Maybe I'll post here once a month

A sentence every month. That wasn't my sentence, though. That one wasn't it either. That one... Um, well, here's my "real" sentence:

Ah, actually, I really have nothing to say - maybe something will pop into my head next month.

I just feel like it

I just feel like posting here. For no reason, none at all...except maybe procrastinating. But I do that all the time. Some examples:

• LRRH.
• Blogs.
• Random Googles.
• Making faces at myself in the mirror.
• Spinning around really fast in my swivel chair (which I've always thought was crazily fun... what a child I am ;)
• Walking aimlessly around the apartment, occasionally bumping into things, which usually happen to be pretty sharp... I have several bruises, actually...
• Poking people, usually my youngest brother. I also love squishing his cheeks, they're so malleable. ;)
• Doodling on my homework (word art, silly faces, bubbly flowers, corny sayings)
• Eating.
• Making lists.

Sigh. I guess that's enough procrastinating for one day. Gotta do my homework....

Good and bad news (for me)

Bad (always first): I'm only half-way through my writing project. It's a free-verse type short story thing, and I have no idea where in the world it's going. The characters seem flat, and the plot seems unbelievable, even for a fantasyish type story. And I haven't had a peer conference yet, which I need to get done soon. Ick.

Good: the final draft is NOT due tomorrow (thank goodness!). Apparently, the rough draft should be finished by tomorrow, and that's optional, since it's really only if you want the teacher to go through it and edit/revise/give suggestions/etcetera. But I want my teacher to read it.

Another bad: I'm beginning to really hate my story. Just beginning to, though. And I'm only half-way...only half-way...ahhhh...seven chapters so far...it's too long for this writing project...my teacher's going to tell me to cut it in half...that will be impossible...I want to start over...no, I don't want to start over...I don't want to go through this again! Oh, but I have to. Three more times this year. Three more huge, impossible, draining writing workshop projects that I have to complete if I want to pass ELA.

Question of the quarter: am I going to live through this???

My ideal...

So I haven't written here in a while (at least it feels that way), so I was thinking maybe I should make a meme. It's just a random, learn-more-about-other-bloggers type thing, so let's see how it goes...

Rules: if you're tagged, make sure to add one more ideal "thing" to the list, besides the items that are already there. So if I was just tagged for this meme, with the current list, I might add "vacation" or "day at school." Be as descriptive and random and silly as you want. This is a meme about you, so make sure to show your true self with your answers. :]

My ideal...

Snack: chocolate chip cookies! :]

Day: fun, hanging out with friends (sigh), reading for at least three hours (consecutively!), and very windy and sunny. Or rainy.

Book: just look up The Goose Girl by Shannon Hale.

Friend: honest, funny, speaks English fluently (I've taken this for granted), dependable, genuine.

So...I guess I'll just tag one person, so this meme won't "run out" too fast, I guess. And the *lucky* person is... Q! Have at it, and enjoy (at least, I hope you do). :)

Uh oh

I need a Snickers bar. Fast. Something chocolate at least. Anything. I am about to face some sort of nightmare in the days to come.

How could this happen?!?!

Well, let's see Rebecca Joy, how could this tragedy have happened? Hmm.... 1) You are very, very unorganized when it comes to notes. 2) PROCRASTINATION!! 3) You hate what you're writing right now, so you avoid it as much as possible. 4) Your ongoing excuses of too much homework (falls under the category of procrastination). 5) Did I mention how very, very unorganized you are? Oh, yes, yes indeed I have. It is simply intolerable of you. Simply intolerable.

Okay, so before I head too ahead of myself, whoever "I" and "myself" are (can't distinguish between the two, they're so very similar, and like to talk to each other as if they're different people, how odd), I guess I should say what this tragedy happens to be. Here it is: September 26. September 26. SEPTEMBER 26, PEOPLE!! Can't you see the horror?! Can't you feel the pain?! Don't you understand what the heck I'm talking about?!?!

If you don't: September 26 = the death of me. The death of moi. The death of yours truly, unorganized procrastinator who loves chocolate too much. Why is September 26 the end?? Because. IT. Is. Due. IT. The THING I have to write. That horrible IT THING. I'm not even halfway done with IT yet. The IT THING. IT's driving me absolutely crazy. I hate the plot. I hate the characters. I hate this project.

And. The. IT. THING. Is. Due. This. Friday. How could I have forgotten?? How could this have happend?? It's the end of the world as we know it...

