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Amber likes to express how weird my reactions to comments on personal appearances are. I tend to forget I look like anything: other people do, but I don't. Therefore, when someone points out that they (or even others) are conscious of how I look (sloppy, childish, or bitter, usually), I'm always surprised. How can they notice that when I don't look like anything? I think it's funny when they try to tell what I'm thinking based on my facial expressions. Adriane's actually good at it, but mostly people really get it wrong and then accuse me of lying when I say differently. I'm unconscious of how I look, generally, but it doesn't seem to correspond with how I feel and, while I am actually a fair actress, I don't generally bother to try for known expressions of whatever I mean. My interpretations of other people's looks don't generally match other people's, though, so maybe they're all compromising and going for a standard language vs. letting the physical stay free and forcing spoken language to take center stage, as I do. We were trying to learn body language in Spanish (for better communication), but I'm not up with the American standard. That's also a horse breed.

I really like this page. It's mine and all. Isn't Ami cool? She and Fuu. Ah, Fuu. I'll put a picture of Fuu next to her.

I feel utterly alone right now, like there is some huge gap between me and humanity. Am I a monster? Both Aaron and Leslie say that they'd die for various people, including me. Would they, really? Would I, really, and am I just to logical to admit it? Why to? Well, I'd have to absolutely trust them. I don't trust anyone that much. I want to live and that isn't wrong, I really really want to. I wouldn't betray trust to keep people from killing me, but I refuse to kill myself. I won't kill you if you don't kill me. I also won't enter into any debt I don't want to repay.

.....I'm so proud of myself. Aren't you proud of myself? Oh. Yeah. Right. I haven't yet told you that I made this page starting with the advanced editor ALL BY MYSELF. Now, aren't you proud? .....ANY WAY, I felt like making a new page, so I am. This is a nice page that I will experiment on. For instance, I was hiking aroud and I saw a page that had this nifty you-change-the-color-yourself deal and I thought, "hey. Cool. I think I shall borrow that." So I am. Now isn't it illogical that if I had typed "I'm" like I started to, it would be odd, even though I'm is just a contraction for I am.
.....BACK TO THE POINT. I like indenting. It's easier to read. Oh, well. I didn't get it right on the first try and now I must fly. Jazz in 1/2 hour, you know. TTFN. I'll bee back. BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. .....Here's a sentence for you:"But they have been infected by the dreaded Lousepedoodle, that flies in ever decreasing circles through the Gunpat of theCludge-a deadly virus-dear me, yes!-isolated by the purple Avvago and maturing in the gray-green forests of the Okey Pokey. This, you understand, is to put the matter fior you in simple terms, insofar as I can. Medically speaking, there are certain complexities with which I will not weary you."- ? Name that quote source and tell me what it means and I will tell you the way to get, how to get to Bo---bo land. Yes, I can tell you how to get, how to get to Bobo land. ;-) New: Nifty sentences. "The problem is, or rather one of the problems, for there are many, a sizable number of which are continually clogging up the civil, commercial, and criminal courts in all areas of the Galaxy, and especially, where possible, the more corrupt ones, this. The previous sentence makes sense. That is not the problem. This is. Change. Read it through again and you'll get it." Name that quote. "You kill my head." Please tell me you don't need the instructions repeated AGAIN! "Oh, my family has broad interests," ----- said. "I'm sure you wouldn't be interested in the details. I'm in the acquisitions end of things," he added blandly. - Full name please, as well as specific profession and family professions. Thank yew.

.....Hello again! Today is Monday and I have Z-Club and NHS induction today. I had to buy a dressy blouse. Fooey. The ballet people actually sent back my skirt that I conveniently forgot (really!) at camp. So, I'm all set in case of a funeral. That's a cheery thought. I find it interesting that some people act like its an honor to talk to you and some people act like they're doing you a favor by acknowledging your presence. Also how much I love trees. I wonder who gave the first strange look, to whom they gave it, and why. You can go many years before learning that something exists, but when you learn of it, you are suddenly bombarded by connections to it. Probably, you were before, but you never noticed. You needed to be introduced. Like you have a word in a vocabulary list and then it suddenly appears in a book that you are reading (for fun!) or Amber says it. Thank goodness for context clues. I don't like writing thoughts down because I or someone else could come across them and misinterprete them. I don't want that. Things that can be reused are good. Flint and steel over matches. A sword over a gun. A coat over a fire. Food isn't reusable. That bugs me. I have to do a lip sync for Acting Class and I don't know what song I want to do. Many possibilities, but I am not sure what would work the best. I'm going to spill hot wax on myself, or better yet, someone else, when we raise the candles at NHS tonight.

.....If you listen to a dog barking backwards, will you hear the words of god? It just came to me. .....And there is not the slightest certainty that I will organize this page so :-P. See? That sentence changed meanings 6 times within the course of typing it. I really need to type faster or write shorter sentences. Maybe she won't notice a little chaos, as well contained in order as it is. Or containing. It's like the irony of my connection with correct grammar. This was supposed to be a non-babble page, but now you have an example of how meanings can change. Vensre's at camp. Amber wants me to help organize. I mean, I love chocolate, but that's going near the edge. Have a pleasant night.

..... Ah, the story of the Chocolate party. This should be interesting. As a matter of fact, I think I'll seek out a new background of chocolate and devote a whole page to the cause. See you soon. You can see the progress at cocoa.html.

..... I wonder if Amber has ever bothered to read my response page. I like exactly 2 of Celine Dion's songs, neither of which is "My Heart will go on," I add. If I needed some sort of defense for what I like, I could also explain that I like most of the Backstreet Boys songs for jazz-style dance music.

..... Mom's casual question: What do you want to major in? Sheesh. I still haven't found a name for the job I think I might want, although that is getting more specific. Maybe I should join the Peace Corp before college, but I don't know. Not being in college in 2000 just doesn't seem plausible. I certainly don't want to be at the same school at the same time as Jeff, though. That would be scary. How am I supposed to pull a major out of the air?

..... I'm very rarely satisfied with my own work. Either I hate the story, it becomes preachy, or it gets too personal for anyone who isn't a complete stranger or one of my best friends to read it. All of my characters are in me. They are different sides than usually show, though. I could never write about, talk about, or act like anything that wasn't part of me. Especially villains, although, I can't think of any I've ever made with characters. Stories don't usually get that far or have one. Probably because I write for real life and there are no bad people.

