Okay, I'm gonna double post really quick.
My friend Julianne is in New York City right now.
The state of my queen, Kate Berthold McKinnon.
AKA, Kate McKinnon.
I've instructed to Julianne to mention me or FaceTime me if she gets to meet her, and I'll pay her/give her whatever is left of my soul if she does so.
Do you want to know what I would do if Kate McKinnon read my blog? I would cry. Not because, you know, "Christ, there's a celebrity reading my personal blog!" But because "Christ Kate Freaking McKinnon reads my personal blog."
If I had known Julianne was going to New York sooner, I would have sent her with a ring and matrimony papers.
Jk I wouldn't do that. But if she met me and she wanted to marry me, I would jump at it. Unless she was like, secretly a terrible person. From what I can tell though, she seems like a sweet little bean. Apparently her voice is super freaking quiet and she's like, as big as your pinky finger. I want to hug her and like, put her in my pocket. Even though I'm probably shorter than she is. I'm shorter than most people.
Okay, I think I'm gonna sleep now.
Cheers? Yes, cheers, because I want to meet my queen.
Saturday, August 27, 2016
Why Mind, Why
Our minds are a weird thing.
Mine wanted to think about Dicey today. I did a decent job of ignoring it, but I can only put something off for so long.
It'll be four years this December. I only got to know him for about half a year.
I learned a lot from him, but one of the bigger lessons I learned was that time doesn't validate a friendship or partnership. You could be friends with someone for 20 years and be closer to someone you met yesterday. It's all just a matter of compatibility.
I'd like to think Dicey and I were a perfect match. I took him for granted sometimes, but I loved him more than I thought I did. You don't realize it until it's too late, though. Maybe you're supposed to learn something out of that.
But yeah. I miss him. More than I thought I could.
I think that's all for the day. I'm sitting in the dark of my room, illuminated lightly by my string-up lights and the occasional flash of lightening.
I'd like to think it's from him.
Cheers.
Mine wanted to think about Dicey today. I did a decent job of ignoring it, but I can only put something off for so long.
It'll be four years this December. I only got to know him for about half a year.
I learned a lot from him, but one of the bigger lessons I learned was that time doesn't validate a friendship or partnership. You could be friends with someone for 20 years and be closer to someone you met yesterday. It's all just a matter of compatibility.
I'd like to think Dicey and I were a perfect match. I took him for granted sometimes, but I loved him more than I thought I did. You don't realize it until it's too late, though. Maybe you're supposed to learn something out of that.
But yeah. I miss him. More than I thought I could.
I think that's all for the day. I'm sitting in the dark of my room, illuminated lightly by my string-up lights and the occasional flash of lightening.
I'd like to think it's from him.
Cheers.
Wednesday, August 24, 2016
A PSA from your fellow writer.
No human being should try to function off of 3-4 hours of sleep every night.
That being said, that whole 8 hour thing sounds like a bunch of baloney to me. A solid 5 sounds about safe.
But as a writer, you don't require sleep. Congratulations, you've achieved god status.
Creative people, (like yourself, reader) function purely off of an amalgamation of tangible and intangible things. For example:
Cats:
Lack of a social life:
Nonlethal electric shocks:
Food found in the couch cushions:
Terrible roomies:
And other things that I don't know about?
Whatever keeps you going, do it. Even drugs. I mean, lots of great writers do it. Shakespeare had to have been pretty stoned to have written A Midsummer Night's Dream. Like, come on. Let's be real here.
Jk don't do drugs I don't think I'm technically allowed to endorse that.
Idk guys. I'm tired. I'm running on fumes here.
That being said, that whole 8 hour thing sounds like a bunch of baloney to me. A solid 5 sounds about safe.
But as a writer, you don't require sleep. Congratulations, you've achieved god status.
Creative people, (like yourself, reader) function purely off of an amalgamation of tangible and intangible things. For example:
Cats:
Lack of a social life:
Nonlethal electric shocks:
Food found in the couch cushions:
Terrible roomies:
And other things that I don't know about?
Jk don't do drugs I don't think I'm technically allowed to endorse that.
Tuesday, August 23, 2016
The Funeral
Today was the funeral. I've been to a lot of funerals, more than I can count, and more than I can remember, for that matter.
One thing I remember about all of the funerals I've ever been to, is that we don't consider it a funeral. We honor the person we lost and then we freaking party.
