I’m going crazy. If you knew me, you wouldn’t be surprised, but this is a different type of crazy. It’s bad. I’m not bad, although I don’t feel so great. But the crazy part of me is going a little out of control. Earlier today my friend called and asked if I wanted to go to a baseball game. Now, I’ve never been to a baseball game in my life, and I’ve never really considered that a loss, although I wanted to do it just to say I’d done it. It seems to be a thing every American has done at some point. Anyway, that wasn’t the point. I wish I could have seen my friend. I was grounded and wasn’t able to see him last weekend except at church. This is my best friend we’re talking about here. Being grounded in general just left me a little nuts. Maybe I was getting spoiled. I don’t really like that idea. Eh, oh well. I had an idea recently – two in fact: one for repainting my room and another for a series of drawings. I’ll talk about them maybe once they’re underway. Although I might wait until they’re finished. They’re splendid ideas though, let me tell you. Yes indeedy. I am a strange, crazy person.

I want to watch Valkyrie again. I watched it just last night. I liked the last part, where (I wish I knew his name!) stood in front of Stauffenberg when the firing squad was shooting.
I can’t think really straight right now. I’m testing soon for my black belt. Did I mention that? Just a minute… Oh. Yes. Yes I did. Oh well. I’m saying it again. No reason not to. This is MY blog, after all. Not yours.
Would you ever believe that there are times when I’m NORMAL? As in SANE? Because I am sometimes. Even I have my bad days. My NORMAL days. (Now I’m going to capitalize that whenever I say it on here.)
THANK GOODNESS THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO ACCEPT MY HYPERNESS.

Well, I’m testing for my black belt this fall. I was excited when I found out, and I will be soon again, but I’m not in an excitable mood right now, so you won’t find any exclamation marks.
I want to travel. It’s driving me crazy. Most of it, I think, is that I have all these imaginary places that I’ve invented in my head, and I hope I can find them out there. Most of them aren’t out there, but we’ll see. At any rate, it will be interesting.
At the end of this sentence I’ll have 100 words. It doesn’t look like as much as it sounds. I really should go to bed, because it’s LATE, but since when did I become normal?
I’m beginning to think I’ve gone nuts. Don’t worry, it’s just a me thing. I’m not really crazy. Not technically.
I wonder what Heaven is like. I hope they have blue cherries there. I think they do. And I think maybe there will be kind of a roped-off section with tornados (since they probably wouldn’t let those run wild on account of all the people that don’t like them) and all those places I invented that I’m looking for. I’m obsessed with blue cherries. A friend of mine says they actually exist and he’s had them, but I must admit to being a little skeptical. (Did you know, a long time ago they would spell it “sceptical”?) Mostly I believe him though. Maybe because I want to. But probably just because that’s hard to exaggerate about. I mean, if you’re going to exaggerate, pick something believable. And he’s smart, so he would know that. And I don’t think he’s lying to me anyhow. My parents (especially my mom) would think I was ridiculous if they saw this. They probably will too, eventually. But it doesn’t matter. They already think I’m ridiculous. Or at least a little out of my mind.
I’m driving again. For a while I was grounded (although that was months ago), and then I wasn’t allowed to drive on the highway with other people around except a parent, which means I didn’t get to drive often, and THEN, I just kind of stopped driving for a while. But I’m driving again and now have 37 hours to my credit. I know, I know, that’s not much. But I’ve never had that much before and I’m proud of it.
I’ve been thinking *everyone runs and hides* and I’ve been wondering why people are pretty. What’s pretty? What is it that makes one person ugly and one person beautiful? Smooth skin is thought pretty, but what about zits? We could call it textured. Textured walls are thought stylish. Textured people aren’t. Not that I myself think zits are pretty. I’m just trying to figure it out, and it won’t be figured. And what about smells? NONE OF THIS IS MAKING SENSE!!! (It’s a little like love, which makes even less sense, even though some people have an actual chemical explanation for it, I think, and if they do I don’t believe it. I wonder if they have a chemical formula for beauty.) This is a cool picture, isn’t it? Not exactly spectacular, but still.I’m pretty sure it’s in Australia. It’s a roll cloud, I think, and those only happen in Australia. I like this song; Cynic Project Mix. I love it, in fact. Yes, I’m strange. I’ve always been strange. Always. I think always. I don’t really remember anything before two, but my first real memory is of me getting in trouble for messing around with the ashes in the fireplace. My mom insists that wasn’t me, but I don’t believe her. Logically, I should believe her, because, well, she was old enough to really remember but not old enough to really forget, and I was three. But again, I’m strange.
I went to the pool yesterday with my friends and got incredibly sunburned. That’s bad. Not only that, but I have this funny looking mole on my arm, and I’ll be honest: it’s freaking me out a little. I’m going to have it looked at. I think it’s freaking my mom out a little too. My overactive imagination is in full gear, thinking of all that could happen. Frankly, it’s unpleasant to think about.
I think I should go to bed soon. I need to get up on time tomorrow. I got grounded today and that’s what set it off, I think, although my parents were probably already irritated at me.
I actually got more done today (and imagine, Mom, I got up at eleven!) than I have in a while. Kept the house clean AND did a lot of homework.
ANYWAY (getting off track again) I’m going to bed. G’night! (804 words at the end of this sentence.)