Gah. Aghh. Ughh. Bleh. My writing career was doomed when this writing project was assigned. I just had that gut feeling, that foreboding that told me: this is NOT gonna end well. I didn't know it was actually going to END, like, actually actually actually END. Gah.

This is going to be a very long, very slow, very painful death. Don't forget me, bloggers. Don't forget my chocolate obsession. Your thoughts will be the only thing that just might keep me somewhat alive...

"All people want is someone to listen."

-Hugh Elliott-

Enough

I hope I don't have reason to rant anymore. I don't want to rant anymore. It's just depressing, really, after the initial satisfication. No more of that, now, I hope. (Please?!)

Anyway, I usually wake up around seven on school days, do whatever I do to get ready for the day, and leave around 7:30ish. So this morning, I looked at the clock and did what everybody probably did sometimes during their life, at least once (if not, that's just unnatural). I looked at the clock and... guess what? It was exactly at 7:30. Exactly. I was like: great. Now I'm late. Why didn't anyone wake me up? Why is my day already showing symptoms of being horrible? This is too unfair.

And then I realized: the house (I mean, apartment) is way too quiet. I check, and everyone is sleeping. No school today? But why? And then of course I realize it's Saturday. I know it's Friday in America, and everyone's probably eating dinner or something. So I just sat there, looking dumb and tired, with my hair all poofy and messy, and my eyes all squinty, and I'm like half-asleep, but I'm in that middle place where you can't really wake up or go back to sleep, so instead, I just come to blog about it here, with all these run-ons and horrible grammar. So yeah. Wakey, wakey! (as my biology teacher, who's from England, would say........)

I want to kick something

But I won't. Because unlike other people I know, I'll at least try to be a good girl, and not do everything I want just for the attention and drama that will probably ensue. I'll limit myself to evil thoughts, like thinking how kicking someone's butt might satisfy my enraged self. Seriously.

You can probably tell I'm pretty ticked off. Because I am really really really really really really really ticked off. Mostly at almost all the people in ninth grade, and a little bit at me for being a hypocrite, but I'll tuck that sucky guilt aside so I can rant a bit with an-almost-cleared conscience. *Apologizes for complaints/whining/ranting beforehand, I just needed to get this out...*

*clears throat* So. Why are people so shallow? Why are people so selfish? Why do I get so easily annoyed by people at this school than any I've ever attended? Why do people want me to suffer because a) I get decent grades b) I'm (notice the quotes) "too f* tall" (that in itself deserves a grr from me) c) I get decent grades d) I can speak English so well (?!?!) e) I get decent grades? Why are grades so freakishly important here? Why is it fair that I'm the one they want to suffer, when I'm suffering enough already?!!!

GGGGAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!

Remember Girl2 from that post on WordPress I made a while ago? Well, she can really get on my nerves sometimes (although sometimes she's really nice and fun to talk to, but...gahhhh!!!) She's basically the one that wants me to suffer. This is basically what happened, more or less:

Her: Nooo!! I got a B- on my essay...This sucks...
Me: Yeah....
Her: What did you get?
Me: You're just going to get mad at me. Like you always do. Why do you get mad at me anyway, if I get a better grade than you? (*Adds silently in head: Which is really, intolerably stupid of you, and I hope you realize it sooner rather than later.*)
Her: (*Whatever*) Whatever.
Me: Fine. I got an A. Happy?
Her: Nooo!! Ugh, I hate you. Why can't you suffer like the rest of us? I hope you get a bad grade on your next essay...
Me: (*Is silently experiencing rage, wondering what is this girl's problem...*) Um... (*Walks away to locker*)
Her: (*Follows, acts all mad, tugs on my shirt*) You're so mean. How could you get an A?!
Me:
Her: (*Squinty eye, frowns*)
Me:

And that's only ONE of the things that's ticked me off today. The other things also included people getting all "OMGahhhh" over grades, it was seriously way over-the-top.

People can be so....dramatic. (And that's saying a lot, coming from the "Drama Queen" herself. ;)

Oh, and one girl cried because she was getting verbally abused over getting the highest grade in one of our classes. And the person who was bullying her acted like she was the victim. And then all her *friends* just started grinning and laughing, not really knowing what to do, so they just went along with her...

