allowing it.

I hate that I talk about people like I'm better than them. I'm really not. So why do I do it? To make myself feel better, I suppose. I know that I'm worse than them, so I find a simple flaw and blow it out of proportions. Surprisingly, I'm going to insert a quote from the Bible that works so well with what I'm talking about.

"Why do you look at the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye?" -Matthew Chapter 7, verse 3.

Courtesy of Google, mind you.

I have a massive amount of flaws. They make me who I am, even if they suck. Even if I suck. So who am I to judge other people on their flaws? I am the world's greatest hypocrite.

Hypocrisy sucks.

whadup//

I don't have thoughts on anything, so I'll just recap my weekend. On Friday night, I went to the band concert for Kadie and Jasmine. After that, those two, Kim, and I went for ice cream at Coldstone. After a while, Torey showed up. We ended up staying there for many hours! I did my best to make Jasmine do her lovely rollercoaster laugh, and I consider myself succcessful. On Saturday, I watched my sister graduate from college, then my family and I took her out to lunch in St. Peter in celebration. I then went back to my sister's house to spend the night, AKA be her DD. Well before that I made some CD's that I've been dying to have. I now own MGMT's super rare first album, Climbing to New Lows. And the new Phoenix album. And other songs. Then I did the whole "watch as many cool videos on the internet as I can because I never get to use high speed internet, damn you dial-up" thing, which means I watched a bunch of MGMT vids. They're so cool. Then I did the whole DD thing, scared to death of how many freaking cops I was passing, even though I wasn't doing anything wrong. Now it's Mother's Day and I fell asleep and by the tone of my mom's voice when she talks to me, I really should've stayed awake. I'm off to clean my room, but I'll probably write my other blog first.

no one even reads this blog anyways,

sugar lumps-flight of the chonchords.



free video podcast on itunes.



that's all i'm saying.



So I was listening to With A Little Help From My Friends, by The Beatles, and i've only heard it a few times, so i was wondering who the heck was singing, because it certainly isn't john or paul. I wikipedia'd it up and found out it's Ringo Starr! Whoa. Thats awesome. John and Paul actually wrote it for him to sing, awesome. Thy kept it in the range of his vocals, except the last note, but they worked with him to make sure he hit it. That is actually really cool. it's a great song.



i am so tired, at a bit before nine, that i go in and out of using good grammar and then not caring at all.



i love the beatles. i want all of their songs in my head. how can you not like them? there's at least one beatles song for everyone.





why do i bother?

oh, it turned into a blog about them. again.

I've decided to write a blog from my mom's phone while half sitting, half lying on the couch. The alternative would be to stand up and walk the five feet to my actual computer and write it. Today, I suggested to my parents we go out for lunch. I mean, why not? I don't see them much anymore and, more importantly, I was hungry. Well, even though my new job has made me spend days at a time without any face time with the parentals, I still cannot say I miss them. To understand why not, you'd have to thouroghly understand the relationship between my mother and my father, and their relationship with me. And frankly, no one knows it. But they are as annoying and unhappy as ever, so it is good to see my absences haven't had any great effect on them.

tripping over wires.

so i don't have anything else to blog about, so i have to talk about prom. my apologies.

my sister did my hair and make up.
promenade was long, hot, and boring. and smiling hurts.
panera bread was good. very good.
the dance. the scenery was amazing. mr. fure is an unbelievable artist.
i hate that everyone grinded to every song. what the hell kind of dancing did we do before the grind? whatever it was, i'd like it back.
it was nice to see everyone all dressed up, i suppose. although i saw some disturbing dresses and tuxes. i hate people who show 90% of their skin, although they claim they're wearing clothes.
i hate taking pictures.
abbie's house was something. we watched one of my top 30 movies, fast times at ridgemont high, and catch me if you can. but no one stuck around to watch that one. her hot tub was nice and warm. thank the lord it wasn't too crowded. i fell asleep at 6 am? i don't even know why. and i woke up at 10.
there's a grocery store in geneva that has a restaurant in it. it's good, good breakfast.
i have a new favorite cartoon, the misadventures of flapjack. what a fucked up show. but it's awesome. excuse the language.
after that, i just went home. i'm tired of doing stuff. it's nice to just sit around by myself.
that's all i got. prom really wasn't a big deal. i don't get the mass appeal.

