~Well, HELLO~ :

I'm in a good mood.  Such a good mood.  And not just because I've had a good, happy day in school :) and seen a bunch of my friends :) and one of them's gonna let me borrow her new, chic jewelry tomorrow :) and I REALLY like all my classes in school, but I'm in a genuinely good mood.  Not such a good mood that I'm in a 'moment', but I certainly feel light today.
I made some damn good choices today, and I know it.
I went to cross country, and must've run a mile.  And most of it was uphill.  That wasn't so fun, actually.... but the feeling you get afterwards, the absolute accomplishment, and the soreness in your legs, that you can already feel turning into muscles.  IS.  FANTASTIC.  I'm so happy for myself, I'm turning into an athlete.
Also, I'm listening to some good songs on the radio, it's not a political station, thank god.  Much as I love to listen to the political scandals every now and then, it's nice to put your feet back and relax with some good, soft, meaningful songs.
I ate a healthy dinner, too.  It makes me feel better and lighter when I eat something that is good for me, instead of just tasting good.  I'll reward my good behavior tonight with no ice cream.  Isn't that a sadistic way of life?
Also, the cutest thing just happened.  I had homework today, in math class, ugh... and only four days in. Also, I figured if I got it done tonight, I could spend study hall tomorrow getting acquainted with the library <3  :)   So, anyway, I wanted some peace and quiet to finish my work so I went outside to our screened in porch.  We don't use the porch much, we're more inside people, but I thought I'd give it a go.
      So I get out there, start setting up (we had quite a bit of homework, woe my sadistic teacher) and a kitty-cat jumps onto my lap.  Don't worry, it wasn't a stray.  We own two affectionate barn cats, Jake (aka Jacques, I love to say it in a French accent) and my kitty, Jinx.  The one how had perched on my lap was Jake, my younger brother's cat.  Jake's a tomcat, orange with lighter stripes.  I do love my cats, they're just so... pretty.  There's something about the curve of their face that reminds me of Cleopatra or Caesar.  Very noble, lithe, graceful cats.  And both of them, like their mom, are small with silky smooth fur.  He peered up at me, and purred, demanding my attention.  He was a constant source of amusement for me.  He'd swipe at my hands with his sharp claws, bit at my pencil so I couldn't write, all for my attention.  Ah, it's so good to be loved.  Although, as payment for my cat's love, unfortunately, all I got was claw marks.
 It's not always good to be loved.  Still, I love my cats.
I finished my homework after quite some length of time, and by the time I was done, I finally had time to cuddle Jake.
Just then, Jinx walked in.
Awkward.
I squirmed, uncomfortable under my kitty's fierce green eyes.  She was mad.  Oh, yes.  She doesn't like to be left out of loving.  I beat a hasty retreat, fearing my kitty, and with right reason.  Jinx is one scary little kitty.  She's a black calico, has green eyes and white toes.  She's a Halloween kitty, which is why she's mine.  But any kitty, no matter how small and pretty, contains a raging beast.  Or possibly a bloodthirsty demon.
It's a miracle I managed to escape with my newly toned legs attached to my body.  And THAT is why I'm in a good mood.  Because it really does jolly me when I leave a room with two cats and still have all my limbs attached.
:)

Time and knowledge.

        I've got a lot of stuff in my head.  It probably comes from reading a lot of books, but I do feel somewhat wiser than the rest of my peers.  It's not true, I know, since this information is offered to everyone, and I'm obviously not the only one who reads a lot of books, otherwise there wouldn't be a lot of books.  But each book, I feel, gives me more and more knowledge.  I'll explain that later.        First I want to talk about one of my own peculiarities, and why i have it.
        I get this quite a lot.  I'll be reading a book and some friendly soul will stop to ask me if it's any good, if it's suspenseful, or if I know the ending, and I always stop.  Blink.  Look at them and say something along the lines of, "oh, yes.  It's very good.  There's a nice twist at the end, too."
        This nameless person will do a double take and look at what I'm reading.  "But... You're only at the beginning."  This person will say, confused.  Then I shall laugh lightly, for their ignorance is not their fault, and say...
        "Well, I know the ending because I've already read this book.  Many times I've read it, in fact."  Then this person will nod, pretending to understand and relate it to the time they themselves reread a good book.
        I do not reread only good books.  I reread everything I can get my hands on.  This is because, I was made to be a writer, and it's what we do.  (As far as I know, anyway, I've never really met another writer outside of school).
         Consider this.  If you happen to have a thirst to read books again and again, like me, because you like the dialogue, the scenes and you want it to stick to you permanently?  Then you might have been a writer in a past life... Or something.
         My point being....  Don't freak out if someone tells you they've read a book a dozen times.  It doesn't make them nerdy, it just means they are more artist and brilliant then you are and you should worship at their feet.  (hehe, just kidding.  You don't have to worship at my feet... I mean, I'm not saying you can't...)

