DA is fun.

I uploaded things to DA.

http://shanadian.deviantART.com

Uh... Yeah.

Poetry and Chicken Lady.

Chicken Lady is weird.

I am going to spend a lot more time on DA now that my brother unblocked it. Yay.

Nothing else to say, really.

Dream Home

http://www.directhomefind.com/dream-home/index.php

My brother showed this website to me.

Then my other siblings did it. My sister has a very rich-person home, my other sister has a house that looks just like her room (really!) and my brother apparently got something similar.

I would have posted my results, but there was an HTML issue. So I can't. :(
Tres amusant!

Well... Um... Yeah, that's it for now.

My Zoloft dosage was increased, but I was still feeling depressed today or yesterday or something. Now I don't remember. I figure it'll take a day or two to kick in, but maybe not...
Well, that's all for now...

Stuff White People Like

I checked out that blog today. Apparently, people either love it or hate it. I hold it up as proof that people are messed up.
If they person was white and made a blog called 'stuff black people like' they would be condemned.
If they were black and made a blog called 'stuff black people like' then people would like the blog.
If they are black and made this blog, they are being let off, and some people would call them 'race-minded' (like, they are obsessed with race and color and stuff), while others would laud it.
If they are white and making this blog (which is the truth, I think), then people are just confused.
"Why would a white person make racial stereotypes about whites?"
Um, why can black comedians make stupid racial jokes?

The blog has some truths in it, though. White people do like 'gifted children'. But who doesn't?
I personally think that the blog isn't really a good idea. It's making fun of white people. If it was doing the same to any other racial group, it would be condemned. White people can be bashed and it's okay because you know, white people need to be bashed.
Yeah right.

I know something else white people like, at least the younger ones. Pretending to be black.
That is, acting out black stereotypes.
Even I do it sometimes, without meaning to. I would slap myself in the face if I let myself realize that I was doing it.

What else was I going to say today?
I forgot to take Zoloft two days in a row, and it sure f***ed up my mood and stuff. It wasn't working enough, but it was making a good difference.

I like the ease with which I laugh now. Before I was taking Zoloft, it was harder to laugh. I did laugh, but not as often.

It's nice, laughing. I am annoyed that I missed school today because 1. I can only be legally absent 3 more days this year and 2. we were doing the mile run today, and now I'll have to stay after school sometime and do it.

I think I'm going to call Rocky when school is let out. Or maybe right when the bus passes by our house... Or something. Whatever.

Gosh, I'm tired. My sister and I were going to walk home from the center of town yesterday, but our brother was driving by and picked us up instead. That's good. I didn't want to walk 4 miles. I have walked about 6 miles, and that took me 4 hours or so. I'm not sure, actually. I know it took me almost exactly 4 hours. I left at 7 pm (about) and came home at 11 pm exactly. I walked across the highway, crossed a stream (my shoes and pants were wet for the rest of the trip), found a road (I remember there were a million billion leaves on it), walked on it until I found the road that eventually led to a certain person's house, and walked there for a long time. I was exhausted, but walking on roads actually isn't that bad. It was pretty nice, actually. I almost got lost a couple times, but I enjoyed walking the woods. I was exhausted when I reached my destination, but not too bad. I spent a few minutes sitting in the woods (probably where I picked up the three ticks I found the next morning) and then realized where I had to go. So I went to the Kingdom Hall, and stayed there. I planned to sleep there, but it was so darn cold, and I decided to go home.

So I walked home from there. It's maybe a mile or two from there to our house, but it took longer, I think, because I kept ducking everything cars came. A guy had already tried to pick me up, and I wasn't going to be talked to anymore.

Using that experience, and the fact that I walk maybe two miles per hour, I decided that I and my sister would be home right before our mom, and it would take two hours.

Oh yeah, my mom started her job on Monday. She loves it. That's why she couldn't pick us up at the library or anything.

And we get to do it again tomorrow! Because I am staying after for my science teacher. I have no idea what's going on, what we are talking about, and I missed like 4 chapters, so I am just not doing well.

And I want to know what she knows about me.
She's the one who heard Rocky talking about me.

Hotness Scale (wooo!)

According to Rocky, his new girlfriend is an 8 on the hotness scale. I find that amusing.
I could get Rocky in SO much trouble...
But I won't because I'm his friend, or I consider myself so, and I have decided to stop being mean to him. I will let myself be cruel to D, but Rocky is getting the nice treatment, because he did something nice for me a couple weeks ago.

We were still talking about the hotness scale when Daboss appeared, walking towards the bus. When he got on, I said, "*first name* is a 9 and a half."

They didn't hear me.
Exasperated, I said, "I just said something funny, and you totally ignored it!" and so I repeated myself (a bit too loudly) "*first name* is a 9 and a half."
At first they were silent, but then they all started giggling like mad and I laughed too.
Stephen, who could not help but overhear his name, smiled, hiding his confusion (I am good enough at mindreading to see that he was hiding confusion), and OMG he just looked SO cute when he smiled, so I really have to say that he's a 10 when he smiles. :D
Then I moved my stuff and talked to him... For a minute or two. His sister got on and stole him, but I was okay with it.
Darn, I forgot to take my Zoloft today! I'll take it in a few minutes or so. I'm just quickly blogging since I had a good day. :D

I heard that the girl who's pregnant, Katie, might have to get an abortion, but I also heard that her mom doesn't even know yet. That's horrible. A school you don't even attend anymore knows all about your pregnancy, but not your mom.

If I was pregnant, I'd tell a select few, but I would not tell my mom until I was three months pregnant. At that point, I would be pretty sure that I couldn't hide it anymore, and I would not have the hope of a miscarriage or anything.

I know what my April Fool's Day joke will be. It should work pretty well. And April Fool's Day is one week from tomorrow. YAY! I LOVE that day! It's my favorite holiday!!!! Poisson d'Avril!!!! YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sorry, I just love April Fool's Day so much!!!

Okay, what else do I have to say? I'm going to school all this week.


I'm not going to get sick again for the rest of the year! YAHOO!

Easter... Huh?

I don't know where that title came from.

I love this time of year because I loooooooove chocolate, especially Cadbury Creme Eggs. Those are heaven, and I just, like, drool over them when I see them or even think of them because they are sooo good.

I don't celebrate Easter. I don't celebrate lots of holidays. The only thing that you could call CLOSE to 'celebrating' is the Memorial, which happened last night. It corresponds to the Jewish holiday of Passover, at which Jesus had his Last Supper, and passed out bread and wine, to represent his body and blood, which is, by the Jewish calender, Nisan 14. Basically, we go the the Kingdom Hall, sit there and listen to the guy speaking about things (if you've never heard it before, you'd enjoy listening to it), look up scriptures and read them, and then pray and pass around the symbols.

And sing a few songs.

If you like religion, if you believe in God and Jesus being His Son, then yes, you would enjoy this, you would appreciate it.