I am a weird person, you know? Oh right, it probably shows. Most people don’t talk to their multiple selves online. They’re probably pretty smart to do that. Excuse me, to NOT do that.
I wanna ramble. Again.
It’s not a bright idea. I know that.
You’ve seen me when I ramble.
Yeah. Not bright.
BUT….. here I go again!
Rambling about the fact that I shouldn’t even be rambling!
Silly me, myself, and I.
Oh, shut up, Bridget.
And do you realize how much space you’re taking up like this?
You shouldn’t be hitting the ‘enter’ button every time you finish a sentence. Get off wordpress, and go to bed.
You have issues.
Serious issues.

I just posted the last post two minutes ago. You know, I could just make a dozen posts and that would satisfy my random instincts. But it would be hard to keep track of.
It’s a possibility that your mind wanders too much, Bridget.
What did I tell you about calling me Bridget?
*sighs* All the same, you really are rather flighty. Looking back over some of your previous posts makes me fear for your sanity.
My sanity? You fear for my SANITY?
For whatever is left of it.
As a matter of fact, I wonder about it as well. The very fact that I exist causes me to doubt that there is any reason left in your mind.
Wait, when did YOU come into this?
Technically, his name is “I”. So you can call him “You” if you want, but it’s incorrect. I am Myself, if you hadn’t guessed.
Yes, I guessed. I’m a genius. In case you hadn’t guessed.
There you go, using “you” again.
I’m not going to use 3rd person here. Suppose we drop the subject? QUICKLY?
But –
Actually, I have a question. Why is “I” a male?
Because I wanted to be.
What makes you think you have a choice?
As if you have one.
Rather argumentative, isn’t he?
Don’t try to get on my good side, Myself.
I thought you weren’t going to talk in 3rd person.
I called you by your name.
You guys are ignoring me!!!
HOW MANY SELVES DO I HAVE???
*starts to count* Well, this one, and this one, and we can’t forget that one, and – OOOH! I forgot about her! And… *continues counting*
This is enough to make me go mad.
You see why I feared for your sanity.
Oh, go away. Both of you.

