Ok, so I lied

I'm sorry people. I lied to you. But worse, I lied to myself. I convinced myself that I had enough free time to actually keep this thing up to date, and no, I can't. So sad, eh?
Anywho, I have come to this realization: I want to be in college. I don't know, but being in college would be so much better. I think I learn better if I'm bombarded with a bunch of stuff for about two hours straight, and then I don't have to see the teachers until next week. I remember doing really well in Chem at DVC over the summer. I mean, I got a B, which is really good, compared to the flat D/F I got in Honors Chem in high school. I don't know, I just get so bored here, and then I don't feel like doing the work, and then I end up failing the classes, and my mom and dad yell at me, which leads to a dip in the ol' self-esteem, and the cycle continues.
Besides, I would get to live in a dorm. I could make friends, and we'd hang out on Friday nights at my dorm with my little TV and my VCR/DVD player and get in popcorn fights and all that other fun stuff.
But I can't. Because I'm apparentally not smart enough to skip senior year. And the bell's going to ring, and I'm going to go to lunch and sit there while everyone else talks about their lives and how exciting/boring they are. And that's my life :-)

Since when did being an interior designer involve knowing the War of 1812 was fought between Canada and America?

It has come to my attention that something is very off in my life. Maybe the fact that I don't have one should've given me a clue. I have done nothing but history. How is that supposed to help with me getting into college? Sure, if I wanted to be a history major, then yea, this wouldn't be so bad. But I don't want to be that. I want to be an interior designer. I want to work with paint and building homes and finding furniture that matches the mood of the home and the people living in it. I want to drive down the street in some neighborhood and tell the person in the seat next to me, "Hey, I helped make that house!" not, "Oh, I can't believe they put that on the battle ground of that great battle from 1892, against Whosiwhatsit and Whatdoyacallem".
No.
Not gonna happen. So, in short, I'm going to drop AP U.S. history. It's not worth my time. I want to do more with my life. Like get a job. Work on the literary magazine. Have a life where I can hang out with friends and not worry about those two chapters I need to read in order to write that essay and take that test. I want to be creative, and I can't be creative in that class. Everyone's too serious in that class. No one really laughs at stupid things. No one there seems to understand that there's more to life than working towards getting into a UC school. I used to think that. It used to be my dream to go to UCLA. But you know what? I've always been aiming to be perfect. Maybe it's time for me, for everyone, to finally realize something: no matter how hard we try, no matter how many AP classes we take, no matter how many sports we play, friends we have, high-end colleges we get into, we'll never truly be perfect. Those that should be considered "perfect" are those people who finally realized that they're not "perfect" in the eyes of everyone. They're just perfect in the eyes of themselves.

If Life was a Musical, This is Where I'd Break Out in Song with a Flashback Sequence

No one said life was easy. No one said it wasn't fun either. So I'm procrastinating from another essay that my AP history teacher has assigned me to be due on Monday. But you know what? I have T.A. for World History 1 during 1st period, and then, lo and behold, AP U.S. History 2nd period! I get two hours of history in one shot, and then we learn about the history of architecture in Architectural Design (FINALLY done with the Frank Lloyd Wright powerpoint....if you don't know who that is, call me. I'll tell you his whole friggin' life story O_o) then the history of John Steinbeck in English, who I don't like to read, because he describes everything to death and then gives a storyline that has a rather sad ending and makes you feel gypped/jipped/however you spell it (NOTE: Californians, I KNOW you burned the Grapes of Wrath, so you put down those stones and back away slowly!)
And this is where my title comes in. I stand up after talking out loud what I'm typing in this blog, then everything goes black except for one spotlight, and I start to sing about the simpler days, and how history's supposed to help one learn from other's mistakes, but why did all the people in history have to do more stuff? Couldn't they just sit around like me and do basically nothing? Then there's the flashbacks of happier times...like, 10th grade, for example. But between Frank Lloyd Wright, John Steinbeck, World History, U.S. History, Bach (choir, we're singing a Bach song, and our teacher decides to enlighten us upon the history of Baroque works, like it's going to make us sound so much better :-P), and Anatomy, which I know isn't a history, but if you try getting up super early, run around, drive to school, and then be expected to come into a science room at 7:30 in the morning and look interested and joyful that you're cutting into a spleen, a liver, and learning about the skin for about an hour, you'd want it to be history too.
On a lighter note, I'm starting to post here again. It's relaxing to type at a million miles an hour and ramble. Keeps Dustin from having to hear all of it. BTW, in case no one reading this know who Dustin is, he's my new boyfriend. Yes, he is. I'm not making him up. I broke up with Brian, who said he took it well, but now I know that men are a bunch of liars who can't just express their feelings without feeling emasculated. *eye roll* are you allowed to do that? Is there a certain grace period where you can't date anyone after you break up with someone else? >_><_< Whatever, I apparently broke it :-D I know, I'm not nice. I usually am....but I get bitchy when I'm procrastinating. Or have no gum. Or both, which is what's happening right now.
Alright, that's enough for one rant. I need to do an essay anyway. And find some gum.

