So, remember what I said about the stuff I dream not being a good idea? Yeah. I dreamed about stabbing people. WHY did I dream about stabbing people??? It’s not really something I tend to do very often. Ever. You know.
In my defense, I was only stabbing vampires and monsters. Which is another weird thing. Vampires don’t even cross my mind most of the time. I think vampire books are stupid.
BTW, I hate chemistry, and chemistry tests, and everything.
And for the record, I’ve been up since 5:20 this morning, so I can be a grouch if I want.
And here are clouds.

Summer’s almost here! At least, for me it is. I’ve got two weeks of school left; things are getting busy. I’ve got about 6 or 7 people to hang out with before I leave – all during finals week, which is actually my slowest week, except for the fact that I have to pack. (THAT MAKES ME SO EXCITED!!!) Oh, did I never mention???

I am about ready to BURST with excitement! I’m not going to tell you why – not yet – but I will some time. Because I’m pretty darn sure I’m gonna do it. And I’ll let you know when it’s finalized. HEHEHE!!!!!

Remember this post? It’s mine. Well, I’m going to go live with Sean for the summer. THAT’S what I was so darn excited about. And while I’m no longer bursting with it (probably because I’ve told everyone important to me), I’m still pretty effing happy. But man, I’ve got a lot of stuff to do in that time. I have to pack (MAN I wish I could start right now – I’m making a list already), see all my friends, get a job down there (I pretty much have a guaranteed one), get my license, and… and… and…
Well, it feels like I have a lot to do. Partly because I have to finish school too.
Here are some of the darned cheerfullest cloud pictures I’ve ever seen.

I’m kind of happy in an oddly abnormal manner.
Why?
I don’t really care to tell you. I just felt like being happy.
Really?
No, of course not. How many people are happy just because they want to be?
I don’t know, but you certainly are.
Well, it’s none of your business.
I beg your pardon, but I am you, after a fashion.
Then you ought to know already, and you don’t need to ask.
Have you noticed how much more you talk than I do?
I have better reason.
You’re also being rather uninteresting.
No one’s required to read this. In which case, it hardly matters.
You’re always stilted when you talk to me.
Yes, you do tend to bring out my difficult side.
Whereas I am perfectly natural.
Perfectly.
SILENCE ON BOTH SIDES.
I wonder which of us is more interesting.
That’s easy.
Yeah? Who?

OH MY GOODNESS!!!!
-beep-
-beep-
-beep-
We interrupt the conversation with ourselves to draw your attention to a lovely full moon outside. Seriously, it is spectacular. Huge and fat and round, with the lower half thinly covered with a veil of cloud.
These are things that must be shared. Which I did. And I feel more satisfied now, even though the moon won’t look this cool for very long.
But for now, it’s beautiful.