Well, that section of the post wasn't really that much about time or knowledge, so let's get on the subject.  Starting with... dun duh dun duhhhh......
                                   KNOWLEDGE!!!
Knowledge is all powerful and as grow more knowledgable, the more you realize how much more their is to learn.... Blah, blah, blah... You've all heard this a million times, blah....
I'm not saying it's not true.  I'm just saying that if you're old enough to read, you've probably heard those phrases a hundred times.
Knowledge sucks like that.
Sometimes I despise knowing things, characters, places, cause you know you'll never get to them...
Enough depressing... let's move onto....
                                   TIME!!!
Now, this is what I originally intended to write about, mostly because I surprised myself today.  I was sitting in math class, and I started writing on my notebook.  I wrote 70.  Because that's the average lifespan of a female, I think... Anyway, I subtracted 13 out of 70 and got 57.  (I do hope I got that number right, if I didn't, I'll be so embarrassed...)
I have about 57 years left to live.
Dear god, time moves fast, doesn't it?  I've already started living my life, and to be honest... I feel so  bad.  I mean, sometimes you hear these stories about "All the wild and crazy things I did when I was a child..." and I've done nothing like any of that.
Nothing.
It makes me incredibly sad, how quickly we are losing that youthful freedom.  I was barely in second grade before I felt bombarded with pressure.  I know how necessary school is and I appreciate it, honest, but children shouldn't be constantly reminded of the dangers of life.  We're supposed to get in trouble when we're teens and children, so we can learn from them and make all new ones as adults.
Time scares some people I think.  When we look at how much time we have left, it's scary.  I can admit that.  People like days when they feel like time has stopped.  You know the feeling, don't you?  That peaceful happiness where danger and disease is just so far away.
That's why I love Fall.  It's in Fall that I have those moments the most.  When I'm swinging on my wooden swing set, the sun to my back, hidden behind well-grown and well-loved oak trees, the sweet smell of apples, tall grass, and the musty smell of leaves distorting your head...  I never cared so much about the colors of Fall as I do the smell and the harvest.  But if you ask me to my face, I'll tell you I like the colors, because it's simpler, smaller and I sweet nonsense that people drone on and on about.
         I love the grim and funny decorations that people set up, the spirit and mystery of Halloween.  "Who's behind that mask?"  Could be a serial killer or a enthusiastic Dad searching for his enthusiastic child.  It's so much more beautiful than Christmas, because it's not a big worry, there's no mass or ceremony you have to go to.  It's just a celebration to celebrate the things that go best unsaid, that most people would rather tuck away.  I simply adore Halloween.
        Those moments can seriously mess you up.
         Here you are, excepting death, excepting the inevitable, and then a moment like that comes, takes you breath away, and for a few seconds... Just a few seconds.... You're allowed to believe that you can live like that forever.  You can be happy, it doesn't matter if you leave your footsteps on the world, you can live in bliss...
And then you have to remember, all over again, that you can't live in bliss, you WILL die and it will be painful and there's no guarenting that you'll end up where your religion tells you to go.  Buddhists could be right and you could be reincarnated as a worm because you're atheist.
To pull myself out of those moments, which is sometimes necessary, to sober and awaken you from that lovely dream, I have a few select quotes I use.
          Some of you may not agree, some of you may not like the quotes that I use to keep my imagination and my ignorance away, but I'll tell you anyway, because it's the single thing that can tear you down when you're happy, and build you up when you're sad.
          "It's not what you call me, but what I answer to."  That one would be a good one to use if you were being bullied.  Sometimes I wish I'd get bullied so I could use that one.
          "From the moment we're born, the trigger is pulled.  Some bullets just take longer to reach us than others."  Morbid, yes.  True, also yes.
          "It's not true that life is one damn thing after another.  Life is one damn thing over and over." I like that one because you can apply it to so many situations.
          "Success brings you confidence.  Confidence bleeds to arrogance, and arrogance is the thing that prompts me up when my limbs are too weak."  That one I like, it's from my favorite author, Derek Landy, although I don't have the quote right in front of me, so I may not have gotten the words just right.
          "Just keep breathing."    Always useful.
          There's a poem that I want to put up here that is both brutually honest and intelligent.  The perfect combo.  And a bunch of other quotes that I can't say off the top of my head.  I'll find some more and put them on here.
          Until then.
          Avoid.... Moments.