Oh boy :-D

Happy days just keep coming!!! So what if I'm in Chem 108 over the summer at DVC (diablo Valley College)? So what if I can't go to my cousin's wedding because of said classes? My very best friend in the whole wide world.....ok, so the whole stinkin' UNIVERSE has a boyfriend! His name is Ryan, I haven't seen a picture yet, but I'm sure he's adorable, and she's happy with him, so I'm happy with him, and we're all happy :-) I'm still with Brian, *happy dance* oops, sorry :-P. Anywho, Brian and I have gotten closer, *cough* but the details won't be divulged to the public, because it's personal to me and I'll only tell my closest friends. Sorry, but those who are reading this (if anyone's reading it.....*crickets* hello???) and aren't commenting are most likely not my best friends. So...there you have it! I'm going swimming at his house on Sunday, so here's hoping I look good in my suit ;-)
Btw, if Jonah ever reads this, that boy needs to call me. Once. Just once. In maybe, ten years, the way we're going.

A Reason for a Happy Dance

I have a boyfriend now. And he goes to my school. AND he's in the same grade as me! Oh, boy :-) His name's Brian, he has dirty blond hair and blue green eyes and he's so damn cute and sexxy and sweet and smart and sexy and funny and sexy and can get jealous but not too jealous and sexy and so nice to me and respectful of his parents and did I mention he's sexy? I've known him for about two years, and he drives me crazy and I like him SO much and I'm just about giddy when I think about me being able to call me his girlfriend and I can call him my boyfriend. *happy dance* Yep, that's it!