they must love you in the produce section

I can't tell whether I like it when I suddenly recall a memory or if I don't. I suppose it depends on the memory. I mean, when I recall good ones, I wonder why I ever forgot it in the first place. But, on the other hand, when a bad memory zips through your head, it sucks. I mean, I repressed it for a reason. I don't like that sights and smells and textures can ignite a memory in my mind. It's just sort of bizarre. But, worse than recalling a memory is not being able to recall a memory. You know it must have happened, but you've completely blanked on everything. That sucks. Our minds are just so weird, I'd actually like a job in the field of studying about them.

My dad can text. Weird.

I'm obsessed with Twilight. I have been since the beginning. People are getting sick of it, but I can't. Being the obsessed person I am, I Google-imaged the cast of the New Moon movie. I approve, I really do. I'm very excited for the movie to come out.

Sunshine has made a comeback in my life. I love it. I'm not used to the heat, but I still love it.

Man, I really don't have anything to talk about. I don't.

Track is no fun. Meets are fun, 'sides the running part.

Arghhhhhhhh. I've got nothing, hopefully the above is good enough. I'll do better next week.

only one mean customer so far.

I think my last blog is about work too, but come on, what else have I been doing? I started learning how to work the register, with much help from my patient co-workers. I am trying to remember where all of the different cigarettes are. And lottery tickets. And how to do money orders, take coupons, type in PLU's when an item won't scan, remember where to find items on the computer when you can't scan them, how to deal with customers, drop $20's+ in the safe, ignore the pain in my feet, and remember to smile. Oh, and I still must learn how to do everything NOT behind the counter. Yeesh.

They way they clean bathrooms is fun, though! I'm not even kidding. It involves a power sprayer. And I get paid $8.30. For starting wage, that has to be amazing. So I worked Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday this week. I got Tuesday off because I had a track meet.

So you should go ahead and make the assumtion I am sleep-deprived and irritatingly tired. Good thing I can sleep in school. I'm not supposed to, but whatever! I am still getting straight A's and really don't feel like I'm missing much. Except school's the only time, otherwise than track, that I get to see my friends. But they'll still be there, hopefully.

Whatever. Money will be nice. I mostly spend it on food, though. maybe I'll buy a shirt or something.

it's weird to know that somebody hates me. luckily, they're civil in public, but i'm not oblivious. they hate me, i get it. i just never thought it would bother me so much. maybe because it's over a misunderstanding. scratch that, several misunderstandings. from their point of view, i'd hate me, too. but they're not getting it right, not understanding how i actually feel, what i actually did (or didn't do). but back to the point, i didn't think it would make me feel so horrible. it just tears me down, wears me out. i want to fix it, but i've tried. and failed. miserably. so what do i do? ignore it, sure. i can continue to try that. confrontations are out, that never seems to work. how about i just tell myself everyday to ignore this distorted situation created inside their head and just live my life. i like that one. soon, i'll be able to not give a damn about anything.

Kwik Trip

I started my first job. I work at the Kwik Trip on Front Street, across form the Albert Lea Tribune. I officially started training on Monday, and dang, it is exhausting. And I'm not even doing real work yet. Just watching 3-4 hours of training videos. I get done with work when I usually go to bed, so its really messing me up. I'm falling asleep in a lot of my classes and it just stresses me out! It won't be so bad once I know what I'm doing but for right now, its hard. But the pay is good, and on weekends I might get to work with my big sister Jenna. The people seem very friendly, so that is a good thing. Yay paychecks!

this isn't it.

I feel like I eat a lot of chili. Probably because I live in Minnesota. We love soup. We have soup and pie suppers, for example. They are delicious. Soup is the best thing that ever happened to liquid meals. And pie, oh pie. I only eat one kind. Strawberry pie, from Trumbles. I've heard a rumor it's back, so I will be making a stop there soon enough.

