sincerely, me

So, probably not such a good idea to write a public blog post when I'm angry, but let's try it anyway. Why is it I always act like such a moron? My sisters and I argue all the time, about who "gets" to empty the dishwasher, the way each of us needs to change so we can be a) more accepted, b) less annoying, or c) a generally better person, and who is actually at fault for the argument. I love my sisters, but really, sometimes I want to hit them over the head and say, "Hey! Listen to me! I might actually be right!" Well. If I'm being honest, not really sometimes... The point of all of that was to say that when I get angry, I get hot all over and this thing rises up in me that prevents me from caring about anyone else or whatever it is they have to say. And anything someone says just makes me more angry, and I really just want them to shut up and leave me alone, and then I have to work even harder not to say something horrible--usually I fail. In shor...

Yesterday, I ran. I'm not sure how far I ran, but if you've ever been to my house (which only a couple of you have) and have driven around a quarter of my neighborhood (which only one of you has, I think) you'll know. It felt horrible. Today I ran even longer. My stomach hurt, my legs ached, I felt a frog trying to leap from my throat. It was the worst I've ever felt. I think. I have this, condition, I'll call it, where I always forget just how it felt to have some certain thing happen as soon as it's over. As I sit here, I can't quite remember how awful it felt to run that mile, or how it felt however many months ago when I was sick all day and throwing up. Kind of cool, I guess, but it doesn't much help when I'm at the doctor's and she's asking me exactly how my stomach hurt and where, so she can help solve the problem of the mysterious stabbing feeling in my tummy. Anyway. My sister and I have decided we're going to exercise ever...

I was digging through old documents, hoping I'd saved the information I stuck in all of those boxes on MySpace before I deleted my account (sadly, no) and discovered gold ! Well, not really gold , but something pretty close. I found my old To-Do-before-I-die List! So, as a special Friday the 13th gift, I'm going to post an extra blog this week detailing my list and (maybe) why I chose to put each item on the list. So, here it is, for your reading pleasure! (Comments will be made in this pretty pink-ish red  color! To-Do-Before-I-Die List (from around Aug 2008, so I guess not all that old, but it seemed like it, since I made it at the end of high school and that seems like forever ago...) 1. Go to New York, Chicago, Los Angeles, France, London, and New Zealand (sightsee). (I've always wanted to go to New York because it seems so exotic! Plus, one time in Girl Scouts we went to Washington DC, we rode the Metro a few times, and, I swear, those were the most excit...

I could have sworn there was a Fall Out Boy song with the words "on the subject of" in it, and I was planning on quoting it to you, alas, I could not find it. Oh well. I might have confused Fall Out Boy with another similar-sounding band. All I have to go on is the broken record of "on the subject of" going over and over and over in my head. Usually that helps, you know, usually it makes me think of the next few words, or from the tune I can pluck out the rest of the song, or even just recognize the voice playing in my head, but not this time. This time my memory is failing me. Although I'm pretty sure it was Fall Out Boy. Oh well. And, with that, I'll move on to the actual topic of this week's blog. Someone told me yesterday I needed to write a new blog entry (probably because I'm so addicting and they couldn't get enough, I'm sure =D), so I thought the whole way home from work about what I could write on. I thought about singers and wh...

For this week, I thought I'd post a little bit of a new story. It's called "Aesthetic Perfection" (obviously) and you'll have to read it to know what it's about. Here is a short excerpt. If you'd like to read more, you'll just have to comment and tell me! ~*~ I don’t have normal dreams. Some people dream of riches, the ability to provide for family, or just their own materialistic tendencies. Some dream of becoming famous, known even to those who don’t know them. Some dream of the perfect life, where everything they’ve ever wanted they can finally have, however frivolous it all really is. I dream of feet. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always loved looking at them. At the various geometric shapes that make up the innumerable pairs of feet all over the world. I see them everywhere, even hidden by shoes. Some people aren’t so withholding. Sandals are my very favorite type of shoe, because they let show as much as they can w...