Continuation of No Title

"And there was much rejoicing....'Yay....'"- Monty Python and the Holy Grail

Chapter 4: Part II

I screamed, my eyes wide in fright. Out of nowhere, and with frightfully powerful speed, Tony lunged in front of me, and hit Rapheal soundly in the face. He fell back, his face imprinted with Tony's fist. He stood up, and shook his head, his face making a sick sucking sound as it formed back into place.
"Shit," groaned Tony, as he grabbed my wrist and ran.
Rapheal shot after us, and I yanked hard on a cabinet, sending a pale corpse straight in his path. It hit him, but he only slowed down a fraction. Tony grabbed a handful of hyperdermic needles, and threw them at Rapheal's face; he blocked them with his forearm, and roared again, his pale blue tongue, long and slimy, lolling out of his mouth. It reminded me of a snake, ready to wrap around us, and squeeze the very breath from our lungs.
We bolted across the parking lot, keeping out of the light. Tony hood-slid across my car as I tossed him the keys. The engine turned, but stalled. I reached into the back seat, and pulled out a two by four I was going to use in my apartment.
"What the hell are you going to do with that?!" screamed Tony.
I ignored him, and walked out underneath a parking lot light, waiting for Rapheal to appear.
"I'm not afraid of you!" I yelled, feeling less confident that I sounded. "You giant sack of rubbish!"
No one answered my cry. I searched my memory for anything to bring him to me. Finding it, I yelled into the night, "You were a crappy boyfriend and the worst lay I've ever had!!"
That made him come.
Rapheal came slowly out of the dark, his black eyes gleaming like onyx, his breathing uneven and heavy between his teeth. I held the two by four like a baseball bat, and swung hard.
Just as I expected, he jumped up, so I swung upward, hitting him right in the crotch. He squealed, and fell to the ground. Smiling, I knew he would be back up on his feet right about-now. He sprung to his feet, and grabbed the far end of the wood, He pulled upwards, in an attempt to throw me off balance. Luckily, I still remembered all the gymnastics I took when I was little. I quickly transferred my grip to the end of the wood, and pulled myself into a handstand. Rapheal stared up at me, then stepped back and let go of the wood. I felt myself drop, and pushed off, going into a flip, with my feet landing on top of Rapheal's skull. It cracked, and I heard a satisfying squish as it penetrated his demented brain.
Rolling down to the ground, I stood at the edge of the pool of light, watching Rapheal bleed, his blood a dark blue, unknown to this world. I walked over, and picked up the two by four, and stuffed it into Rapheal's gaping mouth. By reflex, he bit down and splintering it. Meanwhile, his skull was slowly coming back together. I grabbed one of the large splinters, and smilled as I looked Rapheal in the eyes.
"You know, you weren't that bad," I stabbed the wood into Rapheal's heart. "The only thing that bothered me was how you always had this obsession with my neck."
Rapheal stared at me with large eyes, and shrieked in a high pitch as his body slowly decayed to dust, blowing away in the wind.

Chapter 5

I sat in my bed, staring blankly at the wall, afraid to go to sleep, afraid to even turn off the lights. I leaned back against the headboard. My mind reeled with unanswered questions, each one's answer more elusive than the last. I sighed, and pulled off the covers. My feet hit the cold wooden floor, and I walked to my bathroom.
"Rapheal was at the morgue," I thought as I splashed my face with cold water, dried, and went back to bed. "After all this time, he came for me. Why? Why now?"
Slumping into my pillows, on the bed big enough for two, I once again went back to staring. And thinking.
"What did he want?"
"To kill you, duh," replied a nagging voice that sounded a lot like my own. Stupid consience.
"You know, I didn't ask for your opinion," I shot back.
"Hey, you never heard 'let you consience be your guide'?"
"Okay, Jiminy, answer me this: Why, after not seeing Rapheal for 12 years, in Australia would he travel all this way to see me, and to kill me?"
"Someone's trying to set you up," the voice echoed in my head.
"Really....yeah, who's going to go through all that trouble to set me up?"
The voice said nothing.
"Well then, goodnight!" I jumped at the sound of my own voice, echoing harshly off the walls of the room. Realizing I spoke aloud, and knowing that the neighbors will be staring at me, again, I flopped back on my bed. Turning off the lights, I checked underneath my pillow for my gun and wooden stake, just in case someone or something else decides to try and kill me tonight. As my eyes were closing, the digital clock beside my bed flipped to show the numbers 12:12.

"God, Nikki, it looks like you slept on a blcok of wood," was Tony's morning greeting.
"That's because I was sleeping on a black of wood," I said around my bite of muffin. "You think it was just an accident that Rapheal came back?"
"Because he wanted you dead?" he guess as he followed me into my office. I sat heavily down into my chair as I munched on the rest of my muffin.
"Besides that, Tony," I swallowed some orange juice as my computer hummed to life.
-->Ok, I'm done for the day. Or at least for right now :-)

Ma vie est tous beaucoup de francais et science recement. Je ne comprehende pas francais ou le science. Le chem fait moi veux a mourir moi......Ok, so that doesn't make a lot of sense, but it completely shows how hopeless I am at French, and if I wrote this in chemistry mumbo jumbo, I would have one sentence, and I would've copied it out of the book.....blegh. The two subjects I will probably never be going to use again in my life past this year is what's going to fail me and keep me from getting into my dream college. How ironic. Or sad. Whichever comes first :-P