This post is all about me

Me.  Not you.  Me.  Isn't that wonderful?  But taking about it not being about you is making it about you.  Sooooo.....
I spent the whole entire day playing Harvest Moon, I've been spending a lot of time with that video game, even though it's not really that much fun.  It's more stressful than anything, and me?  I'm all about no stress.  Still, I can't seem to stop playing it.  In the game you're this cute little amine girl who moves to a Island called--- and this is no joke---- Waffle Island.
I know, right?
So, at Waffle Island, you basically just run around trying to start your life as a rancher.  Although there are some very unrealistic parts to the game, such as, the mayor giving you a FREE HOUSE, I don't know why, but it's pretty suspicious, isn't it?  Well, the question as to why is never answered, and five minutes in the game you'll be too stressed out with learning the new map and trying frantically to make money (the only realistic part of the game) to be bothered with Mayor Hamilton's strangeness.  It's a bizarre game, which only makes sense since it's placed in rural China.  Which is incredibly odd, because everything about it screams JAPANESE!!
The only other thing I've been doing today is eating.  Yum.
So, my dad and my two brothers went away for, like, four days and I lost five pounds!  What really bugs me sometimes is how good a cook my dad is, it's like, he makes something and you have to--- absolutely have to--- eat it.  There's no getting around it.  Unfortunately, while my Dad's food is delicious it's also loaded with fat and sugar.  While it was just Mom and me, we ate a pure diet of buttered noodles and strawberries.  It was delicious, small, and quite relaxed.  However, since the rest of my family is back and we have five members to feed instead of two, the meals have actually become family sized.  And I've started eating for two people again, because otherwise, my brother's food goes right to the garbage.  (thank god I have a fast metabolism)
My older brother, is TOTALLY anorexic.  Like, he will not eat anything that is not officially called "junk food".  He won't eat anything healthy, which is so weird, because we're exact opposites that way.   I will only eat sweets if they're prepared in a french restaurant or something of equal standards.  My brother won't eat it if it's not manufactured.
Also, I've started on this really strange series (books, for all you simpletons).  You all know Yu-Gi-Oh, right?  It's that Japanese amine thing with the guy with the weird hair.  I CANNOT get over his hair!  It sticks straight up!  No one's hair is like that in real life, so why do people feel the need to put it in their mange series?  (Mange, for all you nitwits, is super violent teenage porn-o (just kidding) with pictures) Everyone in the series either has a mullet or really big boobs!  (mullet for guys, big boobs for girls obviously)  Still, I can't get enough.
It started out as me watching the abridged series of Yu-Gi-Oh on the Internet (abridged, for all the morons, is like a shorter, fan based, parody)  which is SOO hilarious.  It had me laughing so hard I nearly peed myself loads of times.
Yu-Gi-Oh is all about this really nerdy super small teenage boy who's really wimpy and is picked on a lot, and likes to solve puzzles, his name, obviously, is Yugi.  So, Yugi finds and solves this really old, Egyptian puzzle that no one could solve before, and suddenly he's semi possessed by this really sexy egyptian Pharaoh who's name is Yami, and whenever Yugi's in danger, or about to play a children's card game (WTF, right?) Yami comes out, possesses Yugi's body, makes him grow, like, five feet and then teaches the bad guys a lesson.  Cool, right?  And before, I thought Yu-Gi-Oh was just a new take on Pokemon--- which, if you haven't been paying the slightest attention--- it's not.
The characters in Yu-Gi-Oh are really lovable, although, not entirely saintly all the time, which I kind of like, and the plot is good too.
(Plus, some of the boys are really sexy.  ;) )
Okay, I've written all I have to write for today, so I shall speak no more.

Finally. You're gone.