..... It'd be nice to know what other people think is normal, simply because you can only shock someone so many times in a row. They need habit to soothe them. I wouldn't be surprised if, say, Adriane suddenly moved to Kalamazoo. Is it just me who has all of their friends move within two years of becoming friends? Ah, well. I've deduced that you can live without friends, but life's a lot happier with them. Having some of my friends live far away is convenient in some ways. I don't have to agonize about things like inviting them over. If they are in the area, they know they I'll be thrilled to see them. Same goes for me. Well, I know Amber's really thrilled, even if she seems tried and out of patience. When they are around all of the time, I tend to worry about bugging them. I simply have a knack for calling at dinner time, even if it's 5:00 and they normally eat at six and it just happens to be a special occasion where they need to leave at 5:30, so they're eating early, or whatever. Now if I started to think that they just didn't want to talk to me, I would never call anyone. Wait a second. That sounds familiar. Then there is always the great, long mentioned and suffered am-I-your-friend problem. Is anyone who doesn't hate me seriously going to say no? Well, I might, but would anyone else? Ah, well, I really should just proceed with plan Q and get it over with. But, I'm afraid. Oh, well. It is not necessary and they'll all be gone in a year or two. Maybe. Maybe that's what I'm afraid of, but I think not. Vensre and Amber seem to have gotten out of the internet every evening mode. That's kind of depressing, but hopeful for their lives. Of course, they could be watching Star Trek re-runs...... Or going to dances...... I think she enjoys them. There aren't many people who truly puzzle me. Don't think I think I've got you all figured out! It's just that I can follow the thought train of most people. This connects to this, connects to this, says this. That helps with some of Vensre's sentences where she doesn't even remember what she's trying to say. Anyway, those few I don't 'get' get a lot of pondering. I wonder if they're eratic on purpose. I doubt it. I just need more exposure on a one to one basis. I really ought to be working on my scarlet letter paper. I want it to be really, really good, but I don't feel like working on it. I can't get it right. What I want to say is not coming from my hands properly. I've got tons of homework to do, mainly for Lit. & Comp. and Physics. I tried to do 37., but my answer just wouldn't match the book's. I gave up, for the moment, thought about calling Adriane and asking her, decided against it because of my timing crisis, and went on to vocabulary. I thought about getting my dictionary, but it was 4 ft. away and I didn't really want to look up 25 words. It was actually 9:00 A.M.. I was actually awake. We didn't even have a ride this morning. Actually, we didn't have one all this week. That's bad. I'm probably going to have a rough time of it Wed. Last time I went a week without riding, I had some nasty wipeouts went we did ride. Luckily, there was only approximately five people there, so I didn't have to totally swallow my pride. Yeah, right, Ms. Carlson, I don't have anything to prove. I feel like I should feel like I do, being the only girl in the club and all, but I don't. It is kind of humiliating having to walk every so often, but everybody is nice about it and helps me out. It's almost like they take turns being my guardian angels. That gravel did hurt, though. Ouch! My siblings are going around in black capes, chewing blood pellets. Mom was choking and Bethany was laughing. Hmm. Jeff really needs to learn to use the computer if he's going to sabotage it. Erasing the CD drive was not what he intended to do, I think. Michael went in my room, took a book, and then asked Bethany to return it. She put it on my table. Alright now. If you want to borrow something, ask. Both Bethany and I have access to my library at all times. And another thing: If you ARE going to borrow something without asking, at least have the sense to put it back where you got it from. Bethany did the same thing with my riding helmet. At least it was in the garage, not my room, but she still shouldn't have left it in the living room. All of Amber's IM filled up 95 pages of wordpro. Vensre's: 59. Jenee''s: 10. Course, that's with space editing in an effort to make them smaller. Originally, I had a few over a hundred. Why oh why won't you come on-line. Les, your EPS seems to be in español or something. Looky, I managed to get a ñ in there. If it wouldn't be difficult to say, I'd spell my name with a ñ. My last name, I mean. I might change the C to a D just 'cause cursive Ds are so much more fun to write than cursive Cs. 'Course, I could just just take to signing in old elvish. That'd be fun. A bit of a problem on tests with those nice little ovals, though. Ah, well. Cest la vie. AHHHHHH!!!! Did I just say that? No, I typed it. I don't talk while I type. At least, I don't type the same thing as I say.

I just found a nice little quote of the day page with some neat quotes. Problem is, it's an AOL page, so's most of y'all canna see it anyway. I might just copy and paste best ones for y'all, if you's lucky. Michael cut his foot yesterday. People are most peculiar. You can live without them, but they make life so much more interesting. We were discussing charisma and popular people today, or rather, why they are popular, taking examples from Evita, the movie we happened to be watching. It's is a topic that interests me. It'd be nice to have someone to push me, to believe in me more than I believe in myself. As a nice little example, not meant to foster any sort of guilt on certain of my friends who tend to react in that manner to things like this, I bring up the matter of the school play. Try-outs are next week, and, despite the fact that I wish I was doing it, I don't have a script and I probably won't even try-out. Why? I ask myself. I'm not really all that afraid that I won't make it. I mean, I've been crushed in try-outs and failed before, and I know it's not that bad. I might just be that I don't want to face Mrs. Bach and ask for a script alone. I don't know that I am good enough not to bring down the performance. Most of all, short of anticipation of fun and satisfaction, I have no motivation. No one has told me that I should try-out. Not one has threatened my life if I don't. Ah, well. Someone else to share the responsibility would be nice. Someone to call me a chicken so that I could prove them wrong. Ah, well, there is always spring. Of course, even if I try-out then, I'll probably fail. Ah, well, such is the life of me. I bid you good night. It occurs to me that this is my page and I can do whatever I want, all at the same time. Amazing. Anywhat, I was just reading old guestbook entries. They are vera amuzing, 'specially before Venlie figured out how to use E-mail and communicated through Entries. I haven't changed the questions in quite some time or even the spilling of county to country. See, I really can spell, I just tend to type faster than I can. That's it. Now we know what it is, Hurrah! Now, there's a spell check on AOL. IS THAT COOL OR WHAT? Nice for serious things, anyway, which is why I have yet to use it, but am never without it. I should be working on my King Lear essay, but I get mad when I can't get it to satisfy my, which is basically what usually happens. This is horrible irony. I wait all the weeks of the Dove Family film festival until they show a movie I'd actually like to see for $1.50, and it happens to be in the one week where I'm busy EVERa day. Sheesh. This sure is WEIRD. Ah, well. It'll be on video soon. Sure, just like Dragon Fire will come out in April of '98. 2098, I take them to mean. Mrs. Nosbisch did not retire, but Mom told me she did. I hope humanity was saved, but mom preceded to say, wait, no, that was a different teacher. I see her always when I go to Manchester and that is bizarre. Really. Why do people leave off -ly s and leave pen caps on the back of pens? Are they sOOOO lazy? Duh, da, Dah, DUMB. People who profess to hate themselves and to think themselves stupid: Why? They obviously don't, or they'd be dead. Do they really want attention that badly? Competitive!!!! Really, it is 11:15 and you know what that means. Yes, that's right. Break out the cider and doughnuts and we'll toss them out of the window, analyzing a poem written impromptuly about the sine of the angle formed by the vertical and horizontal components, being a nice 1. That's it. Really. See, justifying madness defeats the whole point of crazy talk. If you justify, you are not mad. If you say your are, then your chances are just. Ubiquitous, it might be spelled, first used in 1897. What were they thinking and what was the first explanation of it doesn't matter to any but me and those it matters to. If this is our madness unit, what was The Scarlet Letter, King Lear, The Glass Menagerie, and Death of a Salesman? Our family unit! What fun! Is it a coincidence that they all involved mad people? There is a pink plastic mouse wearing a hat on the floor. I could pick it up. I could. Backgrounds are among the many improvements I made a while ago, but have not received sufficient compliments on. If you have to say something nice (about me), say it about something I control. I control this webpage, like it or not. Unlike some people, though, I don't criticize it, because it is my masterpiece, thus far, of self-expression. I love myself, so I love this page. That means that I hate us equally. When I'm writing my thesis paper, I'll consider expounding my continuum theory, but, for now, because someone has probably already published it, I will content myself with explaining on a subpage, perhaps around the time of the end of the ki! (page construction, that it). The ki! is never ending. That's the key. Amazing, my hair is almost dry. I could take it out of the braid now and enjoy the half-weight butterfly soft feel of semi-curly hair now or endure the "cute" comments tomorrow, but have the feeling longer. Sheesh. What choices! I really disagree with the overuse of the word "cute," especially when not referring to baby animals. Modern society revolves around vulgarity. Is is really a wonder that I am repulsed by society? Vulgarity is simply wrong, disrespectful, dishonest, dishonorable, and in all other ways bad. Honor is self-respect, to avoid confusion with chivalry, etc.. Maybe this'll get some attention from the "feel like I have no life" and "I have free time again" people. Peoples is as bad as moneys. !hseehS Oh, they want content, I'll give 'em a crateful. Shakespeare used the word 'em alot. Slacker. They want bitter, I can do bitter! HAH HAH HAH HA HAH HAH H Heyjymbobo! Have you been introduced to FTP or S-PGS? I didn't think so. Meet S.D. Soft-Drink, for the quick ones out there. N.B. (Nay Bug)should be arriving at any time she feels like it. Hello out there in computer land! New episodes start on the 30th, or so Michael says. Chau!

In the Prydain Chronicles, my favorite part is when Archen offers to lead Taran & Co. to Annuvin: "I believe," he said slowly, "that we can do no less than trust her until she gives us clear reason to doubt. I fear her," he added, "as do all of us. Yet I will not let fear blind me to hope." - Taran
Of course, Eilonwy's comparison to "letting a hornet sit on your nose" is quite adapt, too.