Chapter 3: Part II and Chapter 4

"Yeah, and that metal bucket on wheels of yours is completely sensible," I shot back as I pulled out of the parking space, and zoomed out of the nearly empty parking lot. Streetlights flashed overhead, spilling light momentailrily on the interior of my car, illuminating Tony and my faces, quiet and thoughtful.
About twenty minutes later, we arrived at the morgue. I pulled into a parking space in the nearly empty lot except a couple cars, and looked at the square, white building. The windows were filled with light, and Tony groaned.
"What?" I pulled the car into park, and began to get out.
"You reminded me of something. I have to call my godfather," Tony got out.
I was laughing the whole way as we walked up the stairs, and through the glass and metal double doors.

Chapter 4

The reception desk was empty when we entered, so we walked into the back, trying to find someone. Well, someone alive, anyway.
"Hello?" I called as we walked slowly into the room, both of our noses twitching at the sickly, over-sanitized scent that lingered throughout the room.
"Anyone alive?" Tony said loudly, his voice amplified by the blindingly white linonoleum walls and mathcing floor tiles.
"SO not funny, Tony," I chided as we moved down a hall, and through another set of double doors.
The room we entered looked the same as the one before, with the same white walls and floor, the same rows of metal squares, all clearly marked, with sturdy looking handles, and the same sickening, overly-clean smell. The only difference was the figure of a small man at the other end of the room, his back to us. His body seemed to quiver, encased in a white lab coat.
"Hello?" we ventured slowly forward.
"Are you alright?" I asked the white lab coat, as the man's face was not seen. Nor, much of the man, for that matter. I began to walk towards him, when a small gasp was heard, and the tip of what seemed to be a very long knife, gleamed out of the back of the lab coat, shining despite its rather bloody journey.
"Holy-" the words shriveled up in my throat. Then, with a sick sucking sound, the dagger was slid out of the man, causing his blood to web through the fabric, creating what seemed to be a web fit for only the spiders of Hell.
The man fell back, at last showing his face, convulsed in terror and pain. But there was a glint in his eye, as if he hated what he saw. I raised my eyes in time to see a tall, lean man, with raven black hair that brushed his upperarms and pale face. He was squatted on the autopsy table, fully clothed and in a lab coat. He looked down at the fallen figure and smiled.
"See mate, sometimes you've just got to listen to me," he then grinned, flashing straight, white teeth, with incrediblely pointed caninces, and looked up at me. "I always get what I want."
Memories it me like a splash of cold water when I heard the Australian accent. I then knew who called me, and who has been watching me since I took Anna off that street.
"Ick! Is that sanitary?!" Tony's voice broke me from my train of thought. I glanced, and saw the man still on the autopsy table, very effectively licking the blood from the dagger, like a child with a lollipop.
"Rapheal," I smiled grimly. "It's been a while."
"Nikki," Rapheal grinned wider. "It's so nice to know that tonight, you die."
Still grinning, his skin seemed to melt away. His body became gray, and his black hair melted into his skull, leaving behind snowy white, long hairs, wispy and blowing in a wind I couldn't feel. Rapheal's face contorted, became wrinkled and scrunched up. His eyes became complete blackness, and a glint of madness flashed through them. His feet exploded from his shoes, showing long, grisly toes. His hands did likewise, and his nails became sharp and yellowed. The glistening fangs, still stained with blood, enlargened, becoming sharper, and more deadly.
Giving a roar that shook the very air in the air, Rapheal bolted off the autopsy table with amazing grace and agility, and flew at Tony and me, his hand aimed at my heart.
--> Mom says I have to go to bed, so I'm forced to leave you in suspense. Sorry!

Continuation of No Title

So, I'm back and ready to do this wonderful thing of copying my written words to the computer. Yay! Enjoy!