Mr. Worth, I must tell you. I hate online assignments. It's sort of like you're assigning me a punishment. You see, I have dial-up Internet. And an assignment that would take other students an hour to complete takes twice the time for me to do. Can you see how that would be frustrating? I'd do it at the public library, but after school I have track and then I go to work. The library's not open by the time I'm done. As I said, very frustrating. So I'm spending my Sunday waiting for all of these slides and links to load, so I can read three sentences. I'll say it one more time-- frustrating.

I Love You, Man is a great movie. Just saying.

I should take a nap.

Dearrrrr Blog.

So, I left off with a weird and depressing blog. So I might as well do a quick follow up on that and get on with this shindig.

Earl's funeral was... odd. I was brutally sick, and it was unsettling to know I wasn't even the person in the most pain that day. I walked into the room, immediately noticing a wooded box with his name on a small plate attached to the box. Inside the box was a smaller golden box. I did the best I could to not try to think that his burned body, the ashes that remained, just sat in that box. Too much to try to wrap my head around. Anyways, the whole right half of the place was filled with veterans. After the short ceremony or whatever it's called, we go to the parking lot, yes the parking lot, to watch those veterans shoot off their guns three times. Is it really okay to do that right there in the parking lot by a busy Albert Lea street? I wouldn't know, but it was weird. Then it was back to grandma's for a small lunch thingy, and despite the dreariness of the situation, we recalled good memories and enjoyed each other's company.

New subject alert!

Brandon Ranum's wonderful mother got us tickets to see Demetri Martin (!!!!!!!!) on May 30th in Minneapolis. 2ND ROW SEATS! wow! I have to go, I just have to. Demetri Martin is possibly my favorite person. So talented, so funny, wonderful.

New subject alert!

I haven't chosen a prom dress yet, but I know it's going to be polka dotted! And I'd really rather wear my good old Chuck Taylor's instead of some sort of shoe that involves a heel, but I'm not winning that battle.

and lastly...

Radiohead's a good band. Not sure why they are compared to beyond-amazing Muse, but they're talented and I can enjoy them somewhat.

'Night.

Earl.

I don't know how to grieve. But I think I'm doing it wrong.

Since as long as I can remember, Earl has been there. He's not related to me by blood, but nevertheless, he was pretty much my grandpa. I didn't get the chance to meet my actual grandfathers, but Earl did a fine job.

No need to lie, he was a bit strange, and I suppose that bothered some of my family. But I loved it. He was one of those war veterans who would tear up just recalling a memory. He smoked packs and packs of cigarettes a day, he complimented me every time I visited, he was always so proud of me. He loved Law & Order. But, most importantly, he adored my grandma.

I can so clearly recall the wedding of my grandma and Earl. That's due to the fact they got married last year. It was a semi-casual event. It was cold, I was piled in the backseat of my Mom's car with my sisters, headed to an apartment building. Inside the apartment building, we went right inside the home of the Pastor. Right in his living room, that's where Bonnie Flanagan and Earl Ashpole wed. My uncle Jim has a tape of it. After the ceremony, we went back to Mr. and Mrs. Ashpole's home. Pictures were taken, champagne was poured. Talking, laughing, rounds of hugs to the newlyweds. It was beautiful.

My parents were very hush-hush when Earl got cancer. I actually wasn't aware of that until last week, when my parents made my sister tell me. He had cancer, and then he had a heart attack. He was hospitalized. The doctors stabilized him, and everyone sounded so optimistic. Yet he was given morphine for the pain, that was about all they could do. He supposedly was getting stronger. My mother took a day off of work to visit him and my grandma. I did what I always did, just pretended nothing was happening, go on like nothing was different.

He died Thursday night. Last night.

I don't know how I made it through school today. I'm a better actor than I thought, no one seemed to know I was in despair. I was going to go home right after school, but the strangest thing happened, my friend came up and made me laugh for the first time since I found out. And it was weird, sounded a bit hysteric. I felt guilty for laughing. I drove home, very slowly. The sky was cloudy and it was raining, which was suitable for this situation.

It was strange. Thursday night, my mom was updating my father and I on Earl's condition. Then her phone rang. I eavesdropped, and by her tone of voice, the news wasn't good but it wasn't "the call". I was wrong, my mom walked back into the kitchen, a tear or two escape and she said, "That's it, he gone." Shortly after, my mom and dad left to go to town. The moment they were out the door, I started sobbing. Earl's always been there, Grandma's always had him. I never got to say goodbye.