After all that trouble, it was worth it. Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat, I mean. Sure, there were flaws, but none of them could be helped by the crew. I, for one, blame lyricists. In general. OOOOOOOOOOOOO. Yeah, I know. Tough. They bug me. The- well, I better not say. Sir Venn'll love the surprise tomorrow. The brothers are a wee bit more likable than Joseph. YOU WILL LOVE IT! See, people do believe everything I say or nothing. Amber's right about the rainbow colored world. All good=white, no colors. The absence of some colors (black) brings a partial rainbow to view. So, you see, a bits and pieces world is the most beautiful of all. For some reason, the server won't download the last 61% of Amber's page. The problem with people is that the only ones you're comfortable getting to know already know you, you see? Ah, well. Ever wonder what exactly your member profile says, especially when unknown weird people IM you? Heh, heh ,heh, heh! Scaring people who think you are the partner in crime of a self-declared S(oft).D(rink). assassin?

Now imagine what my three color printer did to this!

That was my nice introduction to my page. No, I will not write a thesis statement and I definitely will NOT underline it. I just realized that Elfin's Link to Her Own People could be referring to some-sort of hyperlink on the computer. I never thought of that. I was thinking more of a connection to my friends. Anyway, most appropriately, this could be called newstuff. However, in the name of all that's good, righteous, and original, I will simply call it my thought recorder. The stuff will eventually make it's way to the most appropriate subpage, but, for now, here it stays. I wonder if the teachers who assign seats and group were always the ones without friends in their classes. The ones who let you pick your partners probably didn't have that problem. Sheesh. I just erased my entire webpage. That's why we praise the undo function. I feel like I'm on summer vacation. It's Tuesday and I don't have ballet! I haven't had a Tuesday off during dance season in at least 5 years, probably more. So what do I do? Work on entering my library catalog into my computer, that's what. No that might someday be useful, if not for the fact that my computer is from 1986 and is not compatible with this one. Otherwise, I'd put my list on-line. Make all my efforts seem useful. Thank you Vensre, Ender's Game was excellent. You DO have the sequels? Ender Wiggins, indeed. How'd your sojourn to the N.L.P. of M. go? Have fun, fun, fun, 'til your daddy took You away? How is he, down by the sea? That's a song breaker, not a suggestion that your parent is near the ocean, don't cha know? Cha is you? Today I learned all sorts of useful things. Uh! is a distinctly English language sound. German comes from the throat, French comes from the nose, English comes from the middle of your mouth, and Spanish comes from 5 cm in front of it. Also, the Spanish lisp to honor a king they once had who lisped. It's also a good idea to finish the experiment before cleaning up. I remember a time I wore this white sweater to Biology. I'm losing it. My brain, I mean. I remember that somebody tripped and spilled iodine on it, but I can't remember his name. I think it was Kirk. Kirk Horduchney? I never could spell their name (as in the family group consisting of Holly, Katherine, Matt, Kirk? <-- whatever their older brother's name is). This is awful. Full of awe, even. There are such things as stories, ya' know. I love stories. Stories don't need to drag on though. Tell us what happens and let us elaborate. Only occasionally do I wish to get inside people's heads. Hence, literature. A liter of ature.

In case you weren't paying attention, yet somehow care, old Newstuff can be found uncommonly in Iam.html, don't you know. I'll just keep repeating that until I stop. Ah, well, this weekend, I get to team up with Matt and Adriane and build a golf ball flinging machine. My ideas seem to work better in my head than on paper. I have yet to attempt realizing them materialistically yet. Talking about actual events seems like a petty use of time, leastwise, if in they are not amusing or interesting, but, then again, people's lives seem to be the least interesting to themselves. I happen to think that following people around all day is exceedingly interesting, but, there is that. The most interesting people I know are the most independent. They don't need to talk to people. It takes chance, though, to bring these people together. I'm currently torn about giving the example that rests in my mind. I do so hate misinterpreters. I could just pull a Kafka and not publish stuff in my lifetime and ask it all to be burned at my death. I personally want it read in order, not trashed, just so you know. I write at and usually take things at face value. Underlying stuff is not my style and I don't see it where some others do. Well, now that I've complained a lot and divulged some of my deepest fears of writing, I guess I'll just go ahead and illustrate my point. I know I've whined about this a lot already, but, please bear with me. In one class (see my aynonomism), we have an assigned seating chart. Every few months, it changes. For the last few months, I was sitting on the edge of a table, with three people to my left. A)The one on the farthest was semi-intelligent, decent, and too far away to hear, let alone talk to, excepting for group work. B)The next in line was an intelligent, interesting, funny, collecting meanings of life person, not big on talking to strangers, but babbles to friends person. Conversation was possible, but a bit hard to hear/understand. Accent was thick. C)Next, came the talkative, sociable, semi-intelligent, sometimes interesting person. The advantage was that, while naturally, none of us would talk on our own, except for C. C also happened to be friends with B, so, when C. talked to B. and me, we talked together. This is sounding really pathetic, but I might as well go on. I personally have nothing against eavesdropping, although I have a personal rule to use it for personal curiosity pursoses only. All in all, it got to be downright amusing at times. Yesterday, the chart was changed and we were all split up. I wouldn't be quite so wondering about it, if it wasn't for the delicate balace of communication that existed. I do seem to have some weird friendships, a matter I've yet to resolve. That's weird as in, oh, I don't know, strained circumstances that brought us together. Seating charts and mutual friends. Hey, I don't know everything, contrary to popular belief. I can only write what I know, even though it is outdated even as I type. This is part of me, but not, by any means, complete. Nothing is. Sigh. By the by, the reason I didn't use names during this delightful little story is that: A) Conclusion jumping again. B) The above people all have the internet and could, by chance, stumble across my page (yeah, right) and find their descriptions displeasing and take them to be my current opinions y C) Their names are very distinctive. And no, that is not a challenge to figure them out and those are not clues, much as they may seem like them. Sheesh, maybe the only stuff I read into is my own work. I got Speaker for the Dead. Maybe I'll just stick this in Iam right now, instead of later. I want to learn Arabic, I do, I do, I do. I sure can babble a lot. Anyway........... Wise person once say: "Take about 1/10 of what --- says to heart. I'll try. You...You... go on. Amuse yourself!

The internet is remarkably fast on Thanksgiving evening. Now if only I wasn't utterly engrossed in Speaker for the Dead. TTYL I wish everyone a Happy Day! I'm back in front of the computer again. Actually, I never left. I just read the last 50 pages or so right here. Another winner, but I didn't relate to it as much as Ender's Game. I know the feeling of never being a child and never becoming an adult. A while ago, I was talking to Amber about the long past. The whole idea that children think and feel differently than, well, adults, astounded me. She said that she thought differently when she was in 1st grade than in 8th grade and gave some examples. I've always thought like I do now. That's not to say I haven't revised some of my opinions, but the core ideas and thought processes are all the same as ever they were. I still feel the same. Nothing seems like the long past. Everything is this week. That's also my explanation for my time problem. I have no sense of time. I can't even give an approximate. The only way I line up events is by connecting them with my school grade or specific environment. Nothing seems like forever. Anyway, that's one of my connections to Ender, not to overly mention his half-crazy killer brother...... I had a nice Thanksgiving dinner consisting of a can of Mountain Dew. Ah, well. Pat's coming home tonight. He was a lot less moody and word-violent today than he was before going to college, if more vulgar. Samantha's a knot. She and I just see things though different prisms, I think. We can have tons in common and still have nothing to talk about. That we're serious and humorous about the opposite things might be the problem. I don't know what I'm going to study in college, I don't have a job, I'm not going to complain about stuff, there isn't a particular subject I like in school, my life consists of my brain, my family, my friends, books, the internet, dance, Juliet, school, z-club, the weather, acquaintances, writing, and etc., in that order of importance. Sheesh. Oh, happy DAY!

WhiteStag: hmm time is strange in how quickly it goes by

Elfin33333: Time is probably the biggest thing people ever mass believed

WhiteStag: hmm true it never does exist but in our minds

Elfin33333: yet people live by it

WhiteStag: there is no measurement for now, nor for later, there is not even a word which can label it, but we must, for the sanity of the mind

Elfin33333: ki!

WhiteStag: exactly

Elfin33333: that's what it's called

WhiteStag: wark

(there is also another conversation here that got erased by accident, about the same subject)

Elfin33333: SO WHAT? (All same time, and I didn't lead them)

Elfin33333: Time is probably the biggest thing people ever mass believed

Vensre: ;-) I must concur. A fascinating subject.... Ki!

Elfin33333: much more logical

Elfin33333: not to mention amusing

Elfin33333: and less worrisome

Vensre: Aye, keptin, inwordy

Elfin33333: and in deed

Vensre: *grin*

Elfin33333: do

Elfin33333: I'm talking about ki!

