Thursday, November 18, 2010


I haven't forgotten about your drawing!
I promise!

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

I'm nice to you. That doesn't mean I want your dick.

And/or vagina.

I'm nice to E-V-E-R-Y-O-N-E. Literally, everyone.I see someone new, I smile at them. I say hi to every person I meet, and every customer that comes to my register at work. I laugh at your terrible jokes, and I don't put you down. I'm a nice person, regardless of your age, gender, or race.

APPARENTLY, this all means that I'm flirting with everyone, all day every day. A 40+ year old man tried to kiss me the last week because he thought we had a thing. A girl asked a friend of mine if I'm gay because she thought I was hitting on her. A guy I know will not leave me the fuck alone, because he loves me and is POSITIVE the feeling is mutual, even though he's been in the same committed relationship for four years.

I think that a genuine smile can really make someone's day. Apparently, my genuine smiles only serve to make your dick hard.

Saturday, July 24, 2010

Today, just across the street from me, a man stabbed his girlfriend in the chest.

All I know is that the police finally caught up with the guy after he ran. I have no clue as to the girl’s condition, though, and I wish I did. 
I was working when it happened, and after the police and ambulances arrived, I had to go outside to get ice. I heard someone scream, in some kind of pain. At the time I didn’t know what had really happened, but now I realize it was probably that poor girl yelling. Never before have I wanted to help someone so badly, but there was absolutely nothing I could have done. I went back inside and hoped for the best.
The most disgusting part was how jaded everyone seemed to be by it. Customers would ask what had happened, and I would tell them. They would say “Wow” or something of the like, crack a joke such as “What is this, NYC?”, gather their things and leave. Even the kids, who for some reason were allowed to run around alone at 10pm, were strangely okay with the fact that there was an active crime scene across the street. A girl of about seven initially informed of what had happened. I commented on the police sirens and she calmly stated, “Oh yeah, someone got stabbed”, shrugged, and then left.
My drive to work for law enforcement has never been this strong. I never again want to be so near a tragedy like that and be completely helpless.
I have no idea how the girl is. I don’t know if she died at the scene, at the hospital, or if she’s still alive. 
All of this happened in a city I had previously felt safe in. I often work late and was never afraid to walk alone to my car. Hell, I sometimes took walks for a few blocks before I drove home. I think it’s safe to say that my attitude toward Johnstown has completely changed, even if only temporarily.

I don't know this girl. I don't know her name, what she looks like, who her family is. I'm not terribly religious. But I will pray for her. I will pray to whatever god she may happen to believe in, to the god that I believe in, and whatever else could have some impact on her. I don't know if it will do any good, but it's the only thing I can do. I hope for the best, for her and her family and friends.

Monday, July 19, 2010

In which souls are bared.

Ever since I finally landed my first real job, I’ve met so many amazing people. Some are customers, some are coworkers, some are superiors. Some I really look up to. Today, one of my favorite people to work with, a girl who is very happy, upbeat and incredibly smart, reached in front of me at the milkshake machine. I glanced down and did an almost literal double-take. Her left arm, inches from my nose, was littered with long, straight scars. Scars from razors. Scars from self inflicted pain.
Scars from cutting.
I was stunned. As I started walking away, I really began to think. This girl is an amazing person. She’s independent, works two very well paying jobs, leads an all-around healthy lifestyle, and inspires me on a daily basis. Judging by how faded the scars were, she has long moved on from her days of self-harm. Even so, the whole situation struck me.
I suffer from depression. While I have never hurt myself or those around me in any physical way, that doesn’t mean my condition is any less serious than someone’s who has done these things. Seeing those long-faded cuts on such a young and vibrant girl really hit home. As someone that struggles almost daily to build up the will to get out of bed and carry on my day as a functioning member of society, I know what it is like to be trapped with your own, not-always-so-pleasant thoughts. I know depression, I know sadness, and I know pain. I know how hard it all can be.
This is a post. A post commemorating the struggle my friend overcame. A post confessing things about myself that I have never said out loud. A post to let you know that everything will turn out right. You will overcome. It may seem hopeless, pointless, scary, or just plain horrible, but it will get better. The clouds will clear, the sun will shine, and the birds will sing. You will smile again, you will laugh again. There are people out there that love and care about you. I know that these words may seem like just that: pointless words. But I promise you, they are much, much more. They come from experience, first and second-hand. These words are here to spur you forward, to help you help yourself. These words aren’t trying to downplay what you may be going through. The reason for these words is a simple one: to help.
So please. If you are thinking about hurting yourself or others, stop. Pick up the phone and call someone you love, someone you hate, someone you don’t even know. There is help out there, even in places you least expect to find it. There is love, waiting for you to let it into your life. Stop. Breathe. Think.
There is always hope.

