Sean is sitting in front of his computer with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and head. He looks like a medieval nut.
He likes it when I write about him (makes him feel special) so I am devoting this entire post to him. (Won’t he be happy?) He took me out for Chinese yesterday. I rather like Chinese. In fact, I believe that I’m going to go hunt down the leftovers.
Ha, David just came in and said that Sean looked like a granny. He’s kind of right.
Sean just squeaked in imitation of me. 😛 I don’t squeak. I was merely saying that I already knew something and he was contesting that fact. (And BTW, I DID know.)
He’s rearranging his room with a measuring tape and I think he just cut himself, judging from the “Ow, dammit!” I just heard.
I suggested ripping off his toenail (very long story that I shall NOT shorten for your benefit) and he gave a very sarcastic reply.
We played catch with a football yesterday (he was VERY careful to teach me that it was NOT called playing football; not the way we were doing it) and I believe I very much liked it.
Yeah. I REALLY need to go finish that Chinese food, I’m starved.
But Sean is pretty much awesome.

I believe that I am quite a genius. Upon first thought, these words may cause you to shake your head in disbelief. But I’m sure that once I tell you that I GOT STRAIGHT A’S my first year of college, you will take that statement a little more seriously.
Yeah. I thought so.

Well, I dropped it. Yay. Woohoo. Yippee.
Sorry for the sarcastic display of joy. I couldn’t help it.
On the upside, I just got a letter saying that I’ve been nominated by the staff to take part in a student leadership conference. Apparently that’s pretty special. Now back to calculus, which brings another burst of spontaneously sarcastic joy.

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.

It. Majorly. Sucks.
Thank you.
Why won’t my brain work? Boredom has murdered me 2171 times and it’s about to do it again. Cruel boredom.

I’m tired. I don’t know what to think. Everything is screwed up. I’m pretty much happy, except that I like to know things and I don’t know this. What, you didn’t expect me to actually say what I was thinking, did you? People actually read this. Well, not many, but enough. Like my parents. So, yeah, not saying a word. Deal with it.
Go ahead. Pretend it really bugs you. I have a sadistic streak in me that will enjoy watching you pretend to suffer.
I guess I’m going to college next year. The idea feels weird. I don’t what to do about that. Originally I was going to do every year at a different college. Now I’m not sure. I have friends here. Good friends. I’m just starting to have a social life, and you want me to leave it next year? (More specifically, I want me to leave it next year. Or at least I thought I did.)
Okay, so I said I was happy. Now I’m not. Funny how I can talk myself into being upset.
Simple problem, you would think. Not even a problem, really. Just stay here. Uh-huh. You keep thinking. Maybe someday you’ll realize you don’t know everything. Who are you anyway? Who am I talking to? Oh, myself, that’s right. Goodbye, myself. You’re getting on my nerves.

My head is aching.
My stomach is too full for words.
My world is madness.
I’m staying at my grandma’s for a week. (Actually, the week’s almost up.) I thought it was gonna rock. It doesn’t. It’s always hot inside and cold outside. I used to work out all the time at home. At home, I have to work out to stay warm. Here, I got to about three push-ups before I started sweating. There is ALWAYS a TV on. The only place where I can get time to think is in the bathroom, and with 6 – 7 people around, I don’t get to stay in there long. I haven’t been able to talk to ANY of my friends since sunday. (I miss them. :-() I measure my time by the ants I kill. 3-ant days. 12-ant days. 137-ant days. There haven’t been any 3-ant days yet. I’m just using it as an example.
And up until today, there was no internet (although I still can’t email because of complications).
At least I’m going home tomorrow. I’ve NEVER been homesick until now. I miss the cold, and the cats, and the aloneness, and the fact that I could go outside without getting ragged on by anyone.
I did get to go to Taekwon-Do last night though. I’ve missed that so bad.
Signing off, Bridget.

Something about me makes me want to hit bookshelves. Something about me makes bookshelves want to hit me. Therefore, I am constantly hitting or being hit by bookshelves. Something’s wrong with that.
They’re tightening up on airport security. The latest technology is a people scanner that looks under your clothes. That means (since security guards are watching the scanner) that every time you go flying, somebody is visually undressing you. Nice, huh?
They started this after a guy tried to bomb a plane with explosives he hid in his underwear. The attempt failed when he burned himself while trying to light the fuse. Serves him right.
I think next time I fly I’m going to write “F*** you.” on my chest. They’ll like that, don’t you think?
Sheesh.