I've been under the most horrible stress for writing in this blog.  I've had people comment (not in the comment section conveniently placed below, oh no.  You never comment there, it would be a waste of your time apparently, because you could just tell me in person at the next family gathering.  So what's the point in putting it on the computer???  My pride.  That's why.  Being told in person that you're great is fine and all... but it's not permanent.  That's why I want you to put it in the comment section.  So I can use it against you next time I see you.)
Of course, that whole rant was just rendered useless, I now remember.  Because you, my dear relatives, no longer visit this blog, do you?
I can patient.  Patient as a snake.  Waiting in hiding.  That's what I've been doing, by the way.  Waiting to strike.
(All of this time I was not, for example, just being forgetful and lazy and not writing here because I considered it a waste of my time.  I was definitely not doing that.  *Cough, cough*)
I've out waited you for a very specific reason, you see.  Have you noticed that when I started blogging that the blogs were light hearted and fun all around?  And that as soon as my Bear mentioned this blog on facebook, and people actually started coming here that the blogs changed.  Perhaps some of you considered that to be just me, growing as a writer.  BUT IT WASN'T!!!
It was you!  You who pressured me and made me measure my words and work to write a good story!  But I have decided that I don't want to succumb to you and your "high expectations".
So, things will return to there usual rants and demands and paranoia.  Because this is the inside of my head that you're walking on and I will not let you change the landscape of my brain!  (It's a lovely blue color, btw, with huge majestic cliffs like the ones in Ireland, hot Italian boys, it has fluffy black kittens (black to represent my inner goth), cool Egyptian symbols, and adorable amine boys and foxes.  Maybe Japanese boy-fox hybrids.)
Anyway...
Now that I've gotten you out of the way I can talk about whatever I want to and say what I please.  Fuck.  Damn it.  Oh, yeah.  Potty-Mouth Super-Special-Awesome-Bryn-Powers ACTIVATE!!!
(Wow, now I really hope my Bear doesn't read this anytime soon...)
I've just gotten started about talking about how liberated I feel right now.  I can do anything because your not WATCHING!!!   *dissolves into hysterical laughter*  HAHAHAHAH!!!!!
I don't need you.
I don't need adoring fans (though I doubted you ever where adoring).
I don't need admiration and compliments.
I don't need your approval to keep writing.
I'll do as I please with out you.


I was lying to myself.  I do need you.
PLEASE COME BACK TO ME ADORING FANS!!!!

Horror Story 2- Light.

A scream filled the air, at first I didn't realize it, but it was my own.  A whimper escaped my lips, and the pain made the seconds feel like hours.  The pain ebbed and died away just as a light flickered on over the right of me.  Adrenaline swirled through my veins, giving me the strength to crawl to my knees.  That hurt. The pain reminded me of the time when I was six and had jumped from the rafters in the barn, it had been broken then.  I was pretty sure it was broken now too.
         But...  the light.  There was a light now.  A beacon.  I could get home, it wasn't too far away.  It could even mean that Mama's migraine was over.  There was help.  With new determination, I pushed onward to the house.  The lashing rain was a dull buzz now.  Smaller than an annoyance compared to the pain in my ankle.  I focused all my attention to getting to the back door, I didn't even notice the car that had returned in the driveway.  It felt like forever but at last the door was there.  A solid, sturdy old thing that had lived through two generations and such, had gathered almost it's own personality.  My trembling hands fumbled with the smooth handle as it opened it made a old man groan.  Like saying, fine.  Come in and get dry, but don't you even think about trekking that rain water thorough my house, I smiled a little bit at the familiarity of it but then my ankle pulsed in a reminder as to why I was so desperate to get inside.
         "Mama!!"  I yelled dragging my foot in behind me.  "Mama, I need help.  My foot hurts and the cows are missing in the storm!"
         There was a dead ominous silence.  It was a silly thing, silence.  Something you don't put much thought into.  But it was a scary thing too, filled with promises of ugly things that your mind can concur up.  But I was in no mood or shape to hear the warning that the dead house was giving off.
       "Mama?"  I called, this time in confusion.  Even at the most painful, migraines never kept Mama from talking.  If she wanted to talk (which she always did) then she would talk. 
       She's still upstairs, some silly hopeful part of me whispered.  "Mama?"  I called again, feeling a little bit like a lost chick.   
       I dragged myself across the kitchen and to the stairway.  I heard the gentle sobs of someone trying to keep them hidden.  "Mama, are you all right?"
       There was something at the bottom of the stairs.  An unrecognizable lump.  A wet one, too.  Liquid, I was guessing, water pooled around it.  As I drew closer I realized what it was. 
       Not a lump.
      A body.
      Mama's.