Sunday, July 4, 2010

This is a post about some things.

I'm bad at Blogger.
Like, REALLY bad.
You all always comment me and give me love, and I'm terrible at returning the favor. I love all of you, you're amazing people. I just am really bad at keeping up with everything. I do try to read every post you all make, but holy poops does it get overwhelming. I'm a very busy girl almost every day of my life, and Blogger has been rather rudely shoved aside.
Basically, the whole point of this post is a.) to apologize for my suckishness, and b.) to tell you how much you all rock. You're talented writers, photographers, artists, etc, and I appreciate the work it takes to do all of those things. I know that every post, drawing, painting, photo, EVERYTHING, takes time and effort, and every one of you throws yourselves into these things entirely. You're amazing.

I'm not trying to make excuses for why I don't comment a lot. I'm not trying to make you feel sorry for me. I'm not trying to fish for compliments. I'm trying to let you all know that you're absolutely incredible people.

Love and Cheez-Its,

Friday, July 2, 2010

"It’s football to you, soccer to me."

 Full article is here, but this is the best part:

Coupled with their team’s humiliating exit from the World Cup it might be another rude awakening to the Brits that soccer isn’t an American term, it is actually an English one. And it isn’t some modern fad that shows disrespect to the world’s most popular sport, it dates back to the earliest days of the game’s professional history.
Indeed, until the last few decades, even Englishmen would routinely refer to their favorite pastime as soccer, just as often as they would say football.
Clive Toye, an Englishman who moved to the U.S. and became known as the father of modern American soccer, bringing Brazilian legend Pele to play for the New York Cosmos, takes up the story.
“Soccer is a synonym for football,” said Toye, who helped launch the North American Soccer League in the late 1960s. “And it has been used as such for more years than I can count. When I was a kid in England and grabbed a ball to go out and play … I would just as easily have said: ‘Let’s have a game of soccer’ as I would use the word ‘football’ instead. And I didn’t start it.”
To trace the origin of “soccer” we must go all the way back to 1863, and a meeting of gentlemen at a London pub, who congregated with the purpose of standardizing the rules of “football,” which was in its infant years as an organized sport but was growing rapidly in popularity.
Those assembled became the founding members of the Football Association (which still oversees the game in England to this day). And they decided to call their code Association Football, to differentiate it from Rugby Football.
A quirk of British culture is the permanent need to familiarize names by shortening them. “My friend Brian Johnston was Johnners,” said Toye. “They took the third, fourth and fifth letters of Association and called it SOCcer. So there you are.”
So forget that English condescension and carry on calling it soccer, safe in the knowledge that you’re more in tune with the roots of the sport than those mocking Brits.
 What, bitch.

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

I have like no friends.

Which is lame.

Sunday, June 27, 2010

Characters (and real people) I might possibly share a personality type with.