We all kind of figure midway through the funeral, "Well, they would probably be drinking by now, it's 3pm. We might as well drink, too. To, you know, honor them."*
And then they all drink and eat cakes and cheap cheese platters and share fun stories. There's not a dry eye in the house, simply because everyone is laughing their butts off.
We did just that, talking about how insistent Cita always was about eating your vegetables before desert. We talked about how the first time she ever met my uncle, he was geared up for a hug and got the death stare. We talk about how she would say that birthdays, weddings, and funerals weren't allowed to fall on home games. We talked about how she saved my aunt's marriage. We talked about how she referred to her grandson as "the boy". We talked about how they all remember sitting in a circle after a long night, drinking and smoking, telling stories on the rug. They remember a lot of things. They're all good things, maybe at one point, they weren't so funny. I think everything is funny once you're dead. It's like, "Wow, we did so much stuff with that person. Isn't funny how we'll never do anything with them ever again?"
So, yes, that was the funeral. I guess this blog can go back to its regular material now.
But, for now, I have homework.
Cheers.
*Disclaimer: I'm not allowed to drink, because I'm a minor. I mention this because I don't know who all reads my blog and god forbid the wrong person reads it and thinks a sophomore is getting drunk with their family.
One thing I remember about all of the funerals I've ever been to, is that we don't consider it a funeral. We honor the person we lost and then we freaking party.
We all kind of figure midway through the funeral, "Well, they would probably be drinking by now, it's 3pm. We might as well drink, too. To, you know, honor them."*
And then they all drink and eat cakes and cheap cheese platters and share fun stories. There's not a dry eye in the house, simply because everyone is laughing their butts off.
We did just that, talking about how insistent Cita always was about eating your vegetables before desert. We talked about how the first time she ever met my uncle, he was geared up for a hug and got the death stare. We talk about how she would say that birthdays, weddings, and funerals weren't allowed to fall on home games. We talked about how she saved my aunt's marriage. We talked about how she referred to her grandson as "the boy". We talked about how they all remember sitting in a circle after a long night, drinking and smoking, telling stories on the rug. They remember a lot of things. They're all good things, maybe at one point, they weren't so funny. I think everything is funny once you're dead. It's like, "Wow, we did so much stuff with that person. Isn't funny how we'll never do anything with them ever again?"
So, yes, that was the funeral. I guess this blog can go back to its regular material now.
But, for now, I have homework.
Cheers.
*Disclaimer: I'm not allowed to drink, because I'm a minor. I mention this because I don't know who all reads my blog and god forbid the wrong person reads it and thinks a sophomore is getting drunk with their family.
Monday, August 22, 2016
sorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorry
I'm skipping school to go to the funeral tomorrow. Or, today, since I'm writing this in the middle of the night. I don't really have time to write it at any other time.
Since it's almost 1 in the morning and I don't talk to anyone all day, I'm gonna vent. I'm here to tell you that right now. Right here. It's happening. I'm sorry. It's been a weird week and I have no one else to talk to. Do you know what that's like? It's not a good feeling.
I'm like, at least 80% sure I'm just, like, never going to graduate high school. I can't get it together. I don't have the attention span to memorize anything. I don't sit still long enough for my teachers to think I'm actually trying. I'm a failure and I'm just going to have to live with that I think. My two biggest fears in life is to lose everything and everyone and to disappoint anyone who's left. I feel like I'm slowly moving toward those two categories for some reason. My life feels completely and totally out of control and I don't know what to do. I kind of think I'm broken, sometimes. I bring it up to people who can do something about it, and they don't do anything. They treat me like I'm broken, but don't try to fix it. The only sense of control I have in my life are my habits and mannerisms and things like that, but they're all compulsive at this point and just make things worse. Part of me wants my name to be known, but the other part of me knows that half the people I grew up with don't even remember my name. I want to go to a big, prestigious college, and do something important, just like my brother is going to such an important high school and is probably going to go on and do cool things, but I can't even remember what a monomial is. Hell, I can't even read correctly half of the time.
I am a failure. I thought I was okay with it, but I'm really not.
Venting over. Never again. Pretend I didn't do that.
I'm gonna go decide whether or not I'm just going to stay up tonight or try to get a few hours in. Or maybe, I'll just sit there for hours trying to make up my mind, not realizing it's already too late.