All it did for me is convince me that every single religion on Earth is a fake, silly mythology that I will pay no mind to. At least all of the 'Christian' religions.
I am a scientific person. Far too scientific to believe that Adam and Eve could have created the whole human race (actually, more like Noah and his sons and their wives). There are so many skin colors, eye colors, and hair colors, and it is impossible, in my opinion, for three men from the same father and three women from different families to have done that.
Bottom line, it makes no sense. I can't believe that. I also cannot believe in a 'Tree of Everlasting Life' and a 'Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil'.
I can believe in a God, but that is my own wishful thinking, my own wishful desire for there to be something more. But I cannot believe in the rest of this faith that my family puts their trust in. If it will make me be like my mom and brother and dad, I'm not doing it.

My mom, I am realizing, grew up in a very dysfunctional family and time period. As a result, she is, without meaning to, sexist, bordering on racial stereotyping, and has a childish mind. She isn't racist, but she says stuff like "I think I'm a black person inside" and I understand WHY she would say that, but it's a result of believing racial stereotypes. She is sexist in that she has absolutely NO idea that gender roles are supposed to be reversing, that she can take any sort of stand against Dad, and she complains about his irresponsibility while refusing to retaliate because she wants to be a submissive, humble wife.
This is because Jehovah's Witnesses approve of this. They are sexist. Child abuse? No. There is nothing of the sort going on. Sexism, yes.
Women are the ones who usually clean the Kingdom Hall. Families are given cleaning assignments, but it ends up, almost every time, being the women who do the work. When major cleaning goes on, the brothers do outside work and maintenance while the sisters do cleaning inside.

Okay, that rant is over.

My mom is very childish because she tells me how Easter is 'disgusting!' and it's because it's about fertility and 'body parts' which yes, is kinda disgusting, but honestly, this isn't Victorian times. My mom needs to learn how to handle things that have to do with reproduction, and maybe just life in general. I can't believe she managed to be married twice, have five kids, and live more than half the century and STILL have problems with talking about things like that. Because of my 'prude' upbringing, I can't even say 'penis' even though everyone else can.

Wow, this is a lot of complaining. I think this is what I am supposed to be telling my counselor...

I hope my Zoloft dosage will be increased because I don't think it's working enough. It's helping, but I don't feel that much better.

I just can't stand my cutting addiction. I need to cut. I haven't cut since Mom found out except for three marks, and they aren't even serious or anything, but I can't handle this! I need to cut so badly! If I don't do it, I'll go more insane and be more depressed and I just want to give in to my addiction! I want to just let go and live in my story, my writing, and my cutting. All else will be taken care of if I just let go and write. If I had a computer in my room, I could write all I needed to or whatever, and I would cut, and I could live in my room. I would eat, sleep, and live in my room. I want to isolate myself, but it's impossible because of the annoying fact that I do not have a computer in my room. I will have one soon, though. We have a new computer to use, so I will take the old one, and I can finally do my work. But for some reason, my brother just is not changing the computers.

I want my cutting back. I have my blade in my room. All I have to do is forget what Rocky said to me. If I could just forget what he said... "When you hurt yourself, it hurts others, maybe even more than it hurts you."

(super interesting title here) This is very interesting

I forgot, apparently, to mention that a girl I used to go to school with is pregnant.

She is not even 13 and a half, according to Coolbeans, and she is very small, thin, short, and overall I can't believe she's pregnant. I mean, I always knew that she would be having sex very early, but pregnant?

No way. I remember going to dance class with her in second grade. Holy crap, we were seven years old. I remember I always thought she was pretty, although her skin and hair were so light and so pale they were almost the same color. So pale. Just for the record, most people hated her, and I kind of hated her too.

She went to school with me in first and second grade, I think, at least second grade. Some time, maybe third grade or fifth grade or something, when I was homeschooled, she moved to a nearby town that was still in our high school's district. So I didn't see her until I went to the Junior High, and she was in my homeroom. She was annoying, and I found her kind of stupid, although she was in my high English class, so I guess she couldn't have been that stupid. (then again, knowing which town she came from, maybe she was the smartest in the class) Then she moved away. Supposedly, her father was in prison, and she was put up for adoption. I felt a little bad for her, but I disliked her enough to not care much. I haven't heard anything about her, and I forgot about her mostly until yesterday, when Coolbeans told me that she was pregnant. The father is a cousin of a boy in our grade at our school. I just can't believe her.

I think I always knew she would be one of the first girls to lose their virginity, but I really didn't expect her to get pregnant. I didn't think anyone who wasn't in at least 9th grade would.

I would stop hurting myself and go on a healthy diet if I was pregnant. I would probably end up losing some of my body-fat (my BMI is up to 23, which I am not happy about) and my scars would heal, and then I could never hurt myself, knowing that I had to take care of my baby.

I wonder if the girl who is pregnant is going to keep her baby, or maybe get an abortion. I don't know if it's illegal in Massachusetts or not, but I don't think she would. I just can't believe it. I'm in shock. She's pregnant. I went to elementary school with her. She was in a five-day summer-camp-like thing group with me (you know which camp I mean, right?).

I assumed that we would all go to ninth grade virgins, and at worst, some people might lose it over the summer. I am pretty sure that most of the guys are totally not ready for that, anyways. I only know one guy who is growing a beard or anything like that, and Rocky, the so NOT epitome of masculinity, well, I won't say anything mean about him, besides my firm prediction that he will make a girl pregnant before we graduate from high school. I am giving him 50 dollars if he hasn't. I'm not even kidding. I am positive that some girl will have Rocky's kid before he's even 18.
If he has more than one kid, he owes me 50 dollars. Especially if it's by different girls.

I am being so mean. :)

SPRINGTIME!

When I was little, I spelled 'spring' S-P-I-N-G invariably. I never noticed my mistake. My mother never corrects me with things like that.

I wish she would.

I was talking to Coolbeans and Realjimi (I think those are the right nicknames) today--girl talk. D and Rocky weren't on because D was sick ALL week so inside I was like DAMMIT! I missed all of this non-D time! and Rocky stayed after this afternoon. (he was supposed to kiss his new girlfriend today, but he didn't)

So, the only guys on the bus were our busdriver and Strawley, who is actually a really nice guy if you see past his being a boy. (let's face it, the girls on the bus aren't very accepting of there being guys on) He was a good friend in sixth grade, and I missed him in seventh grade, and now that I'm in eighth grade, I'm glad he's here. He has a kind of awkward nice-ness about him that I like. He's taller than me, so I feel intimidated, but he is not in High classes and he's in the grade below mine, so I feel above him. And he looks and acts tough, so it evens out to me respecting him as another person, although I feel enough self-respect so that I don't just completely defer to him. That's a good type of friendship, if you ask me.
Note: I have never liked Strawley and I never will. And anyone who knows him should know why he's named Strawley. In fact, I have two reasons.

Okay, anyways, I was complaining about my Mom (mostly to get off the topic of cutting myself and stuff) and of course what has bothered me most recently is her very hands-off approach to telling me stuff about being a girl. I can't believe one day last year, she's like 'I was doing laundry and it looked like you got your period..." and I'm like "Yeah," and she's like "Did you find all the stuff you needed?" and I'm like, "Yeah," and she's like, "Okay, that's good." and we NEVER speak of it again. Not to mention that she never taught me how to shave my legs or anything. I taught myself (no, that did not start my cutting, although that did probably play a part in my choosing to cut with a razor).