I'm an INFP, and after a bit of research (read: Google), I've determined that these characters are also INFPs. Which actually makes a LOT of sense now that I think about it, because every name on this list represents someone I've really felt a connection with, especially the fictional characters. Many of them come from my favorite books or movies, and most were my favorite characters in those stories.
  • Frodo
  • Don Quixote
  • Todd Anderson from Dead Poet’s Society
  • Abraham Lincoln
  • Marty McFly
  • The Scarecrow
  • Luke Skywalker
  • Pink from The Wall
  • Alice from Alice in Wonderland
  • Nicole from Cycle 13 of ANTM
  • Willy Wonka
  • Kiki from Kiki’s Delivery Service
  • J.R.R. Tolkien
  • Luna Lovegood
  • Remus Lupin
  • Matthew Gray Gubler
  • Holden Caulfield
  • Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes
  • Tommy Pickles.
  • Rocko from Rocko’s Modern Life
  • Bran Stark from A Song of Ice and Fire
  • Charles Wallace Murray from A Wrinkle in Time
  • Doug Funnie
  • William Shakespeare.
  • Winston Smith from 1984
  • Juliet and Romeo
  • JD from Scrubs
  • Link from The Legend of Zelda
  • Josie Geller from Never Been Kissed
  • Ofelia from Pan’s Labyrinth
What MBTI type are you? I'm curious to find out. :3

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Ten Things.

My fellow Blogger Nicki recently posted this on her blog over at Kaleidoscope Thrills, and I definitely wanted to do it.  She makes several good points about the lack of self love in the world, so I'm going to love my inner and outer self for the next few bullets. =]

"Inner 5"
1) I'm intelligent, and about a lot of different things.  I have the grades, in both high school and college, to back up that claim.  I know about things from cars and computers to animals and people.  I also have the life experience to say that I'm about as street smart as a girl from a small country town can be.
2) I'm well spoken and well written, which I believe comes from being well read.  I can hold my own in an interview or debate, and I am almost always able to back up my opinion with solid arguments and facts.  That being said, I also know when I've been beaten, and when I should step down.  Interviewers and new acquaintances often compliment me on how well I am able to express myself.
3) I have a great sense of humor.  I love to laugh, and I love to make people laugh.  I've often been told that I'm funny, and I humbly agree. =P
4)  I'm musical.  I play multiple instruments, and I'm learning more every day.  I love to sing, and I think I'm fairly good at it.  I listen to a wide variety of music, and I feel that doing so really broadens my horizons. 
5) I'm nice.  To everyone.  Unless you've given me a valid reason to dislike you, I am kind.  I go out of my way to help people, and I'm always polite.  I think that has a lot to do with how I was brought up.

"Outer 5"
1) I absolutely love my height.  Being five feet tall is fantastic.  In an odd sort of way, it helps me stand out.
2) I have nice lips, which is strange for me to say, as lips aren't something I generally notice.  However, several people on several separate occasions have complimented them, and I've come to notice that they kind of rock. =P
3) I also get regular compliments on my legs (butt included ;P ), which is rare for a girl of my stature.  Nonetheless, they're proportioned well to the rest of my figure, and I know what kinds of shorts and pants to wear to show them off.
4) I love having small feet.  Most things about me are rather petite, and my feet are no exception.  They're of such a shape and size that I can wear both girl's/women's AND boy's/men's shoes comfortably, which really fits in with my life style.  I can seamlessly switch between a size 5.5 pair of heels into a men's size 4 pair skate shoes.  I love it.
5) My long hair is a big part of who I am.  I've only cut it short twice in my life, and while it was okay, I was eager for it to grow back each time.  So many women and girls have short hair these days, and having hair that hangs almost to my waist helps to set me apart. (That being said, I'm cutting it off and donating it this summer. =X )

What do you love about yourself?  I'd love to know.  Post your ten in the comments, or leave me a link. =]

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

I modeled today!

Ohmygosh, it was totally fun.
I got a CD of the pictures unedited, and he's mailing me the snazzied-up ones later.
My favorite of the day, that I couldn't resist makin' pretty:

Like I said. Super fun.

