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Get your own at PokePlushies!

Another Day, Another comment.

Well, once again, I'm laughed at for wanting to write. Honestly, I get it. Really, I do. I know there's no money in it. I know that x and y and q and p... I know all that. Really. But I don't need every time I mention it to be laughed at. Okay, and I know it's meant well, that it's just in good fun... etc., etc., etc. But that doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt.

Okay, I was asked what I want to do after I get out of school. I honestly... I hate when people ask me that. Because I say I figure I'll go to the community college... okay. And yes, I do have something that I specifically want to do, but I don't have anything specific really as to how to do it. What I'm going to do to get there and the like. Okay... no, I don't want to go into journalism. Every single time I tell someone that I want to write, that's what I am asked. Every time. Honestly... do that many people really pursue journalism? No, I don't want to be spewing lies and half-truths, I don't want to be that machine. I want to write people. I want to write what I want to write, honestly. As soon as I say that... well, joking and poking ensues. A teacher. I know... a teacher. I said that I wanted to get into fiction, and he made a comment... "I'll visit you in your box". I laughed. Sure... it's funny the first couple of times. But when it comes to the idea that every time you want to let someone know what you want to do, you get knocked for it... joked at, poked at... it frankly gets tiring. I know I can't start with a career on its own. I know that. And that's why I'm interested in looking into other things. Really, there's not much else I want to do, but I'm stretching what I'm interested to try and pursue it. I'm really not interested in making loads of money. I just want to do something I like. I know I'm young, and I haven't "lived" yet. It's what I want. But it hurts when people make comments.

Photosynthetic

No amazing contrast. No obsession with vanity. No big obnoxious size. No ostentatious pose. No cleavage. No trendy hairstyle, no cocky or overly shy statements. No. Just me. Just me. That just isn't enough.

Blogophilia?

Okay, so I don't want to be objectified. You know what, Mencia? It's fucking true. And when I become sickened by people or don't like people to be offensive it's because thing fucking hurt. The overall effect that the use of racially or sexually charged insults have is that people feel less of themselves. And you can't fucking tell insecure people not to take you seriously. That's all I'm gonna say for now. But I don't plan to be done with you.

Day

Today was a day of a few parts. First, I woke up, at 7:30 in the morning for some odd reason, I couldn't for the life of me discern why, when I had gone to bed only five hours earlier. But I decided to stay up, in case Ashley later came on and I had gone back to sleep to discover that she came and missed me. I didn't want that to happen, so I didn't go back to sleep until around 11 or so, at which point I didn't mean to actually nap, I was just essentially passing the time until she came on, which I didn't know when it would occur. When she came online, we talked for a bit, but she was angry that I wasn't there, when all signs basically pointed to the idea that I was. Which is an understandable concern, I'll admit. But, she signed back off, then on, just to start over and with a clean slate, and it actually worked incredibly well, and our relations for the rest of the day were amicable and kind, which pleased me quite well. At around five, we left to go to Kira's recital, and we had to pick up Grandma Helen on the way. But we forgot that we needed five spaces in the car. So we just took Jude's carseat out and left it at Grandma's apartment. At any rate, we got there, and then we got to the recital place and whatnot and waited in line for a little bit and they let us in... and we got seated and whatnot. The recital was okay, I noticed hardly anyone was smiling except for this one girl who looked like a robot cheerleader, and it was kind of freaky and annoying, but oh well. At least she was trying. But there was this little kid song that talked about how fun rock and rolling was... and that just struck me, because of the idea of how we're desensitized and how Christianity and moderate society borrows terms that are descriptively indecent... "indecent"... and turns them into terms that mean nothing. I thought that I would make note of this fact, so I wrote it down on my hand, along with the word "cheerleader" to refer to her. Then, after the show, we went to dinner, and on the way, mom was getting snappy. And then at dinner, mom was getting snappy. And then she got annoyed that we were annoyed with her :/. But on the way home... well, she was still snappy... but I put in The Colour and the Shape so it was nice and relaxing and pleasant and stuff. Pretty music. And then I talked to Ashley, and I had been longer than I expected. Gladly, she wasn't bothered by it. I was very pleased and grateful. But she had her own issue, and whatnot. But we snuggled and all is well.

Oh, and I have what I guess is a yeast infection. Kind of sucks. Took ... er... applied some stuf... hope it works.

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