Cheers. I'm sorry this entry was so gross and personal.
Since it's almost 1 in the morning and I don't talk to anyone all day, I'm gonna vent. I'm here to tell you that right now. Right here. It's happening. I'm sorry. It's been a weird week and I have no one else to talk to. Do you know what that's like? It's not a good feeling.
I'm like, at least 80% sure I'm just, like, never going to graduate high school. I can't get it together. I don't have the attention span to memorize anything. I don't sit still long enough for my teachers to think I'm actually trying. I'm a failure and I'm just going to have to live with that I think. My two biggest fears in life is to lose everything and everyone and to disappoint anyone who's left. I feel like I'm slowly moving toward those two categories for some reason. My life feels completely and totally out of control and I don't know what to do. I kind of think I'm broken, sometimes. I bring it up to people who can do something about it, and they don't do anything. They treat me like I'm broken, but don't try to fix it. The only sense of control I have in my life are my habits and mannerisms and things like that, but they're all compulsive at this point and just make things worse. Part of me wants my name to be known, but the other part of me knows that half the people I grew up with don't even remember my name. I want to go to a big, prestigious college, and do something important, just like my brother is going to such an important high school and is probably going to go on and do cool things, but I can't even remember what a monomial is. Hell, I can't even read correctly half of the time.
I am a failure. I thought I was okay with it, but I'm really not.
Venting over. Never again. Pretend I didn't do that.
I'm gonna go decide whether or not I'm just going to stay up tonight or try to get a few hours in. Or maybe, I'll just sit there for hours trying to make up my mind, not realizing it's already too late.
Cheers. I'm sorry this entry was so gross and personal.
Sunday, August 21, 2016
Wake
So I just came back from my Great-Aunt's wake. That was weird. This has been a really weird past couple of days. I think I need a weekend from my weekend.
The actual funeral is Tuesday, which also means I'm going to miss school, which will put me behind, and I can't afford to get behind this year. So that's terrifying.
Also, there's been a sharp decline in viewers lately on this blog, so sorry I guess? I dunno. Sorry I can't entertain you any better?
But on a different note, I learned something today.
I watched my Great-Uncle stand over the body of his oldest sister today, less than five years after standing over his other sister's. He didn't cry. I don't know if he cried during my grandmother's, either. He stood hunched over her two-day old body. He spoke to her like an old friend. He left with a grief-stricken despondency. He turned back, and smiled. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't a happy smile. It was a terribly saddening smile, but he smiled anyway. I think when you've seen that much death in your life, you realize that crying doesn't do anything. Tears don't bring them back. They probably wouldn't want to be back, anyway. Optimism is your best defense in a time of danger, or grief, or sadness, or anything. Smile. Smiling can do no wrong.
So yeah. It's been a really weird weekend. I'm sorry I don't have more to write about.
Cheers.
The actual funeral is Tuesday, which also means I'm going to miss school, which will put me behind, and I can't afford to get behind this year. So that's terrifying.
Also, there's been a sharp decline in viewers lately on this blog, so sorry I guess? I dunno. Sorry I can't entertain you any better?
But on a different note, I learned something today.
I watched my Great-Uncle stand over the body of his oldest sister today, less than five years after standing over his other sister's. He didn't cry. I don't know if he cried during my grandmother's, either. He stood hunched over her two-day old body. He spoke to her like an old friend. He left with a grief-stricken despondency. He turned back, and smiled. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't a happy smile. It was a terribly saddening smile, but he smiled anyway. I think when you've seen that much death in your life, you realize that crying doesn't do anything. Tears don't bring them back. They probably wouldn't want to be back, anyway. Optimism is your best defense in a time of danger, or grief, or sadness, or anything. Smile. Smiling can do no wrong.
So yeah. It's been a really weird weekend. I'm sorry I don't have more to write about.
Cheers.
Saturday, August 20, 2016
So ugly, that she died
I know I just wrote an entry about my great-aunt passing, but I have to talk about something really quick.
You know those filters on SnapChat? And you have to hold down on your face and then choose a filter?
SnapChat doesn't recognize my face as a face. I am that ugly.
I should pull the race card. No I'm kidding I'm not gonna do that.
But seriously though. I am so ugly, that SnapChat doesn't even recognize me as a human.
On that note, I just got super existential crisis-y. God, what am I doing with my life. Why the heck is a Stubhub commercial making me question my life choices. God I hate myself.