Saturday, April 24, 2010


"Go after her, fuck, don't sit there and wait for her to call, go after her because that's what you should do if you love someone, don't wait for them to give you a sign 'cause it might never come, don't let people happen to you, don't let me happen to you, or her, she's not a fucking television show or tornado. there are people i might have loved had they gotten on the airplane or run down the street after me or called me up drunk at four in the morning because they need to tell me right now and because they cannot regret this and i always thought i'd be the only one doing crazy things for people who would never give enough of a fuck to do it back or to act like idiots or be entirely vulnerable and honest and making someone fall in love with you is easy and flying 3000 miles on four days notice because you can't just sit there and do nothing and breathe into telephones is not everyone's idea of love but it is the way i can recognize it because that is what i do. go scream it and be with her in meaningful ways because that is beautiful and that is generous and that is what loving someone is, that is raw and that is unguarded, and that is all that is worth anything, really."

Monday, April 12, 2010


are we talking about Rent right now? I hate it.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010


I have to write a story, in one of three genres: detective fiction, horror, or science fiction.
I can't even think of a topic.

Monday, March 29, 2010

My Adventures in Drving!

So, I got a flat tire on Saturday. I'm not sure HOW I have such terrible luck with cars, I just know that I do.
Since I started school in September, I've been on the side (or off) of the road five times. Five! In like six months!
This first time was on my first day of school. I'm drivin' through town, and HOLY SHIT WHAT IS THAT SOUND? It sounded like my muffler was dragging behind the car. So I pulled over, got out, and oh hey, my muffler was dragging behind the car. So, me and my mommy (because, mind, I only had my permit at this point) spent about half an hour trying to get the muffler the REST of the way off. Which was fun. And I was late to my first ever college class.
The second time, I do believe, was when I was on the way to the mall with my good buddy Tai, and I hit a drift of snow and spun into a field (Yes, a field. This is the country. There are a lot of them). And because the bank was so steep, we had to get towed out by this teeny little Jeep thing that belonged to a friend of my dad's. But until he got there, we sat in the middle of some dude's field in  about 20 degree weather for half an hour, cheerfully waving on the seventeen people that stopped to help.
Incident number three I mentioned a few posts ago; My fuel pump shit the bed and I hung out with Zeb's grandparents for a while.
The fourth time was the first one that was completely and utterly my fault. On my way to college one day, I ran out of gas smack-dab in the middle of a total dead zone. After sitting in the car for around fifteen minutes, sizing up the two houses I was closest to, trying to decide which was less creepy (because, let's face it, when you're a nineteen year old girl in the middle of nowhere, with no cell phone or car, EVERYTHING is creepy), I finally chose the creepier of the two because it was closest, and there was actually a car in the driveway. Plus, it was raining. Who wants to walk in the rain? Not me. It turned out that the guy that lived there was totally cool, and his dog was so adorable. I called my parents and waited there until someone came to my rescue. I'm totally making that dude a cake. He rocked.
Aaaaand number five happened Saturday. I was drivin' along, headin' home from dance class (shut up) with my cousin Sam, when the sound coming from the open sun roof changed abruptly from the regular ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff sound that you hear when the windows are down to an unfamiliar, roaring  BUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. So Sam and I proceeded to assume the worst and pulled over. We both got out, and I checked out the tires on my side. Just as I was breathing a sigh of relief because they were both completely intact, Sam let out an "Ooooooh boy" from the other side of the car. The back right tire was totally flat, with a puncture in the side wall. If there had been a jack in the car, I could have changed it, but as it was I had to call my dad, and he had to borrow a jack and then come help us.
So yeah. Good fuckin' times, man.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

My Bucket List.

I know this is probably hardcore bandwagon jumping, but I used to put up my list.
Check that shit out, and tell me what you think. What should I add? Do you have a bucket list? GET AT ME

Friday, March 12, 2010

How many times can I use the word Stop?

Stop hating me. I haven't done anything wrong.
Stop judging me. You've got no right.
Stop being bitchy. It's not attractive.
Stop talking shit. I WILL find out.
Stop being fucking stupid. Okay?
Just... stop. Stop.

Thursday, March 4, 2010

Well then.

4chan makes me worry about the future of society.

