Yup.

Parents feel that habits are a thing. Like, it's almost like a religious, and I'm Atheist.

So I got chewed out today. For have a D. Minus. In Algebra 1. Mostly because the teacher is against me and I don't do my homework because I don't want to give her the satisfaction of thinking that she has finally won in the battle of convincing me to actually try hard in Algebra. She kind of turns against me every time the dreaded R-word (responsibility) comes up, which is reasonable, because she should make me look really bad when it comes to responsibility. Because. Like. I'm not responsible.

Anyway, I have a D- in Algebra, which is fine, because I don't care about Algebra. Although my mom says that like, you MUST be 100% on top of not giving up. Like, 100% meaning you can't give up in ANYTHING. EVER. Which is okay? I dunno. But the whole thing about it is that I'm sort of a teenager, and I'm a rebel, and I don't see the point in not giving up in Algebra 1 when I'm taking it next year. I mean, can't I learn the stuff next year also? I'm only in 8th grade, folks.

It's pretty much that I learn to deal with people I hate, like (sometimes) the History teacher and (sometimes) the Spanish teacher. I mean, I got Bs in both their classes, so why does it matter?

While me and mom were arguing about me getting into the habit of not dealing with people I hate, I brought that point up ^^ so she got on the subject of Math, which is important, except I said I'm taking it next year, so then she got on the subject of never giving up, and then I brought up that there is ABSOLUTELY NO POINT in not giving up. I mean really, the last semester of 8th grade is the most pointless thing ever. People feel the need to try hard just so that they can try hard, but I've got music also. Mom started crying because I'm a good little boy and I shouldn't give up, and that as a baby I was so talented and musical.

And so like, if I'm going to be a musician, why ALGEBRA?? I know I sound like a classic teenager, but Algebra isn't actually important, just like anything I would learn past Algebra, in my future, because aren't I going to be a musician?

Well, a failed musician. Because musicians always fail. But whatever. Life is lived to enjoy, so I should enjoy it, right? I should! It's crazy when people stress half their life, they don't feel achieved at the end of their life. I'd like to enjoy my 20s and work towards the end. Well, work. And work. The whole way through. But at least be content.

And working in Algebra is the way I'll be content? No. Non. Nein. Sorry, mom, I'm allowed to give up when I have a second chance, and I've already failed my first chance. I mean, no second chances in life, right? So, might as well take advantage of this one! Besides, I'm totally not ready for Geometry, so I'll just go into Algebra 1 and be looked upon as a loser. Or whatever. Algebra is fine for me. I guess. Sort of.

I think what I'll do is just enjoy all of my life. I'd like to live a life of joy and content, not dread projects that I haven't done, which is happening now. So, you'd say, get them over with quickly, right? Well, I totally have A.D.H.D., so, sorry. I'm just a slacker. And egotistical slackers who don't want to work in life go nowhere, so I'll be a musician. The end.

Well, now that I've ranted all over, I'll just leave.

Bye.

-Alex

Self-Reflection and a Low-Self Esteem

I know I haven't blogged in a while, but at the moment I'm in an all time low.

Which SUCKS! xD

Anyway, I've been reflecting upon myself for a long while now, and I'm slowly figuring out how different people look at me, and how I should look at myself. And naturally, me being me and you being you, I don't see myself the right way, because I'm inside my body! Well obviously this has to be fixed, so I've just been realizing that I can self-reflect

Not like on an English paper, if that's even possible, but whatever. Reflecting upon yourself and making yourself a better person. But I just realized while playing the drums downstairs that I am the person I am, and who I am is not cool.

So far, I've figured out that I am a little short kid who doesn't mind his appearance, doesn't work hard, lives for fun, wants to be good at things but just naturally isn't. I play the drums, but downstairs while I improvise, (because I don't have any great headphones on which to listen to music) I keep coming back to the same rhythms, the same theme of drum playing that I usually do, and that drum playing is sort of simple, cliche kind of rock thing.

I mean, I like all different kinds of music, but I just can't really improvise to them on the drums, and the drums, I thought, was going to be me life. Music. Music is really hard to make a living off of, and I was prepared to work my way through it with the skills I have and all of the stuff that can help me out, like my friend's dad's studio, Metronome, or Morris Pleasure, a famous dude who is friends with my dad. But I can't really do that very well because I know that I'll have to work really hard at becoming someone who I'm not when I'm in front of a drum set.

And also, as stated above, I don't like working hard.

I'm not the kind of person who somebody could really like, somebody could truly actually like right when they talk to me. I'm hyper, I have short-man's syndrome, I'm a know-it-all, and I'm weak, because I don't work hard at getting strong.

If anybody can relate to this, please contribute to my dilemma.

Anyway it's been really bugging me for a LONG time, and I have no idea what to do. I don't know whether to actually work hard and actually get rid of all my distractions, or just do what I'm best at, which is not being the best at anything except being the best at being the bottom. Did you follow that?

I'm the kind of person who shouldn't be really blogging. Of course nobody follows my blog, because that's the kind of person I am, the kind of person no one can like at first sight, which means reading all of my rants on a page named something that relates to my personality, "A Room of Awesome," (the kind of thing that isn't really creative, but you'd think it was made by a 7-year-old) isn't going to be very attractive. I dunno.

I don't know whether or not to get off of Twitter and Facebook and this very blog, or to just do what I do best. I've already explained that.

So now that I'm done typing really quickly, I'm going to leave... I'll publicize my blog to people on Twitter and people in school, but it's me talking, so naturally hey probably won't be interested. I know it gets tiring after a short while, my attitude toward me, but I need someone to tell me what kind of good points I have. Then I might feel better.

I guess I'll just say that I'm simply,

Forever Yours,

-Alex

Lots of Stuff, for the Second day in a Row!

Confusing things are happening to me at the moment. And it's almost vacation for  people in New Hampshire! And I've realized I'm annoying. A summary of today's blog!

Okay anyway, hi. Two blogs in a row. It's weird. Like, really weird. I don't know if I'm going to finish this one, but it almost looks as if I'm doing my homework to my dad. So I'll tell you how you can relate to my confusing situation right now by asking question about you and stuff.

So, have you readers ever self-reflected, meaning looked upon yourself? I mean, have any of you ever really found out who you are? Because I thought I had just a few days ago, and I'm sort of still in a wicked promising path to finding out who I am. It's cool, because it's sort of like, everyone tries to find out their whole life, so it's been a really horizontal slope to finding out who you are, and then my little linen on a graph showing how much I've found out about myself just sky-rocketed.