That's enough. Cheers.
You know those filters on SnapChat? And you have to hold down on your face and then choose a filter?
SnapChat doesn't recognize my face as a face. I am that ugly.
I should pull the race card. No I'm kidding I'm not gonna do that.
But seriously though. I am so ugly, that SnapChat doesn't even recognize me as a human.
On that note, I just got super existential crisis-y. God, what am I doing with my life. Why the heck is a Stubhub commercial making me question my life choices. God I hate myself.
That's enough. Cheers.
Friday, August 19, 2016
Across The Universe
I just got back from this big, yearly festival my mom and I go to every year. It's loud, there's good music, plenty of entertainment (mostly just watching drunks stumble around wondering where they are), mediocre food. You know, festival stuff.
My mom got a text from her cousin while we were on the way back to the car. "Call me." was all it said.
My great aunt had been in the hospital the past week for pneumonia.
She passed away today.
My mother's cousin had just finished feeding her her dinner. Her last sibling had come to visit her hours earlier.
And she fell asleep. Our minds don't automatically think about how those eyes may never open again, how that heart may fail to beat. It doesn't cross our minds.
Don't get me wrong, it probably should.
Life is legitimately a game. Not even a guessing game. We can't even assume what might happen next. It's not even a fun game. We play because it's all we know. There is no other game to play.
In the two hours she's been gone, nothing has changed. There's a low rumble of thunder coming from outside. Moby is sprawled out on the the old leather couch, getting white hairs in every crevice. My mother sits in the kitchen on the phone. I sit in the dark of the living room writing today's entry. There's one less human here on earth. But in reality, people die all the time, constantly. It doesn't phase us. We don't even blink an eye at the thought. The world keeps turning. The same goes when someone we love dies.
Life is strange like that, I guess.
Thank you, Cita. We all love you more than you could ever know.
My mom got a text from her cousin while we were on the way back to the car. "Call me." was all it said.
My great aunt had been in the hospital the past week for pneumonia.
She passed away today.
My mother's cousin had just finished feeding her her dinner. Her last sibling had come to visit her hours earlier.
And she fell asleep. Our minds don't automatically think about how those eyes may never open again, how that heart may fail to beat. It doesn't cross our minds.
Don't get me wrong, it probably should.
Life is legitimately a game. Not even a guessing game. We can't even assume what might happen next. It's not even a fun game. We play because it's all we know. There is no other game to play.
In the two hours she's been gone, nothing has changed. There's a low rumble of thunder coming from outside. Moby is sprawled out on the the old leather couch, getting white hairs in every crevice. My mother sits in the kitchen on the phone. I sit in the dark of the living room writing today's entry. There's one less human here on earth. But in reality, people die all the time, constantly. It doesn't phase us. We don't even blink an eye at the thought. The world keeps turning. The same goes when someone we love dies.
Life is strange like that, I guess.
Thank you, Cita. We all love you more than you could ever know.
Tuesday, August 16, 2016
First Day
Well, I'm alive.
It wasn't terrible, I don't hate my teachers (so far). The day itself did make me come to terms with something I've never been comfortable with, though.
I am, or at least, we think I am, dyslexic.
Words always looked really silly to me growing up, sometimes more so than other times. Sometimes they would look exactly how the teacher would write it and spell it, other days, it was all all a little alphabet soup-y. I had to really, really focus on each word to make it out. I'm sure it's not as bad as other people's, but a lot of the time, words would come out backwards or just completely scattered. I'm better at controlling it now, but I just have to really focus, which is difficult for a person who has the attention span of a fly. Numbers were especially hard, even now I have a lot of issues with them. I hate reading out loud, because it doesn't give me enough time to figure out each word.
Ehhh I don't feel like writing more on this.
I've deemed sleep unnecessary, because honestly, The X-Files is way more interesting than sleep.
I should rewatch Twin Peaks. Dale Cooper and Harry Truman'sbromance very strong, supportive, caring, loving friendship gives me reason to live.
Speaking of that, I kind of want a relationship right now. I think. Maybe it's all the fanfictions I've been reading, or the Holtzmann/McKinnon dream I had the other night, but I just sort of want one? I worded that incorrectly. I'll try again some other day.
Yeah that's enough. Cheers
It wasn't terrible, I don't hate my teachers (so far). The day itself did make me come to terms with something I've never been comfortable with, though.
