Happy I am now, this has been a good day. First, I cleaned my room, which hasn’t happened (not thoroughly anyway) since we first moved here years and years ago. It’s kind of nice having a clean room. It’s kind of weird having a clean room. (And dude, I found one of my old favorite t-shirts under my bed and it still fits!) After that, I went to TKD and maybe I didn’t do perfectly, but I didn’t do too bad and what’s really cool is that I got better. AND THEN we went to the store and got plums and candy corn. And then I talked on the phone with my best friend. And I’m going over to his house this weekend. Really, how much cooler can it get?

Now I feel downright horrible. I’m bored. I can’t seem to draw worth shit, (yes Mom, I just used a cuss word) I’ve been reading all day and I’m tired of it, I can’t leave the house right now because I’m babysitting, I don’t feel good, (physically, believe it or not) and all in all my inspiration has left me entirely. I hate this. I can’t even call anyone, because Kevin’s at that baseball game and Sierra’s at camp meeting and Jordan’s in India for what might be at least three more months, and I was gonna call her mom today to see if she’d heard from her recently, and I forgot and it’s too late now. I can’t think of anyone else I’d want to call. I don’t think I get along with people very well in general. I HATE THIS! I’M GOING TO GO CRAZY IN A MINUTE! I’M NOT KIDDING! And damn it, I can’t do anything about it. So what does that mean, since technically no one goes crazy from this kind of thing? Right? It’s like dying of a broken heart. I just don’t think it happens anymore. I think that’s good. I’m not sure though. Maybe it was easier when you didn’t have to live the rest of your life with madness or grief.

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.

Earlier this morning, I picked out a plum from the fridge, and I held it up and said, “Mom, my plum is happy.”
This, of course, brought a strange look and the inevitable question “Why?”
“Because it is going to die in an honorable manner.”
“I see.” (I don’t think she did though.)
After messing around with the plum for a bit, she said, “There’s still a sticker on it.”
“Disgrace! You are a disgrace to the Fatherland.” I looked up to see raised eyebrows.
“It’s a German plum.”
“I see.” (Again, I don’t think she did.)
Now I was mumbling to myself and the plum. “You let them put a sticker on your butt without a word of protest!”
My mom starting giggling – actually giggling. That was a sight to see. She doesn’t often do that. Then she told me to pick the disgraceful sticker up off the floor. I ate the plum after that.

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.

You know how it is when all the cereals are mostly gone, so you take all of them and combine them in one cereal bowl? I hate that.
Day 2 of being grounded. I don’t really like it any better. Yesterday though, I was exhausted, and feeling a little drugged (I hate feeling that way, it’s nasty.) and I felt half-awake and half-alive the rest of the day, and the fact that I was grounded and no one was really available to talk didn’t help.
I’m testing for my black belt this fall. I’m going to be excited about it in a little while, but right now I’m too blagh to feel much of anything. Fortunately, that includes feeling upset, and bored, and irritated, and just glum in general.
Have you ever been talking to yourself about an embarrassing subject, or just something really silly, and realized someone was watching or listening?
It’s a little… uggh. I don’t have a word that will describe it well enough.

I can’t believe this. My friend tells me she’s never been grounded. Wow. I can’t even comprehend that.
I’ve been grounded. I can’t do anything this weekend. I hate it. I’m sick of books and puzzles, and I tried calling my best friend but he had people over because he’s NOT grounded and he couldn’t talk very long.

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.)