I'm a know-it-all.

Yup. That's me. I'm also spoiled. 

Have you ever had that feeling before? Like, when you find out something bad about yourself? I mean, I'm not particularly depressed about it, because I've always sort of prided myself in being strictly optimistic at all times, but right now I'm just trying to change, and it's really hard. It takes a lot of energy. And effort. Mostly energy.

Now on a brighter note, in New Hampshire, it's almost Winter Vacation! At the end of winter! Which is stupid! Enough of the !s! Okay anyway... Our school system is stupid. Because unlike most, if it snows 10 feet, they make you go to school, because everything must benefit education!!!! 

Stupid education, ruining everything...

Anyway, they're very strict here, except for the dress code... and all of our teachers are completely unreasonable when it comes to homework. Does that happen to you? Because I'm only in 8th grade, Junior High, and I usually have a two or three hour workload of homework to do every night. And so vacation would be great if I didn't have an ICT project, an English project, and a History project to do. The ICT being the most stressful. And I'm not getting Honor Roll, which is totally disgraceful.

But do I care? Nope!

Don't care very much, anyway. And you know why? Because all of the people that do care are the kind of people I never really get along with. I always think of those people as low people, people that are driven by directive and accomplishment in academics. I don't want to be one of those people, so I try as much as I try and I'll go to a fine music college, because that's what I want to do, be in music. So for all of the people like that out there, don't care too much about grades in Middle School. Because it won't help much in the future.

Oh, and my dad is still a douche. Yay!

Well, now that I'm done puking all over today's post, I'll be seein' yah!

Forever yours,

-Alex

PS- Sorry if there are any typos in previous and future blogs - I haven't had time to correct them, so please forgive me =P

K9? What the HELL??

K9. It sounds like... canine.

Ohhi. I haven't blogged in like, seventeen billion years. Or tweeted. Or caught up with my fellow Nerdfighters. Except now I practically can't, because in this K9 thing, my dad can see everything I do ever in everland. Even if I erase my history. So he'll probably be reading this. But who really cares? Not him, hopefully.

Anyway, I'm just blogging in the kitchen here listening to music and hating my dad. Secretly. And I'm also really confused about girls. And school. And I'm commonly doing homework a little late. And I've been WICKED FREAKING STRESSED lately. Unlike me, right?

Alright, well, let's talk about this K9 shtuff, because I just care that much.

So, I guess this blog will be more about freedom (he says in future tense after four paragraphs)... but anyway, what does everybody think about freedom? I mean like,, tracking websites and stuff. Do you think it's good? Because there are so many mixed opinions about it, i'm just curious what people actually think. I know that teenagers probably hate it, because.. well, they do. Like me. I hate it. But I wonder what parents think? I mean, I know some parents think it's perfectly fine know everything about their child's life, and then others think it's a total invasion of privacy, which I agree with.

What I'm actually wondering is whwy parents would do things like that instead of making the child tough it through? I mean, my parents are soft and will probably give up pretty soon, (my dad particularly... computer hate him) but I'm still not sure if that's really the right way to make kids focus in school. I mean, me and my brother (only two siblings, so all the children) have both been taken away Twitter, Facebook, and Youtube, and a lot of other shtuff.

But that just makes me waste more time trying to look for more websites that have that same function, except they're unknown, meaning they don't fall into any specific category. When I confronted my dad about this, he said that he could easily just block every website liket hat, just like schools. Sooo... is that a good idea also? Or would that just make the child hate the parent? Personally, I think it's the dumbest thing ever, but that's me being a stupid teenager. But... whatever.

I'm gonna try to blog more because of my STUPID DAD, and I hope he doesn't really look at any of these blogs. Hopefully.

But until then, I'll simply be

Forever yours,

-Alex

Sadness

It's late. It's really late. And I have to write a novel. And an essay. For TOMORROW.

Oh hi there. It's me. Your shining star. Your living rose. Your.... sexy elephant.. I don't know what I'm saying

So anywayyyyyyy, let's just get right to the point of my deepening THOUGHTS of epic epicness.

Okay, so as many of you may know, I have a cuddle buddy, a chick friend, a fiancée, a love buddy, a dudette person, a future wife, a person I'm "In a relationship" with... y'know... Her name is Becca. If you've read my tweets, you may have deduced that, maybe, if you're smart, maybe...?

Anyhoosle, Y'knowww, how I'm all happy and joyful and cheering-people-up-like? Well, I just came upon Becca and it was sort of maybe my turn to be kind of sad-ish... Meaning really sad. Aaaand I'm usually the one who makes people happy (I hope) And I tell them all this good stuff that sometimes sort of helps them.

And I was sad, and I was being a pathetic form of myself, really like, being really really hard on myself and stuff, and she fed me the exact same words I tell everyone else. She gave me what I give to other people, she verbally handed to me stuff that she herself does not follow, because as I said, I'm usually the cheerer-upper person, usually, more frequently with Becca, which is fine, because she is...

...let's not go into that...

...Anywayzz, but, it didn't work. And I told her; I told her that it just doesn't work, that when I'm sad, i'm pretty much screwed over, because nothing will work on me except maybe words from a parent or something. Because I know how it all works, I know how the other person is thinking when they say those cheering-up thoughts, because I use them frequently. And it kinda sucks.

I don't really know why I'm blogging about this.

Heading back into the storyyy.... It's like, I dunno, the CEO of Burger King eating at Burger King, it just doesn't happen. It doesn't happen because the CEO of Burger King knows BK's secrets, the secrets behind the deliciousness of it's food, and if he eats the food,, he would taste the lies that lie within it, and it would not be very tasty. It the same thing: I know how it works. And..... If you're like that, watch out.

I guess I have to incorporate my audience into this blog, eh?

I'm just trying to get things off of my chest. Make them fall off of my shoulders.

Oddness.

Another thing, crying. tears. Tearing up. It's... uncommon, for me. The last time I've cried was in 6th grade I think... the last time I've super like, cry-cried, meaning like, I couldn't talk and stuff. That time and last Christmas. That sucked.

Anyhoosley doosley, I find it really hard to cry, because whenever someone else cries, I see it as somwhat part of them, I see embarrassment and I see sadness, and worst of all.. I see weakness. How do I see weakness in crying? Am I really that cold? Anyway, I find it hard to cry, because my mind has built up this barrier between the real me, the sad me, the distraught me, and the crying me. Crying is like, me coming to an all time low. Hehe. All Time Lows.... Hehehe,....