I may have just lost all of my male readers.
That's okay. (guys, you don't need to comment to say you haven't been turned off of this blog, even if you feel you must say it)
I told the girls how our principal hugged me (one of them dared suggest kissing, and we ALL freaked) and asked me if I lost weight. I said, joking, "Gosh, I didn't think he was lookin' at me!" They actually said to me, "Isn't he MARRIED with kids?" and I'm like, "Yes!!!" I got to relive the complete weirdness of it.
Well... It's my mom's fault. She asked my male teachers to be like dads for me, and maybe she or one of them mentioned it to our principal. Or maybe he... Um, I won't say that.

I feel like my male teachers are all noticing me... My math teacher is just so... extra nice to me... My English teacher, well, he's pretty normal. He's just like my dad... It's creepy. Let's not discuss the Tech teacher of last year. Who I will be facing in a few short weeks... *ugh*
I did dare face him once to mention that I heard that Bobby Fischer died (he had heard of it also) but I am still a little scared of him.
It is a natural fear of him, though. I am enjoying this fear because there is little else in this world that I am 'afraid' of. My 'phobias' which are my intrusive thoughts are irrational fears anyways. I am afraid of walking around the dark, though. I am paranoid, actually. I am afraid that zombies of the night are walking up the steps after me. I want to turn around, to prove that they aren't there, but I am running up the stairs too fast; I'm too scared. I do a sharp hairpin turn to get to my room, if I'm fast enough, the zombies won't be able to follow. And my door, I have to find the door, get in, and close it fast so that the zombies can't get me. And they don't.

However, to find the door and avoid crashing into some dark, hard thing, I must slow to nearly stopping, to find the door in the dark, and then, so as to not brush my hand against the pink fiberglass (the 'cotton candy to never eat'), I must move my hand slowly around to find the lightswitch. The slowness nearly kills me, when the zombies are after me still, still coming, and if I don't hurry, they will grab my ankles and I will be taken away. Awaaaaaaaaay.

That was no fictionalization, no flourishing of words (besides my normal flourishing). That is exactly what I feel when I run up the stairs in the dark to my room. The zombies are coming.


Maybe since it's spring now, the zombies will stay in their graves.

School=Echh

This morning, or maybe last night, I either didn't set my alarm or I shut it off before it went off. Either way, I went back to sleep, and I don't really want to face my mom. I don't know where she is, but she's out and it's pretty late in the day, so I guess I'll take a shower and go to sleep at some point.

I took my Zoloft early again today. 3 pm. I figure I can take it in the morning tomorrow. Like, 5 or 6. I don't like this... It feels wrong. I feel like I'm doing something very wrong, although I've taken only one pill a day, so I am fine. I did feel very cheery this morning, but it wore off quickly.

I was reading Helter Skelter: The True Story of the Manson Murders. I feel a strange attraction to Manson's image. Like... something about his face and overall being is magnetic. And I agree that Squeaky Fromme looks like my mom.

It said that Manson was 5'2". I am that height. Last night, I stood up and just looked into the air in front of me and looked at the image of Manson, in his full body mug shot, like in the lineup, and I just looked into the air and was able to see Manson there. It was weird.

Then again, it was like 11:30 at night, so that could explain some things.

Death.

Is is just me, or are a lot of things dying lately?

Bleh, it's just me. I wish I was dead. That's why I feel that way.

I took my Zoloft early, around 7 or something. It's not working. I think I'll take it in the morning tomorrow.

Not wise? Probably. But it should be fine. I have an extremely low dose, anyways. If I took 25 mg at say, eleven pm last night, another 25 mg at 7 tonight, and then another 25 at 5 in the morning, that's not too bad.

According to Wikipedia, some guy who took 250 mg of Zoloft went crazy and killed his wife. I figure that if I NEED 50 or more mg of Zoloft, then it won't be too bad if I take 25 mg more than 8 hours apart.

At least twice now, I have controlled the urge to take two or three pills at one time. That's not a good sign because now it's like I'm at high risk for drug abuse. Great. Well, I already thought about that stuff. I won't get addicted to drugs because I am far too vain of my great mind. I can't let drugs ruin it. My brain won't get ruined by cutting.

Oh yeah, and I stole a razor from the bathroom (my mom didn't know it was there) and I found some scissors and made it Dangerous. I removed some skin on my palm (not much, and it didn't even bleed or sting very much) and made two cuts in my right arm. I was just playing with the safety razor, anyways.
It didn't make me feel very good.

The other thing I have to say is in my deviantART journal. It's very creepy...

I think Charles Manson was REALLY insane. But it's not surprising that he thought he heard messages in Beatles songs. I mean, it DOES sound like they are trying to tell us things.
I dunno what. I will never believe any conspiracies or anything.

The other day, I got a good insult in at my sister.
I said how I looked up pictures of people with psoriasis, and how it's weird that people in commercials never show their ps', so I was looking at the pictures.
"They really aren't that bad," I said. "Of course, not much looks bad after I've seen your face."
She just smiled at the insult and said, "Good one." My sister is SO annoying to insult because she just smiles and praises me. Um, STUPID.

Stress

I'm stressing out right now because I think I feel like cutting myself.

I found a razor in the bathroom drawer. I didn't take it because I am actually trying to quit cutting.

But if something happens, if I am stressed out and I need to hurt my mother or someone else, I am taking the razor.

Mom should have taken the blade. Take the blade away.

Well, it doesn't matter. I have scissors in my room.

I am suffering from withdrawal now.

I CAN resist the urge easily enough right now. I don't know if the urge will get stronger or not. It probably will. I have amazing self-control, I just never use it. I don't want to quit cutting, anyways. I am trying, but I don't want to. The blood... the pain... the shivering... I like all of it. The physical pain is something I love. I feel love for my pain.

Come back to me... pain... Come back...

I should have gone to school today, but I didn't because I just didn't plain want to, and I was too tired. I'm going tomorrow, and then I will NEED to make sure my friends are there for me... At least Rocky. He has to promise me that he will help me quit cutting.

The first thing to do is promise that I can call him when I feel like cutting and he will talk me out of it.
More than that will be arranged later. Maybe we should go (as friends) to that roller skating place... Or somewhere else, I dunno. Roller skating is awesome, you know. It is really good. I haven't done it in forever, but you know what, maybe Rocky will teach me to rollerblade. I always used to wear those silly roller skates that have two wheels on either side, and Rocky should teach me something. I would like that...
If he thinks it'd be too much like a date, he can take Ciel too. That kid has been better lately. I think Rocky told him to be nice to me. Or maybe he's not so bad after all... I guess even jerks can be my best friends...

I don't think I really 'like' Daboss anymore. I mean, he's awesome and I hope we are friends forever, but he's just too... good, unavailable, and nice. People who are too nice are just... they drive me crazy. I need a bad guy like Rocky.
But I swear, I'd lick our chicken Bucky's fluffy butt before I went out with Rocky.

Okay, now I'm laughing... :D

Somebody's B-Day...

It is the sixteenth of March, and, Best Friend Who's Birthday is Today, I am working on your present. I didn't finish it because I was busy yesterday, and I will be busy today, but I think I can have it done today. I will stay up late if I have to.