How's that for a cliff hanger???  Sorry It's been a while since, I've written anything.  I'm just not in the mood for it so much anymore.  Don't get me wrong.  Writing, I love.  Blogs can get tiresome.  Really, this blog is supposed to be about me, right?  Well, let me tell you one thing.  I get enough of me when I'm not writing.  Plus, the little monkey found a new computer game and has been hogging it every second he can.
      I'll post again soon hopefully.
      Later.

Sunday

Grrr.... Sundays.  I love weekends, really I do.  But Sundays aways are in the middle for me.  Because really there just isn't enough time in the day to do what needs doing.  First, you wake up (or at least you do if you're a teenager) REALLY late because you stayed up all Saturday night then it takes about an hour for you to gather up you senses enough to change into new clothes and shove food into your mouth.  And I always have to go to bed really early, lay in bed for an hour trying to sleep, get up and stall it, wait some more, THEN go to bed.  And in the end, I go to bed round about the same time I do Saturday nights, only it isn't a content murmuring, blissful sleep.  Nope.  Not Sunday nights.  Sunday nights I stress and worry about going back to school until I finally collapse in exhaustion.
ANYWAY, the next half of the story later.  I've been thinking about the cow story a little bit this week and I think the simple stormy Wisconsin story is going to turn into something great.  So, as it turns out there might be a third, even forth, part to the story.  Kay, I'll finish the story later.  But just not today.  I'm too sleepy today.  Or at least that's my excuse.
One more thing, Does anyone care to leave a comment? A compliment or something?  A correction even?  A sassy one-liner, anyone?  Sigh.
My eyes are dropping.  Bye bye.

Horror Stories

The wind whispered warnings in my ear but I didn't pay it any attention.  I had a job to do I couldn't just let the cows go to the mercy of the storm.  Dark ominous clouds thrashed and shuddered as lightning snapped down, eliminating the countryside. 
I toke a deep breath and kept struggling to find the lost herd.  I listened carefully for the deep penetrating moo and watched for the flash of brown and splattered black but my eyes and ears couldn't make out anything besides the roaring thunder and the lashing rain.  I felt desperation swirl deep in my chest, but I shuffled on determinedly.  I stepped tentatively because I didn't want to fall and break my ankle because  knew no one would hear my cries.  No one would come looking either, because Papa was gone with my siblings and Mama having a migraine and couldn't be disturbed.  I doubted Papa knew how bad the storm would be when he left for my cousin's wedding, but he gave me a smile and told me he was confident that I, being the oldest and most responsible, would be fine.  And that the farm had seen worse storms.  He had been wrong.  No one predicted the strength of the storm but now it hit in it's fullest fury.
I stumbled along, wondering if I should turn back and give it up.  Just as I was ready to turn around a sound drifted around the storms howls.  Possibly the most beautiful sound I have ever heard.  Mooing.
  I turned and stumbled towards the sound.  I turned around in circles, expecting to see big brown eyes and a sweet, plump face.   No where.  I was being to think I imagined the sound, until again it came. 
I twisted, following the sound.  
  The ground slipped away under my feet so suddenly that all that came out of my mouth was a strangled yelp.  For a moment I hung suspended in the air then the reality and ground hit me with a bone shattering crunch.  This time a actual scream escaped my throat.  It was drown out by the thunder that shook the ground.   I wondered how long it would be until help came.  If I was going to have to wait the night.  I closed my eyes as the pain flushed.


And THAT is the first part of my Cow Horror Story.  Was it suspenseful?  The beginning was, I think.  The end of that half of the story sort of died down a little bit.  Oh, well.  Can't be perfect ALL the time right?  You know, it's funny, one time we had a guest author come in to talk to us.  It was amazingly cool, it was the author of the books Red Glass, and Starlight.  Mostly it was just cool that we got to meet a author, face to face.  I talked to her and when I told her I wanted to be an author, and she smiled and said, "Cool, what type?"  And I said "I want to write some horror stories and stuff."  And she was like, "What??!! You seemed so bubbly and stuff.  I'm so surprised!"  That's seriously what she said.  It was pretty random.  Do I seem bubbly to you??? I hope not.  That's not really the mode I was trying to portray, y'know?
  Okay, anyway, I'll give you the second half of it later.  Gotta go now.  Later!