Anyway, if I ever cry, I become so hard on myself because I've become so weak, I've stooped down so low so that I can cry, if I ever go that low, I feel as if I'm as low as like, homeless people. Low meaning understood, not bad, but like, low meaning being hard on yourself as knowing that people "rank" so much higher than you. Powerless, that's a good word for it. I feel powerless. And so then I just fell like nothing is as pathetic as me.

It kinda sucks.

why am I blogging about this??

Well I don't know... Just.. as a fair warning, no one ever become like me, no one should see things the way I see them. By reading this blog, I guess you are just looking at the dangers that I don't know... lie ahead of you? Or maybe West or northeast of you. Take the right path, children =P Anyway, just don't become me.

That sounds kinda pathetic =P

Well, I guess I'll just leave you to think about.. I don't know.. sadness. Yeah, I'll leave you to think about sadness.

Seeya,

Forever and ever yours,

-Alex

10-year-olds. Yummy.

Hola. It's me.

If you hadn't figured that out.

I do not know what to blog about. This will be improv. What to blog about...? I could blog about anything I'm thinking about... That would take up some space on this page.

If you hadn't noticed, I blog to have long posts. I don't want to bore anyone.

Well.. Today I went to this now-11-year-old's birthday party, with a bunch of these little people, and one of them had meds for A.D.D., and another looked like he was either extremely awkward, or had autism. Very very high functionality, so I'm thinking the former.

Anyway, there all of these little 10 year olds, but it's weird, because y'know how I'm all thinking about things and stuff? (You probably could've deduced that by now if you've been reading my blog (which no one has been)) Well, it's strange because I could relate to each one of them and what they were thinking, because some were really hyper, some were really in to whatever they were doing, some were really hyper, and some were just plain small and little and seemingly violent. And at that birthday party, I kept wondering whether I was like that when I was their age?

Is that normal?

Well, I guess it would be... I mean, it's a strange question, because you don't really recall how you acted when you were little because you didn't have much self-awareness when you were little. I guess you could gain back ground information from other sources?

I don't know. All I know is that Asquared+Bsquared=Csquared... Imeanwait, whut?

All I know is that it's frustrating and one will never really know their true every-day actions in their past. Which is kind of not good, dontcha think?? Stupid world, taking away our memory. I don't like the world today. *rambling*

Well, I don't know, this post has been not good, but I guess it will give you something to think about? I guess for now I'll just be

Forever yours,

-Alex

*sigh* Stuff about technologyyy....

Well hello there. It's me. Awesomehead. I'm here to coach you ab-- YOPP!!!! *stolenjokesstolenjokes!*

Hehe, this blog totally needs an intro theme song xD So hello. I know, I haven't blogged since Christmas. It's been a long time. Even though it hasn't.

So I was pondering, one fateful day in early January, like, the 2nd, about stuff. Okay, that didn't come off as majestic as I would have hoped. okay, so I was up really late on my new laptop, right? Twittering. about stuff. and @loisunpublished and @maureenjohnson and some other people that I follow post a lot, and I was SO BORED that I was replying 'n stuff. And it made me wonder. Is Twitter meant to share something you did, or something you think, and then just have people read it and move on? Is it something to just put your thoughts down in? Are people actually, y'know, supposed to reply to what you say, or is that considered annoying, or in vice versa, rude? (Did that just make sense?)

Well, I don't know. It's a though to ponder on, and I NEEEDDDD (want really badly (If you hadn't figured that out)) answerssss so that it's less.... weird... when I go on Twitter. Also youtube.

Youtube is weird. I mean, if you're subscribed to this not-so-famous channel, and you comment and all of their videos because it's generally accepted to comment on videos, do the people making the video y'know, think of "that dude who always comments on my videos"? Say if a channel has like, 100 subscribers or something, and you see usually only 5-10 comments, of there's always the same person commenting that you have no idea who it is, do the people think of that person, and do they judge you and/or think of you as a creeper? Or do they think of you as a fan?

I'm asking this because, as you know by my new and improved bio, I'm outgoing. And Youtube and Facebook and Twitter are great sites to randomly come across this person, me they be younger or older or live near you or far away from you, that is weird and interesting and like you. Like you a lot. But you're the one who has come across them on this site, and they have not come across you, so you subscribe to them or friend them or follow them, and they don't think of it as "coming across" some person that's "like" them, they think of it as some random person they don't know that starts following them. It's kind of frustrating, because I don't know the answer and I want to know the appropriate thing to.. y'know.. do. Or act the right way. Or whatever.

If any random stranger who I don't know could comment, I wouldn't think of you as a creeper or anything, and it wouldn't be awkward. For me. Because I don't know how people think of random people like me follow/friend/subscribing, but I don't think that way. So, I don't know if this was long or short or if it looks long or short, this post, but I will be leaving you with my classic,

Forever yours,

-Alex

CHRISTMAS???

It's Christmas!!

Why the heck would I be updating my blog on Christmas when I could be using my presents?? Wel, because I'm using one of my presents! I got a freaking laptop!!! How epic is that? That's right, wicked freaking epic.

Well, there really isn't anything to blog about on Christmas, or about about Christmas, or anything having to do with Christmas. That didn't make sense. So how about I tell you what I got?!?!?!?! Well, a laptop, an Xbox controller, some money, aaaannddd.... some smores. Yep. 'S pretty much it.

....Soo....

Sup?

Okay, how about YOU tell ME what YOU got. And then this post will finally be over. Because, pretty much, this is the lamest post ever =D Which is awesome. Because it's Christmas. And something MUSt be lame on Christmas, so now nothing else will be! Yay!

Merry Christmas, peopleses!

-Alex

A post. You should be excited.

I'm bock. In my witty itty mini blog. How fun is that?

Well, I'll go off ranting and then we can see which subject I can stick to.

Kk, Well, I'm sick... Does that count? And yesterday me and my dad were at Five Guys (THE BEST PLACE IN TEH WORLDAVERSE), and I was like, "It amazes me how stupid people are." Sounds like me =P

But I was talking about how I was talking to someone about (abundance) how people didn't want to have children all of a sudden, which is kinda weird, and they were like "It'll ruin my body!!!" And she went off ranting, and I was like "Well, you'd be giving birth to this wonderful bundle of life. I mean, if your mom hadn't gotten pregnant, you wouldn't BE here." And her *RETALLIATION!* reaction was "Well, you end up with this money/resource absorbing ball of fat the just eats and poops." To which I said "Well, you were like that also!" and she was *ANGERNESS!* like, "And I know, and I've been trying to make up for it and I feel guilty about it ever since."