Sigh. I'm the hugest hypocrite for not speaking up when I should, and just sitting there like a dunce, silent as usual. I'm really mad: at all those hypocritical girls and at all those hypocritical ME. Ugghlahness. Seriously.

The breeze caresses
my skin.
Flower buds bloom
before my eyes.
Morning dew
coats my feet.
Spring
overwhelms my senses.
This dream
brightens as
the fan turns my way
as the breeze caresses
my skin.

-Rebecca Joy-

To study or not to study

I really, really don't want to. But I should. But I don't want to. I have to. But I don't really have to. Unless I want to get an F on the test...or maybe just a D... Ugh. I should and I have to study. Or else I'll be forever stressed over this test starting today and months after. Is not studying worth all that? No, not at all. But sometimes I wish I didn't care about my grades that much. That I wasn't always such a goody-two-shoes that did everything (or most things) she was told, always doing what's *best* for her whenever and wherever. Why can't I be (somewhat) rebellious?! I've been almost as obedient as Ella since I went to first grade. Why not kindergarten? Because in kindergarten, I got a yellow spotlight (those behavior management things that teachers use for lower elementary students), and I was so shocked, since, well, I always got greens my whole kindergarten career, and I was basically almost crying and thinking, "How could this happen to me? How could I, the-green-spotlight-girl, get a yellow? I must lie to my parents to preserve whatever dignity I have left." Ahem. What dignity, six-year-old me? You're the wimpiest kid I've ever seen...been...whatever.

Sigh. I wish I was more carefree. School and grades are not life. But somehow, someone convinced me at an early age that school and grades are life, and you'd be crazy to think otherwise. I'm crazy anyway, so it doesn't really matter, but... why does life have to revolve around education?! It revolves around education even after you complete it (education, that it. Not life). It's so very, very unfair, I think. *Irritated sigh*

*Is done rambling, for the sake of rambling and...procrastinating...I'm trying to postpone studying as much as I can!!! See, me, I can be rebellious...sometimes...*rolls eyes*...I can be very pathetic when I don't even try...*

I've noticed, that on different computers, my blog looks either darker or lighter. The screens are different. Right now, I'm using a different computer, and the screen makes my blog look brighter - it sort of hurts my eyes (a bit). I'm wondering: is it too bright for you? Is it too dark? Is it just right? I guess it depends on the monitor's settings (brightness). But still, I'm curious to see how others view my blog... : )

"Everyone is entitled to be stupid, but some abuse the privilege."

-Unknown-

Clowns ARE evil (my dream, slightly tweaked, PART ONE)

I've never seen "Black Knight." But I know lots of you have. And, well, there's obviously Joker in the movie (how could there be a Batman movie and not include Joker, anyway?) So. What I've seen in trailers and commercials, Joker looks totally freaky. I've always disliked clowns, always leering at you, with their thick, bright makeup that would probably feel totally disgusting, which is why I'm glad I'm not a clown.... O_O

Anyway. I had a dream last night. It involved clowns. And many of the same car. And clown minions. And clown slaves. I think I was about to become a clown minion when I either woke up or switched to another weirdish, hazy dream that I hardly remember. But, anyway, here is what I remember from my clown dream (nightmare) last night:

I'm sitting in a lavishly furnished lounge, it's theme: red. The drapes, the sofas, the chairs, the carpets - they're all red, probably meant to look elegant. But I feel as if I'm swimming in a room of blood. I've visited this lounge many times before, but it was always located in different places: an enormous mall, a five-star hotel, or just by itself. Now, I believe it's been located in a local airport, a small airport.

As I sit on this plush, inviting sofa, nodding off occasionally, I wait for someone.I made an appointment earlier in the day, wanting to apply for a job, start earning some money. But why in an airport lounge? Well, I am where I am, however odd the place. The main entrance doors open - my brother walks in, short and chubby. He walks toward me, not saying a word. I open my mouth to speak to him, to acknowledge his presence, question his presence, but nothing comes out. Am I deaf? Am I mute? Why can't I speak? Why isn't there noise?

My brother, Eddie, silently stands next to my seat, apparently waiting for me. He begins to walk away, and pauses. I am to follow him, I think. There is no one else in the lounge, except for Eddie and me. We walk across the room to a door painted crimson, higher than two of me. I obediently follow Eddie as he scurries through, but I sneak a glance back into the lounge as the door closes. The lounge is crowded with people. And where I was just sitting, just a moment ago, I see a man, pale as snow, lips red as cherries, hair black as ebony. Male version of Snow White? No, this guy is ugly. He's a clown. Wearing a suit. He leers. I run, slamming the crimson door behind me.