Chapter 2

"Ok, where is she?" I sidestepped a small puddle as I talked to a short, fat, and obviously nervous officer whose tag said McGee.
"She had a few bullets in that gun, but shot a tree, the ground, and the side of one of our squad cars. She dropped the gun, and is now sitting in the middle of the street."
I nodded, "Alright, I'll take care of it."
The officer's eyes widened in shock. I groaned inwardly. I know I looked younger than my twenty-nine years, despite my profession. But I always get incrediblely annoyed when someone thinks I'm just some kid trying to play with fire.
Stepping over the tape, I strode to where the girl was sitting. She had her knees to her chest, and her arms pulled so tightly around them her knuckles were shite. She rocked slightly, causing her plain, white cotton gown and dark hair, both damp from the storm, to sway slightly. I stooped down about five feet from her, facing her head on.
"Hey," I said softly. Her head jerked up, and through the matted ahir, I saw two large, dark, empty eyes staring back at me.
She stared at me, her eyes boring into mine. I looked back at her, and when I did, her eyes sparkled, and she began to laugh. I smiled, but it soon dropped from my face when her laughter became hysterical. I slowly approached her, slipping the tranquilizer gun out of the inside of my jacket. When I did, she stopped laughing.
"What's your name?" I asked quietly.
"Anna," her voice was small and squeaky, as if she was talking through a chokehold.
"Why were you laughing?"
Without warning, her face twisted up into a sneer, and she began to speak rapidly in a strange language.
"What the hell is that?!" McGee screamed in a high pitched voice. I shot him a look, and turned back to her. I glanced behind her, and saw the news crew that's been filming us the whole time.
"They are coming!" Anna's voice screeched. She began rocking faster. The dark, empty eyes rolled around and around, ending with only seeing the whites of her eyes. The wind roared up around us. I thought I heard myself scream, but I'm not sure. I struggled towards Anna, and shot the tranquilizer into her arm.
Anna's eyes came back, and her pupils shrunk. Clear blue contrasted the blackness that eclipsed it. Her breathing became ragged, her chest heaving against her knees. The wind stilled, and water from the puddles and the fallen leaves sprinkled down around us. Anna sighed, unclasped her hands, and fainted.
"Looks like the sedative kicked in," Tony came up beside me. "What was she saying before?"
"I don't know," I looked over at the cameras. "But I intend to find out."

My eyes burned, and I stared hard at the screen, hearing Anna speaking rapidly in that horrible language. I rubbed my eyes and sighed. It made no sense. What was that language? If only I knew-
"Romanian!" Tony burst through the stainless steel door, revealing the long, well-lit hallway that led from the front reception, and Tony's office.
"What?" I blinked and paused the tape.
"What Anna was saying. The language is Romanian."
"Do you know what she said?"
"No."
"Well then," I swiveled away from my metal desk and stood up. "Let's find someone who does."

Chapter 3

After wandering around, calling everyone we knew, and checking on Anna in her cell, Tony and I stood there, watching her sleep on the cot. The whole hall was lined with the same kind of thick metal doors. Beyond the hall to my right, was a high criss-crossed metal fence, with a door inside. I keypad opened and closed it. Beyond that was another hall, lined with more doors. This time, they're still metal, but thinner, and seemed much more inviting. My office was the closest. Beyond that was Tony's office, and our arsenary. This room was under lock and key, and only Tony and I knew where the key was.
"Look at her," Tony murmered. "She's sleeping like an angel."
"I wonder where she came from," I looked at Anna, who did look so peaceful.
"Nikki, that's not our job."
"I know."
"We're psycho ward field police."
"I know," my own voice sounded exasperated. "and we make about $15 grand each month."
"Because we're good at what we do," Tony finished for me.
"Still," I sighed and leaned against the door, looking through the window in the door.
Tony let it go, and also looked at her.
"Wait a minute," Tony swiped his card through the scanner, and the door creaked open.
"Wasn't her hair dark red before?" He leaned to Anna. "Now it's brown."
"Hmm," I touched her hair lightly. It was sticky. As I pulled my hand back, my eyes widened, and I gasped. My fingertips were stained a dark red. I knew immediantly it was blood.
"Oh, dear God," I fell back against the wall, and covered my mouth with my clean hand, as I tampered down the rising nausea within me.
"What's wrong?" Tony caught my head before I carelessly slammed against the wall as I slowly sank myself down to the ground.
"Get a medic," I said hoarsely, staring at my hand.