My brother came home last night. Around 9:30 or so. It was good to see him. He doesn't have his goatee anymore. :( Just kidding, I think he looks fine without it. He, I, and our dad are going bowling this evening. Somewhere. Yay! I like bowling with my brother. I don't do much stuff with my dad, so I guess I will enjoy it. My dad and brothers are going to a place that I think is a bar where they will drink.

I wonder who the designated driver will be...

Probably the elder brother. I am more likely to believe that the younger one and my dad could get drunk, but whatever. It will be a nice 'male bonding' thing.

I will not drink any alcohol until the 50th anniversary of Star Trek. I'll be old enough to drink by then, and I don't mind waiting the extra time. I'll meet up with Honk! and other Star Trek friends (if we're still in touch) IRL and we will open some champagne to celebrate. 50 years of Star Trek!

I wonder if The Shat and Spock and any of the others will still be around. I mean, it's... eight, nine more years. I don't know if they can last. Here's to hope that they will get to see their golden anniversary.

I guess I can't commit suicide until 2016... Darn it!

I think that the Zoloft does work. It is easier to banish the dark thoughts from my mind, but the rest of the my mind is working normally. Cool.

Ides of March

Let's see.

Today, my brother will be coming. I guess I will have to wake up (I got up, went downstairs, and got on the computer at 9 in the morning, and that's what I've been doing all morning), and... yeah. Get dressed, since I am wearing my very pink nightgown that Mom gave me. It's very pink... Almost too pink... I don't feel very much like a feminist when I wear this. I feel sexist when I wear this.

I have to finish a friend's birthday present. *nudges friend* It is coming. If it's a few days late, I apologize. You know what's been up if you've been reading my blog.

I guess on Monday, I will go to school, and figure out who my real friends are, and maybe talk to my science teacher about her eavesdropping.
I will tell Daboss about... cutting. I will tell him why he should never do it, why if he does I'll start cutting again (I am quitting for now, wOOt WooT wOoT WoOt!), and give him the little essay I found about cutting...
And I will tell him that if he does cut, it will make him feel better, but please... don't cut. If I'm not cutting, no one else can. It's wrong to let no one else do it if I am, but if I'm not, I cannot let my friends. Especially the person I love.

I am now on Zoloft. Um... yeah. My counselor said it would help my crazy obsessive thoughts. Kinda freaks me out, the idea that I am taking a drug that is changing my thoughts.
Um... Yes. Sounds like a sci-fi movie. A drug is controlling my thoughts.
Okay, just now, I let my obsessive thought come, and I seem to be able to dismiss it pretty easily. That's cool. I mean, I will never be fully rid of the FEELING, but I don't feel as bad. I feel like I am able to control it. That's coooooooool...

Then again, maybe this is a placebo...

They lied to me. This is just a fake pill I'm taking, it's not doing anything. Drugs can't affect thoughts. They LIED.

Nah.

I'd rather lie to myself and pretend that it really is affecting my thoughts, rather than it being a placebo. Besides, I THINK it will work, so it's going to work, probably.
I'm not sure if I feel like living again. I mean, lots of good stuff has happened in the past few days (and I ate a calzone! YUM!), and more good stuff is coming, so maybe that is making me happy.
Either way, just now, I was 'playing by myself' which is a term I use for myself when I'm alone and I... Hm... It's hard to describe. Well, I saw a 'Dashing Gentleman Emerald Waist Band' or something on Gaia and I said 'Gentleman' whispering aloud and I just hammed it up, basically. I used to do that when I was little.

Maybe I am feeling better.

The Aftermath

Okay...
My dad was here today. I got up at noon only because I heard him come in, and I realized that I should probably greet him. I slept maybe 14 hours. Kinda weird. I took some Melatonin (a sleeping pill-like thing) and fell asleep at maybe 9:30 or so. Maybe a bit earlier.

And I slept until noon... Interesting...
I think I dreamt a lot, but I can't remember them now...

Whatever.

Dad bought me some tulips. They are pretty and red. Maybe I will take a picture of them with my cellphone or something.

I called Rocky yesterday and got the truth. He told a girl, and our science teacher was 'eavesdropping' in Rocky's words, and she told the assistant principal.

And whoop-de-do, I got to go to the hospital. I told Rocky he couldn't tell anyone, and he said that MVIGB, the girl he was telling, and the girl he likes had been told by our teacher that they would be in major trouble if they told anyone.

Great.

That's all I want to say. Great.

I wonder if my brother, who is visiting tomorrow, will know anything about it. I wonder if my siblings know much about it. At least one of them knows I went to the hospital.

My dad was telling me things today... It was weird and he was being very emotional.
I think the reason his family likes Star Trek is because Vulcans embody the un-emotional state that their family strives for.
I guess what my dad was trying to say is it's okay to show your emotions.
I think Star Trek has ruined some lives, while making other people's lives so much better.
So, what would the Star Trek people do, knowing that they ruin some lives and make so many more lives better? Would they all kill themselves for us? The one family that got ruined?
Knowing Captain Picard, Captain Janeway, and the crew, I'd say yes.
Knowing that doesn't make me feel better.

Today is Pi Day. Pwnsome? Yes. Every math student had better gotten a pie or drew one for their math teacher. Make a circle that looks like a pie. And write the pi symbol on it. And say, "Here's a pie for Pi day!"

WHAAAAAA???

Last night was weird.

A little after seven o'clock in the evening, the phone rings. My mom answers.
"It's for you," she said, handing me the phone, "It's Rocky." (she used his real first name)

I am soooooo confused and I have NO idea what is going on, but I talk to him, and it was a strange conversation...

I won't tell you all he said, but he said some amazingly insightful things, kind things, and things that make me want to say, "Awwwwwwwww."
NO! HE DOESN'T LIKE ME. I cannot give you that knowledge. He and I actually were talking about the girl he likes a little. I think she's on the verge of becoming a dumb blonde (personally) but maybe she will be salvaged.

Either way, after she tried to make Rocky jealous the way she did, they'd better go out. I want to see Rocky in a relationship for a little while (when he breaks up, I'll just make sure his heart isn't taken yet, and be VERY kind to him for a few weeks...) because I would like to feel like I can be friends with him without the undeniable sexual friction. Okay, there's no sexual friction, but there is romantic friction. I said these words to him last night. "I wish I didn't like you last year. I think it really fucked things up." (ooh, I said a bad word) He agreed. I think that since it was clear that nothing would ever happen between us, it made it easier to think of being just friends.

Okay... Rocky said something I will never forget because he, of all people, said it. "You might not think so, but when you hurt yourself, it hurts other people too... Maybe even more than it hurts you."
I couldn't believe he said that because... Rocky has never displayed that sort of maturity before. He had never said anything that insightful before. He showed that he cared. If he could promise to always care about me like that, I could live. I could live on his friendship... But I have learned not to rely on things anymore. I will try to let myself lean on him a little, but in the end, I have to stand on my own two feet.