I am blinded by white. Though my eyes are shut, they are stinging. Though my hands shield my face, I am burning. What's wrong here?! Did I walk into a room of fire? A hand rests on my bent elbow, and my guide, most likely Eddie, leads me out of this place. This is an airport, isn't it? Where am I? The light subsides, and I can finally remove my hands from my head, and my eyes slowly slit open. Ah. This is the airport, clean and tidy and understandable. Eddie is still at my arm, slowly walking toward a nearby escalator. Suddenly, I jump, remembering I had an appointment with someone in the blood-red lounge. Eddie shakes his head, as if reading my mind, as if saying, "That can wait, sis." I nod hesitantly, and follow my out-of-character brother up the escalator, not sure where he's taking me. Maybe we'll get on a plane and go to Europe for a weekend. That would be nice. Maybe the rest of the family is already there, and Eddie and I are just late...

We near the top of the escalator, and now my ears are attacked by a burst of noise and clatter. The area is chaos, people stumbling over each other, shoving, pushing, yelling, shouting. My ears are ambushed, and I truly go deaf - but not with silence this time. Deaf with unending noise. A goat bleats nearby. Why would someone bring a goat to the airport?

We come to the end of the hall. Actually, it's the middle of the hall. It's been cut in half by a row of money-eating machines, and Eddie and I observe others who pass through. They insert a foreign bill into a slot, and then a ticket comes out the slot beneath. The odd thing is, the only thing different between a plain sheet of paper and the ticket is that the ticket has, in bold black block-letters: TICKET. J. I blink once. Definitely odd.

Eddie somehow has hold of a foreign bill, and places it onto a machine. I wait for him to proceed. He just stands there, staring blankly at it. I sigh, exasperated, and shove the bill into the slot. Our ticket appears accordingly. We race down the hall, as if running for our lives. I look around as we pause to catch our breaths. Is this really an airport? I don't see any terminals. I don't see anyone pulling luggage. There are no announcements of, "Last call for boarding flight number this-and-this." It's quiet again. And very white (but not to the point of blinding). For some reason, I believe we are now in a subway. But I see no train. No transportation at all. Are we stuck in this nameless place?

I look around again. I don't see Eddie anywhere. Where could he be? There are no doors anywhere, no escape out of this white, closed hall. That makes it a room, doesn't it? I begin to shiver, falling to the floor, crossing my arms, huddling into a ball. None of this makes sense. I'm alone again, and the pale-faced man comes to my mind, clear as if he were standing right in front of me, leering with his eyes.

I shut my own eyes, wanting to escape. But the walls are closed off, and the room starts to shrink. I have to squat in order to avoid bumping my head. The air in my lungs escapes, and I can't find anymore to fill my chest. I gasp like I am drowning, but without water. Fear tugs my heart, and it beats faster than ever, and my gasps come out quicker, shorter, more desperate. I feel dizzy, and I fall to the floor - but I don't feel impact of flesh on cement. The floor has disappeared, and I am surrounded by black, by night. I'm still hunched in a ball, waiting for this nightmare to end.

My eyes snap open. I am sitting on a red cushion, on a red sofa, in a red lounge. I sigh in relief. It was all just a dream. Just a dream. Wasn't it?

A chuckle.

I freeze. Only my eyes waver. And I scream, I scream so much I almost pass out... but no one hears. Except the pale-faced man. The clown man. He's here.

Past, Present, Future

Tell me, tell me, smiling child,
What the past is like to thee ?
'An Autumn evening soft and mild
With a wind that sighs mournfully.’

Tell me, what is the present hour ?
'A green and flowery spray
Where a young bird sits gathering its power
To mount and fly
away.’

And what is the future, happy one ?
'A sea beneath a cloudless sun ;
A mighty, glorious, dazzling sea
Stretching into infinity.’