ANGERNESS TO THE MAX.

Well, what I don't see is how one can feel guilty about something they did when they 1) Didn't know any better, 2) Were only slightly self-aware of all their actions, and 3) Was a ball of fat that only took up resources and ate and pooped. I mean, it's not like it's your fault for being so dumb and needy, you're some little ball of fat (more abundance) that just eats and poops! Ugh. It angers me. *is a ball of fat* Pwese weave comments down bewowwwwwwww!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anyway, to extend the length of this blog, let's get on another rant-y subject.

FACEBOOK! I lurvle Facebook! Akai, Akai, Akai (That means okay), So, Like, I got like, a Facebook. After hating it for DECADES ON END, I finally gave in. And I'm old enough to (Hahahahahahaa, not like I wasn't
>_>
<_<

Suspicious, right?)
...also. EPICNESS.

Facebook, I've realized, doesn't actual repsresent what a "group of friends" really is though, because if you like, comment on people's status too much, or play games and publish them, or go to these apps that annoy people, they are annoyed, and that can't really happen in real life. Sites like Facebook or Twitter are changing the way people look at friendship/communication in general, because it gives people more stuff to talk about, and humans weren't really designed to talk about stuff like that. Or any living thing wasn't designed to like that (That didn't make any grammatical sense...). It's almost like a loose end, technology.

Oh, NO! Not a technology rant! *withstands the will* Okay, nevermind.

Well, I guess I've taken up enough space on this page for now (I guess, maybe?). I'll try to update this blog more, but sometimes it's tough. All of my non-followers are lucky that I'm sick. COMMENT!!

You're fowevah,

-Teh Alexzorz

PS- Beccerbear is awesome.

Another Novel.

Now I know how you all LOVE stuff that I write outside of my blog, so to fill in the space of a post, today I'm going to show to you my unfinished Chapter 1 of my un-named novel. Here ya go!

Chapter 1

A Greeting

It was in Chicago, where the wind gently blew from house to house, apartment to apartment. Flowing through the leaves like silk in water, brushing the hair of children at play. A leaf gently landed on a tiny shoe and a child giggled and picked it up. A feather fell from a bird overhead, which then landed in front of a dog, who sniffed it and moved on. A car passed. Wind. A child threw a mixture of grass and dirt at another. Wind. It was infinite in one of the only slightly happy neighborhoods in Chicago. It searched.

The wind searched nature and its making for a boy, a boy in ragged clothes, so as to soak his short matted hair in a cold wind. It searched through the tall blades of grass and the lawn mowers cutting it, it slivered through the gravel and the cars driving on it. It searched and finally, rested upon the boy, chilling him to the bone until it moved on to search some more, to leave the boy silently listening to a fizzing radio and feeling the now uncovered sun to shine upon his body.

There, in a fenced back yard, a teenage boy no older than fifteen lay. He was covered in a shade down to his neck, revealing his clothed body to the sun. The wind visited its previous victim again, weaving in and out of his holed, baggy black jeans, and washing over his favorite red hoodie. There he lay, pondering that specific feeling, the feeling of nature taking his body and making it pure for just a few moments, and then leaving him to listen intently to a radio.

The wind looked beside him for another acquaintance, although not a human. It stared at what appeared to be a ball of fur, which then had been content, sleeping next to its owner. The wind darted behind it and struck it violently, opening its eyes ever so slightly to wake it up. It closed its eyes again, opened them, and stood up as the wind struck it again. The dog walked past the fizzing radio and continued inside, safe from the hateful wind, which gave up to search for a new victim. To the people of Chicago, the wind was their companion, their mentor and their enemy. It hated and it loved, it searched for people content enough to feel it grasp them tightly and have them embrace the feeling for only a moment.

Parents had no time for this. The experienced ones didn’t. They knew full well that the wind was a vicious competitor, violent and frightening. They knew that upon moving there, the wind met them and their family with a strike of cold non-evadable air particles, all of which then took to their new victims and crawled underneath their clothes, tickled their skin, and forced them into their new home. The wind treated the adults uniquely.

Allison Fandell certainly did not have time for enjoying the sunshine. She was pacing around her new apartment in Chicago, opening this box and seeing what’s inside it, giving up on setting that object up, and opening another box. Her beautiful leather black couch, wrinkled and full of memory, lying there hopeless in front of a crooked television was not at all in the right place. The precious 7-doored desk that was scratched everywhere except in a square in the middle for her laptop, was shoved violently in a corner and left there for her to deal with. The kitchen table, her bed, her clothes, all of the depressing and delightful colorful decorations, the microwave, this, that, her mind, were all in the wrong place. The dog had no place to sleep. Ashton, so it semed, had to sleep on the couch the first night in town, and there was no dryer and no washer for her sheets and what-she-thought-was-beautiful tight jeans. A 38-year-old now-single parent shouldn’t have to deal with this after what happened, she thought. She plopped on her couch, rested her head, called out to her only son about nine times before falling into a light dreamless sleep inside a tiny crowded apartment to a fizzing radio.

But in the outside air, children familiar to the wind could feel the colorful golden leaves falling down on them from an oak tree, followed by an acorn dropped by a squirrel. The creatures were lured to children by their food, creating a bond of trust between unknowing children and skinny, furry, cuddly, and deadly squirrels. The ants kept their homes safe and occasionally, wind blew their food towards the children, creating another bond of trust. The wind had a kingdom, and it created the flows of love and trust, and struck upon hatred. It was unfair to unfair animals, joyous around loved ones, glad to sink into the ground and rest underneath a black sky, or create ghosts for those who needed them. In retrospect, everything happened according to plan for the wind. When there was no wind, there was no emotion, no life in Chicago. But there was never not any wind. Even when you couldn’t feel it, it existed in you from your feet up. Newcomers knew this. And in the sun a newcomer lay, listening to a fizzing radio.

The boy, however, was by then fast asleep. The wind happened upon him a final time, seeing him deeply breathing, dreaming about it. So it moved on. And so did he, sleeping through the yelling of his mother, the barking of his dog, sleeping through the sun being covered and uncovering by the clouds. There he lay, content in his new home that was Chicago. The wind welcomed him with a hug.

Hoped you enjoyed it. I'm writing this farewell before I put in the double-spacedness, so you can all see my say my goodbyes without it being annoyingly double spaced and indented. Hope you enjoyed it the unfinished first chapter! *lick lick, salute!*

Always yours,

-Alex

PS- Is Chicago even windy?