Vensre: Fixing 'friend'

Vensre: did you just imply dookie?

Elfin33333: well, to White Stag, not you, but still

Elfin33333: what?

Elfin33333: no

Vensre: okay

Elfin33333: but I got Wark as a response

Vensre: hoo hoo!

Vensre: What's Wark?

Elfin33333: I'm thinking his word for ki!

Vensre: aha!

Elfin33333: there is no measurement for now, nor for later, there is not even a word which can label it, but we must, for the sanity of the mind

Vensre: and who be White Stag>?

Vensre: mmmm.... sanity....

Elfin33333: mi Quest for Glory compadre

Elfin33333: WhiteStag

Vensre: aha!!!!

Vensre: cool... other people name ki! too

Vensre: *shiver with barely supressed something*

HOo hOoh Hoo Who? Today we drove to Grand Rapids to go Christmas Shopping. I tried for Flint, but, hey, it's a little far. Let's just drive for a FEW hours. Anyway, I found the most wonderfullest things (for 5 bucks) for my bestest friends and wrapped them up in shiny paper. Now, they're all pretty and such. Isn't that grand? And so quickly! The best thing about "You've Got Mail" is that it finally puts a good light on the internet, verses the stalker, kidnapper, killer image it's had from Hollywood before. So, I'm glad. Even if they did steal and distort my idea (okay friends become best friends when they communicate via the internet). Oh, well. Their story has more public interest, anyway. At least AOL really says "You have mail" in print. If they're going to resort to containing order in chaos, whatever will become of us. You at least have to put order around that delightful mix. I found out that there's a new Dragon Knight book, as well as two Recluse, and one Terry Brooks book, all in hard cover or not in stores yet, but still, something to hope for. Sierra obviously can't be counted upon. I WANT MY GAME! Get the picture? I wonder what the scientific name for "Fear of being misunderstood" is? I think I suffer from it. At least, it makes me cautious. In the mind set of Lords of Magic, Jeff "worships offensive strength," or "and fight." and I "worship defensive strength," or "Stand," or so I figure today. Amber, are you still comin' north for Christmas break, and, if so, when, pray tell. Dad asked me 5 times yesterday. I read Jack and Jill yesterday, which was good. It was rather morally (not as bad as The Princess and the Goblin", though)and only briefly touched on each character's story. I think Merry, Molly, Jill, and all the rest could each have had a book. It seemed rather like a series of bedtime stories. Internet use seems to drop off in December. Also, I learned how to say "hate" in German today. Isn't Jeff music delightful? Hmm. Although dreadlocks......simc!

I know how Kafka felt when he said that he had to write. I just went to the Candlelight service at Trinity Lutheran. Mom likes it. She went to Lutheran school, so it's familiar stuff. I've been to just about every church in Manchester in my life and at least exposed to most religions. I have yet to find any one that I totally agree with. I believe that all events happened, all prophets spoke, whether they be Christian, Muslim, or whatever. I also believe that we only have different religions because people love tradition. We know that there is right and that means hope. Christmas is hope. Save us from our sins, what was and forever shall be? They contradict themselves with their interpretations. If both statements are true, then we are all Jesus, we are all god's children, we all "die" to save ourselves, or at least suffer the consequences of our actions. It says right there Justice. That kid was a public reminder. I think people forget that in all the tradition. I think that god is in all of us. God is the universe, and, well, the universe is inside all of us. Another thing I have a problem with is the gilted bible. Do people seriously think that a book, truly the memoirs of common folk, is any substitute for following their soul's call? There are people starving and you spend donations gilting the pages or your bible? Dressing up for church is silly, turning a place of peace and freedom of thought into a fashion show and a manners display. The written, planned responses to the sermon are just awful. Do they think they have to tell us what to think? I refuse to say other people's words, unless I choose them. Sheesh. Anyway, Joy to the World is not meant to be solemn. Joy, joy! MERRY Christmas! Good night!

Writing is very, very important to me. I really have a problem with titles. For instance, Ballerina. I don't claim to be a Ballerina. Yes, I take ballet lessons, but I am not a Ballerina. I do claim to be a dancer. No, I never won any awards or got a license. I've technically never even attended a dance. Yet, I am a dancer. I just happen to do ballet. I'm also a writer. I barely ever keep a journal and I'm never pleased with my writing, but, nevertheless, I am a writer. I love writing and dancing like I love my family. I can't help it. I'm stuck. I also happen to like my handwriting. It has character. Most people seem surprised when they see me write. I mean with a pencil, right there, at the very moment they are watching. It's partially because I'm left-handed (and proud of it), but I think there is more. It really is legible, once you have the hang of it. I also am a Lefty, not just someone who writes with their left hand. I am not, however, a highschooler. I just attend high school, and I'm really not a teenager. I simply have lived for 12 + 4 years and counting. If you have a title, people think they know you. Little girl=barbie. Teenager=loud music and boyfriends. Ballerina=stuck-up. I don't know if it's simply connotation or what, but there are very few things I claim as representative of my identity. I'm sure you are very curious (uh-huh), so now I'm going to compose a short (THANK YOU) list. I am me. Dancer, Writer, Elf. Wow. Still searching, still discovering. I write stuff on my page that I won't set on paper, or at least let people read. I trust you, but not so far as to let you watch my face while you read this. Ah, well. Amber, beware.

An active mind is one filled with questions. A dull mind has only answers. -In the Circle of Time. I sometimes think it's odd that I am almost totally unwilling to ask questions. Even things like: How does a video cassette work? I preferred to ask and answer myself, sometimes confirming my answer with an authority, but taking my idea to be truth unless I find a contradiction. Why do/did people shake hands by clasping the others wrist, for example. Well, they shake hands to make an agreement and your pulse usually speeds up when you lie and can be felt in your wrist, so they were checking to make sure that the other people was not lying. Simple. Reality? How should I know? I've never heard otherwise. u is a dull letter. It's so squat and heavy. I'm reluctant to be a thief in QFG. I like seeing and doing everything the games have, but, like I don't bet or enter the fighting arena, I really, really don't want to steal. I love being a paladin, though. It lets me just do whatever I would really do in each situation and that's almost always the right answer to the puzzle. Everything else is forced thought. Problem is: I've already won the game as a paladin. Still... Alright, I have a single hero for your class, Mrs. Long. My hero is Unknown Hero, the Paladin. That is who I want to be like, my goal. Being a Paladin for a few hours is joy. I am exactly what I want to be. King's Quest 8 is simply no fun. That might be why nobody's fighting to play it. It's boring. No wonder it was free. If this school did yearbook quotes (which it doesn't), mine would be my page address. School. Aie. Mom's getting a bit worked up about my academic letter/pin. See the problem is, I earned (according to West's standards) my letter in 9th grade. Now, I'm getting a bronze pin for 10th grade. Manchester only gives letters for sports, though. So, I don't have one. What to do? Why does it matter? Why don't they fund the buses with the pin money. Ha! I got an honest to goodness letter in the MAILBOX. Really! Paper an' all! e-mail's down, but still! Paper! Wow! I love getting paper mail even more than e-mail. The stationary is more interesting, even if Amber is apparently going for a career as a doctor. An' I got to reply with my silver pen. I love that pen, especially when people have to tilt the paper to see the writing. I really do wish my ISS pin hadn't gotten scrunched. Vensre, I found an ISS page, but haven't had much time to read it. ISS The whole computer froze, not just AOL. I was told a nice 80 language translator was at www.worldtravel.com, but I can't seem to find it. I wonder if I remember wrong. And I so wanted to translate "I can eat glass and it will not hurt me" into 78 languages. Sigh. I wish I had an electronic notebook so I could work on my page whenever I want, but, no. Happiness is possible. I just read over some of my Iam page and I really like it.