–
I wish I were fearless. Fearless and courageous are two different things. Courageous is doing something even if you’re scared. Fearless is not being scared in the first place. Courageous? I hope so. Fearless? Not a chance. Being fearless would make everything a lot simpler. It might be unhappier in the end though, because you wouldn’t be scared of making mistakes. Of course, if you do just as many things while being courageous then you’re still screwed. You’re just tougher. As far as being respected, I’d rather be courageous. But I’m not sure I’m always that. Gaah, why am I thinking so much about things that don’t matter??? I’ll never be fearless. I don’t think anyone ever has been. And if they have, they were just stupid. Maybe I wouldn’t rather be fearless. But if I’m not fearless, I better make up for it somehow.
For example, at my black belt test. It’s in 5 days, 12 hours, and 11 minutes. Hey, they count down like that until Christmas, right? Anyway, I’m going to do well. I have to. I’m scared to death, and that’s exactly why I have to do it. Of course, I’m more scared of backing out. Pride and all that. But really, why do I always take the hard way out? Or the hard way in? Because I do both, you know. I think. And the worst part is, I think I’m proud of it. Like I’m proud of my stubbornness, or of my pride. AGGH! If I were Catholic, I’d be saying about a hundred “Hail Mary”s right now, and probably fasting for a week. I think Pride is one of their seven deadly sins. I don’t remember what all of them are: Lust, Gluttony, Sloth, Pride, Wrath, Envy, and Greed. Let me see, how many am I guilty of? Not gluttony. Not sloth, I don’t think. Not really greed. Wrath? Hell yes. Envy? Even more so than wrath. Lust? How do you even define lust? Eh, I don’t know, but by my definition, no. And I believe I mentioned pride. Not vanity though. I don’t think I’m vain. I don’t know. I don’t know what I am.
Rather happy right now, despite the potential Hail Mary’s I would get should I become Catholic (which I won’t).
I should go finish up my math. Today is such a light week for homework. It’s so cool. I love it.
All the same, my black belt test is making me nervous. Everyone says I’ll do well. Even the teacher says he’s not worried about me. But still, I’m not sure. I’m not ready to get my black belt, I’m not ready to go to college, I’m not ready for anything. What am I doing where I am? Is anybody ever ready for this kind of thing? Or is it just me?
I like Hamlet. The movie, anyway. The one with Mel Gibson. (He’s a good actor) I haven’t read the book yet. I should. When I have time. Ha, like I don’t have time now. But I don’t have the book right now.
Saturday at the black belt workout, my assistant teacher said he felt sorry for the first college guy who tried to make a move on me, or something like that. That was funny. He’s an awesome guy. I’m glad he’ll be at my test.
Actually, if you think about it, I have “ideal conditions” for my test. It’s in my own do-jang. (That’s rare.) My best friend is going to be there, my family is going to be there, my teachers are both going to be there, and I might be ready. Can I reasonably ask for anything more? I don’t think so. Although if I had a little more time that would be nice.
Last night, I dreamed about a totally badass thunderstorm, and there were like four lightning streaks that hit all at once right next to my window, and I sat down on the floor and asked myself if I was alive. I wasn’t sure. You could see the wind blowing the clouds into all these ominous shapes, like mammatus (ever seen mammatus? It’s awesome.) Anyway, I wish I could see a storm like that, even though it was kind of scary. I wish that could be called a kind of fearless.
I really wish I could get into Middle-earth right now. Think about it. It would be so cool. I’d like to be a human, like I am now. Humans were the bravest, even if they weren’t the smartest. You know, I think every person thinks the type of person they are is the best kind to be. I think maybe they’re all a little proud of themselves, in a way. That might seem insensitive to say, especially to a person who hates themselves. But they wouldn’t keep hating themselves if they didn’t think it was the best thing to do. Otherwise they would change it, wouldn’t they? Really, in the end, everyone does what they think is best, even if it’s only best for themselves.
I hope I’m not doing only that. I hope I’m a good person. I hope I’m not screwing everything up. I hope for too many things.
Anyway, back to my other thought about Middle-earth. That last thought was getting to be depressing. I’d like to live like Aragorn. I’d like to die like Boromir. I don’t want to die soon, mind you. But if I have to die, I want to die bravely. He died braver than anyone else. I want to die fighting. It’s an odd thing I’ve got. I can’t help it.
I’m not quite satisfied with this. I need something different. I need adventure on an epic scale. I suppose you could call this madness, of a sort. Mad for adventure. Mad for love. Mad for comfort, and at the same time, mad for change, craziness, war. Mad for wildness. Just mad, maybe. I feel like I could take down a whole army right now.
Writing stories about other people isn’t good enough. I need to live a story. If I could write a story of my life the way I wish it was, I would already be fighting, fearless, saving the world.
There’s one problem. Being in love and wanting whatever it is that I want – if you can find a name for what I want, I need it – don’t go together. And I am one, and I want the other. And I can’t have both, because nothing like that ever lasts. There’s no middle ground, and I wouldn’t want it if I could have it. Everything about me is impossible. I need to do one impossible thing. Just one. I need both of those. If I do one impossible thing, can’t I do another? The need for two things at once is driving me crazy. I can’t straighten myself out. Tell me I’m not truly crazy. Tell me I’m sane in some way.
I’m not unhappy. I’m somewhere between a war yell and a laugh. Where’s the middle ground in that?
If I were to write a story of my life the way I wish it were, I would have two side-by-side stories. One for adventure, and one for love. And then I would have to choose one. And I don’t know if I could.
No. That’s not true. I could choose. I know which one I would choose, without a doubt. Even if the story didn’t end well. And I’d be scared to death, just like I am now. But I wouldn’t feel sorry I’d made the choice, no matter what happened. As a matter of fact, I’m not sorry about the choice I’ve made now.
The writing of the stories will be interesting.

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 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.

It’s storming outside! I don’t know what kind of storm but it’s windy and dark gray and generally very ominous, which for me means perfect. I hope it’s a thunderstorm. It really ought to be a thunderstorm. It’s almost April after all.