anyone says, I am VERY immature and prone to hissy fits and periods of time where I’m just like, “fuck all this bullshit, let me live alone by myself where I won’t be bothering anyone with my self-centered hormonal idiocy”. I hate the word idiocy… it reminds me of eleventh grade and all that jealous bullshit. A year later, I found out that jealousy is not my problem; it’s really insecurity that causes most of my pain. I still gotta get over it.
I love anniversaries!! I love when the seventh of the month rolls around and my boyfriend and I have gone out for another month. Tomorrow we will have been dating for forty-two months! That makes me happy, and I can defy my parents and every one else a little bit. Nobody thought we would last, and I didn’t either. I started dating him just as a “trial run” to see what it would be like. Eventually, I found out I never wanted to leave. I still don’t, but my parents are so against the relationship even to this day.
The first thing I think of when I hear any world related to “annoying” is this girl who used to ride my bus when I was in the eleventh grade. She was a freshman and used to pretend she was a cat. Okay, it was cute for the first five minutes, but after that it was just irritating. She knew she was being annoying and took pride in it, like it was some kind of good accomplishment. Me, being the doormat that I am, never got angry at her because of it. I just sat there and took it.
That’s me! I am the most antisocial person in the world and I am not proud of it. There are only a select few in this world who I can talk to easily, and I asked my mom why. She said it’s because I lack self-confidence, which is true. I think they are going to hate me, or even worse, think I am stupid or ditzy. I’m only ditzy because I have no social experience whatsoever. My anti-social tendencies are why I am so afflicted with this “insecurity”. I’m always afraid I’m going to fail miserably, whatever I do.
Freestyle!!! My mind is virtually empty right now. It’s nine forty nine and I have nothing to do except my schoolwork and my writing. I am working on a piece that I can enter into a literary contest at my school. If I win, I get money! If I get money, I will put it towards college or my savings account. I have a savings account, but I have no idea what I’m saving for. Marriage, I guess. So I won’t be completely in debt when I get engaged, which is one of my biggest fears. Being poor.
I constantly seek approval from my teachers at school. That’s one of the reasons I try so hard; I would hate it if any of my teachers (or any authority figure for that matter) disliked me. Even if I don’t like a teacher initially, I will try my best to make her/him like me. I did that with my psychology teacher in the twelfth grade and she ended up liking me. She hated me on the first day because I was giggling stupidly over something one of my friends said. I’m so glad I’m not in high school anymore.
Are You Challenging Me?
Perhaps I am. I want to challenge someone, but I hate challenges because they lead to competition. Like most people, the only competition I like is a competition I can win. Or that I can pawn in. I like certain kinds of challenges; like flag football where I was the only girl participating. All the rest of them wanted to be pussies and play volleyball. Screw that, I’d rather play with the boys and get dirty. That’s a time that I eliminated the girls from the competition. Rivalries are fun. Don’t let it get too far.
Are You Serious?
I am very serious. Right now, I have a serious question: Is it being selfish if I want to go to bed on time(ten thirty at the latest), rather than talk to my boyfriend who keeps me up until like twelve at night, or even later sometimes. I get tired. I don’t run on caffeine and I have a different metabolism that he does. Does that make me a horrible person for wanting to get to bed on time so I can get up the next day? Come on people, email me your opinions and tell me.
Are You Sure?
I remember a certain story I heard way back when I was a freshman in high school. Some junior girl in my class had just lost her virginity and was talking about it. (This was to be the first of many sex stories I would hear.) She said her boyfriend was all nice and gentle and “are you sure you want to do this with me?” I wished that if and when I ever lost my virginity, the guy would be caring and nice like that to me, and not just some typical inconsiderate horny teenage boy.
Are You There?
That’s an annoying question you ask when someone is talking to you on a cell phone and you can’t hear a word they say. You start to believe that they’ve hung up on you, and when you say “are you there?”, the response sounds like the person is speaking underwater. I despise cell phones. They are just another way for those we love to annoy the hell out of us. I have a cell phone. It’s ten years old and it’s in my car, for emergency use only. That should be the only use for cell phones.
A circular argument is something that occurs with my boyfriend and me. It’s when we argue around the same things all the time and nothing gets accomplished. The bad thing is, he doesn’t realize that it’s a circular argument. He doesn’t realize that it’s really the same thing that comes up over and over again, rather than something different. That bothers me, probably because I still think, even after three and a half years, that he is blind to the weaknesses in our relationship. I think I see them all, but perhaps there is something that I am missing.
Sophitia’s armor consisted of an adamantine plate that covered her back and front. It came together in the front with strong hinges and a latch. A normal enemy would not be able to remove this plate except with extreme force. Her legs were clad in adamantine plates also, but these attached differently. They were bound with strong cloth cords; an exceptionally strong material that proved looks could be deceiving. Sophitia’s head was protected by a mask made of adamantine. A visor came down over her eyes, enabling her to look out, but making sure enemies could not look inside.
This reminds me of sex and I learned the most awesome thing today. One of the philosophers I am learning about, Immanuel Kant, believed that sex before marriage was wrong. He believed it for the same reason I believe it today: if we have sex outside of marriage, our sexual partner is regarded as an object, or a means in which to get to the end; the end result of sex being orgasm. In marriage, two souls are combined, and there is no longer any objectification. There is a religious bond within marriage that prevents the objectification that occurs.
I do not read newspaper articles for the same reason I don’t watch the news on television; because of all the pessimism that is portrayed in the media. The news can have a horrible effect on people. My grandmother is one of the biggest pessimists you will ever meet, mostly because she watches the news and thinks that only bad things happen. If you’ll notice, very rarely do they show anything good on the news or in the paper. It’s something horrible; like a murder or a rape. People are interested in the negative side of life too much.