Tell ya' what, I just finished Atlas Srugged today, but I've changed my mind. I don't want to write a response to it. You can't make me, HA HA! Wish for the Nile! NO WAY! My conclusion drawn from riding in a human-powered car and dropping items in the snow every three seconds: No comment. Why do they say that instead of simply giving no comment. Politeness? Sheesh. Politeness or respect... Hmm. The new library opened today. It's pretty cool. They actually had the courage to put the "Sci-Fi," "Western," and "Mystery" books all in the fiction section. That duplicate copies can be found in the "Youth"(meaning children's) section amuses me to no end. That, and finding Hugo award winners between The Hunchback of Notre Dame and Les Miz. I gently corrected them, while wishing for the authority to do so. I wish they hadn't started the "Friends of the Library" volunteer workers thing, so I could at least be paid for my efforts. As it is, no such luck. The windows and airy atmosphere are nice though, as is the art work. Our golf-ball flinging machine would fit right in. I did send a real paper letter to you Amber, so "DON't LOSE HEART!" or whatever that phrase they liked in the Kirstin books so much. I really liked the books, but the same phrase did get rather old. Besides, with people dropping dead all over, it didn't seem very appropriate. Hum-dee-dum. My faith in the intenet has been restored! Isn't it wonderful when you find the author of a Manchester library book you loved after 2 years of searching and find that she also wrote the Secret of the Unicorn Queen Books you've been looking for, not to forget Vulcan's Forge. Alright, new library, here I come. AND YOU BETTER HAVE IT! And now I'm shaking in my chair, grinnin' like a fool. Good Life! My faith in Justice was restored too, but I can't recall why. It's the open book Spanish test. Let's all sound sarcastic and say, "But Señor Mets! We don't have a Spanish book!" Uh-huh. Abre notas. We really didn't spend any time on the lesson, so we're getting a fair chance. Woo-hoo. It was crushed again in a few minutes, but it was a great feeling. Go Aways! I'd cheer for "The Aways." Hey, I DO cheer for "The Aways!" YEAH!

And did I get that attention I was going for? Hmm. I wonder. Oh, well. At least I know that there is life out there. There is, ya' know. "You're not annyoing to be around. I enjoy your company." Ah, the words marking a revolution. Almost as important as I'm. And there is just something hilarious about the question "Is my hair alright?" Then again, maybe it just depends on who says it and who hears it. Yes.

Why won't they not-follow? I miss my big brother. He never asked what game? when I asked if he wanted to play a game. When, when did any of my games have names or plans? They run like reality, ideas put to use, the only thing even remotely defined being the laws of the universe. None of us can be killed and there is no absolute power. Whatever happens, happens. If it stops being fun, we go our separate ways. Sheesh. It's so simple. Why? Why doesn't Bethany have any dignity, any pride? She grovels. Make it stop. Please.

I have all sorts of stuff I wanted to put on my new page. WHat is a "general protection fault" anyway? It'll probably be gone by tomorrow, but I'm inspired now. Who would want any job a robot could do anyway? Siddhartha is very interesting. A bit familiar. I think he was eavesdropping during lunch. My dream came true, but I changed it half-way. I can't go letting myself predict the future, now can I? Vensre, you should ahve seen Adriane attacking Ender's Game. Basically, "Shut-up and let me read" was the way of it. I found it amusing. Lunch is at 10:02, not 9:50. Remember that. Happy 1 year aniversary of your embarkment on the unknown flamingo pink adventure. They had free V8 at school to celebrate (the opening, but, hey, who's checking?). My sister is offically a dizt. Thank you, thank you. Has anyone even gone to my new page (SNIFFFFF). Boo-hoo. Its illegal operations were discovered. At least, I'm working on a world history. Maybe someone will read that. The invasion of the humans was a trying time and putting it in folk-tale format is not going to be easy. I thought Creative Writing would be less form stressed. At least we get to write about anything we want, provided it explains some personal characteristic. I went for: Why elves have pointed ears. It's kind of disjointed though. I'm not happy. Michael's so mean. Grr.

There is something seriously wrong. Most is right. I like reading literature. I love much of it. What I really, really love, though, are stories. Plots, characters, setting, laws of the universe, I love it. I love fantasy books with big, beautiful worlds, adventure with original plots (or at least original veiwpoints), and anything with my friends the characters. Stories. Sure, they save the world every time. I can live with that. It's a noble enough goal. The cultures facinate me. The customs, the greetings, the fairy tales. I remember stories. I love stories. Minstrels and bards are some of my favorite characters. I watch cartoon shows for the world, for the stories. Most of those characters are morons. Going though the "children"'s section of the library and just picking up books with interesting titles or unicorns on the side lable is wonderous. I trust that section to give me stories and not to disturb me. Some literature does disturb me. I don't read one literary work after another because it's tiring on my defense. Stories just give you the facts and let you make what you will with them. Literature controls you. It's like a rollercoaster verses stories being a circus. It's dangerous, especially if you don't know which you're on. A seat belt will ruin a circus preformance, but not having one on a 'coaster is pretty bad. Stories I devour. Literature tries to devour me. As you were. Here's a bit of an Elvish tale (ha!)for you. It's not up to code and (forcefully) in human folktale form, but you might like it. Veiw source might help. I really don't want to actually go to the effort of a quality job right now. Enjoy. The Invasion of the Humans or How Elves Gained Pointed Ears As told by Elfin on January 31, 1999 A.D. Many revelations ago, all Elves had round little ears. Life was a fantasy adventure in those days, with one exception: there was no war. One day, a new star was spotted in the sky by Hrenya. He observed it for many days. To his fascination, it appeared to either be coming closer, enlarging, or both. It shone with a gray light, unlike any astronomical phenomenon before observed. Kleme correctly identified it as a cosmic vehicle. The vehicle swerved, chaotically, it seemed. A destination for it was not determined. The vehicle landed in a forest of the North-Western hemisphere. A group of Elves and Sprites had been traveling though there and they stumbled upon the wreckage a few weeks after it crashed in a clearing. Ziana was among the group. She was a young Elf, extremely interested in the cosmic vehicle, who had been following it in the news since it had first been sighted. She eagerly scanned the clearing. At a nod from her companions, Ziana left the trees and approached a small human. “Good life unto you and I!” The child stared. “I welcome you as my guest. Will you share your story?” The small human screeched. The beautiful greeting must have sounded as nonsense to the frightened child. More humans came running from around the ship. Ziana held her arms from her body, fingers spread. She certainly meant no harm. Then, the extraordinary thing happened. The humans scooped up stones and began throwing them at Ziana. The other Earthlings popped their heads out of the trees in astonishment. Such mass, blind hatred shocked them. What was going on? “Run!” Ziana cried. The Sprites flew off. The Elves ran. The humans chased them. Fliet, a Sprite, came after Ziana. “You’ve been walking all day. You’re slow. They’re catching up.” “I know. I know. I’m thinking,” Ziana tried. “Think light and keep running,” Fliet advised and darted back to watch the human’s progress. Ziana experimented. She couldn’t fly fast enough or maintain that spell. Disappearing and leaving some of the even younger Elves to fend for themselves was out of the question. She couldn’t abandon her friends and companions. She hit on it. Suddenly, her first two fingers were filled with power. She seized her ears and lifted. Pushing off of the trees, she zoomed forward and shared her spell with the other Elves. They all rebounded off to relative safely, leaving the humans in the forest. Later that night, Fliet and Siwe returned to the lost humans and faerie lit the way back thought. She fell to the ground in a to the human camp. In her panic, Ziana had used more power than she heap. All over Earth, Elves fell a short distance to the ground and rubbed their ears. All were now neatly pointed, and all have been since. Ziana smiled in amusement and went on living.