Right now, I'm in that whole denial stage. That's the only reason I've been able to write this blog. These things happened, yes. But I'm not registering them. I don't want to, ever. I don't want to have to borrow a black dress for his funeral, I don't want to see my grandma cry, I don't want to be out of the only grandpa I ever had. I don't want to talk about him in past tense. I don't want to cry as I write these words, knowing I can't get what I want.

I don't want to function normally, I don't want life to go on as if nothing happened.

Something happened.

sleeping on the balcony after class

In all seriousness, I eat for comfort. Example: Today, unhappy with the load of chores being piled on me and the fact that math homework is always there for me not to do. I go to my church and eat so much chili and ice cream I could have a massive heart attack, and ta-da, I feel happy. Can anyone say bad way to cope with problems?

Must I?

"Oh in five years time
I might not know you
In five years time
We might not speak
Oh in five years time
We might not get along
In five years time
You might just prove me wrong"

5 Years Time - Noah & The Whale

A cute song that speaks the truth. Life is unpredictable. Who knows who we'll be with in 5 years? I suppose you should just enjoy who you have right now, because it might not last. Sounds a bit depressing, but really, its not.

Mom and Dad

This year, my parents will celebrate 25 years of being married to each other. How they've made it, I honestly couldn't tell you. Maybe it's the whole "stay-together-for-the-kids" thing or the "divorce-is-expensive-and-I need-your-money-as-much-as-you-need-mine" thing. As I was typing that sentence, my father came into the living room and kissed my mother. I'd like to point out that affection between them rarely occurs. And, of course, my mother's reaction to this unexpected kiss: "Yuck."

Now, arguments between my parents, that you'll find everyday. Their arguing strategy is not a winning one. They don't even start out with inside voices, they just yell off the bat. In the morning, after work, before going to bed. They're unhappy, that's a given.

They don't belong together. I asked them the story of how they met, and this is what I get from my mother: "Well, we met in Chip's barn (great place for parties) and although he was so much older than I was, he did have a car..." How romantic.

I encourage their divorce. In my opinion, divorce is good if your marriage is this bad.

Congratulations, parents. 25 years of "love", and many more to come.

there ya go, good job.

CRUCIVERBALISM: the art of crossword compilation or being a fan of crossword puzzles.

My grandma is a cruciverbalist. Sounds severe.

Weird.

addiction.

Matthew Bellamy= GOD.

new life goal: do whatever it takes to see a MUSE concert live. which means i'll most likely have to go to europe. i'd swim there with a smile on my face, if i knew i'd get to see the most amazing thing on earth in person.

demetri martin

Demetri Martin, in my opinion, is one of the best comedians ever. Most comedians resort to talking only about sex, religion, or swearing constantly, which is not funny or amusing at all. Demetri Martin has very good taste in all of those categories, which makes him stellar. He has his own sketch comedy on Comedy Central called "Important Things" and it is funny. He likes to use visual aids and a lot of his jokes are just a sentence long and hilarious. He really thinks outside of the box, which he interprets into his jokes. He's cute, too.

FML

i have been introduced to a website that can make any bad day seem like nothing. it's called www.fmylife.com and basically, people write one or two sentences about a horrible, yet funny, thing that happened to them. FML stands for F*** My Life, because these people really didn't deserve the crap that happened to them, ususally.

if you go to the Top FML, you can read the absolute best stories on there, and they will make you laugh. just laugh and laugh.

but to warn you, there are a lot of stories involving sex and things relating to it. i mean, nobody probably cares, but i feel morally obligated to at least say something.

it's the bestie bestiest, and it'll make your bad day look not so dang bad.

blaaaaaahhg.

you know what? i complain about people who complain. that way, i'm not the only one sounding like a total douche bag. it's a smart strategy, if you think about it.

and it's official, i do not like my parents. sure, they gave me life, whatever. doesn't mean i have a forever-debt. that's not how i see it. laws say you're an adult once you turn eighteen, but that's not my life. i have plenty of growing up to do yet, but not with them. i'm hostile, easily annoyed, and when you get down to it, a mean person whenever i'm around them.

that is not the kind of person i want to be.

i think i should go to an out-of-state college.

muse

Muse is this incredibly talented band that sure as hell better have some awards for their talent. An amazing singer and a guitarist with skills like that simply cannot go unnoticed. I must admit that I only came across them by purchasing the Twilight movie soundtrack. My apologies for that.