PSS- I'm also entering this for a contest, so if anyone steals this, it will be considered pr... prof... no... That word where it's illegal to copy speeches and novels and stuff. So yah. Can't steal this time, sorry.

Aw crap, Another Love Post

Alright, well I was on the Nerdfighters ning, and there was this big awkward silence. Then someone asked, (it's a chat room full of people) and I quote: "So who thinks im being stupid by trying to become a better person to convince the girl who broke up with me to take me back?"

I was surprised. When someone asks a question, any question, on the Nerdfighters ning, everyone's too caught up in their own little thing for everyone there to reply. But this time, I think there were three or four other people talking, everyone responded. It was like a deepening statement, automatically getting everyone's hearts out of their brains and into what they say. If that makes sense. People said sentimental stuff like "Do it for you," or "Be yourself," and saying that he was definitely, DEFINITELY, not stupid.

Someone said be yourself, yes. It was interesting, because I was just pondering what that actually means. Does it mean be who you are on the inside? If so, what does that mean? (I have started many a post with that two question structure, I just realized.) I'm thinking that when people say "Be yourself," They actually mean don't try to screw anything up by being slick and stuff. Do what feels right, and don't every stray away from it. It's interesting. It's like saying "There there" to someone who's crying. It means almost nothing, but it's so comforting that the person feels better. "Be yourself" means almost nothing, but people follow the advice and do better.

So is it stupid, becoming a better person and trying to make someone take you back? When they say "be yourself," Does that mean just be the person that you are, not necessarily a "better" person? An interesting way of looking at things, but necessary to figure out questions of life. I feel that becoming a better person is a very good cause, but how does one be better than they are? If they're themselves, there should be no better alternative to a girl. Being a better person to get a girl would not being yourself, in my eyes. (Question for the comments: Do you agree?) If a girl breaks up with you for whatever reason, or a guy depending on who you're interested in, then they don't understand who you are. By becoming a better person, the fog becomes deeper, and it's harder to see who you are.

So for anyone who has just been dumped, you mat love the person. I have felt that pain before. But remember, that if you want to change for them, do your best the first few times. Eventually you'll realize that really, if they loved you, they wouldn't need you to change. It an equivalent exchange, always. For them to love you, you need to love them back. You can't have a one-sided love. Well you can, but that's not exactly how people define a "relationship." The people who change and have broken up and then gotten back together with the person and married them are rare and inconsistent, and although they may feel bad or great about their lives, the people around them will envy them and try to do what they did. Don't. Because chances are, it won't work.

It's a very hard topic to blog about, and I think I did my best... I know a lot of people will disagree, many many MANY people, whoever reads this post, but if I had time I would edit and re-edit this. But for now,

Forever doing my best for you,

-Alex

A Late post.

Well, I haven't posted in a while, what with Homework, and homework and girls such as Becca. >.> Anyway. I was reading my fellow Squire's blog, Nerdtastic, and I was thinking about his post "Stuck." He talked about the meaning of life, and teenagers, and money and girls and technology and stuff like that. As anyone who reads my blog knows, I like delving into things.

It's interesting how when some people ask "what is the meaning of life," Others respond, "Well, to live life to your fullest." It's also interesting that when someones asks "How are you doing," chances are, the other person will almost immediately say "Good." It's that predictable-ness that I think speeds life up a lot. You predict something will happen, and that small moment is much faster because you don't hear what another is saying because you know already what they're going to say. Is it that that people are stuck over?

Another thing: Why must life have a meaning? Is there really a meaning to life? Philosophers ponder over this all of their life: Well would that be the meaning of their life then, to figure out the meaning of life? Lives can be wasted over the question, true. But it's an interesting question that humans have evolved so much that not only can they be the most extremely self-aware creatures within galaxies of anything, but they can also question life itself, which most likely won't be recorded in history again on the earth. I don't know if my blog-readers know this, but I'm an Atheist. An Atheist is one who doesn't have a religion, and usually the reason for that is because  they don't believe in a God. I'm kind of extreme: There isn't anything supernatural on this planet, or anywhere else.

Well, here's my reasoning: For someone to be able to not hang on to made up evidence, not hang on to a familes beliefs, or a communities beliefs, or even a country's beliefs takes can be extremely difficult. So I guess I can say that I find that there really isn't any meaning of life. Earth made a mistake when we evolved into a creature that doesn't rely on it's body's features, but a creature relying on the features in our minds; thinking capacity evolves much much much MUCH faster than any mutations/body parts to any animal. Cheetahs can run as fast as a car, fight off almost any animal, they have razor sharp claws, and they hunt independently, but with one motion of one finger on a humans body can a Cheetah be struck down fatally. It's the brain that we have, not the features on our body.

And that brain has lead to self-awareness, questioning of life, and making ourselves firmly believe in things that are scientifically proven impossible to be slightly real. People question the Big Bang, but scientists can prove that to fill the space of nothing, something can be created from nothing, or some crap like that. We've evolved into creatures that can multiply astronomically and exponentially in just a few centuries, can look back those few centuries and call ourselves dumb and stupid and we can see the mistakes that we've made. But a Cheetah hunts no differently than it did 10s of centuries ago. It's the brain, not the features.

So if that's so, how can there really BE a meaning to life? Would the meaning of life simply be to fill the space of nothingness? Because that really is the only rational meaning to life. It's not to make others happy, it's not to make money, become wealthy, make friends, become a successful engineer, follow in God's path, follow your family's traditions, it's not that. It is simply nothing. Life has as much meaning to it than the amount of meaning nothingness had, before the planets and the stars. Humans have a hard time understanding that, because we've become so advanced, we think that it has to mean something. It really means that nature made a simple mistake. And history is really, not doomed to repeat itself.

That's really all I have for tonight, and I hope people can ponder over it more than usual. So I bid you a simple:

Yours Forever,

-Alex

PS- To those who are religious, or believe in a God, I mean no disrespect to you. If you take offence to this blog, I apologize.

Draft El Secendo (Double spaced and indented somehow - no idea)

Well, this is another impromptu blog I shall create about: Well, I have no idea, but that's the fun of it, right?