Today really is a significant day in human culture. No, and not just because Amber denigned to notice the most baltantly obvious of greetings that have been up since Monday, although that is grand. I rather suspected that, being old now, her arthritis (all old people have arthritis) kept her from turning on the computer. Happy Birthday dear. It was one of my other friend's birthday the day after yours, so Happy Birthday Olli! That all being old news, I will proceed to tell you how today is a significant one in human culture. Today was the last school day before Valentine's Day. People today made decisions that will affect their lives forever. Each thing they said, everything they did, will affect them some how. Whether it was to conform to popular culture, dare to act in a way that wasn't a rebellion against it, to simply ignore everyone else, or to gaze in wonderment and amusement at it all. Interperatation is the key. As I was researching International Drug Control, it occured to me that having, using, and selling drugs is not a crime. It's just not an excuse. For instance, if you drink alcohol, drive your car, crash, and kill somebody, you murdered them. It wasn't an accident. I moved my arm forward with a knife in it. I didn't murder them. They might have lived. No, willfully doing something to endanger others' lives is murder. If you drink and beat your wife, it's not the toxin's fault. You chose to do so. You might have taken the toxin so that it would be easier, but you control yourself. So, in conclusion, smoking is only allowed on your private property & you are responsible for what you do (NO suing the tobacco company!). So much for International Drug Control. But, then again, I'm still researching. Killing yourself just doesn't seem a crime, though. Others are beyond your reach. Don't spend time and money on people who want to hurt themselves, spend it bringing justice to victims of crimes. I was sitting and thinking (partially about the above theory) in the library today, when we're supposed to be researching for Model UN, when I was asked "What are you thinking about?" Now, in the two seconds it took to form an answer, the possiblilities flashed through my mind, all true, please note. How to bring justice, what the first guy to create the Internet posted on it, why the collection of communist organizations are commonly called International, when does class get out anyhow, these encyclopedias aren't helping, I'll just use the Internet when I get home, why doesn't my school account work, at least encyclopedias have good grammer, who writes these things anyway, wouldn't it be amusing if I said "I was wondering if you'd go to the dance with me" and what I would say if I was talking to myself, apathy, ugh!, I do like that song on Amber/my page, maybe I'll go find the Proclaimers, I wonder if you had a happy birthday and what you'd be doing if you were home, boy, Jenee' asked me this last night, this really is a airy, nice library, I wonder if they have "Knight of the Word," hmm-hhmmm-hm-hm-hm-hmmm, "I was figuring out how to save the world." "Oh, do tell me how to save the world." Now, what I rather wonder is: Is it just me or does everyone say 1/1,000,000,003 of what they think in any given moment? Anyway, every day is a significant day human culture. People came and sang to a girl in my English class. It was beautiful. I wish I could sign like that, except I wouldn't be that simpering or wimpy. Now her's was a red face. That was funny. You can get a general overveiw of someone by what their friends know about them. For instance, I was asked how Leslie's doing in school. School is not the main focus of her life and my ignorance is evidence of it. I could, however, tell you how Adriane's doing. School and her world are the main points of her life. As a matter of fact, I could tell you every class she has. My thoughts, books, family, webpage, friends, cat, and ballet seem to be my focuses, but I'm not sure. I think that's what I most talk about, though. Can you name my three brothers? Probably. How about the books I'm reading? School's also a big one for me. Leslie lives in thoughts, books, her family, and her friends. Thought is very important, but so is action. I don't act much, but, when I do, I'm very happy, happier than thought. I'm very happy right now, but I'm also restless. I want to do something. Maybe I'll storm Amber's house... Hee-hheee-hee.

It occures to me that the world is doing pretty well. We're not likely to blow ourselves up any time soon. Isn't that nice? That Dad's birthday is National Pistachio Day amuses me to no end. Ah, I just used a what-Michael-would-call-a-Leslieism! Heeheheehe. He broke his foot, so I'll just leave his name on my exalted webpage to cheer him up. Ha ha! I'm actually alive, all of my star wishes have come true (actually, I also like to wish on my clock 11:11, 9:11, 7:11, 12:12, 3:33's my favorite), and I'm all happied-up. Pretty good for a Wednesday, eh? Ah, life, the universe, etc. I was so inspired yesterday that I was going to write a poem about my bestest friends and how great life is, but the www wouldn't work. Oh, well. I'm over it, in any case. Any case of what, you ask? Why, a suitcase, of course, bound for Europe! Who wants to conqueror the world? I simply claim 3 miles of outer space surrounding Earth. Tariffs and tolls, tariffs and tolls!

I'm so tired and I'm not sure why. Maybe I'm getting sick a few weeks after the rest of the city. Maybe it's because I have so much work to do, english responses to write, UN stuff to look up, speeches to write, checks to turn in, and, my big problem, believe it or not, what to wear. Start with the problem that requires the least thought, and, unfortunately, the most pain. Hey Amber, any chance you'll be up here this weekend? Didn't think so, but I promised I'd tell you. The problem being that I like and respect my teacher and classmates and I don't want to let them down. I'm going to the MAMUN conference next week for 5 days and there is a dress code. I hate those things. Anyway, not too dressy, but not jeans or t-shirts. Sheesh. Alright now, think, Laura, think. I own one (ugh!) skirt and one pair of non-jean, non-jazz pants. Two semi-dress blouses! Well, then. I'm all set. "Cept, we don't do laundry and I don't think anyone would take kindly to my wearing the same stuff all week. Hence, the agony. It looks like, yes, it is, shopping!!! The horror! Ugh. My head hurts. Then, Mr. Kniss goes and threatens us with a three minute speech, a pool party, and a dance. Does life get any worse? Well, just think of the trials I suffered to get here. AND, I need to sell 10 more tubs of Cookie dough by Mon. Dough, anyone? Another chapter of "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man." Don't get me wrong, I love the book (wait and see), but I'm not nearly done with the assignments for chapters 1 or 2 yet. Also, Stephen's so like me that seeing how he turns out is quite a frightening look at a possible future. I'm presently caught between chapters 1 and 2 in my life, almost. I'm so tired. White noise is quite right, Les. It's different from my 'normal' headaches. I want to make a page with my favorite characters, profiled and engaged in conversation. My stocks are going down. I can't get my recusion equation to compound interest monthly. I forget what an enchilada was on the Spanish test and I spelled pla'tino wrong. Ya mo gu eto seklo ect mnye nye vredit. I really, really like that letter from Malacastor college. It's a terrific letter. I like the library, but it seems to be run by a bunch of idiots. I have long hair so I'm a princess. Somebody rescue me. I'll just climb down my own head and see what I find. Hallihello. I'm so tired. WHY? It's not like I do anything! Mrs. Baillie connected with Stephen because, after all, what kid hasn't pictured their own funeral and thought "Aren't they sorry now that I'm dead?" I've never seen my own funeral. I've never put other people's emotions over my own life. I've planned what I would like done when I die, yes, but that's simply observation of death. Alone, I don't care. Do you really think things like that? Good noon. Ahhh!