After two hours, Tony and I were standing in the medical wing, waiting for the test results. I shifted from one foor to the next, trying to get myself to calm down. Tony sensed my uneasiness.
"Nikki, they said she was fine," his arm dropped around my shoulders.
"Well, I still want to know what the blood is," I shook off his arm.
"Looked real to me."
"No shit," I grumbled. "They said it wasn't her blood. The DNA didn't match.
just then, a tall, lean man with a thin mustache strode through the white swinging doors, and into the overly-sanitized waiting room, stopping in front of us.
"Miss Arling? Mr. Ragatti?" our medic, Dr. Merriton nodded to both of us. I snorted hearing Tony's last name. All his childhood, Tony was nicknamed "Ragu" by the neighboring kids, until Bobby Chow said he was just like Ragu: stupid. tony's touchy about his intellligence, so he broke Bobby's nose. They were both ten at the time.
tony shot me his "don't-mess-with-me" look, and turned bakd to Dr. Merriton.
"We found a match in the blood's DNA," Dr. Merriton produced a folder and handed it to Tony. "You'll find him at the city morgue."
"And you said connections with the FBI would never come in handy, "I grinned at Tony as I plucked the folder from his hands. "Let's go see this guy."
"Nikki. He's dead."
"Have you no respect for the deceased? Honestly, your godfather would be ashamed."
"Ah, shut up."
I walked to the front of the building, grabbing my coat and car keys along the way. Tony followed suit, and we both got into my Mercedes-Benz.
"Why don't you get a sensible car?" Tony grumbled as he sank down into the seat.
Tell the rest later!

No Title Is Now on the Internet!!!!

Guess what's back....back again....this story's back...go tell a friend :-P When I was in middle school, about...oh....two years ago, I made this story in a journal that was meant to be for my friend Liz. I have decided to pick up the story where I left off, but now it's ONLINE!!!!! So I'll be able to keep my cross country buddies up to date AND still get to write, which for me, gives me more creative flow then typing. So, I'm proud to present: Chapter One and Two of what I called: No Title!!! Seriously, there's no title...any suggestions? Comment me back.

Chapter One

I take care of the disturbed. It's my job, really. I've seen them all. The depressed, the angry, the ones that think they're the oddest things. One patient thought he was a pineapple. But I remember Anna clearly. That's because she was different. She nearly got me killed.
Yawning widely, I rolled one eye over to my computer screen. The screen saver danced around, and I watched it with interest, since it was more exciting than what I was doing. Which was nothing.
"Hey, don't fall asleep," a voice came from the doorway. I swiveled around in my chair, and grinned at the dark haired Italian leaning against the door frame. Tony grinned back, his brown eyes sparkling.
"If I fell asleep," I replied coyly. "What would you do about it?"
"I'd have to spank you."
I laughed at his reply. Being two years my senior, Tony always wanted to take care of me. Or have sex with me. I have no idea why he had this sexual attraction to me, since he knew me when I was five, running around in a plaid jumper, and screaming "I'm a birdie!" repeatedly.
"Don't worry Tony," I stretched over the back of my chair. "I'll stay awake."
"Good," he replied. He crossed to my computer, and tapped the mouse, scattering the screen saver and saw what I was doing earlier.
"God Nikki," he said in mock disgust. "Don't you have anything better to do?"
"Hey, Solitaire is a very challanging game," I argued.
"Well, if one of the patients goes nuts, you better not be playing this."
"Yes sir," I fake saluted.
"Remind me to fire you."
I saluted again, this time standing up at attention. Tony laughed and pulled me close to him. His lips were a fraction from mine when the phone rang on my desk.
"We'll continue this later," I whispered to him as I pulled away.
"Hello?"
"Ms. Arling?" the voice on the other end sounded frantic.
"This is she."
"We need you down at Main St."
"What's wrong?"
"A young girl is wandering around, and she has a gun."