But, as life has it, a strange coincident-of-sorts, Logan is a huge fan of Muse. It's practically the only CD he listens to, it really seems like it. He offered to borrow it to me months ago, but it's the live version. I hate live versions of songs. So I wrote down the song titles and told myself to download them using my own resources, which consists of dial-up Internet and a most-likely illegal song downloading thingy.

Using my excellent and useful skills of procrastination and flat-out laziness, I put off downloading their songs for months. What a shame. I had a boring Saturday today, and I downloaded about ten songs so far, and absolutely every single one is a masterpiece. They are so good. So very good.

Especially their song Newborn. One word for that song, and it is wow.

sick.

I had a great track record for vomiting. 4 years, clean of tossing my cookies. But then my father had to go and get his sick on, and ultimately spread it to me. Damn. I was so sick of doing it that I stopped eating. But I'm sick of being sick, so I'm willing myself to be better and I will be back to school tomorrow.

I no longer will consume any green G2 Gatorade. That's all I'm saying.

blogging.

Mr. Worth, when you first announced we would being blogging twice a week, it was exciting. Everyone seemed to do it pretty willingly. Now, the spark is gone. We're only blogging because we have to.

What happened?

blog.

i suppose i could blog about how ridiculously stupid valentines day is. i suppose i'd like it more if my parents didn't fight on the one day, but since they do not follow the rules of february 14, neither should i. not saying i'm going to fight with my husband every day, since i plan on marrying someone i love, if i get married at all. i'm saying valentine's day should be no different from an other day. waste of money.


JASON MRAZ.

blog.

it seems that every time there's a mock trial competition, i miss hard assignments, at least one quiz and test, and an hour of a movie with someone i love in it (yesterday it was jude law).

i suppose its worth it, but let me just say making up all of it is a bitch.

ayyyyy.

i can't blog right now. i have nothing to blog about. nothing nothing nothing.

do you ever try to focus, then your eyes just fuzz out and it takes quite a bit of effort to refocus them? that happens to me frequently.

i'm going to try giving up snacking. i feel so very unhealthy, and i think the problem is that i'm always eating. i just want to feel good again. since the weather is in the 30s, i'm running again. i missed running. and i don't like treadmills.

i know this isn't something that i should complain about, but my car is broken. i mean, i just got my license, my parents said i'd get the gold car for my birthday, and they didn't think to fix the roaring noise it makes BEFORE i got my license? ugh. i know there's people who have to buy their own cars or don't have a car of their own, but my dad's a quicker-fixer-upper for cars so he gave it to me. thanks sarcastically and non-sarcastically.

i'm sorry, math teacher. i hate math. hate hate hate. that's probably why i can't focus enough to do my assignments.

is that enough of a blog to count for a grade? that's all i got. complaints, complaints, complaints. sorry.

my fiery hatred!

i feel the need to remind everyone that if you are texting people (especially for countless hours) while you're actually with a person, I'M GOING TO HATE YOU.

when you grow out of the annoying-as-HELL texting stage, you're going to look back on the time you spent, and see you didn't really do ANYTHING but text. instead of texting, you could have been doing something. if you're with someone and you're texting, again, YOU COULD HAVE BEEN DOING SOMETHING. something memorable. instead of seen what was up with your friend that YOU WEREN'T EVEN WITH.

WHAT THE HELL. texting has got to be the worst invention. i mean, it's not even real communication.

people text during movies, school, church, meals, homework, when they wake up, when they go to bed and everywhere in between.

what a waste of life. it's a shame. a real god damn shame.

this friday.

Again, I must express my nervousness to take the test. The test that will tell me that I either at least another week stuck being the very most depressed person in the world or if I'm handed a small, square card that I can tuck in my wallet and smile such a smile that tells the world I've never been happier. It means a lot to me to get my license. It's going to be one of those moments in my life when I know things are going to happen. Get my license, get a job, learn responsibility.