I'll move all the rest of that stuff when I'm good and ready so THERE! >! All sorts of interesting things result from this maddness I call time. For instance 13 martes is considered bad luck in Mexico (like Friday the 13th only Tue.) Guess what Tues. is! Also, today is the 99th day of the year. It'd be neat if we all had our own new year, starting on our birthdays. That way, there wouldn't be any debate over which calendar to use. Who needs dates for history? It's fun to think of your own life or other people's with different characters, like writing a book. For instance, tomorrow is my 17th birthday and I'm going to take the ACT. Then, I will go to ballet. If it wasn't for the hour or some between during which I'm going to hang out with Adriane, I might think my life is pathetic. Hey, maybe it is! Maybe I'm an anti-social fool who only has three friends, two of which are millions and millions of feet away. Maybe, in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter to me. Then again, there are brief moments when I know that others people are the greatest things around. I think it's great that (in Spanish), only positive things are permanent. You can't prove a negative, so no negatives can be factual. Really, it's just a grammer rule, but I like it. Maybe people really do care that I exist and are happier that I'm around them than not and I just can't see it. Maybe I'm to wrapped up in trying to figure out what I think and feel to recognize that other people are different. That is one of my biggest fears: that other people I'm around would be happier if I was not. I know that I can be happy alone which implies that other people can too. I also know that I sometimes am not happy around other people. You see my conclusion? Hence, unless I have an excuse or I know that you enjoy my company, you won't ever see me. I don't think it's an inferiority complex. Maybe I just hate inefficiency. Other people's brains are facinating. The trouble is getting in. I get this wonderful, Flying, free feeling when I do get in. Books, music, dance, but people are the best. They delight. Delight can't be stored up. It is now, wow, cool, a sudden grin, incontrolable laughter. I love letting people really laugh. Two men walked into a bar. Ouch. Ever seen someone who just heard that joke for the first time? That's delight. I have trouble writing stories. I suppose I could come up with a plot before I write, but I never have. Maybe that would work. Planning is a big committment, and, without a great, original plot, I just don't feel like it. I don't feel I know enough. Writing is a spontanious thing. I don't plan it. I just write as I think, as I would talk if someone were here and I wasn't alone. Currently, I do feel alone. I really wish I trusted people. I wish I could. I wish I knew why not. I would like, more than anything, a suprise party, with everyone I ever wanted as friends, everyone I ever respected or laughed for, there, wanting to be my friend. I was in Kalamazoo for the Model UN conference and, on our last night, their was a dance. My room-mates asked me if I was coming. I'm not really even aquaintences with my ex-room-mates, so I usually hung out with myself or my delegation. There is only so much time I can force myself to spend around people who I barely know and was stuck in a group with. Don't get me wrong, I really like them. They are great people and fun to be around, but, well, hey, I just met Jeff and, while I've known Olli all year...? He and Christoph were both in my history class last semester. Christoph asked me to join the class, but, whether that was just because they needed another person desperately (and they did) and I was the only semi-competent person he knew and hadn't already asked or because he thought it'd be fun, I don't know. Maybe they just put up with me. Anyway, I was tired after we FINALLY got out of General Assembly, so I went up to my room and took a shower. Just as I was getting out, one of my room-mates came aknocking at the door. (she forgot her key, AGAIN!) I grabbed a towel, let her in, and jumped back in the bathroom to get dressed. Though the door, she told me to come down to the dance, my group had been asking where I was. Well, considering that my hair was wet and I really didn't want to walk down to a strange place (I didn't even know where it was)alone, let alone pay $3 for the privalage of humiliating myself, I said no. She said, "You'd better." I didn't go. Anyway, Jeff did ask me the next morning why I wasn't there, but, then again, he's got some idea that I'm anti-social and unhappy, so I don't know. The point is, I would not go alone. Nobody knew that, if they simply waited for me and not said anything, I would have come. Probably. If Christin hadn't started smoking the first day we were there, I would have definately come. Now, I don't trust her. She truly wears a lie. That's not my only basis for that statment. I've heard her and spoken with her. They are not the same thing. People puzzel me immensely. Would I, following "fun-fear=good time" as a formula, have had a better time at the dance or reading "Rose Daughter" (as I did)? I don't know. That's the problem. Come to think of it, the closest I ever came to one of those things was cleaning up after homecoming this year. That wasn't too impressive. Funny, isn't it, how, if I just went to one, I'd have a lot less to say on the subject? I've discovered the stupidest think ever said, "I don't want to know." Isn't that STUPID? Yes, well. I'm going to go see "Pride and Prejudice" with mom tonight. That should be fun. It's a school play, but they are usually well done. That is, when they are not Dynamics of Acting classes. They're just plain silly, but still fun. People are fun things to watch, especially whe nthey can't accuse you of having a stareing problem. That's just plain goofy. I'm not ready for a physics test. That's the only class where my absences mattered. I can't explain the labs 'cause I don't know what you're talking about! GRRRR. And then, to make the review sheets due today! I didn't know that. I did a whole one question then decided that I should ask Adriane over to fill me in on some stuff. Funny. My sheet wasn't going to be done until Sat. Today is the 99th day of the 99th year. I'm not done, but the hour changed. Have a beautiful life. I'm back. Not Bac, please mind you. She's asleep. I have a whole bunch of truly bizzare things to tell you, but, since it is 1:17 here, 7:17 my (theoretical) time, (AM) I've been awake for the last 22 hours, and I have school tomorrow, I'd better go to bed. I really, really don't want to deal with economics tomorrow, but, one way or another, I'll have to. The sheer stupidity of it... Hey, future reader Vensre! I got a Sailor Moon comic book, but It's not exactly in English. "Bunny"'s still amusing, though. Maybe more so. All that fuss and bother and they still mostly all smoke and don't wear bike helmets. I'm a fine one to talk, alright. That really is the least of it. Maybe you'll never hear anymore. Maybe I'll just tell Adriane everything tomorrow and get it out of the way. Maybe not. Guten morgen!

Amber, I have heard SOOOOOO much French it hurts. I've heard American-School French, I've heard Canadian-French, I've heard Hollywood French, and I've heard several different dialects of French spoken in France. Recently. I've even sat behind the French foreign exchange student for 9 weeks who was fond of speaking to the German foreign exchange student in French simply because his english wasn't very good and it puzzeled Mrs. Long a lot. Not to forget the constant barage of Ballet teachers lapsing into French. Hey, I almost forgot. I've even heard Angel speak West Indies/African-French. THAT'S ENOUGH. Anyway, I find it infinately amusing when people (who don't send me nearly enough e-mail) start talking to me while writing on their page. It's almost as good as watching them write e-mail to me before my eyes. I do not feel like filling out that U of M application for Economics, doing "an hour's worth" of stupid, time-consuming math, or figuring out my monthly electric bill and presenting it neatly. On the plus side, I got pretty pink new pointe shoes. It was a beautiful day and I got to read "The Color Purple" up in a tree. The leaves are so cool, half-opened and flowering. I wanted to ride my bike around town, maybe pick up Adriane and wander about, sketching with pastels and being a wandering artist. I could have been melodramatic and affected. It would have been fun. Ah, well. Homework calls the dutiful. Giving kids a recipe (1st ingredient:Obedience) for their parents' love is EVIL. How could anyone do that? Stupid, stupid, Stupid. Am I supposed to have my course numbers memorized. That Margerite (From "The Scarlet Pimpernel") is making me sick. She is so SUPER-dramatic. Sigh, child-like, noble, clever, UHG! I wish she'd shutup and let the story get back to the title character. Sheesh. I could feel flattered that people spend joules reading this stuff, but I don't even know that they do. However, my nice little thing at the bottom of the page always says that I last up-dated tomorrow, so I'm happy. Joy. I'd better get to work. Maybe, I'll just get up early. Yes, I think I will. I'm back to the never ending, ever trivial, yet persistantly there debate over whether to cut my bangs (which are down to my nose) or to grow them out. If I cut them, they'll be out of my face temporarily, but will be hard to put up for my dance recital in 3 weeks. If I don't, I'll have to do something to my hair everyday to get them out of my face. This is getting ridiculas.

Well, well. That was a let down. Horatio Hornblower was my hero and he only saved that one boy's life. He let dozens of innocent people be killed. Sheesh. What is this world going towards? He should have stayed with the Spanish. Even though I'm risking enraging my friends (ha!), I will say that I really, really don't like French. It sounds so ugly, like people have lost control of their tongues. Most languages sound very cool, but not French. Shudder. What gets me is that I'll probably learn to speak it eventually, beyond the Grande batma, or however you spell it, that I pick up in ballet. Whoopee, big step. I prefer to add my pseudo Spanish accent to it, anyway. Rolling rs is fun, though. ESPECIALLY since Adriane can't do it. Ha, Ha! Since I've already bashed French, I won't mention any other names. Ah, a bit more diplomacy. Peanut Butter and chocolate sandwichs.

----What I despise most of all are morons. Not stupid people. Just people who don't even attempt to understand. People who ask questions and don't wait for an answer. Especially, I hate those who, theoretically, are intelligent enough to comprehend what I'm saying and don't care. Ones who say "what er you talkin' about? YOU'RE rambling! No, no YOU'Re RamBlINg." "Don't talk. You're not good enough to talk." "No. No. NO, no, no, NO." I hate people who don't listen to me when they started the stupid conversation, asked the stupid question. I hate people who start with "UM" and make sure to put a few between each word. I hate people who ignore punctuation, who think that it doesn't exist in the spoken word. I hate people who repeat themselves over and over. I hate people who say "not really," who say it, but don't mean it. I hate the slaughterers of English, who, out of sheer laziness, mispronounce EASY, SIMPLE words. I hate the slowness of language. I hate the frivolous wasters of words, who sap the power of language. I hate the flowery descriptions, the inexact, non-precise babble. True babble is useless, stupid, ugly sound. I hate long-winded patronizers. I hate the apathetic people who not only don't care about language for themselves, but also want to ruin it for me. I hate the liars, those whose words are empty, ugly sound. I hate the manipulators, those who use words not to express what they think and feel, but to make others think and feel how they want them to. I hate those who read in and out, read not what is there, but what is in their own head. I hate stubborn preconceived notions. I hate being compensated for being used. I hate people who think they know what I think and why. I hate people who refuse to take my words seriously. I hate the ones who think that humor is a man-made element that they must impart into the world. IT IS ALREADY THERE. YOU MAY LAUGH NOW. I hate those who call objects that which isn't their name. I hate expectations. I hate requirements. I hate silly stupidity. I hate people who answer multiple choice questions with "yes" and think that they're cute. I hate inefficiency. I hate the humble, I hate the meek. I hate the apathetic. I hate worriers, I hate the bored. I am sick and tired of you. LIVE. I COMMAND IT. Don't state what you learned, that it was funny, that it was weird. LAUGH. Be done with it. Don't forget. Never forget. Examine everything and SEE IT FOR WHAT IT IS. DON'T SAY "I didn't know that." I don't want excuses. Explanations are fine, but TAKE SOME PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY. There is no excuse. Justice is not a weekday thing. PLEASE NOTE: nothing wrong can be fun. ABOVE all else, BELIEVE YOURSELF.