I am, or at least, we think I am, dyslexic.
Words always looked really silly to me growing up, sometimes more so than other times. Sometimes they would look exactly how the teacher would write it and spell it, other days, it was all all a little alphabet soup-y. I had to really, really focus on each word to make it out. I'm sure it's not as bad as other people's, but a lot of the time, words would come out backwards or just completely scattered. I'm better at controlling it now, but I just have to really focus, which is difficult for a person who has the attention span of a fly. Numbers were especially hard, even now I have a lot of issues with them. I hate reading out loud, because it doesn't give me enough time to figure out each word.
Ehhh I don't feel like writing more on this.
I've deemed sleep unnecessary, because honestly, The X-Files is way more interesting than sleep.
I should rewatch Twin Peaks. Dale Cooper and Harry Truman's
Speaking of that, I kind of want a relationship right now. I think. Maybe it's all the fanfictions I've been reading, or the Holtzmann/McKinnon dream I had the other night, but I just sort of want one? I worded that incorrectly. I'll try again some other day.
Yeah that's enough. Cheers
Monday, August 15, 2016
Farewell, Summer, You Scum.
In less than 6 hours, I'll be back in school.
I'm terrified. Lou is going to a new school, I have no friends, blah blah. I'd rant, but I don't feel like it.
I go into each new school year with hope of new friends, satisfactory grades, possible love interests. It never happens, though. I try.
In the meantime, I don't know what I'm doing with my life. On one hand, I really want to go into STEM, on the other, using my chronic uncoolness to make people happy sounds like the dream.
$5 says I don't do either and I do something completely unrelated.
I did buy a cool pair of shoes the other day, though. I really love online shopping, it gives me a reason to live for 3-5 business days. I need to buy more aromatherapy pens/vape pens because I don't want to be caught without one. Who am I kidding. It's a vape pen. I need to stop trying to hide it. I swear to god the package and the product is called an "aromatherapy diffuser".
Also, I had the best dream last night. Jillian Holtzmann made out with my face. It is the only dream I ever want to experience for the rest of my life. Good Lord.
I watched Stripes yesterday. It's how I imagined my dad's time in the Coast Guard. He use to tell Lou and I stories from boot camp on our way to school, it was undoubtedly the best part of my day. He actually use to have a friend that he claims looked and sounded exactly like John Belushi (I know he wasn't in Stripes, don't get on my back about this) called Booger I think (Dad, please correct me if I'm wrong on this, I know you read my blog.)? I dunno, I just always thought that was super cool.
I just found a brown recluse spider in my bathroom. They're one of the only spiders in the south you have to be careful of. I guess I'm not sleeping tonight.
Have I ever mentioned to you guys all the people I want to meet before I die? I'm not going to spout out the entire list because it's insanely long, but Bill Murray and Kate McKinnon are at the top of the list. I mention this because:
A) Kate McKinnon
B) Stripes is a great movie
C) Bill Murray lives relatively close to my town (Like, 6 hours away, no biggie) and occasionally comes to my town for football games because his son goes to the University here. That and we're in his town (or about 45 minutes away) at least four times a year.
D) It's almost football season.
What I would do to meet Bill Murray. And apparently, according to the internet, he's like, the sweetest human being in the world to his fans? Even though Dan Aykroyd calls him the "Murrican" and Harold Ramis actually ended his friendship with him because Bill was being a jerk? I don't know. I want to meet Bill Murray and no one will stop me.
Speaking of, there is literally an entire website dedicated to encounters with Bill Murray. I'm going to cry.
"Ava, what's one thing you want to do before you die?"
"Meet Bill Murray."
If anyone asks an asinine question like that tomorrow, that will be my answer. Count on it.
Also, the kitten's current name is Pringle. So, whenever people ask why her name is Pringle, I'll say "You try saying no to this salty parabola". Because I'm unoriginal and still obsessed with Kate McKinnon.
I'm going to get about six hours of sleep tonight. That's the most I've gotten all summer. Thank god.
On a related note, I hate summer. I'm sure I've mentioned this, but I really hate it. Wanna know what season I love? Fall. I get to wear my leather jacket, closed toe shoes, jeans, I get to drink tea all day, light candles, everything is pumpkin spice flavored, there's scarves, and gloves, and hats, everything is a pretty earthy color, IT'S COLD AND LOVELY, I could keep going. I should keep going. That list needs its own post.