This doesn't scare me. Not even a little. There was a point in my life where nothing really happened. My life has been comatose for years now. I want a job, I want to do things on my own, I need to. I'd like to go post secondary next year and move into a dorm, but I know it won't happen. I am independent. I didn't choose to be independent, I like people sometimes. I just am.

So when I'm forced to live with my parents for at the minimum of another year, it aggravates me. I know college is hard, I know living on my own is scary...for other people. I'm glad my parents will help me pay for school and a few bills, but I don't want to rely on them for everything. I want to do things on my own. Starting the day I get my license. Which could be Friday.

If I don't pass, I'm going to be so very sorry for the guy in my car when he says I didn't pass. He'll see me break down and absolutely weep. Hopefully he'll be smart and just leave before I punch him.

If I do pass, I'll probably still weep. But it'll be out of joy. So that makes it a bit better.

I don't care very much for birthdays. But I'm hoping this one is the one that I know things are finally progressing again.

drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive

it seems that i have 5 days until i take the test to get my license. that is something that has not completely escaped my mind for a moment. the idea that in 5 days, i no longer need to spend so much time with my parents. that might sound mean, but...well, yeah it is mean. but i know my parents and i know how unhappy i am around them. the thought of driving away from that house all by myself sounds too good to be true. of course, i'll be getting a job shortly after getting my license and i will spend even less time at home. i may be the only teenager to say this, but i am really excited to get a job.

with my explanation above, you can see that if i fail my test even once, i will go into quite a deep depression of some sort. i'm putting quite a bit of pressure on myself and i hope that i can do well under pressure.

that'd be just the dandiest thing, failing my test on my birthday and going in to a week-long depression until i had a shot to try it again. happy fricking birthday to me.



...

awkward

i'm awkward on so many levels. whenever i try to not be awkward, it backfires. let's say my goal today was to walk down a hallway without tripping, someone running into me, and not any of those awkward glances. what do i get? trip over a chair, many people not seeing me, thus running into me, and a handful of awkward glances. of course.

why must i speak, act, and be so very unfitting? the ability to just walk down a hallway and not feel as if i should just lay down and give up rather than go through awkward moment after awkward moment would be nice.

i'm doomed to be awkward, i understand. most days, i'm fine with that. but some days, i wish i was graceful and confident. that's all i'm saying.

groundhog day.

has there ever been a year that we haven't had 6 more weeks of winter? does that groundhog know every year he pops out, he's causing a great deal of pain to everyone that doesn't like winter? i hate groundhogs and shadows and cold.

i honestly can't blog for longer than a few sentences anymore. i am sorry, i am truly out of thoughts for a while. just give me a while, i'll get better.


MARCH 21=twilight movie on DVD. heck yes.

boo

life sucks.

who is the most famous person?

An intriguing question. Who do people think is the most well-known person EVER? Of course, there are many different kinds of famous. So most people split them up into categories.

Religious category, of course it was God. Or Buddha. Or Muhammad. Whoever their God is.

In music, popular vote was The Beatles, followed by Elvis Presley.

In celebrities, many people named...Tom Cruise. Nice.

Historic people... Hitler. Osama Bin Laden. Mother Theresa. The Queen.

Overall, it seems that God wins. That's fitting. Nice win, Creator of all!

blog

-i hate it when your friends text people while your hanging out with them. it's like saying "hey, you really aren't enough for me to be entertained by. i'd rather text someone for 4 hours until i fall asleep."

well, screw you, teenagers. put down that freaking phone and remember that human interaction is good.


moral of my blog? teenagers with avid texting fingers can SHOVE IT.

realiazation:my social status

I've realized that I do not have that many friends. Nobody asks me to hang out. I spend lot a time at home.



I used to feel like I had a lot of friends, as in I went to parties and stuff a lot. But now, in the dead of winter, when I go home and have an evening filled with watching TV with my parents while they fight, I realize I really don't have a lot going on.



But the thing is, I don't care. Sure, it's a little bit depressing, but I don't like hanging out with people most of the time anyway. I mean, teenagers TOTALLY SUCK. All they do is gossip and text. Gossip and text, text and gossip. I don't like either of those things.