That is all.

Sunday, February 28, 2010


I think that I am in possession of an original Nintendo game called Stadium Events.  If that name doesn't mean anything to you, it should, because it's worth approximately 13 thousand dollars.
The scavenger hunt begins.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

I live in the Twilight Zone.

So, this morning, I'm drivin' along with like half a tank of gas, on my merry way to my first and only class of the day.  ALL OF A SUDDEN, my car just starts inexplicably decelerating.  All by itself!  And I'm like UUUHHHHHH WHAT?  I could not speed up, so I pulled over as much as I could before it died completely.  I just sat there in disbelief, staring at the dashboard of this silver Audi that I actually had come to like.  The engine wouldn't turn over, and I was totally baffled. But luckily!  I just so happened to break down right down the road from my ex-boyfriend Zeb's grandparents house!  So, I turned my four-ways on, grabbed my bag, and walked there, cursing the world and swearing the whole way (Ex: "YEAH LET'S GO FOR A FUCKING WALK ::mumble mumble::").  I went inside and said hi and called my dad.  While I waited for him to come, I hung out and caught up with Zeb's grandparents, which was cool.

So my dad finally gets there, and we go to the car, and he explains that it seems like there is a problem with the fuel line or something?  Well anyway, SOMETHING made the car think it was out of gas, when in reality it wasn't.  So after fucking with the car and poking things ant hitting things, we have to push it off the road further, because it had died before I could properly pull over.  So we pull at this tank of a car for like five minutes until it's finally off the road quite a bit, and then we hop in the Jeep my dad came in and drive away.

Skip ahead about an hour: I'm driving the Jeep back to my house, while Dad and his cousin Dave are going to look at the Audi.  So, I pull in my driveway, and as I pull in, I notice mail in the mailbox.  So, being the nice guy (note: I am not a guy) that I am, I throw the Jeep into park and get out and grab the mail.  There's this big package that says something like "For strong moms!" on it, and a bunch of other stuff addressed to my mom.  So I grab all this and climb back into the Jeep, put it in drive and go to pull forward and park.  Except the Jeep won't move.  It seemed like it was stuck.  So I put it in 4 Wheel Drive, but that didn't make any difference.  I get out with every intention of digging out the tires so it can go, but the tires aren't stuck, or sunk in, or anything.  SO, I get back in, once again baffled, and decided to try reverse instead.  Okay, I can back up, hooray!  Let's try drive again. OH NOW IT WORKS.  So I pull in, and park, and lug my ass and the mail inside.

So, this box that says Strong Moms or whatever? Yeah, it's addressed to my 15 year old sister, and it's got two huge tins of formula inside.  Taylor's been getting all this weird, inexplicable mail about becoming a Teen Mom (which, you know... she ISN'T), and I feel like it's all peaked at this moment.  I think it's hilarious, but my mom is totally freaking out.

All this before noon.  Oh boy.

/end incoherent blog post.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

Emo Kid Post Ahead.

I'm in a bad fucking mood.

I'm really sick of being betrayed by people I loved and/or cared about.  Best friends aren't supposed to lie, and boyfriends don't break up with you for no legitimate reason and then go fuck around with a fourteen year old. So here we go.

You're my friends (or were) and I really enjoyed spending time with you. Apparently, the feeling wasn't mutual. Have a nice life.

I LOVED you. LOVE. This is not a word I take lightly. You were amazing, and perfect. What the hell happened? Is drastically changing your personality so you turn into a huge douchebag asshole the cool new thing? Because it sucks. You're supposed to be an adult. Meaning, you're supposed to take responsibility for your actions. You can't just assume things are getting mucky and then fucking run away. Most SANE people try to work things out before letting everything go to shit. But apparently you're a fucking idiot. How many girls have you fucked over? How many people have fallen for your bullshit? It's a shame that you're just going to keep tearing through unsuspecting girls, breaking their fucking hearts, all while looking for your definition of love. What we had was love, sweetie, whether you want to admit it or not. Just because we're not together anymore doesn't mean we never happened. But to you, I'm just another failed fling. And to me, you're just another let down.