-Emily Brontë-

Slight change of plans

Instead of posting the whole drama of "Coffee Prince" at the bottom of this blog, I'll only post the first episode (there are four parts for most of the episodes). If you really want to watch the rest of the drama, you can go to mysoju.com and view the following episodes there. Anyway, I watched the first part of the "Coffee Prince Special," and unfortunately, it wasn't a mini-sequel/epilogue type thing. It's sort of like a behind-the-scenes kind of thing. If you're interested, here it is:

Anyway, I've been writing about a dream I had recently, and it's currently saved as a draft. I'll probably post it tomorrow or later this week. :)

Fin

끝 < That's Korean for "end" or "finished." I hope it's the right spelling....
Anyway, I finished "Coffee Prince!" Ah! I really love it. It's cheesy, the ending is predictable, everything is predictable (for the most part ;), and I can't believe I finished. In, what? Three days? Two days? Oh my goodness, I finished a whole Korean drama in just a few days, that's like... crazy. Yes, very, very crazy.

But...I wish I didn't finish it so quickly. I hate it when good things end (but that's life, sigh). At least there's a "Coffee Prince Special"... I'm not exactly sure what that means... maybe like an epilogue? A mini-sequel? I don't know. But I'll save the "Special" for tomorrow. I'll try to make Coffee Prince last a little longer. :)

I wonder what drama I should watch next...muhahaha... ;)

Still on drama high. I just finished the 13th episode. Need to do homework. Can't resist drama. Need to do homework. Can't resist drama....

I am on a drama high right now. Yesterday I watched the first eight episodes of Coffee Prince. Did you catch that? EIGHT EPISODES!! (And all in one sitting, sort of.) My mom was like, "What?! That's crazy...that's how much I would watch. You're crazy." (We're both addicts.) Now I'm on episode nine, part one. Heh. :D

PS- two clips of Coffee Prince aren't working (ep. 4, part 4; ep. 9, part 4). So I've basically missed 20 minutes of the drama. So sad. I hope they repair them soon, so I can fill in the blanks... :)

Drama queen

Lately, I've been watching a Korean drama called "Coffee Prince" (it has English subtitles, courtesy of mysoju.com). I'll probably be posting around two to three clips a week, in case any of you are interested in watching it. And if you missed a clip or two, the links to them will be provided under the new clip, so there's easy access. "Coffee Prince" is pretty fun (for me, anyway), but please note: the recommended age for this drama (and most Korean dramas) is fifteen years. There might be some mature content/references, so you know ahead of time.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and you might learn some Korean along the way (if you can pay attention to the subtitles and what they're speaking at the same time). Happy watching (the clips will be posted at the bottom of this page)! :)

I sit at my desk, writing about nothing, deciding to take a look around my familiar room.

There's a sliding door across from me, which opens out into this tiny little space that doesn't really lead anywhere. Outside the clear, sliding doors are more windows, with the shades pulled all the way down, moving slightly from the breeze that leaks under the window. Light pours through, flooding the small space and halfway into my room. It doesn't reach me, at my desk, where I sit in shadow.

Every spot the light touches seems to glisten and sparkle, clean and fresh. Everywhere else is cluttered, messy, chaotic. Dust is the floor's closest friend, and the smell of mold overtakes my senses as I look around my room, half-lit.

My bed, unmade, is hard and cold, a thin blanket pathetically crumpled to the side, strangled and limp. On top of the bed is a school uniform, the skirt fanned out like a balloon, and the shirt wrinkled somewhere underneath. My pillow has vanished, probably meant to be the next roof of my brothers' feeble attempt at their fort of sheets and chairs.

I turn in my own chair, examining a different part of my square, small room. The open wardrobe, hardly organized, vomits shrunken shirts and pants out at the base, waiting to be picked up and hung. Somewhere buried in the back are the rest of my school's uniform - long sleeves, coats, jackets, stripes, solids, skirts, blouses. All different, all the same.

After another turn to stare at my pitiful bookshelf, my lacking-of-books bookshelf, my eyes have traveled the whole of my square, small room. It's size is taken in by two small turns of a chair, with hardly any effort on my part.

A tiny sigh escapes my lips, not really knowing where it started from, or where it's headed. Today is a sighing day, a thoughtful day, a reflecting day, a self-pitying day. A what-if day, an if-only day. A lonely, quiet, uneventful day. A wasteful day.

A cloud has partially covered the sun. My room is in total shadow, now, not even bothered by artificial light, an artificial brightness.

I sit at my desk, writing about nothing.

Chocolate

Chocolate

Chocolate: so fine.
Personally, I like milk
But dark is great, too.