I don't really have anything to say to wrap up this blog post, so I'm just gonna go ahead and end it.

office space

great movie. angsty, cubicle-bound, tie-wearing workers scamming the system.

nice.

watch it!

blog

blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog

writing a word over and over again sure messes with your mind! i still can't believe that blog is a word. b-l-o-g. pschhhhh. i know they just shoved web and log together, but it looks WRONG.

repetition kills you

mock trial!

Today was the very first time I have ever competed in a mock trial competition. Owatonna held an invitational meet. I was two witnesses today. One being an annoying twelve year old prankster, the other a professional, arrogant 52 year old meteorologist. Being two different witnesses means being in two different trials. And let me tell you, they're not fun unless you really dig court stuff, as I do.

Imagine an episode of Law & Order, now imagine the lawyers as awkward, awkward teenagers. And that's how my day went.

So, in the first trial, I was the meteorologist, Harley Bolton. I was the VERY LAST witness to be called to the stand, so I had to sit through the whole trial freaking out, because I wasn't sure if I'd remember anything. And when I'm nervous, my stomach growls like I haven't eaten for WEEKS. It's embarrassingly loud.

Anywho, I get up to the stand, and my lawyer is being one of those "um, er, uh" AWKWARD teenage lawyers, while I answer his questions as if I'm an experienced, wise-about-weather person. After we've stumbled through the direct, I mentally prepare myself for the cross examination. My character had a drug problem, but it was nearly impossible to question me about it without being objected to. But, lucky for me (as in I wasn't lucky), the awkward kid who knew all the rules by heart, he found a way to make me admit Harley Bolton had a hardcore substance abuse problem. Danggggggggg.

And, if that wasn't bad enough, he twisted up his questions and made me sound like I was testifying in court as a favor. No, I was definitely not supposed to say that. I'm surprised I got a 9 (out of ten) on the direct and a 7 on the cross.

For the other trial, I more or less pretended I had ADD. 12 year old seem like they have ADD, right? So I didn't stop moving for the whole 2 hours of court. I fidgeted through the opening statements, direct and cross examinations of 6 witnesses (including my own), then the re-directs and re-crosses, the objections, the submitting of exhibits, the closing statements. I was getting tired of moving!

Funny thing is, our coach thought we won both of our trials, but we won neither. Oh well. We've got the rest of the season to work on stuff. Maybe we'll win the next one(s)!

surprise, happiness exists.

I didn't think I'd enjoy the sun ever again. The blindingness, oh the hurt. But as I wandered around the school today, I found myself in the sun. And it was pleasant. More than pleasant, it was blissful. Not long after I ventured into the sun, I laid myself down on a bench. The warmth soaked into me. I quickly fell into a sleep-like state.

I forgot about the fact that I was wearing fur-lined shoes and multiple layers to keep warm, I forgot about the snow and ice, I forgot about the fact that the temperature probably had a negative sign in front of it, I forgot that windchill was a part of my daily vocabulary.

I was just was warm and content. More than I would've ever asked for on a Minnesotan January day. So, thank you, sun. I underestimated your healing power. The florescent lights will always be incomparable to you.

my feelings!

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you're pretty :)

hi.

I never imagined I'd be one of those girls who had a huge obsession with someone famous. Sure, I used to watch The Holiday a lot because Jude Law was attractive. But that crush was in no comparison to the fixation I have on Robert Pattinson.

"Loving" a celebrity is stupid. Ridiculous. Unreasonable. Ludicrous. Absurd. Downright shameful. And such a waste of time!

Yet here I am, being stupid, ridiculous, unreasonable, ludicrous, absurd, shameful, and wasting time. I'm not going to meet Robert Pattinson. Unless I stalked him, and I just don't have the resources to do that. And I doubt he'd really love some 15 year old chick creeping on him. So this is stupid. I have pictures of him everywhere. I look at him all the time. I can't help myself.

How much time must pass before I can say "Oh yeah, I remember when I was totally obsessed with him. What a fool I was!"? Months, years?

Unbelievable. I am unbelievable. I annoy myself.