I've also been checking the shipping status of my saddle like, six times every day the past few days. It's in NC right now.
I just remembered that I still need to buy a $260 half pad. Crapp.
That's good enough for today. I'm going to go freak out because I have school tomorrow.
CHEERS.
I'm terrified. Lou is going to a new school, I have no friends, blah blah. I'd rant, but I don't feel like it.
I go into each new school year with hope of new friends, satisfactory grades, possible love interests. It never happens, though. I try.
In the meantime, I don't know what I'm doing with my life. On one hand, I really want to go into STEM, on the other, using my chronic uncoolness to make people happy sounds like the dream.
$5 says I don't do either and I do something completely unrelated.
I did buy a cool pair of shoes the other day, though. I really love online shopping, it gives me a reason to live for 3-5 business days. I need to buy more aromatherapy pens/vape pens because I don't want to be caught without one. Who am I kidding. It's a vape pen. I need to stop trying to hide it. I swear to god the package and the product is called an "aromatherapy diffuser".
Also, I had the best dream last night. Jillian Holtzmann made out with my face. It is the only dream I ever want to experience for the rest of my life. Good Lord.
I watched Stripes yesterday. It's how I imagined my dad's time in the Coast Guard. He use to tell Lou and I stories from boot camp on our way to school, it was undoubtedly the best part of my day. He actually use to have a friend that he claims looked and sounded exactly like John Belushi (I know he wasn't in Stripes, don't get on my back about this) called Booger I think (Dad, please correct me if I'm wrong on this, I know you read my blog.)? I dunno, I just always thought that was super cool.
I just found a brown recluse spider in my bathroom. They're one of the only spiders in the south you have to be careful of. I guess I'm not sleeping tonight.
Have I ever mentioned to you guys all the people I want to meet before I die? I'm not going to spout out the entire list because it's insanely long, but Bill Murray and Kate McKinnon are at the top of the list. I mention this because:
A) Kate McKinnon
B) Stripes is a great movie
C) Bill Murray lives relatively close to my town (Like, 6 hours away, no biggie) and occasionally comes to my town for football games because his son goes to the University here. That and we're in his town (or about 45 minutes away) at least four times a year.
D) It's almost football season.
What I would do to meet Bill Murray. And apparently, according to the internet, he's like, the sweetest human being in the world to his fans? Even though Dan Aykroyd calls him the "Murrican" and Harold Ramis actually ended his friendship with him because Bill was being a jerk? I don't know. I want to meet Bill Murray and no one will stop me.
Speaking of, there is literally an entire website dedicated to encounters with Bill Murray. I'm going to cry.
"Ava, what's one thing you want to do before you die?"
"Meet Bill Murray."
If anyone asks an asinine question like that tomorrow, that will be my answer. Count on it.
Also, the kitten's current name is Pringle. So, whenever people ask why her name is Pringle, I'll say "You try saying no to this salty parabola". Because I'm unoriginal and still obsessed with Kate McKinnon.
I'm going to get about six hours of sleep tonight. That's the most I've gotten all summer. Thank god.
On a related note, I hate summer. I'm sure I've mentioned this, but I really hate it. Wanna know what season I love? Fall. I get to wear my leather jacket, closed toe shoes, jeans, I get to drink tea all day, light candles, everything is pumpkin spice flavored, there's scarves, and gloves, and hats, everything is a pretty earthy color, IT'S COLD AND LOVELY, I could keep going. I should keep going. That list needs its own post.
I've also been checking the shipping status of my saddle like, six times every day the past few days. It's in NC right now.
I just remembered that I still need to buy a $260 half pad. Crapp.
That's good enough for today. I'm going to go freak out because I have school tomorrow.
CHEERS.
Sunday, August 14, 2016
I HAVE NOTHING ELSE
I start back school on Tuesday.
In the meantime, I GOT AN INTERNSHIP. IT'S AN AUTO REPAIR SHOP AND I'M SO PUMPED.
THAT'S ALL IVE GOT.
In the meantime, I GOT AN INTERNSHIP. IT'S AN AUTO REPAIR SHOP AND I'M SO PUMPED.
THAT'S ALL IVE GOT.