Okay, so Rocky convinced me to go to school today. It's amazing. He convinced me to do something... So, I went to school (DABOSS GOT A HAIRCUT AND I AM SO FREAKING ANGRY!). I went to French in the morning (OMG every boy in that class had a haircut and they all SUCKED!), and the Mme was rather put out that I had SO much stuff I had to do... And then, after a few minutes of quiet-ish work (MVIGB kept asking me why I was absent, and I couldn't really say...), the principal came in. He gestured for me to come with him, and as I left the room, Mr. Catholic (a friend) made that 'slitting throat' motion to me. He was joking, but OMG he found out later (I assume) his joke became all too true.

So the principal, as we walked to his office, asked, "Have you lost weight?" and I'm like, "No," because I think I've gained weight lately, and he said, "You look thinner... Not to say you looked bigger before..." Um, faux pas super, Monsieur. Okay, so then we go into his office and I know something's up when my guidance counselor is in there.

Bottom line, somebody told the school that I had left a message on somebody's phone and that I wanted to kill myself, I was cutting my legs, and all that.
And the nurse found the initials on my leg. She figured out it was the initials of a friend. I refused to give his identity. I couldn't draw him into it. I couldn't say his name.

I should have.

But it's too late right now. They informed me that I would be going to a hospital for psychiatric evaluation.

In my head, I said, "Damn."

They spent, like, two hours telling me to be honest and tell them EVERYTHING.

Oh, and I figured out what broke me... When Daboss wasn't on the bus. It broke me... "Thinking someone you love is dead when they are not." I didn't know how true that was until I experienced this myself. I KNEW that he wasn't dead, but it felt like it. There was an underlying fear of his death... Scary...

Anyways. My mom finally came in. She visibly freaked when they used the words 'cut her legs', but she made no sound, and they paid it no mind. Whatever. I was just going crazy. Rocky, what have you done? What did you do, you loving idiot? Why did you do this? You're a jerk, a caring, wonderful, friendly JERK that I love--as a friend.

Okay, so my mom took me to the hospital. The ER, to be exact. I got 'psychiatric evaluation' which I really didn't like. The lady was being insensitive. But I'll let it be.
I made friends with a nurse, Michelle. She was nice. We played cards. I won Go Fish, War, and she won Crazy Eights (I had to teach her to play Crazy Eights, and she already knew how to play the other games). Don't suppose I'll see her again. Doesn't matter.

I can wear shorts when it's warm enough. My mom knows, and that's all I cared about. As long as she didn't know. If she knows, then I can wear shorts to school, and FREAK 'EM OUT!

I mean, think about it... Lines... Lots of lines on my leg. The kids will see and I will not need to speak.

I don't think I will let anyone besides Rocky know that I went to the hospital. If news goes out that I was at a hospital, then that means I cut REAL bad. Now that I am going to start turning my life around, I don't want stupid rumors around.

That's right, people, I am going to start trying to quit cutting.

Okay, I know it's "Do or do not, there is no try."
I will start to quit cutting.

Nice sentence. It makes me feel pretty inside.

Oh, and news for students at my school:

• our principal (that's right, the one we all wish didn't exist), hugged me. He actually did. (my mom was in the room, though) I have been hugged by our very own principal, but not by most of my siblings. Something seems wrong there...
• the principal called me 'little girl' twice although he always USED to call me 'young lady'. Regression, perhaps?
• when he spoke of the nurse checking my legs for cuts, he referred to it as 'your legs and things' three times. Um... what things? Do I want to know...?

Technorati!

Technorati Profile

I have claimed my blog at Technorati, so now maybe people will come here. And I will get some hits.

If you are reading my blog for the first time, then know this:

• Read the sidebar-thing over there.
• If you have any questions, leave a comment or email me or something. You know? I'll answer any questions that are not too personal.
• This blog is, yes, about cutting. If you don't like knowing about the truth, then I'd bet that you don't care about stopping smoking, drugs, or alcohol addictions, because people who cut are just like druggies, smokers, or alcoholics. They can't stop, even if they want to.
• If you have ever SH'd (Self-Harmed) in the past, you should mosey on down to my brand new group: Sanguinolent Respect. AKA Sanguinolent Revenge. I call it both, because it is both.

That's it for today.

I don't know if I'm going to go to school this week. I hope I go on Thursday, and I'm planning on it, but I really don't want to.

Dad visited today. He hasn't left yet.
Mom had better say something about my brother moving out/paying rent. I sent her an email with today's Dear Abby story. It was the responses to the January 7th one, and I thought since it had to do with kicking twenty-something year old guys out of the house of their mom, I thought it would be kind of meaningful to her.

Get the hint, Mom. I want that big baby out of the house. I am not staying here to be verbally and emotionally abused by a guy who should have been out of the house at least three years ago. More like four or five. If I can't enjoy school, I had better enjoy home, and when I can't enjoy either place, that's when I go to a foster home.

If my brother isn't out of the house by the time my parents finish up with their divorce, I just might ask to live with Dad to get out of here.

Sick...

I hate having colds.

But right now I feel okay. My nose is drying up a little, I'm not sneezing too much, and my cough is almost gone. It's nice and not too warm or too cold in here. My siblings are all here, and my mom is making a super early supper before she takes my sister D to her counseling appointment.

And we're watching Forrest Gump.

M'name's Forrest, Forrest Gump.
Run, Forrest, Run!

Yup. That's a good movie. I never saw the whole thing. I've seen maybe the first third, and parts of the middle, but not that much.

D is 17 now. That means that in one year, she can like... I don't know, get a paypal account and then we can buy the occasional cool thing. Like a Monkey at JoCo's site. I wonder what the funny comment will be.

Not anything else to say... I guess...

I miss school. But I do think this is good for me, staying home. I guess I'll go back on Wednesday. I can't wait to see the others again, but I sure can wait to see my homework. :/ May my teachers not assign any homework...

RIP, pretty birdy.

My sister's Gloucestor (sp?) canary died this morning. His name was Truman, and he made very pretty noises. He sang prettily and chirped and stuff and made a laser gun noise sometimes which was cool. He was cute and fluffy and I went with my sister to the pet store to get him, months ago.

He hasn't been using his feet very much lately, and the poor little guy died, I guess...
I thought I dreamt about him last night. I might have been overhearing things my mom and my sister were saying though. But I think I dreamt of him.

RIP, Truman. You were a cute birdy...

I also had a dream about Empire Earth. My brother had finally gotten it on our computer or something, and I was overjoyed beyond joy. I miss playing that game SO much, although they came out with EE2 and it's one of the worst RST games ever. I just loved playing it.
I WANT THAT GAME.

This week is definitely one of the saddest, worst weeks all year. I mean, the whole family is pretty much sick. I keep coughing and sneezing and stuff, and I am in complete misery. And usually the computer is one of my most relaxing places. It's not too dusty in this room, and all that.

I hate being sick. At least I won't be lying on Monday when I say that I was really sick.

I can't believe how horrible everything is. I need to be able to eat, sleep, drink, write, and live without worrying about things for a while.

I think I need to test myself. If I really live a worry-free life for a week, will I need to cut?

I don't know.

I hate the way my cut up leg looks. Lines, so many lines, and more lines.

Disturbing.

A Two-Post Day

I got something to post about now.

Okay, first, I was outside today and I was watching our chicken, Bucky, being chicken-y and pecking at the ground and stuff.

