an Actual Post, not song lyrics or one-worders or whines or whatever.
A few more IQ points down the drain. Heck, even my talkativeness has decreased. I can't be idle for, like, a full minute without drifting off to Lala-Land. And my typing's like shit. Aah, the wonders of summer holidays.
Now I'm taking it seriously. I have to get better at this writing thing. Or at least be like I was before. Back when I actually had things to say.
Okay, I still do have things to say, but lately it's been a bit hard finding something to write about that I can say without fear of incriminating myself. I like being an open book, but I don't want to be too open, if you know what I mean. Some shitty person can find this and, like, tell my Mum about all the inappropriate things I say and do. And plan on doing.
What, did you think that I say shitty and crap and fuck in front of my mother? I wouldn't dare. She would have a heart attack. Or try to soap the words out of my mouth. Or at least threaten to do it.
So...Hmmm...
Now that I've actually had time to think and all that, I've come to realize that I'm not too hideous. In fact, I think I actually like how I look. Well, I pretty much have to, since I'm stuck with this face for the rest of eternity. Unless I actually wake up one day with actual guts and decide to go under the knife. Which I would never do. Unless I, like, get mutilated because of an accident or whatever.
Anyways, I think I like how I look. I've come to an epiphany and I realized that I'm actually not that hideous. Well, you know, compared to those other people. I'm not saying that I'm Claudia Schiffer or whoever, but at least I have complete, functional body parts. Which I know I should be thankful for. Unlike before when I was always like, "God, why hast thou forsaken me?" Because my sister is the epitome of hotness and all that.
How can I tell? Simple. She always has a battalion of boys running after her.
Now, I'm not saying that I've actually had a battalion of boys run after me, hence the epiphany. I don't need that to realize what I have. I mean, I might be ditzy at times, but I'm not completely brainless. Anyways, I just thought that I should, at the very least, be thankful for what I have. Not everyone is born normal. Or well off, for that matter. Most of us take these stuff for granted when, in fact, these things we barely noticed are the exact things other people have prayed for all their lives.
I'm just saying.
(Okay, I'll stop being preachy now.)
Finished The Catcher In The Rye and A Walk To Remember a coupla days ago. The first one was this big whatever book. It was funny and all that, and it taught you a lesson or two. The second one was nice and touching and slightly depressing, with this bittersweet ending. I finished it in one sitting. One line (said by, who else?, Jamie Sullivan) stuck to my mind: "When I said I prayed for you, what did you think I meant?"
Then I finished Through A Glass, Darkly while I was on the beach this morning. It presented very interesting ideas. Coolness. :)
We watched Tristan and Isolde last Monday. James Franco was teh Hotness. I can't wait for Spider-Man 3!
Okay, I'm doing one-liners again. I hate it when I do that. Unless it's like, a list or something. I am now going to take this writing thing seriously. I remember something Paul said last night, "Why do you keep forcing yourself to do stuff you don't want to do?" (I was telling him about this thing with me forcing myself to do stuff. I didn't elaborate though, so I fully understand why he said it.) Well, it's not that I don't want to do these stuff. I LOVE doing them. But if I don't actually get around to starting them, then how the hell am I going to progress, right? I better get my ass off the floor and start walking, since a journey of a thousand miles does still start with a single step. Or with the starting of an engine.
***
Plus eternity times infinity!
Now I'm taking it seriously. I have to get better at this writing thing. Or at least be like I was before. Back when I actually had things to say.
Okay, I still do have things to say, but lately it's been a bit hard finding something to write about that I can say without fear of incriminating myself. I like being an open book, but I don't want to be too open, if you know what I mean. Some shitty person can find this and, like, tell my Mum about all the inappropriate things I say and do. And plan on doing.
What, did you think that I say shitty and crap and fuck in front of my mother? I wouldn't dare. She would have a heart attack. Or try to soap the words out of my mouth. Or at least threaten to do it.
So...Hmmm...
Now that I've actually had time to think and all that, I've come to realize that I'm not too hideous. In fact, I think I actually like how I look. Well, I pretty much have to, since I'm stuck with this face for the rest of eternity. Unless I actually wake up one day with actual guts and decide to go under the knife. Which I would never do. Unless I, like, get mutilated because of an accident or whatever.
Anyways, I think I like how I look. I've come to an epiphany and I realized that I'm actually not that hideous. Well, you know, compared to those other people. I'm not saying that I'm Claudia Schiffer or whoever, but at least I have complete, functional body parts. Which I know I should be thankful for. Unlike before when I was always like, "God, why hast thou forsaken me?" Because my sister is the epitome of hotness and all that.
How can I tell? Simple. She always has a battalion of boys running after her.
Now, I'm not saying that I've actually had a battalion of boys run after me, hence the epiphany. I don't need that to realize what I have. I mean, I might be ditzy at times, but I'm not completely brainless. Anyways, I just thought that I should, at the very least, be thankful for what I have. Not everyone is born normal. Or well off, for that matter. Most of us take these stuff for granted when, in fact, these things we barely noticed are the exact things other people have prayed for all their lives.
I'm just saying.
(Okay, I'll stop being preachy now.)
Finished The Catcher In The Rye and A Walk To Remember a coupla days ago. The first one was this big whatever book. It was funny and all that, and it taught you a lesson or two. The second one was nice and touching and slightly depressing, with this bittersweet ending. I finished it in one sitting. One line (said by, who else?, Jamie Sullivan) stuck to my mind: "When I said I prayed for you, what did you think I meant?"
Then I finished Through A Glass, Darkly while I was on the beach this morning. It presented very interesting ideas. Coolness. :)
We watched Tristan and Isolde last Monday. James Franco was teh Hotness. I can't wait for Spider-Man 3!
Okay, I'm doing one-liners again. I hate it when I do that. Unless it's like, a list or something. I am now going to take this writing thing seriously. I remember something Paul said last night, "Why do you keep forcing yourself to do stuff you don't want to do?" (I was telling him about this thing with me forcing myself to do stuff. I didn't elaborate though, so I fully understand why he said it.) Well, it's not that I don't want to do these stuff. I LOVE doing them. But if I don't actually get around to starting them, then how the hell am I going to progress, right? I better get my ass off the floor and start walking, since a journey of a thousand miles does still start with a single step. Or with the starting of an engine.
***
Plus eternity times infinity!