WANNA HEAR MY SECOND DRAFT FOR MY HISTORY ESSAY? Someone edit it for me =(

Draft 2

            It was (a date I haven’t found out yet) when everything started, for me anyway. The Redcoats, the Lobster-backs, they were the ones who started it; The American Revolution. Before then we were taxed on nearly everything – teeth, dice, newspapers, legal documents – everything. We couldn’t do anything to stop it, of course. The English had complete control over Boston, we couldn’t put a colonist in an important chair up top, only they. And they were the ones who order the British troops to stand on guard; they ordered them in Boston in the first place. They must have seen it as some sort of an object, instead of a place where living children run and play hide and seek, and apprentices mold wax and cooper barrels. If they hadn’t though of Boston (or any other colony in their control) like that, nothing would have happened. And that I am sure of by my fear of Hell and my love of God.

            I was born into America because of my father, Apollos Riviore. This would have been my name if he hadn’t Anglicized it – Paul Revere. That is the name I hold today, written on the very certificate which holds all my other information. My father died countless years ago, in 1754, and that’s when the family fell into my hands, with the shop as well. I was keeping house as a silversmith, one of, if not the best smith in Boston. I worked on gold as well – rarely, but still skillfully.

As a rich silversmith, people don’t talk much about anything around you. They only talk about you, and that was the trouble; I was a rich silversmith. It was hard to pick up any news on anything by just walking around for a stroll, for people seemed quiet around me, that or the opposite, of course. Hearing little kids yelling your name is very… pleasing, yet not quite so at the same time. At least I had the state of mind (and ear, I might say) to pick up a scrap of information about John Hancock. He was, of course, the richest man in Boston, but he was also known for planning against Britain, which was usually defined as treason.

But it had some sort of spark to it, and that spark lit a very flamingly bright fire in me. The British couldn’t control the colonies anymore, so it was said, and they were going too far in placing soldiers at every corner or every end of every street. So it was simple: rebel and the soldiers will go away. Sit and do nothing, and watch as the lower class starves into nothing, and watch the upper class become more rich until they either die or become hungry for power instead of wealth. Whatever the latter would lead to, the Patriots didn’t want it. And that’s when I became a Patriot.

There it is. I swear to god if anyone steals this I will eat them whole. I'm not finished yet though, still need to add on seven more paragraphs. Well, sorry for the boringness of this post.

Forever yours,

-Alex

Today. Boring, right?

Well, it's what I'm going to write about, just as every blogger goes rogue at one point.

Well, tomorrow is voting day for (everyone?) New Hampshire... And my parents (typically) don't know who to vote for. Dad's a democrat, mom's a "left-leaning Independent" -.- Wimpiness. Who are you voting for, if not underage? If you are underage, do you pay attention to this stuff? Are you a democrat? Republican? Answer my questions!

Now on a darker note, I would rant on what happened to ME today, but everyone hates blogs in which one only talks about themselves. So I'll ask you questions tied into my rant. Which won't exactly be a rant. So instead of continually anticipating this rant, let's rant!

Okay, so I just got a new game, Halo Reach. I'm sure you've heard of it (If not, you're either not a nerd or you're completely unconnected from the outside world), and it's rated M for mature. Like, 18 and older (no duh Sherlock). And I was playing Matchmaking, in which you look online throughout Xbox Live, for I have an Xbox 360, and you play and shoot and assassinate people. My dad was working downstairs on something that had to do with wood and Carpentering and some weird pointless thing that randomly stresses him out for no reason at all, and I was like "NOOOOO, I just got assassinated!!!!" He was all "Wha?" Because he doesn't even know how to spell video game, and I said to him "Yeah, in the new Halo someone actually comes up behind you and stabs you/any other form of brutal assassination, unlike the other ones." He said that was ridiculous and I said "Whatever."

Now I don't know what grade anyone is in or what you've studied in Science, but everyone has a stronger side of their brain, right or left, or you can be just about equally strong in both sides. Evidently, if you're right-brained, you pay attention more to one's tone of voice, and your body can interpret that better than anything else, verbally speaking. Also evidently, my father is right-brained (A good question: Do you know what side of the brain you're stronger in?).

He stormed up to me and was like "OFF! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!! YAAAAAUUUUGGGHHHH *explodes*"

Okay, maybe not quite like that. But he was definitely mad. And he looked for the power off button, which is right in the most clear spot of the Xbox, and turned if it off. And I was confused, because I'm right-brained as well, and I didn't sense any tone in my voice. And so he freaked out and was like "This is what this game does to you. You don't even know it!" And he sent me upstairs.

So I can and can't blame him for this. I mean, I'm a teenager, I have hormones, I've gotten no sleep, and I was sitting in front of a TV screen exercising only my fingers. But if he's right-brained and I'm right-brained, how can he sense something and I can't? Is your brain messed up when you're tired or something? I mean, he was tired too, very clearly tired, because he just spent the whole day at work, and he didn't get any sleep last night because of Halloween, and I was at school the whole day and didn't get any sleep over the whole weekend because of the countless hours spent with Devon. Maybe that's why he stormed up to me in the first place, because he was tired and he misinterpreted what I meant by saying whatever.

Whatever it is (Hahahah. hah. hah. Whatever.), I'm not trying to blame anything on anyone, I'm just feeling inquisitive about the whole thing. If anyone would be generous enough to feed me your kind words, I would be eternally grateful (yeah right). Anyway, I shall be leaving.

Forever yours,

-Alex

A Spooky Post

Well, it's that time of year. Everyone else has already posted multiple posts on their blog about the infamous holiday: Halloween.

Halloween isn't one of my favorite things to write about, but I love Halloween itself. The one thing about Halloween is that if you don't get invited to a party, you obviously suck at life. Luckily, I got invited to a rather big party, but then the person decided that he wasn't going to have it (DEVON). But um. yah.

I usually go around with my dad/brother and just hang out around my neighborhood. Occasionally I run into a pack of friends and go around with them as well. I don't know what it is, but when you're walking around in a cold costume/cold clothes without a costume, and you're with your friends/family, even in the freezing cold, there's a sort of warmth inside you. And for me, it only comes out in Halloween. Which is weird.

Also, the end product of eating lots of candy and sorting it out and trading and buying and eating and puking and trading and eating and the whole process over and over again, is also very satisfying. It's sort of like a whole trade-y friend-y thing. It brings people closer but not even in a deep way, it just allows people to be more friendly to others than they would normally be. It's kind of ironic, because Halloween is supposed to scare kids and people dress up in scary costumes and stuff.

Also, check out this sweet video: http://dft.ba/-zombievid Great effects for cheap!

Sorry this blog was so short, I was bored today and I didn't want to give up on this Halloween post.

Yours a spookily long forever,

-Alex

Sleep. And School. Shtuff.