Then these birds were chirping and stuff (I think they were upset that I was there, they were annoyed little clicks) and there was this one tree that they were in.

I figure that the birds were having some kinda par-tay in that tree, and since I know I would not like a giant to watch me at an awesome dance party, I left. :D

Okay, what I am really posting about is that I was on rottenneighbor.com (I wanted to see if people were complaining about our neighbors who might get evicted soon, YAY because they are annoying; the old 80 year old guy hitchhikes and walks down the road with his toolbox and it's creepy because I'm afraid he'll be there one day when I get off the bus) and then I was looking at 'interesting neighbors' and the one at the top was about Megan Meier.

Her story is just a LITTLE bit disturbing to me. (this story was news last November, but I just heard about it today, or I read the story today)

I mean, okay, myspace is not a good site, everyone knows that. There are something like 30,000 sex offenders on that site.
And those are the ones stupid enough to use their real names. The ones who use fake identities... who knows how many?
Myspace is not a great place. Facebook is better because it has an Oregon trail game in which you can eat people (cannibalism, not THAT kind of eating people). I know this only because my sister has a Facebook. I'm going to make one myself when I get into high school. Anyways.

So, myspace is bad. People get abducted because of it. Girls commit suicide because of it.
I don't know what you guys think, but I have to say "No der" and "Why can't you adults THINK once in a while?"

Lori Drew is the dumbest person I've ever heard of. She killed that girl, same as if she stabbed her with a knife.

I say this because I know, with my own suicidal thoughts, that people can kill others without even knowing it. They might love the person (to death, I might say) but they can kill them. People are killing me every single day of my life.

I can't imagine the suicide LMP I'm going to write (LMP-Literary MarketPlace, and I say this because it will be so long).
I will have a clause for just about everyone I have ever met, heard of, or basically thought of. I wouldn't be surprised if in my insanity, I write a page or two for Linda and Eric, who aren't even real.

OK G2G, BRB

Okay, I am back, and I am SERIOUSLY disturbed now. I mean, I don't think I could get much more disturbed right now.

My brother made me clean Bucky's crap off of his truck (she likes sleeping there, it's not my fault), and what I did was scrape it off with a shovel and then I needed water to rinse off the rest of it.

So I'm looking for a milk jug or something so I can dump water on it and wash it off, and what I find is this thing, half underneath one of our chicken coops (vacant since we only have 1 chicken left) which I pick up. I thought it was empty, but I heard some water sloshing around or whatever, so I go to dump out the water.

Out comes some disturbing brownish-red stuff. I could have told you that was muddy, bloody water without a second guess, but I was so freaked out since I glanced inside the milk jug and saw SOMETHING at the mouth so I put it right-side up and thought for a minute.

"Probably just some muddy water. But that thing is probably a little animal," the thoughts in my head went.
So I dumped out the loverly rest of the water, and not surprisingly, out came a little dead mouse, drowned.
I will admit to almost shrieking, and I did jump away a couple feet and drop the milk jug, and get freaked out completely.
But that's okay. I mean, it's a dead thing... And... I had dumped out water mixed with it's rotten blood.

I knew that it had died recently because after I finished cleaning off my brother's truck (not that bad, really), I looked at it. The fur was clean, pretty, and even kinda white. Just very wet.

And very dead.

It's paws were so... something. It's front right paw was stuck up, like when you put your elbow on a desk and hold your forearm vertically up, and your hand flops over. Do it now. Relax your hand, and when it's limp, put your fingers together, and that was how it looked. Except it was a cute mouse, and it looked like it had died screaming in pain or something. I don't know if it even HAD a back end. Like something just pulverized the little mouse pelvis and back legs. (Mice do have pelvises, right?)

Either way, it was a great lesson in osmosis. Like, seriously. If I wasn't already used to seeing blood, I probably would have FREAKED.

I'll try not to describe anymore, in case anyone here is ah, well, let's call it, 'squeamish'.

Um... I guess nothin' else to say. I kinda went off topic with what I was saying, so I'll give up.

I think I'll call some people.

(Insert interesting title here)

Let's see...

Yup, nothing happening.

I missed another day of school. (if for some reason, JoCo saw my comment on stealing my dad's guitar, and went to this site, YOU ROCK, JOCO! and read this blog so your little two year old never cuts though if you were my father, I don't think I could cut myself) (yes I would like it if you were my dad better than if my dad was my father)

I just applied for membership with the JoCo forums... Because I wanted to be the only 13 year old in the 'YOB' thread. :D

I do think I am one of JoCo's youngest fans. If not the youngest...

I will have to find out. I probably am the youngest. That's interesting. "I am Jonathan Coulton's youngest fan."

Oh yeah, I'm guessing that his kid would be his youngest fan. Darn. Beat out by a little kid... :/ Maybe that's why I can't stand little kids? They always seem to be doing things better or faster than me!

Nothing else happening today. Then again, it's morning, so I guess nothing could have happened yet today.

I have a new character in my story. His name is Torin. He is Linda's best friend (or something) and I'm putting a 'no romance' policy in there now before I get any ideas. I'm dying to make sure she has kissed someone before she meets Eric, but I think it'll be fine if that's her first kiss.
Of course that would mean that in her entire life, the only other person she kisses is Ferdinand, so I guess that would be a little messed up. It would awkward to have only kissed two people in your whole life (romantic kissing, I mean, not family kissing).

I guess Torin might like Linda, but she doesn't like him. Then again, I have a feeling that part of Torin's philosophy involves some celibacy. I'm not sure. He serves Ewoun as much as any other 'loyal' Rospian, but he is a philosopher (a young one, albeit) so he may or may not have decided to take some vows of abstinence from various things.

Oh yeah, I did cut myself last night. I will tell Rocky (on Monday) that he has to hit me again. I kind of like being hit for this. I desperately need punishment for what I do. I really do. People need to be punished for things they do wrong. Cutting is so wrong. My mother won't punish me because she KNOWS that punishment isn't the answer to cutting. I wouldn't stop cutting because I was punished, but it helps me think better. It lets me know that he cares a little.

Anyways, away from the weirdness/nastiness...

I could write about my story and stuff, but most people will have NO idea what's going on, so I'll just let you alone on that. And any of the people who would want to hear it can PM me on the various sites we communicate on. Okay, I'm going to stop writing this post. I'll add another one if I have to.

So dead today

So... I'm feeling dead today.

I didn't go to school again today. I guess I'll go tomorrow. People will think that I cut myself badly again. I did try to last night, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't go through with it.

Great. I AM a failure at everything. I can't even cut myself.

Well, it's because I'm so sensitive about my wrist. If I could just get past the fear, I could do it, and be happy for a while.

I guess I'll do all of that homework stuff I was going to do on Tuesday now. Today, I mean. I'm glad I worked on L.C. and I did my internet stuff already. And then I got enough sleep and stuff.

Okay, I will go to school tomorrow!

Absent again

I am absent again.

I'm just losing it. Losing control. I don't know how much longer I can do this. Life. It's too much for me. I can't handle it.

It's because of the Boss (AKA Daboss), Rocky, Ducky, and yeah, I guess all of my problems at school are guy problems. I just make up my problems, really. I have friends. I do.