Don't lie to me, because I WILL find out.  Don't just cut me from your life, because I will DEMAND a reason. And Don't. Talk. Shit. Because I will fucking destroy you.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

I have a Bucket List.

I'm debating posting it up here, just because I like to hear and see other people's opinions about it.
I'm hesitant though, because some of them are pretty personal.
This is a pointless blog.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

"You came to OUR country, you learn OUR language"? Suck my balls.

The ignorance of the people in this country astounds me. If you REALLY have the mentality that people that come here need to learn English, you’re WRONG. Don’t even try to defend the point, because there’s no way you can justify it. If you’re going to force people to learn America’s “native language”, try some Cherokee on for size.

Here's a Facebook group against the close-minded jerks.
Show it some love.

Monday, February 15, 2010

Got myself a Tumblr!

Seems more appropriate than Blogger for my inane ramblings and postings. Don't worry, though, Blogger won't be neglected by any means.  Hit me up.

Monday, February 8, 2010

Oh dear.

I had a pretty emo kid blog lined up for today, but recent events in my life have turned that around.

I’ve met some fantastic people, for once.  And they don’t really seem like they hate me, which is cool.    And, even though this is very unlike me, I seem to have developed the teeniest bit of a crush. =3

Weird, yeah?  I mean, I’m pretty thrown.  I’m not sure how to go about handling this. This isn’t something that happens to me.  I mean, I barely know the kid, but I feel strangely drawn to him.  I really think we’ve been hitting it off pretty well, but maybe I’m wrong.  And anyway, I think he’s already involved with someone.  But, that doesn’t matter, right?  Because this is just me being marginally stupid.

He’s pretty cute, though.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

In which I muse.

My Bio professor is an Evolutionist.  Which is cool, I guess, because learning about new things is fascinating to me.  But there are some holes in the evolutionary theory, and I may only be a 19 year old kid, but they seem like gaping holes to me.  In the second day of class, he handed out a chart of organism development over the past bazillion years, and at one point, called the Cambrian Explosion, all of a sudden, land animals appear!  Well, okay, but why?  He didn’t seem to have a straight answer for me.

Among others, this is the main reason I find Evolution such a sketchy theory: the idea of adaptations.  For example, the whole ‘Monkeys-into-People’ idea.  Well alright, sure, monkeys stood up, lost some hair, grew some smarts, and got called Humans.  Well I have a few problems with that.  This is how I look at it – If I have a big, ugly nose and I’m not happy with it, I’ll get a nose job and then I look cute (this is hypothetical, of course.  I’m not one for cosmetic surgery).   So now I’ve got this great nose and I’m totally hot, I marry some cutie and we have kids.  HOWEVER, no matter what I’ve done to my body, my children will have my former big, ugly nose.  Because no matter how I change my physical appearance, my DNA and genes and all that shit stay the same. 

So how, exactly, does evolution work?  If one monkey decided he wanted to stand up straight and walk around on two legs and lose some hair, good for him.  But when he finds a nice lady monkey and they have nice monkey babies, those monkey babies are going to be just that: Monkeys.  No matter what Daddy did to his body, his genes stayed the same, and THAT is what gets passed to monkey babies. 

SO, in semi-conclusion, unless organisms figured out a way to change their genetic make-up, Evolution doesn’t make sense.  But maybe that’s the point: those things DID figure out a way to change their DNA and stuff.  But if that’s the case, maybe that should be the first thing an Evolutionist Bio professor teaches.  And then his students would spend their time in class writing about all the reasons they’re confused.

So all in all, these are the musings of a 19 year old, first-year college student.  Cut me some slack.

Monday, February 1, 2010

Oh, today.