Wednesday, August 10, 2016
Pisssss
I woke up at the crack of dawn this morning to find my mom and my brother skittering around the hallway. They had turned the attic fan on, every window was open, and as I entered the hallway, the smell of urine slapped me in the face. They didn't know why it was there, or how to get rid of it, but they knew that it was coming from my room. I had not been in my room all night, I had passed out at the foot of my mom's bed because my anxiety kicked in at about 12 last night and I started freaking out. I would have gone and fallen asleep in my own room, but, you. It's haunted.
Which kind of leads me to believe that the smell is from the ghost/spirit/whatever the heck is in my room.
Do I sound crazier than Mulder? Absolutely. But he wasn't crazy. I will fight anyone who says Mulder is crazy.
That or it's aliens. If that's the case, I am going to move so far away from here.
Don't get me wrong, I am fascinated by aliens, but I am also completely terrified by them. I don't have a doubt in my mind they exist, I just want them to be nice and friendly.
*Blows a kiss to the aliens.*
In other news, my saddle search is finally over, thank god. And, I still have $450 left to spend on complete crap that I don't need. Like half pads. And saddle pads. Maybe I'll get a new bridle. I don't need a new bridle. I love my bridle. I should buy more leather cleaning stuff because I lowkey lost all of mine. God, I could buy so much. This is so exciting.
I have to admit, I was planning on having a really big entry written out for you guys about how watching the TV shows I did molding me (poorly) into the person I am today but I lost all motivation to finish. Sorry about that.
I also have not started on my promised shower attack stories, so I need to get on that. At some point.
In the meantime, I'm going to play sad music and stare at the ceiling all while pretending I'm in a sad movie, so:
Cheers!
Which kind of leads me to believe that the smell is from the ghost/spirit/whatever the heck is in my room.
Do I sound crazier than Mulder? Absolutely. But he wasn't crazy. I will fight anyone who says Mulder is crazy.
That or it's aliens. If that's the case, I am going to move so far away from here.
Don't get me wrong, I am fascinated by aliens, but I am also completely terrified by them. I don't have a doubt in my mind they exist, I just want them to be nice and friendly.
*Blows a kiss to the aliens.*
In other news, my saddle search is finally over, thank god. And, I still have $450 left to spend on complete crap that I don't need. Like half pads. And saddle pads. Maybe I'll get a new bridle. I don't need a new bridle. I love my bridle. I should buy more leather cleaning stuff because I lowkey lost all of mine. God, I could buy so much. This is so exciting.
I have to admit, I was planning on having a really big entry written out for you guys about how watching the TV shows I did molding me (poorly) into the person I am today but I lost all motivation to finish. Sorry about that.
I also have not started on my promised shower attack stories, so I need to get on that. At some point.
In the meantime, I'm going to play sad music and stare at the ceiling all while pretending I'm in a sad movie, so:
Cheers!
Thursday, August 4, 2016
OKRA
Before I begin, it's good to mention I'm writing all of this on my phone. I have very blunt, wide thumbs, which might inconvenience my writing. Yeah, no, sorry about that.
I'm sitting on my moms bed in the downstairs room of our condo as I write this. Why am I describing my location. This is completely irrelevant.
I nearly got in trouble yesterday for throwing a stick of okra with a face drawn on it into the pool from the sixth floor. Lou and I thought this was going to be the funniest prank ever, everyone else thought it was immature, and said I had to "grow up at some point". I'm still salty, guys. Dead Sea salty.
That being said, I've been going around places and taking pictures of a different piece of drawn on okra and posting it to my snapchat. It's one of the better things I've ever done with my time.
I bought something called MONQ the other day, it's a $20 essential oil diffuser and it's basically a pocket sized aromatherapy thing and you just sort of breathe in the oil/vapor/air. It's a vape pen. It's a $20 vape pen for smelling random scents in. I'm still excited about it.
I binge watched all of the SNL episodes on Netflix and I don't know what to do with my life.
I learned from this binge episode. If my goal of becoming a scientist falls through. I want to do stand up. I'm embarrassingly uncool and unconventionally disappointing, so I feel like I should take advantage of that. Thanks, Kate McKinnon, for helping me realize I can use my unhip-ness to make others laugh. Hopefully intentionally. That's the dream right there.