I want to ramble, but I probably shouldn’t. The oddest things come out. Hey, it’s cleared up! It was all cloudy earlier. I wish it would stay sunny. Generally I like clouds but right now I don’t. It ought not to be cloudy when I don’t want it to be. I suppose I sound self-centered. But I’m not. I’m really not. There are some of the most gorgeous roses outside now. Drat, I’m rambling, and now I’m going to have to finish. Have you ever tried to get me to shut up? No, not likely. If you don’t know me, then obviously you haven’t, and if you do, then you know it’s nearly impossible. This keyboard kind of bugs me. I’m on a trip, and I won’t say where I am, because I am a genius *muffled mental laughter* and geniuses do not do such things, but I like it a little bit and I miss all my friends and my town too, which is ridiculous because I only see my friends on weekends anyway so it hasn’t even been as long as it usually is and that is a horrible run-on sentence and I couldn’t care less. So screw it. In fact, I’m going to write another run-on sentence. As soon as I figure out what to write a run-on sentence about. It has to be a topic befitting a run-on sentence. Nothing less will do. Not about turkeys. There is a large ceramic turkey sitting in front of me. I don’t much like its looks, although I suppose it might be friendly enough if it could talk. This is ridiculous. Something is wrong with my brains. I am now going to stop thinking, since it is merely getting me in trouble. My friend once said I had a really big vocabulary. It’s because I read so much. I know people who actually hate reading. They’re all mad. Crazy mad, like me, only worse, because I like reading still. They think books are boring and I’m not quite sure how to prove them wrong. Thank goodness my two best friends like reading. There ought to be a really cool sunset outside, because I think it’s still clear, but I can only see out one window from this room and I’m too lazy to get up from the computer (and a little afraid that my dad will take over the computer if I get up), so I’ll just have to imagine a sunset outside. I’m imagining a splendid sunset right now. It’s all red and hot pink and purple towards the edges and the sun is absolutely enormous, like it could swallow you up if you moved your nose a hairs-breadth closer, and really bright, but not so much that you can’t look at it (I’m not supposed to look at the sun but I really can’t help it, especially during sunsets. Sunrises are too bright even for me, but I love them all the same. I’m just never up early enough for them.), and then I look outside and remember that I can’t see the sunset and that even if I could the sun wouldn’t be that big and it’s just my imagination gone wild on me. But really, it was quite a nice imagination while it lasted. And hey, I just wrote a run-on sentence, and the topic was very much befitting it. I suppose I’ll shut up now. I’m all rambled out.

My mind always wanders at night. That’s probably why I don’t get any sleep. I think of normal things, of what would happen if I did this (in sort of a chess-board kind of way, an if-I-did this,-these-are-all-the-possible-moves kind of way), of college and the rest of my life, and some of the randomest things you’ve probably ever heard of. Like this: Hair, if shaved, grows back thicker. So theoretically, if you shaved your forehead often enough, you could grow hair there.
Sometimes I wonder if people could rewire their brain so that pain feels good. It doesn’t make sense how pain hurts. It’s just another sensation. So why does everybody hate it? Don’t get me wrong, it doesn’t feel good to me either, but I still don’t quite get it.
To get married or get a boyfriend, you have to first fall in love with someone, and then that same person has to fall in love with you. What are the chances of that? There are about 6 billion people in the world (probably more by now, since I think the population is going up, not down), so theoretically that’s 3 billion of each sex. So one person has a choice of 3 billion people, and that person has to choose, out of their own 3 billion people, that very same person. Of course, the odds of this happening are increased by the fact that they kind of have to speak the same language (at least it helps) and they have to meet eachother first. So that takes it down a bit. But say you know fifty people of the opposite sex. Twenty of them are married or too old. Ten of them are dating somebody else or are otherwise unavailable. Twenty left, just say you fall in love with one of them. Now, following the same rules for them (they know fifty and thirty are “unsuitable”, shall we say?), there is a 5% chance that they will fall in love with you. Makes you wonder how anyone gets married. Maybe you don’t understand my logic. Reading over it now, I hardly do. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Somehow it happens, people fall in love. As long as they don’t think too much or read this post, they’ll never know how narrow an escape they had. Or maybe people really are meant to be. I’ll shut up on this topic now.
Next topic… uh, don’t have one.
Oh wait!!!
Yes.
Yes I do.
I do have a topic.
But I shan’t tell you about it. That would not be very bright, considering the topic.
So ha.
Ha again.
I might just keep “ha”ing at you until you tell me to shut up. But I can’t hear from where you are, and I don’t generally listen to that kind of thing anyway. And this is my blog, and if you want to be sane, and normal, and boring, get a blog of your own.