I had a dream about that boy again last night.  He didn’t talk, or really do anything at all. But he was there.  And I still don’t remember what he looked like. XD

The dream he was in was so weird, I think it carried over into my day.  I’ve been so rushed in everything that I haven’t had a chance to eat, but I’m not even close to hungry.  Kinda thirsty, though.  Bio class was actually enjoyable, and Step Aerobics was actually hard work.  In Modern Drama we watched a movie like we’re in fucking junior high, which was really amusing.  And then on my hour break, I hung out with Ann-Marie and her amigos that I didn’t know.  I couldn’t really tell if they liked me or not, but I had fun, and they’re a pretty cool bunch.  Although sometimes, the facts in my head get bored and like to take a walk in my mouth, so when Daniel sneezed, I for some reason blurted out “A SNEEZE IS AN EIGHTH OF AN ORGASM”. 


At least he laughed.

Sunday, January 31, 2010


Have I mentioned how much I hate mainstream music?  Because I fucking hate mainstream music.

Saturday, January 30, 2010

This is pointless.

But I'll post it anyway.  I wrote all this in a class yesterday.

Okay.  Bored in class.  There are like twelve new people so the professor is going over the syllabus AGAIN.  So Blogger is what I turn to.  I’m pathetic, aren’t I? 

He just used me as an example of an attentive student.  How amusing. 

I get the feeling a lot of blogs are going to be written in this class.  It seems super tedious.  The first test is going to have three fucking essays on it.  I’m thinking about taking a page out of TFLN’s book and just drawing pictures of cats. 

I’m a little sad that I missed auditions for this semester’s play.  It’s a musical and I really wanted to try out, but they were months ago.  D=

I’m fucking exhausted.  It’s a little ridiculous.  I want to go home and sleep, but I know when I get there I’ll just sit down and play Mass Effect.  Which is cool!  But I should really sleep.  Although, it IS the weekend…

Now we’re talking about Avatar?  Maybe I should start paying attention.  Although, almost everyone else appears to be a fucking idiot in here, so maybe I should keep zoning out.  I feel like I’ll lose brain cells if I listen to these people ask any more questions.

I feel bad, though.  I like this professor, but the people in here, god DAMN they are annoying.  

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

God I hope not.

Most people have recurring dreams - I have recurring characters.  One, to be specific.  I'm not sure that it is someone I know in RL.
Maybe's he's not even a real person.

But he's in so many of my dreams.  Or, he used to be.  I haven't dreamt* about him in a long time; I've nearly forgotten what he looks like.  All I can seem to pull up from the dregs of my memory is that he had blonde hair.
I think.

His name... Now that I think about it, I'm not sure he even HAD a name.  But for some reason, 'A' is coming to mind.
Or maybe it's a letter that looks a bit like an A: M, N, V, W.  I can't seem to pull any details together.

But I think if I saw him, I'd know.

Maybe I haven't dreamt about him in so long because I met him.  Maybe he was Nick.  How disappointing.

*Did you know that 'dreamt' is the only word in the English language that ends in 'mt'? Bad ass.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

I've been writing a lot lately.

Every night before I go to bed, I've been grabbing a notebook and just writing paragraph upon paragraph of my thoughts.  I want to post them, but most are pretty personal, and some are even confidential.
I'll probably put up a couple of the less revealing ones. =P

Monday, January 18, 2010


For some reason, my Tweets on the right there are super messed up.

Found out something fuckin' crazy yesterday.  I'll talk more about it when it's out in the open.  =O

Sunday, January 17, 2010

Hourly comics!

I did a practice run of Hourly Comic Day.
I didn't actually try, and I only did a few hours. But here you go!

Also, I usually draw a lot better than this, but as I said, I didn't try. =P

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Holy poop.

It's been ages since I've posted, sorry to anyone that might actually read this.
I've been writing a lot lately, but with pen and paper rather than a keyboard.  It's actually really personal, so I doubt I'll put it up.  Again, sorraaaaay.
I have been having weird-ass dreams!  Like, I'm pretty sure I got raped in one the other night, and I was definitely a wolf in one I had last night.  Shit's weird.

I'm really going to try to start updating regularly again. =]