I just have a problem with letting myself see that. I have friends. They are my friends. It's just that I never told them how I really want my friends to be. Supportive... give me a hug when I'm sad... not laughing at me, but with me.

I'm not good at the whole social thing. I was homeschooled for three years, but it ruined me. I make huge mistakes all of the time. I haven't made AS bad mistakes lately, and I'm being very cautious, but I can't live life like this.

I think I would like to kill myself because the others would be hurt, but I won't get to enjoy it, and there is always the huge chance that my life will get better tomorrow, and if I kill myself, I will feel nothing as opposed to happiness.
Right now, it would be nothing vs. pain. Um, nothing is the no-brainer, right? Yeah, that's why kids at school say cutting yourself is stupid.

GOD I F***ING KNOW THAT IT'S STUPID, BUT DRUGGIES ARE STUPID TOO!

I cannot BELIEVE that kids say to my face, "Cutting yourself is SO stupid!" I am SO annoyed that people say that TO MY FACE. No one insults Jehovah's Witnesses to my face if they know that I am supposedly one (if I was, I don't think this blog would exist, or be about 'my new life').
They tell me that they say it because they think I will stop if I am told that it's stupid. Okay, I KNOW how stupid it is to hurt yourself. I am FREAKIN' ADDICTED. You can't just stop cutting.

People need to understand that.

And to follow up on the 'white people on the bad end of racism' there was something on GMA today about the Rutgers coach (sorry, I don't remember the name), who I definitely admire a little now.
I thought about it. Don Imus made a stupid, racist, sexist remark. People FREAKED and he was taken off the air for a while. Yet, I can easily see, rather, hear, a black comedian (I can't think of any names because I don't know any comedians except like Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert) saying that same thing, and people raising eyebrows after they stopped laughing, but they wouldn't make as big of a deal. Maybe people would just laugh and file it in their short-term memory, to be forgotten soon enough.

If this is untrue, I ask you to give me an example of when this happened. When people actually realized that if Don Imus or any white guy said this, people would react in the exact same way they did when the black comedian said it. I really don't think this has ever happened.

I am just so annoyed that the world has gone so 'whites being anti-racist', we've gone racist again. This is driving me insane.

Good-bye, some of you

I am quitting Neopets.

I'm only going on Gaia to talk to Lena *hugs* and maybe get a couple more things for my avatar, which is looking better every day. (not every day, but almost every day)

Rescreatu... I'll check up on those every once in a while so they don't die. I guess once a week.

I said something completely true but also completely embarrassing to Honk!...

I hope he doesn't tell anyone...

I'm sure he won't.

Um... I'll still be on TeenHelp, on DA sometimes, and I guess that's it...

And I'll still post stuff here.

I should have given the link to Honk! but whatever...

Um, hugs to everyone... I will start work on LCDRAFT3 today. I AM really happy because of that. I will enjoy it a lot... um... yeah, it doesn't sound like I enjoy anything today.

I'll have another slice of cake. That will cheer me up a little...

Basically, I'm cutting down on Internet... Yeah.

A case of the Mondays/Whites finally on the bad end of racism?

Well, not too much happened today. Both D and Rocky hit me (it didn't hurt very much) to make me stop cutting.

Great. I have willingly made myself both addicted to cutting, a victim of physical abuse (I'll keep a diary and make sure if I ever get fed up with it all, they will get punished again for it), along with all of the problems I had earlier.

A girl I'll call Gyrfalcon (those who know her will understand this name a little, maybe) was talking to me in English. She has never really talked to me before. She is a nice person, pretty, cool (those were separate descriptions), and that sort of thing. She asked stuff like, "If you could be rich, would you?" and "Who would be your best friend if you could choose?" (she asked it in a weird way at first, and then she changed what she said to make it nicer) and she said some like, supportive stuff.

I think someone told her to talk to me. People don't just talk to me because they are sitting there. It was weird...

Oh well. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Or a gift friend in the head.

Um...

Today I have been thinking about racism, stereotypes, and that sort of thing.

There are, I think, at least 4 'black' (definition: noticeably darker skinned than others) students in my grade. Two of them came to school this year, they are new kids. One of them, I don't know at all and girls think he is HOT. Another one of them is in my Gym class. He's good at sports, but says annoying stuff sometimes. He's not race-oriented like a third kid I know who was in my Gym, Math, and Social Studies last year. That kid, who I'll call Von W, called people racist if they were not completely nice to them (I think he was kinda nicer to me and meaner to me in a way; maybe because I'm the 'white blonde smart girl') . He was kinda annoying, but not too bad. I guess I kinda liked him (not in that way, though) a little. He was funny. He made me laugh sometimes. He did not make me laugh when he talked about being black.

I do not like those idiots who suddenly think they are cool to pretend to be black. It's like, taking the 'good' and/or 'bad' stereotypes about being 'black' and then saying that you are black because you act like one.
It's like taking an Oreo (let's use the cookie definition of this word) and taking a picture of it in negative. You get black on the inside and white on the inside.

Okay, that's at least as racist as calling a black person an Oreo.

Racism is never going to end. Well, maybe racism will end, people thinking that being white is better than being black, or being Indian (I personally LOVE people who are of Indian descent (from the Orient/India, I mean) because they look so awesome, with the hair and the eyes, and that's no different from preferring those with brown hair over those with black hair, BTW), or being anything else.
But instead of thinking white is better, everyone is told to be proud of what they look like and what they are.
So... because blacks are the ones who have supposedly suffered the most from racism, they are the ones told to be proud of themselves the most. So, pride is all good. It's good to feel good about yourself.

But I do not want to hear about people being 'proud to be black'.
If I said I was proud to be white, people would label me a racist, would they not?

I find that fact extremely offensive. Here's what else I find offensive:

Black men are supposedly allowed to insult all women. (with extreme profanity, to my very pure upbringing)
Black women can call their friends 'girlfriends' but no other women can (note: my mom is white, and she calls her friends 'girlfriends' a lot)
Black people can put themselves down. (they can put anyone down, in fact)

Okay, those three things bother me a lot.

It has nothing to do with the fact that black people can do this, it's the fact that:

They are stupid, ignorant stereotypes that stupid celebrities, comedians, and schoolkids fuel by supporting, demonstrating, and even acting out these stereotypes.
I am white and I cannot do any of these things. I will be called racist if I put anyone down; if I insult any women, I will probably be called sexist (maybe I'll just be punished); I will be accused of being Lesbian if I say I have 'girlfriends'. I can use 'girlfriends' in the collective form, and then I will probably be understood, but no, you, a female, cannot have a girlfriend unless you are black or lesbian.

Okay, the point I am getting to here is that because white people (as a group, not individually) have been racist so long, now, we give 'rights' to blacks, make it seem better to be black, and all of that stuff. Essentially, the blacks have become the racist ones and NO ONE CAN QUOTE THIS SENTENCE WITHOUT READING MY OTHER STATEMENTS, ALL OF THEM.