Stream of conciousness writing is fun.

I keep being told to "face my fears." Adriane's example of the day was how I "made" her climb my tree, jump on the trampoline, and ride on the hovercraft. Now, seriously, folks: Could I actually make anyone do any of those things without physically restraining them? I think not. I simply presented an opportunity and demonstrated the safty of it all. She chose to climb, to jump, and to ride. My "fear" to talking to adults. If you really want to get to the heart of it, it should be understood that I don't actually fear talking to adults. What I have a problem with is confusion, ignorance, and bugging people. I HATE being confused and pressed for time. I hate not knowing what I'm talking about and asking simple "I know you already said this or I should be able to figure it out or How is that even relavent" questions. I also hate not being understood, whether because I'm speaking at a strange volume (which happens, with very little of my own control, I add) or because the listeners are simply ignorant on the subject. People have their own lives to live and they don't need me interrupting. I am perfectly fine on my own, so everybody else must be, too. Some people's company makes me less than fine, so mine must displease some others, too. Thus, unless I am certain that they will be happier with me around or not or actually have some important business to discuss, I really don't want to get into a conversation with people. I also talk too fast. Adults in particular seem to not understand what I'm saying, or maybe they're just not paying attention. Anyway, kids are usually pretty good about it. They talk fast, too, mostly. I get too impatient to wait for replies with slow speakers. Anyway, that's stuff I hate. What I fear is ridicule of what I hold sacred. Love, hope, language, belief, myself, yourself, and freedom. "It's hopeless." What if it really is? Now that is a scarey thought. I refuse that one. It never is with only one variable. What my biggest trouble----Hey! Don't go away! I'll be back. We think we found Sparrow! Here's hoping! The long-astray Ven has found her way back onto the internet, with apologies for not calling on a certain elf's birthday. I thought maybe Sparrow would return someday. I hope you find him! Kinda scary how Earth is these days. Not too much different than a few days ago, but enough. THE MUSIC MAN: May 14-15 Starring me! Well, not starring... but I'm in it. That's close enough. Almost landed on my feet doing a trampoline flip! Having trouble typing for some obscure reason. Perhaps I'm just out of practise expressing what I'm thinking... all too little of that of late. Teachers mark me down for spelling words Britishly, but I can't seem to kick the habit. Elves and Sprites are lacking from some space cats, and she wishes they weren't. Local still means TC area. I caught myself calling it home today. But it still seems to be. Sentence fragments. Are jolly. Do you have Children of the Mind? If so, please mail it to me today. Somehow, it's gone missing, and if I don't have it back to the library by the 10th, I pay $30, which I don't think I have right now. Trying to save for Austria trip, still looking for a job, not getting very far on either account. Dangit, stupid distance. It may be mostly or totally imaginary, but it's still a bother. I thought of something yesterday. Not really news, but it seemed pretty significant. I was sad, because I'd missed a chance to talk to a friend, and I was looking for her. I thought, There's always hope, until there isn't. But then, by some incredible stroke of luck, she appeared out of nowhere! Well, out of the computer lab. I promptly amended my thought to read There's always hope. I told her about it, and she said There's always hope while one can see the stars. I further stated There's always hope while there is life. It's been written before, and I see the truth to it. Pete's sake, I miss talking to you. Heck, I miss you. I'd better call you or something! What's the verdict on those stories? I'm having problems writing stories, with plot. They usually end up mostly description, I guess. I must read them in a seminar group, which troubles me, but not too badly, since they seem to like it. They write good stuff too, and thoughtful they are. But busy, always busy. Johnsons emailed, mentioning a bomb threat. Sheesh. Hey, here, when there's tornado drills, people go down into tunnels under the school! There's an entire network down there. Wish I could explore it, but it is inacessable to students. Some people are so bloody cruel, without any reason. Reading 1984. Nonthinkers doubleplusungood. Sherah. Ridicule is a funny word. Even... ridiculous. Good noon!

I keep being told to "face my fears." Adriane's example of the day was how I "made" her climb my tree, jump on the trampoline, and ride on the hovercraft. Now, seriously, folks: Could I actually make anyone do any of those things without physically restraining them? I think not. I simply presented an opportunity and demonstrated the safty of it all. She chose to climb, to jump, and to ride. My "fear" to talking to adults. If you really want to get to the heart of it, it should be understood that I don't actually fear talking to adults. What I have a problem with is confusion, ignorance, and bugging people. I HATE being confused and pressed for time. I hate not knowing what I'm talking about and asking simple "I know you already said this or I should be able to figure it out or How is that even relavent" questions. I also hate not being understood, whether because I'm speaking at a strange volume (which happens, with very little of my own control, I add) or because the listeners are simply ignorant on the subject. People have their own lives to live and they don't need me interrupting. I am perfectly fine on my own, so everybody else must be, too. Some people's company makes me less than fine, so mine must displease some others, too. Thus, unless I am certain that they will be happier with me around or not or actually have some important business to discuss, I really don't want to get into a conversation with people. I also talk too fast. Adults in particular seem to not understand what I'm saying, or maybe they're just not paying attention. Anyway, kids are usually pretty good about it. They talk fast, too, mostly. I get too impatient to wait for replies with slow speakers. Anyway, that's stuff I hate. What I fear is ridicule of what I hold sacred. Love, hope, language, belief, myself, yourself, and freedom. "It's hopeless." What if it really is? Now that is a scarey thought. I refuse that one. It never is with only one variable. What my biggest trouble----Hey! Don't go away! I'll be back. We think we found Sparrow!
Here's hoping! The long-astray Ven has found her way back onto the internet, with apologies for not calling on a certain elf's birthday. I thought maybe Sparrow would return someday. I hope you find him! Kinda scary how Earth is these days. Not too much different than a few days ago, but enough. THE MUSIC MAN: May 14-15 Starring me! Well, not starring... but I'm in it. That's close enough. Almost landed on my feet doing a trampoline flip! Having trouble typing for some obscure reason. Perhaps I'm just out of practise expressing what I'm thinking... all too little of that of late. Teachers mark me down for spelling words Britishly, but I can't seem to kick the habit. Elves and Sprites are lacking from some space cats, and she wishes they weren't. Local still means TC area. I caught myself calling it home today. But it still seems to be. Sentence fragments. Are jolly. Do you have Children of the Mind? If so, please mail it to me today. Somehow, it's gone missing, and if I don't have it back to the library by the 10th, I pay $30, which I don't think I have right now. Trying to save for Austria trip, still looking for a job, not getting very far on either account. Dangit, stupid distance. It may be mostly or totally imaginary, but it's still a bother. I thought of something yesterday. Not really news, but it seemed pretty significant. I was sad, because I'd missed a chance to talk to a friend, and I was looking for her. I thought, There's always hope, until there isn't. But then, by some incredible stroke of luck, she appeared out of nowhere! Well, out of the computer lab. I promptly amended my thought to read There's always hope. I told her about it, and she said There's always hope while one can see the stars. I further stated There's always hope while there is life. It's been written before, and I see the truth to it. Pete's sake, I miss talking to you. Heck, I miss you. I'd better call you or something! What's the verdict on those stories? I'm having problems writing stories, with plot. They usually end up mostly description, I guess. I must read them in a seminar group, which troubles me, but not too badly, since they seem to like it. They write good stuff too, and thoughtful they are. But busy, always busy. Johnsons emailed, mentioning a bomb threat. Sheesh. Hey, here, when there's tornado drills, people go down into tunnels under the school! There's an entire network down there. Wish I could explore it, but it is inacessable to students. Some people are so bloody cruel, without any reason. Reading 1984. Nonthinkers doubleplusungood. Sherah. Ridicule is a funny word. Even... ridiculous. Good noon!