It is 6:00 in the morning right now. My brother and my dad just left for school/work, and did so after my dad yelled/sweared at me about getting more sleep. I had come down at around 5:30, because I wanted to get ahead in my homework, and I had gone to bed relatively early for a school night, 10:00. I go to bed this late because of homework.

His argument was as follows: You need around eight and a half hours of sleep. If you don't finish your homework, too bad. My argument would have been as follows: I have drama, piano lesson, drum lesson, two Jazz bands, the computer is right next to the tv, which is blasted by my mom, and I want to get honor roll in 8th grade at least once or twice. He didn't care.

So is this good parenting? Is this good advice from anyone? I mean, if you're me, or if you're you, what would your priorities be, homework? Or is it sleep? I want to know the answers to these question real soon, because I don't have priorities yet, due to my music obsessiveness, but I need good grades to get good classes in High School, when it counts, and if I get good grades in good classes I'll get to go in better college and all the crap. Would sleep compromise that (Don't know if I'm using the work "compromise" correctly >.>), or is it not a contributing thing at all? There's always time for sleep over the weekend.

And some would argue that sleep means being more efficient in school, doing your homework better, but one hour of sleep really doesn't do all that much. If you got one more hour of sleep, that's one more hour of boredom you won't have to suffer through with homework. That's all it is. And then the homework that you missed you'll have to do the next morning/during school, and I don't have a Study Hall period half the time until last period, which is NO HELP AT ALL.

So is my will to get into a good college starting in middle school a good thing? Should I just not care about middle school and wait until I get to high school to care? Should I murder the STUPID BIPOLAR MS. LAWLER?!?!?!?!?! RAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!

Well, you can leave your response down in the doobly-doo below. In my pants. Aaaand on a brighter note, it's Becca's (one from school) 13th birthday! YAAAAAAYYYYYYYY! Apparently she turned 13 at 2:30... hhrrrrmmm >.>

Anyhoosle.

Forever yours,

-Alex

Yah, I know her IRL. WHAT IS THAT?!?!?

Alright. Hi thar. I hazn't updated my blog in a while because I hazn't anything toblog about. I think I may be successful in blogging today, as in the past I've been constantly giving up on the blog or getting distracted. But NOT TODAY my dear friends (no one)!!

Okay, so I am a Nerdfighter. I am constantly chatting with many nerdfighters about THE strangest things, and it's enjoyable and stuff, BUT. Today I was hanging out with a lot of people, three people that I WENT to the library with, and I ran into a lot of people I knew also. And I realized how easy it is to hang out with them, actually running away, actually feeling pain, actually having fun, and I also realized how typing in a computer can get really boring really fast. I went through the *using asterisks is exactly the same as doing the real thing* phase when I was eight, and it slowly crawled to it's death, and I think it just shriveled up and died at my feet.

So anyway, what is better? Someone who has so many friends on the internet, but you really can't hear them laugh and see their faces and hear their voice? Sure there's skype and all, but that's through a screen, it's not the same, not even slightly. And yes, people will argue that it is, you can still see them and hear them, and only a perve would say that feeling them is vital also. But it's not that, it's the fact that you can't actually like, be romantic and hold hands, or be really friendily pissed at a friend and chase them around throwing a steel toed boot at them, and you can't actually glomp someone from behind and twirl them around. You can't do that, and that is the vital part also, the actual interaction involving how you feel when you walk around with them, and buy snacks and see a movie. It's really, quite quite different.

So anyway, when I was eight, I had a best friend online. She was like, ten billion years older than me, but we were still WICKED BUDDIES. And we were on Runescape, which was sort of virtual everything. You could kill stuff together, and shoot monsters, and mine for gold, and do all that crap. But it was virtual. So that's another question: Does that make up for all of the interaction? Does that depend on how you feel interaction actually works? How DO you think it works?

So I knew this person very tightly for a long time, I actually still know her. Except now we text, and we email, we don't play nerdy games. Would that be considered "moving on?" There are so many questions to do with technology, and that really truly is because we haven't even SLIGHTLY figured technology out yet. No one knows the answers to these question FULLY and CLEARLY. Every can say yes or no, anyone can build up on their answer, even every extensively, but there are so many factors, so many little tiny crevices in your hypothesis, and so many in the actual answer. The evolution of technology just took a GINORMOUS jump from here to WAY OVER FREAKING THERE, and we can't catch up to it at all. It's moved on yo how we move around and do stuff in real life, to how we move around and do stuff virtually.

Me being a nerd of course, I go on the computer just as much as I go outside, which is quite a lot, one or two or three hours. And it used to be that I was on the computer all day long. Is that the evolution right there, will people get tired of technology? Will people stop trying to catch up to it? People say that history is always doomed to repeat itself, but things get bigger and the planet your on stays the same size, and soon enough it won't be able to withstand it. Even that can be enlarged exponentially, aliens looking at our planet and saying the same thing. But soon it will spread through out the solar system, maybe even, far far far away, a galaxy. It will build, and you can call it history repeating itself, but the object in which is being destroyed by living inhabitants will eventually get bigger and bigger and the object will eventually be the galaxy, andn it will have consumed itself.

So is this only a 14-year-old's theory? Os is it truth? Anyone who reads this, good luck understanding it. But until next time,

Always yours,

-Alex

PS- That wasn't me being crazy by the way, although I phrased it like that. It's just me thinking about what MIGHT happen, not what will. Sorry bout that...

Homework. LIKE, HOMEWORK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

IhatehomeworkIhatehomeworkIhatehomework I would go on, but y'see..... That would not be entertaining.

WHY DOES HOMEWORK EXIST YOU ASK? I'LL TELL YOU WHY HOMEWORK EXISTS! IT'S TO MAKE ADOLESCENTS BE SAD AND MAD AND MAKE THEIR LIFE MISERABLE JUST SO YOU CAN HAVE A HIGH TEST GRADE SO YOUR TEACHER WILL GET PAID MORE BECAUSE THAT'S HOW THEY DO IT, DON'T DENY IT, BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT HOMEWORK IS FOR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

On a brighter note: I don't like talking about homework. I need to talk about homework. But I don't like to. Because homework makes everything EXPLODE into millions upon billions upon trillions upon quadrillions upon quintillions of tiny little fragments of nothingness because nothingness is nothing not anything. That is what I will turn into, if I don't finish my homework, because my history teacher HATES ME and she is shorter than me and is bipolar. Not really, she just has short man's syndrome.

Brief explanation: Short man's syndrome is when short people get mad very easily. Some signs and different types of this are very buff and strong short people trying to get mad and pick at fight at a tall person, when the tall person can simply just push them off. Very frustrating if you're short.