Here's why:

"I'm proud to be a black girl." That's WONDERFUL, I'm glad you're proud to be who you are but why can't I say I'm proud to be white?
"You, know black wo/men are *expletive expletive expletive* and blah blah blah *expletives*" Okay, that is called being racist. Why do you get the right, mister, to say that? You're black. That's why. If you were white, you couldn't really say it without angering others. I am not saying give your right to insult people to others, I'm saying give the punishment of being disliked for racist comments/jokes to you too.
"Hey girlfriend!" / "So my girlfriend, Barbara, she says ..." I've already said it. In this homophobic society, I have to be black or lesbian to use this word.

Okay, so I repeated my arguments. I had to represent them in a new way.

The thing is, I am just sick and tired of hearing about 'being black', from EVERYONE.

Racism, racial stereotypes (ALL of which are bad, regardless of whether they are good stereotypes or bad ones), and other sorts of racial inequality (which at this time, I believe white people are experiencing, but it's because of EVERYONE'S stupidity, not just blacks or whites), will NEVER END unless I can look at a person who is of African descent and not see a black person, but another person.

You don't see a brown haired guy when you look at Zac Efron, do you? You see a hot guy.
Why do you see a black person when you look at Bill Cosby? You should see an old guy.

If you are angry about anything I just said, please leave a comment or contact me in some way before angrily giving me profanity, insults, and stuff. I will defend my position to the best of my ability. Please understand that these are the opinions (they aren't so humble, I'm afraid) of a thirteen year old who wants to get Opinions, Truth, and Reality OUT THERE.

People need to wake up to the problems of the world. This is a very small problem compared to others. Global warming is more important to worry about.

But this IS a problem, nevertheless, and you can help solve it, just by looking at Bill Cosby and saying, "There's a nice old guy" and that's it. It's just an aspect of his physical features that he has more melanin in his skin. Just like Zac Efron has nice blue eyes. (Da Boss is sexier, though, because he lives, like, 3 miles from me, and way less if it's as the crow flies).

Well, see y'all. (not I'm NOT from the South... but that's another stereotype)

MARCH! And PIZZA HIGH!

Well, March came in LIKE A LION and I started it off by being MAD AS A MARCH HARE!

I went to counseling on Friday. It was the most painful thing I've ever done. I had to tell him my worst fear, I had to tell him those things. I had to say two words and then I said the first word, and I was about to say the second word when suddenly, I start shaking and I felt like passing out and it was hard for me to breathe, and bottom line: I physically cannot say some words without having a panic attack.

However, the counselor was nice and didn't say any triggering words, and he told me a technique to help banish those Thoughts that hurt me so much.

He said I have obsessive thoughts. So it's not really PTSD. It's obsessive thoughts, and I may have OCD which is okay with me.

I am feeling HIGH right now because after we did the counseling, my mom was nice and bought me a Pepperoni Calzone (for those who don't know, it's like a pizza, but with more crust) from this place I love and it was SO delicious. I meant, after the first or second bite, I was just transported to this HIGH place and I knew that not even cutting could give me this high that the pizza gave me. If the pizza place put some drugs in there, that would make sense, but either way, I am feeling GOOD. I am just in this great mood because I had that absolutely delicious (and probably bad for me) calzone that is SOOO AWESOME.

If anyone on Earth is depressed, you cannot kill yourself without trying this guy's calzone first. You have to live before you die, and you haven't lived until you've eaten pizza or a calzone from this guy's place.

Well, I will refrain from driving everyone crazy with my talk of how AWESOME that pizza is, and how high I feel right now (I haven't cut since Thursday!), so... that's all! I only have 20 more pages to edit until I'm finished with the second draft of Linda's Chronicles! YAY.

Things I have to do with the third draft:

• add more Rospian civil war stuff
• fix the continuity errors that are sure to exist after the way I killed Ferdinand (well, I didn't kill him myself)
• decide at last whether or not Linda will cut herself because I don't think kids can handle THIS MUCH in one book. I can't put everything in this book. I will write other books.
• add more stuff about Lillian and Napoleon. I do think that mothers write more about their children than Linda does. I have never watched a baby grow up. I don't remember things about when I was little (my memories start as a two year old, but they don't become regular until I'm five)
• figure out more about how Elizabeth dies (anyone who knows who Elizabeth is, you are going WHAT? WHEN DOES SHE DIE?! so don't stress out)
• Add more about 'Lady Coulton' (Yes, JoCo fans, she is named for him. My sister made me do it. I was opposed to it, but she made me do it!)
• decide whether to finish up the smallpox issues, delete smallpox entirely, or what
• make final decisions about references to swearing, sex, and violence. The thing is, all of those things are in it, but most sex references are rather Victorian, with the exception of Countess Barbara (BTW the word sex never occurs in the story) , swearing is completely absent except for describing when it happened (it gets censored in one funny scene), and the violence is minimal, although if it were a movie, the violence would probably be pushed to PG-13. I guess the violence, I don't need to worry about. There is not excessive violence, but I wouldn't let a five year old read it because of the violence. The sex references are minimal and anyone over the age of 8 should be fine reading it. Swearing, well, kids are learning swears younger and younger, so they can put in whatever words they want for the censoring. Most of the swearing is, "he swore when he missed" or "I swore at him" or it was in a language that Linda doesn't know, so she didn't put the words in. The swearing, if you uncensored it, would be rated PG at worst except for the censored conversation which I don't know enough weak swears to put in the "long string of words I didn't know". That would probably push up the rating to PG-13. So, guys, this book is for kids no younger than 8. Seriously, I would let MY seven year old read it unless we had already had The Talk, s/he knew swears already (but s/he didn't say them), and he understood that violence is to be kept in books and on TV and that's it. (no, I don't have a seven year old, and I won't until I am at least 25 I think)
• Decide who to finally kill, who to cut out entirely, get some characters in there more, and get some characters out less, more dialogue in between the PWNSOME dialogues I have every once in a while, and that sort of thing.

Bottom line, folks, this book will be getting some serious work done on it before I think about publishing.

I would put an estimate as to when I start sending it out to publishers in 2009. I think I can have the work I need done by 2009. Maybe mid or late 2009. I am just trying to get it published by 2012 so I can run into my English class some day in 11th or 12th grade and say, "MR/S. SO-AND-SO, MY BOOK IS GOING TO GET PUBLISHED" and then my English teacher will have a REAL AUTHOR in their class! I will give all of my English teachers from sixth grade onwards a copy of the book. I know at least one of them is looking forward to it. I wonder who else I will want to give a copy of the book to... I know a few friends, of course, and there's my family and... a lot of people!

Well, my crazy fantasies of publishing a book are kinda premature right now, so let's get back to Earth and say that I need to do my homework.

I'm glad it's just Math and some *ugly* Social Studies, although social studies is INCREDIBLY EASY. Usually.

I kind of wish I liked Math better. I could be a math student, a mathematician if I wanted to, but I am a writer first. I think it's actually harder when you CAN do so many different things. You have to choose what to do. Most people are good at one thing, and that's what they do in life. But I am good at a lot of things (not sports or anything physical, though), so I have to choose. I want to be a geneticist, lawyer, politician (after I'm a lawyer), writer (that's the first thing I'm going to be), and so many other things.

I don't want to be an astronaut. That's one of the few things I don't want to be.