The weapons seminar happened today, and the Ho Sin Sul happened yesterday. Every freakin’ muscle in my body aches. I didn’t even realize I had muscles in some of those places. Like my hands for instance. I mean, obviously, they have to have them, because something has to make the bones move, but I never thought about it.
I had to get up at six (after being out late last night – don’t get me wrong, it was worth it, but, hell, I need sleep!) both mornings. What madness. And my arms are all bruised up and down from it. Granted, some of them are from sparring last weekend, but still. It looks kind of cool if you ask me. I told my mom that and she thought I was nuts, but she usually does anyway so it doesn’t matter. You know something? I never really thought about this before but I like being thought of as a little crazy. Like, I talked to one of my friends this weekend and they said I was weird, but a lovable kind of weird. So that’s okay. Besides, if normal is being one of those giggly little bitches that I usually come in contact with, then I don’t want it. It doesn’t appeal to me in the slightest.
It’s kind of cool being up early. I’m not going to make a habit out of it, but it was not too bad. I was walking down Mainstreet (funny how every town has one of those) and it was clear and cool but not cold, and the sun was so freakin’ bright it practically seared my eyeballs, and there was a hot air balloon in the sky off to one direction, and for some reason I just whispered to myself, Best friends forever. I can’t really explain that one.

I swear I’m going mad. Something isn’t right. I don’t know what it is but it isn’t right, and it’s bugging me. So many things are going right now. I’m almost out of highschool, I’m finally allowed to hang out with my friends, I’m back in Taekwon-Do, but something is wrong and it’s driving the hell out of me!!!

Everything feels fake today. The sky couldn’t be much bluer, but it looks like it was colored by a million of those sky-blue Crayola pencils. There’s no underlying sheen of sunshine in it. Everything looks like it was drawn in carefully, and flawlessly colored within the lines, and then immaculately polished. The sun blinds me almost completely, but it looks dull.
Chocolate still tastes like chocolate, but it’s become too flat, too sweet. Everything has lost the best part of its flavor. Nothing sounds good.
Maybe I’ve become bored with this corner of the world. Maybe I need to go somewhere else; Japan, Hawaii, Africa, Brazil. Maybe Ireland. Somewhere different. Somewhere I’ve never been before. Somewhere where the skies aren’t a cartoon blue, where the trees haven’t already lost their blooms.
Maybe even just Oklahoma. Tornadoes and thunderstorms would be a nice change of pace.
Maybe I just need a new idea. I’ve been itching to do something big, but I haven’t thought of it yet. I start incredible stories that fizzle out within a week. None of my old idea-creating things work well anymore. Twenty pushups, thirty pushups – they’re good for exercising and good for my arms but they don’t give me any ideas. Music used to help a lot, but it’s not really working right now. Sometimes real-life inspires me. But it’s hard to make real-life into something I can do.
I kind of want to draw. You know, I think I’ll do that. Some quiet, thoughtful picture that only the most observant can see any sense in. Something with a Crayola sky-blue sky, and summer-green leaves, but no flowers, because I can’t draw flowers worth anything. Something with something hiding inside it.
Maybe someday, ages and ages from now, someone will find the picture, and wonder who drew it. They’ll know exactly how I felt when I drew it, because it would be that kind of person who was searching around in someone elses old things in the first place. They’ll see the anticipation of something about to happen, the excitement, the movement that I drew into it. They’ll see how much I wanted something to happen, how my feet were practically dancing because I had so much energy and nothing to do with it.
They say that a picture is worth a thousand words. Mine will be worth two thousand.
Yeah, I think that’s what I’ll do.