Feet

Smelly, ick, gucky
Absolute worst smell ever
Stinky feet and socks

Big Fat F

No notes, my excuse
Cramming before the big day
An unfinished test

Scribble

No real shape or form
Looks very terribly lame
Just throw it away

Haiku

This is what you do
To really procrastinate
A random haiku

Victims

(Something randomly written down in my planner, during art class, after a particular event that ticked me off. Make of it what you will. Note: this is not edited, will not be edited, and probably won't make much sense - lots of errors and organization problems, but, well, I was scribbling...)

People like to think themselves as victims of everything unfortunate or unfair that occurs. By being victims, or thinking they are, they make others the victims actually - with the blame and complaints, without compassion or care of those around them. They don't care about other people's feelings, only if they can vent about their own. They keep moving from bad thing to worse thing, content to be uncontent. They want the world to hear their voice, and it doesn't really matter who hears it - just as long as there is someone willing to be sympathetic (or pretend to be). There are so many people in this world, the "victims," who want to be heard, or just want to hear themself talk, and those who are left, besides the fake sympathizers, just want to be noticed, not pushed aside as an enemy, but valued as a friend. These "extras" just want to be considered a person. The loud, unfeeling people need to stop and think about the extras in this world, and how they're important, too. The extras are different than the self-appointed victims in this: the extras care and want to be cared. The "victims" don't care about anything - just their own selves. There are too many of them - in fact, we're all these "victims" at some point of our life, but the times when we're extras are the times we should care about - the time we should care about ourselves and others. :) <3

(Okay, lots of mistakes with structure, spelling (ah!), etc., sorry about that. Anyway, after I wrote that, I thought about it for a while, while doodling on a piece of paper. I was thinking: That was really hypocritical, what I just wrote. But then, every accusation we make is hypocritical, as we're all human beings who are faulty and just plain mean sometimes. So I wrote a couple sentences after that short little ranty thing, here it is...)

Everyone is fake, but at the same time, everyone is genuine. We all have our own stories, it's just that some people hide it better than others . . .

EVERYONE has a story. It depends on the person if the story is shared or not. :)

Schedule:

Morning: get up, go to school

Late Morning: *brainwashed*

Noon: *yum, lunch, munch, munch*

Early Afternoon: *brainwashed*

Late Afternoon: *half-dead*

Evening: *ehhh?*

Night: *dead*

I've seen this floating around, so...

I am: a procrastinator.
I know: very little.
I have: a school uniform.
I wish: I wasn't so sad.
I hate: shallowness.
I miss: feeling like I belong.
I fear: many things.
I feel: like I have very little time for anything.
I hear: the tick-tock of the clock.
I smell: like Vietnamese food (just had some for lunch - at least it was different than Korean...)
I crave: a good, juicy cheeseburger.
I search: for friendship.
I wonder: what is my purpose?
I regret: past decisions.
I love: love.
I am not: content.
I believe: in God.
I dance: hardly.
I sing: when I want to.
I cry: because I'm human.
I don't always: know what's going on.
I fight: my emotions, but they always win.
I write: horribly.
I win: when I'm lucky.
I lose: when I'm unlucky.
I never: will be a teacher.
I always: feel tired.
I confuse: myself.
I listen: to people's troubles, even when they won't listen to mine...
I can usually be found: sitting somewhere, staring off into space, thinking about nothing in general.
I am scared: that I won't be accepted.
I need: more books.
I am happy about: the fact that it's the weekend.
I imagine: what it's like to be free.

Going crazy

I'm going crazy. I have three different blogs, and am a contributor to a fourth. And they're all hosted on three different blog hosts; this is my first personal Blogger blog. I feel kind of intimidated - WordPress, Livejournal, and Blogger are all so different, and I'm not sure which I like the best (although I must say that Blogger gives much more freedom (for free!) with layouts and customization than the other two blog hosts).

I think this will be a blog dedicated to writing, or things related to writing. Not so much a journal or personal blog, like my WordPress one. Or maybe I'll just write about my day or something like it's a story, like I'm watching myself and recording whatever on this blog. I'm not exactly sure yet. I guess I'll experiment for a while, and then I'll decide what to do with this blog.

I think that this craziness is a result of my restlessness and, um, me procrastinating. I love and hate procrastinating - it's evil, but I love evilness in general anyway. It twists my mind around and around, winding it up so tight that I can't really tell what's going on anymore. *Is suddenly very dizzy*

See? The horrible effects of procrastination. And then there are the academic effects: bad grades, blank tests, unfinished essays, etc. Lucky me. ;)