Hotwings.

BEST WORD IN THE WORLD?  Fascinating.  So many options to use it in.
BEST FOOD IN THE WORLD?  Hot wings.  They're like the funny mexican guy of the food world.
BEST KNOCK KNOCK JOKE?  HA!!!  Fool!  There IS none!! Knock knock jokes SUCK!!!
Wow, I'm glad I got that off my chest.  I've been feeling so angry tonight, you know??   The little monkey started flinging poo when he came back to the bathroom and the computer game he was on was completely gone and I was playing Tetris.  Apparently he was about to beat thousand something record or something.
Oopsy-daisy.
So he kicked me in the head, the little jerk-face.  I mean, naturally I punched his leg (hard) and we started screeching in fury and wrestling it out.  It was at that moment that the Bear decided to wake up from her slumber.
SAFETY TIP:  Don't poke the sleeping bear.
My little rumble with the monkey man ended pretty quick but I'm still feeling pretty hyped up on adrenaline.  When people use the saying "High on life" do you think they mean it literally???
Is there something that those people know that we don't?  Is there a way to literally get high on life? Hmmm...
Government secrets maybe?
 Or is it just one of those "secrets of life" thingys?
I hope not.  I'd rather have a government scandal.
Catch ya later alligator!!! (Or whatever you are)

Monkeys. Bears. Cranes. Leopards.

Aren't monkeys so cute?  They're like a mix of fluffy little puppy/kitties and babies.  Fluffythingys/babies.  No wonder people love them.  SOO CUTE!!  Sometimes my brother Drew remind me of a monkey.  Sweet innocent little fluffy baby one moment, then throwing poop and screeching the next.

My Mom's the bear.  You ever seen one of those nature shows with the bears and such??  Where it shows great fluffily bears bumbling along, they sort of look like they're grinning sometimes, don't they?  My mom's like that.  The mother bear of the family, which isn't exactly a compliment.  She's ultra strong, impossible to win an arm wrestling match against.  Must come from hauling all those flowers around.

Cal, my other brother, is like a crane.  Really skinny and he has the worst singing voice.  You know how cranes kind of croak when they sing?  My brother's like that, not exactly a bad singing voice but... not good either.  Interesting maybe.  And cranes look like hippies, especially the ones with the the red stripe around it's throat.  Also a bit of a jerk.  Not that that has anything to do with cranes.

Dad's like a leopard.  Quiet, and polite.  Some snide jokes but mostly a quiet and controlled guy.  Except for those rare moments were his temper slips and he yells.  One word.  SCARY!!!  But he's REALLY nice the other 99% percent of time.  I don't know why leopard comes to mind, it just fits.

Me?  Well I don't think I should really be the one to judge that, but it would be a bit unfair to talk about everyone except for me so I'll tell a little about myself.  I have ten fingers and ten toes.  I have a bunch of blankets on me right now 'cause it's so dang cold out!  I'm watching a show about ducklings, DO NOT ASK!!  Urm, what else... I have anger management issues, although you wouldn't guess it first looking at me.  I'm not the most patient person in the world, I get that from the Bear.

I'll catch you later, my faithful readers!
-blog of awesomeness, this is Bryn.  Signing off.
(I got that from a dj)

Favorites

Favorite colors.  Favorite game.  Favorite movie.  Favorite song.  There are too many favorites in the world we live in, let's say you start a casual conversation with a kid younger than you, and the first thing you ask is, "What's you favorite (fill in the blank)?"
I don't like to play favorites, I think it's mean and dishonoring for other colors.  Like brown.  How many people do you know who would say their favorite color is brown?  NO ONE!  I feel bad for brown.  It must be so lonely.
Ah, well.
So anyway, normally I wouldn't play favorites but there is just no avoiding it sometimes.  I have one favorite,  Derek Landy.
Period.
That's all I need to say, and all ready you can sense the power and sheer brilliance of it already.  I love him.  LUVV HIM!!!!  He's awesome.  BEST.  AUTHOR.  EVER.
My favorite definitely.
I love him with every ounce of my being in a totally non-weird, non-stalkerish way.
He wrote the Skulduggery Pleasant series, the most hilarious book in the WORLD!!!!
Now you know.