I've also learned that bathtub soap caddies are personally out to get me. I was taking a shower earlier and I reached down to pick up my shampoo, when my butt grazed a razor haphazardly sitting on the caddy, and it SLICED MY ASS OPEN. BUTT BLOOD. BUTT BLOOD EVERY WHERE. IT DIDNT STOP FOR LIKE, AN HOUR. And don't get me wrong, it did not cut my butt, it SHAVED THE SKIN OFF MY ASS. One and a half rolls of toilet paper, two handfuls of paper towels, a spritz of (painful) bacterial spray, a soda, a very small bandaid, and one very large bandaid later, I cannot sit down. My whole right cheek has been disabled.
I've been picking off this cookie dough my mom bought, and I just ate over the half way mark and I feel bad about it. She told me not to, but I knew that she wouldn't use it. I should go out and buy her some more.
Also! And I might have already adressed this, but I'm gonna talk about it anyway, but I might not have mentioned it earlier, so it needs to be said: THIS STUPID BLOG HAS REACHED OVER 2000 VIEWS. IM SO HAPPY. I wanted to catch it right at 2000, but I was a bit off and I think we're right at 2029 right now, something like that. But guys, this means a lot to me. I mean, it took a while to accumulate and my average views are actually quite mediocre and nothing to write home about, but I really thought I was only gonna get like, two or three views every once in a while, so thank you. I'm gonna doodle out a story for my shower incidents, so that's your reward. My crappy artwork and terrible storytelling wrapping into one entry. You're welcome.
Yeah that's enough. Cheers!
I just shifted a little bit and my bandaid wrinkled on my ass and I want to cry. Christ help me.
I'm sitting on my moms bed in the downstairs room of our condo as I write this. Why am I describing my location. This is completely irrelevant.
I nearly got in trouble yesterday for throwing a stick of okra with a face drawn on it into the pool from the sixth floor. Lou and I thought this was going to be the funniest prank ever, everyone else thought it was immature, and said I had to "grow up at some point". I'm still salty, guys. Dead Sea salty.
That being said, I've been going around places and taking pictures of a different piece of drawn on okra and posting it to my snapchat. It's one of the better things I've ever done with my time.
I bought something called MONQ the other day, it's a $20 essential oil diffuser and it's basically a pocket sized aromatherapy thing and you just sort of breathe in the oil/vapor/air. It's a vape pen. It's a $20 vape pen for smelling random scents in. I'm still excited about it.
I binge watched all of the SNL episodes on Netflix and I don't know what to do with my life.
I learned from this binge episode. If my goal of becoming a scientist falls through. I want to do stand up. I'm embarrassingly uncool and unconventionally disappointing, so I feel like I should take advantage of that. Thanks, Kate McKinnon, for helping me realize I can use my unhip-ness to make others laugh. Hopefully intentionally. That's the dream right there.
I've also learned that bathtub soap caddies are personally out to get me. I was taking a shower earlier and I reached down to pick up my shampoo, when my butt grazed a razor haphazardly sitting on the caddy, and it SLICED MY ASS OPEN. BUTT BLOOD. BUTT BLOOD EVERY WHERE. IT DIDNT STOP FOR LIKE, AN HOUR. And don't get me wrong, it did not cut my butt, it SHAVED THE SKIN OFF MY ASS. One and a half rolls of toilet paper, two handfuls of paper towels, a spritz of (painful) bacterial spray, a soda, a very small bandaid, and one very large bandaid later, I cannot sit down. My whole right cheek has been disabled.
I've been picking off this cookie dough my mom bought, and I just ate over the half way mark and I feel bad about it. She told me not to, but I knew that she wouldn't use it. I should go out and buy her some more.
Also! And I might have already adressed this, but I'm gonna talk about it anyway, but I might not have mentioned it earlier, so it needs to be said: THIS STUPID BLOG HAS REACHED OVER 2000 VIEWS. IM SO HAPPY. I wanted to catch it right at 2000, but I was a bit off and I think we're right at 2029 right now, something like that. But guys, this means a lot to me. I mean, it took a while to accumulate and my average views are actually quite mediocre and nothing to write home about, but I really thought I was only gonna get like, two or three views every once in a while, so thank you. I'm gonna doodle out a story for my shower incidents, so that's your reward. My crappy artwork and terrible storytelling wrapping into one entry. You're welcome.
Yeah that's enough. Cheers!
I just shifted a little bit and my bandaid wrinkled on my ass and I want to cry. Christ help me.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)