"Where are you going?" Tony inquired as I began to pack tranquilizers into my stout gun. I also began loading a small calibur with blank bullets.
"Those are blanks, right?"
"Of course. I know the rules. 'Never hurt the patient'."
"Good, now answer the first question."
"Main St. A girl's wandering in the road with a gun."
"Jesus Christ," Tony grabbed his jacket and the calibur.
"Where do you think you're going?" I grabbed my own jacket.
"With you," was his only reply.
"What if one of the patients goes nuts?" I asked teasingly.
"One, they're already nuts, two, I'm the boss, I have to go, and three," Tony pulled the handle next to my computer screen. "the security system's on. Nothing can get past it."
"Whatever," I turned out the lights and walked out of my office.
"Don't you 'whatever' me," Tony snapped as he locked the door behind him and pocketed the key.
"Fine, whatever," I threw a look over my shoulder to show I was kidding, and we went down the elevator to the garage.
"I can't believe I let you talk to me like that," Tony grumbled as he slid behind the wheel of his battered pick-up.
"Because I know when to not let your ego outgrow your head," I snapped my seatbelt, and grabbed my phone as it started to ring.
"Hello?"
Nothing.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Nikki," the voice on the other end was low and raspy.
"Who is this?" Tony glanced over at me, hearing the tension in my voice. I locked eyes with him and gave him a "I-don't-know" shrug.
"You don't remember me? Well, you soon will."
"What are you talk-" I stopped myself. The connection was dead.
And there's Chapter One. Chapter Two will come when my sister will one day let the computer open this week, and I odn't have a bunch of stuff to do :-)

My Best Friend's being run over

My best friend Lauren is being run over by some egotistical bitch who's causing her brother to borrow money from her, and they both suck, and they CLAIM they're in love, but it's SO BAD!!! It makes me so mad!!!!! Why did the family open up their home to her? WHY?!?!?!?!? Holy son of a-....it just makes me so mad! They're both so immature, and it just ticks me off. And get this: the girlfriend is pregnant. And it's not even his! Why are they doing this? What is wrong with him??? He's such a cocky asshole! And when he falls, he falls hard, and then they don't give a shit because they're too wrapped up with their own problems and they don't see how he's just messed up.....gaaaahhh......

blah

My life's so complicated at the moment. I have people who I can't trust, men who seem to want me, but can't tell me that. Me wanting men who are too brainless to notice....gah!

Yes, it's PINK!!!

The last blog I had wasn't a very good blog. In fact, I didn't post on it very much, which is sad. Actually, it's not sad that I didn't post on it enough, it's sad that no one read it, and that I basicaly had nothing to say. But I'll see what I can do with this one. Yes, I'm short. And asian. But not fully asian, but more like half. The other half is European, where there's too many to list, and I don't plan on boring you. But, sadly, I have to read about 30 pages of Daoism, a religion that I'm not a part of and don't really take an interest in (sorry to those who are that religion) but only because it's for an english project that we could possibly not get done, and I'll be at the computer at 1 in the morning wondering why I'm sitting here and typing about Lao-zi, just like probably a Daoist would wonder why they're typing about Jesus for their school project. I would love to meet that person. We could make both of our lives easier by typing each other's paper. Well, that's cheating, but still, I think it's a grand idea.
I do have friends, just not ones that are Daoist. They come in all shapes and sizes. Like......fruit. There are friends of mine that are smart, genius, not so smart, and there's a certain person who can't even tell what number each month is (news flash: August is the 8th month. Try to memorize that and talk to me tomorrow if you're suffering anymore). I like fruit. I also like to ramble about nothing particular. Not because I don't have anything to say that's deep or thought-provoking, it's just that I can never end a post properly, thus giving the illusion that I'm thinking a great deal and typing on some long and boring scale. Which I'm not. It's just what I do. If you want to, I think you can comment on this....oh, wait, no, not until later, when I put it in. Oops. But no worries, you'll hear about my life, and whenever you read it, I hope you get at least a good laugh. Or a chuckle. Ok, so a smirk will suffice.