I get it mixed up with astronomy. Wikipedia defines it as “the study of the influence of the cosmos on life on earth.” Star-gazing, in other words. I used to have an interest in that when I was in tenth grade. One of my characters liked to look at the stars. Her name was Jenny; one day I have to bring her back, maybe into the next story I write. I’m struggling to come up with more ideas for it; I have a few solid images but nothing that really seems to be better than ideas in the past.
At What Cost
Such a terrible cost to love you… such a crime to care for you… Even when the world falls from the sky and breaks like a delicate Christmas ornament, know that I will always care for you. It may not seem so now, but that is a product of my shyness. A product of my anxiety towards love; my glass-half-empty mentality. In a realistic world, the love between us would wither and die, but in my fictional universe, we will be the new Romeo and Juliet, together in life, together in death. Joined together forever, completely peaceful.
I don’t feel like talking about something as mundane as email attachments. Here’s an issue I had a long time ago; why are women the hostesses when their husbands are having parties? So they can greet all the men and look pretty? Most of the time, they’re the beautiful attachment stuck to the husband’s side. I like that… when it’s only men. I figured out yesterday that parties with girls suck even when the girls have their boyfriends there. My prejudice of my own sex is coming out, and I have to find some way to get over it.
Attack and Receive
In Sophitia’s dream, they were fighting; Alexander becoming horribly wounded. Her heart felt like it was being torn in two, just watching the brutality. Alexander was her soulmate, and to see him in pain hurt her as though she was the one being stabbed. Her head throbbed with each pounding of her heart, and she wished she would wake. If she could not wake, she would know this was not a dream, but horrifying reality. Her entire kingdom was falling around her feet, and there would be no waking from this nightmare of attacking and receiving pain.
This is “goodbye” in German. It’s not a final goodbye, but more of a “see you later” kind of saying. It expresses hope that the person will see the other person again, and there is no sense of finality. You could even use this saying in a funeral; if you have the faith to know that you will see the person again, if you desire heaven. I believe that you never completely lose someone. If they are that important in your life, they will return to it in some way or form, even if that is in death.
The leaves fall, my soul dies
A new day, my soul dies
Yet nothing new, my soul dies
Everything fading, my soul dies
Winter lives now
Winter of our failings
Winter of our flaws
The only savior of our lives,
God can help us all
Through the autumn before winter
So the cold won’t be as cruel
Here comes spring, my soul lives
A new life, a new breath
My soul lives
I rejoice in God, my soul lives
My spirit sings, my soul lives
I will not give up, my soul lives
Because of Him, my soul lives
Azure had mystical blue hair. It rippled down her back like a waterfall, and it felt as silky as water to the touch. When she grew angry, her hair would freeze and become cold, as though she had put gel in it. Azure’s hair was more than just hair; it reflected every minute change in her personality. She felt this was a curse; she could never have any private thoughts anymore. They would all be reflected in the glass mirror of her oceanic hair. It was because of this that she decided to perfect hiding her thoughts far below.
You want to know how hard it is to find one of those? When I think of bachelor, I think of a guy over the age of thirty who has never had a girlfriend. He does not live in his mother’s basement. He has focused on school his entire life, and is now a vet tech, attempting to become a vet. He is often lonely, and often wishes he had a woman he could trust. A lady who would not want him just for his money or looks. I’ve created a character like this in one of my stories.
Apocalypse knew the plan would backfire. Taking Sophitia’s lover away had been far too simple; so simple there had to be some kind of catch, like a cheap gimmick. Now Alexander stood before him, ready to serve and ready to attack anything he had formerly loved. Not a trace of his old soul, not a trace of goodness or innocence was left in his body. It was as if Alexander had been born anew. Apocalypse could feel the breaking of Sophitia’s heart like it was in his hands and he was physically tearing it in two. He laughed gleefully.
There’s a murmured lyric in a No Doubt song that goes, “Why do the good girls only want the bad boys?” Maybe the good girls want a little danger. Maybe they have low self esteem, and feel that the only boyfriend they will ever have is a bad boy. Perhaps they don’t believe in good boys. At the age of around 16-18, there are no true good boys. I think all the innocence has been lost from the male gender at those ages. If you are to impress a boy, go for one who is younger. Start young.
A bake sale is the only thing my club can do right. We can’t put together a soap box in time for the derby during Spring Fling, but we can have a bake sale, since Helen is such a good entrepreneur and since everyone loves to bake. Our stuff is tasty as well. I don’t think they’d kick us out of Hell’s Kitchen. I feel bad that I can’t contribute because I can’t bake a damn thing. I made two cakes and they were fairly good, so maybe I should try making cupcakes for the next bake sale.
There is a strange undercurrent between my mother-in-law and me. I cannot sense exactly what it is, or if there is any balance in it at all, but it is unmistakably there. She is watching me, waiting for me to slip and reveal that I am in fact, human: talkative and volatile. I feel that I can be more and more of myself, and let the immature version of me crawl back into her hole. I feel that I can make an impression that will not fail, and that I don’t need to stretch too much to make it.
Band of Brothers
Officially, they were a band of brothers. Secretly, everyone in the band hated Mark. Mark was something of an anomaly; he hated wrestling, yet loved football. He hated cheerleaders, yet loved WWE divas. He had no common ground with those others in the band of brothers; the unique sect they liked to call Prophets of a New Age. Mark possessed no prophetic qualities whatsoever. Everything he saw was relatively useless, and because of his lack of talent, the others in the group were beginning to think of removing him; getting rid of him in a violent way.
The Tip Jar