Movies and Murder

I'm watching the oldest, cheesiest, movie in history.  Well, arguably.  There are tons of old bad movies out there, all from the same time period.  Makes you wonder what all the types of pain and suffering the people at that time had to be put through.  My dad loves them.  They're the movies they watched when they were kids or something.  Some scenes are really morbid, like a old man running (well, sort of shuffling) throw a mob of people who were trying to beat him to death with sticks.  Really.  Where do people come up with this???

  You know I heard a theory from someone that the reason for all these school shootings and stuff is because of all the violence in our culture and music.  And to some point, I agree.  The great thing about the violence nowadays is that all the popular musicians (Eminem, Lady Gaga, etc.) are just better looking than all the violence inspiring things back then.  So props to us new generationers.  :)

My brother is hiding way in the basement right now and he's pretty much why I'm in such a bad mood.  Could you have guessed I was in a bad mood?  I think you should have; the whole topic of violence in generations isn't the happiest.

But I'm so totally moving past that.  Not even thinking about violence of any kind.  Definitely not beating my brother with a large stick.

Nope.  Definitely not that.  After all, if I beat him with a stick whenever I got mad at him; we might have stains on our carpet CONSTANTLY.

And no one wants that.

The bill for cleaning it would be huge.

So I must fight down this urge to kill my older (and yet far stupider and grumpier) brother with every ounce of willpower that I have.

If I did kill him, however, I just have to wonder if I would get caught.  After all, who would suspect the younger and more innocent daughter to a be a murderer?  Not that I AM a murderer.  Keep in mind this is all theoretically.

If I were to say, go down there and offer him a poisoned apple (which I promise you, I do NOT own one) and, of course, the being the nasty and ungrateful brother that he is he would glare at me, say no, and I would tell him that it was poisoned and apple, and just to prove me wrong; he would eat it.

And thus, he would be dead and I would be so much happier.

Sadly this is all hypothetical, and poisoned apples only exist in fairy tales.

As the devil would say, Alas.

(If you're reading this Cal, don't freak out.  I never actually planned to poison you.  I planned to strangle you in your sleep which is a TOTALLY different story.)

:)

Here We Are Again

We are here again at the beginning.  Here is what happened... *sound track starts playing like ~whoosh~whoosh~, then you see a hippie doing the strange hand wavy thingy, finally you are back in time, in my living room to be precise*
"How's your blog going?"  My mother says innocently, like she thinks that I don't know, but I do, oh, I do...
"Oh, fine."  I say, just as innocently.  "Have you gotten around to reading it yet?"  I ask, subtly drawing it out.
"Yeah, I read it."  She said and begins to type on the computer some more.
"Did you like it?"  I pestered and she makes noncommittal sounds.
"Sure, it was OK."
"Just OK?"
"It was fine."  Casually she takes a sip of water and I pounce.  (Metaphorically, of course, I've never actually pounced on my mother.)
"Fine enough to recommend to your friends on Facebook?"  I grinned and she looked at me and sighed.
"What do you want me to say?  It was good?  Alright.  It was.  It was very good and I'm very proud."
I cackle madly, because I know that she didn't just think it was good, she loved.  Call it daughter's intuition.
"It was very good and I expect you to keep writing it."  She continued and the smile faded off my face.
"Umm..."
"What is it?"  She asked, a gleam in her eyes, like a wolf before a lamb with a limp.
"I... Ah... Sorta, forgot the email address that I used and I don't really know how to log on again..."
She didn't look surprised.  Insulting, right?
"Just... just make a new one okay?"  She said and I smiled sweetly.
"Can I use your email address?  Oh, no mind.  I'm just going to anyway, kay?"  She opened her mouth in protest but I was already walking away. I stubbed my toe on the way out, totally ruining the dramatic entrance.
*suddenly you're rushing back, throw space and air.  The hippie is back (time travel stuff--- hippies are a necessity) and he's singing country songs (country songs and time travel, not so much a necessity, but I'm watching American Idol and there's a cowboy on....(my mom's tearing up, hehe)) Then you're finally back*
Okay, I think that was an exceptional start to my new blog, starting with a little short story.  Maybe it wasn't the best I've ever done, considering that I only came up with this in a few minutes and it definitely wasn't a true story, more like a theoretical possibility of one.  Sadly enough the only true part is the melodramatic ending and me stubbing my toe on my way out.
More's the pity.  Every time I try a melodramatic ending it ALWAYS ends the same.  Me and my toes getting hurt.
Grr...
So, um, welcome to the blog and stuff.