BACK TO HOMEWORK. Who out there has homework? Who hates it? Who thinks it is a very productive way to spend your time? Who LOVELZ it? Who loves all of my millions of question marks? Who loves my use of the sound "illion" kajadabilltakilltaningtacheelmekratillion times in this post? Who has a very good name for another blog that my buddy is making?

LIKE REALLY. She NEEDS a name, just like I NEED (want) to be tall. And not have homework. AND THAT IS A LOT OF NEED. And I DON'T STALK HER. IN CAPS LOCK.

>.>
<.<

 Suspicious, right?

I am so tired I can't think. I CANNOT think. Straight. Or gay. OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH I'M DEVIOUS! Really, I'ma nerdfighter, gay marriage is a good idea to show off that GAY PEOPLE CAN ACHIEVE JUST AS MUCH AS STRAIGHT PEOPLE CAN! *hi-fives homosexual people* Anywayz, back to girls. I mean what? >.> Now, a shoutout to all the people that follow my blog without having a blogspot, but just randomly check my blog sometimes. And the people that follow my blog.

ALICE! LUNA! TIZZY! DEVON! HI PEEPS! THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME RANT ALL OVER THIS DISGUSTING PAGE! Now goodnight ladies and gentlemen, and the other people that will happen upon this blog of mine,

All and Forever yours,

Alex

A Short Magic; Chapter one (or part of it)

It was a cool fall day, and the leaves were blowing from the trees onto the grass, on which lay a certain Luna Lovegood. The wind flowed through her beautiful long blonde hair, and continued carrying leaves onto the fluff ball that was her dog, Squire. There Luna lay, staring into the cloudless blue fall sky, completely still except for the occasional twitch of the hand to catch a passing leaf. Her eyes drooped and closed ever so gently, and she could sense only through sound. A wet sweaty dog tongue licked her lips several times. Eventually, the unpleasant feeling stopped, followed by footsteps that disappeared through the noisy leaves, and they were replaced by the gusting air.

Luna was thinking, thinking about the fall, thinking about the leaves, and her all stress fell into the ground underneath her. She thought not of the 8th grade homework missing her inside, but of people, friends, and memories. Her mind slowly filled with memories, from when she eight years old, from the accident, from the boy. Her mind then slowly crawled over to happier times to her 6th grade teacher, and her special talents that she couldn't control. She was a teenage girl, fourteen years old. She had memories and experience.

Her feet slowly took her up her front steps and up her staircase, without her being aware of it until halfway up the stairs. She realized she was going into her room, the room that she shared only with herself, not even her father. The house echoed as she climbed up the stairs, and she plopped on her bed with a dull thud as her head hit the laptop. The red cover shined into her eyes, and she drearily opened the cover to start the long process of homework.

Her soft fingers brushed upon the mouse and pressed down hard in frustration. The windows and tabs - her homework is what needed to be done, not a nerdfighters chat. There was a video chat there as well; someone seemed to be playing to one of her favorite songs, Sexy Sadie, by The Beatles. She loved the Beatles. John Lennon was much better than the singers nowadays in her opinion. If there was a contest between Justin Beiber, Lady Gaga, Will.I.Am, and John Lennon, John Lennon would beat them like a nerd "nomz" on a sandwich.

That was another thing of hers - nerds. She was a nerd herself; a book nerd. If you spelled "spelled," "spelt," she would slap you and knee you and give you pain and then tape a paper to cover your entire face saying the word spelled right in big enormous letters written in a Sharpie.

Sorry that was so short guys, I have homework to do and it's 9:13.

Yours Forever,

-Alex

Guy-hott and Girl-hott? What's the difference?

I know what the difference is! Girls get to be sexy! Wait, do guys get to be sexy also? That would be odd.

Okay, on a more direct not to the subject above for this epic blog of epic epicness, me and my buddy Alice were talking about very awkward things, for example, what makes a guy hot and a girl hot. And she asked me, "Like girl-hot... but a dude.... like super ... handsome. I guess." Yes, she is a very ....-y one, but how does that work? Do guys have *thinking of a serious way to put it* I can't think of any serious way to put it *can't think of any serious way to put it* If you couldn't tell from the asterisks. But for all those guys out there, you can complete my sentence. Do guys have--- Yah. Because they don't!

Now, to delve even deeps into this awkward (VERY) awkward conversation (with myself, again *sigh*), what do guys think makes a girl hot? Is it the figure? That's sexiness and hottness. So then what's cute? Their face? HAHA! EUREKA! One who thinks someone is cute: They are easy too look at straight in the eye. One who thinks another is hott: It are much to easy to look at THEIR WHOLE BODY. *not awkward at all*

SO if that's so, now that I've pointed that out, would me calling a girl cute be an insult to them? Would they be like, "UH! I'm so insulted! You don't like my figure? Is it not cervical enough??" Or would they appreciative ones be like all blushy and make them even cuter? And really, when guys say cute girls look even cuter when they're angry; IT'S TRUE. Get over it, ladies. You can't get mad at a guy without slapping them, or they'll start laughing =P It's true.

I mean really, this blog isn't supposed to be about girls. And guys. And their UH-UH "wants and needs," as Dylan so kindly puts it.

But it seems to be?

>.>
<.< Suspicious right? Anyhoosle. WOW I'm a genius. I should make a random outburst of that in school. "Excuse me, I'd like to just say a little thing to the class for a moment; Suspicious, right?"And then just sit down. Besides, when I say that it makes the post look big and it makes me look smart. >.> I just revealed my secrets...

AND on the topic of teens being incredibly confused about their UH-UH wants and needs, I was incredibly happy/even more confused today. I'm not gonna tell you why because that would be very weird. Like, yah. Aaaaaand I got to skip a lot of classes because of state testing. YOU HEAR THAT KIDS? It's learning time!

Be absent in state testing when you get into Junior High and High School. You will then be able to SKIP other classes the next week, therefore allowing you to get away with... um. Nothing. >.> Because I always do all my homework... DON'T JUDGE ME! Also, I'm not sure why, but I'm particularly spazzy today. I'm usually not spazzy. But I am. I woooooooooooonder whyyyyyyyyyy.... ((DUN DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNN *thunder claps, little girls screaming*)) hardyharharhar.

Actually, I have to keep talking about the subject, because that's one of my "rules." Because I love rules that much *sarcasm*. IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT SARCASM IS YOU'RE A SNOTTY TISSUE. That's my new thing, a snotty tissue.

Now to CUT OUT all of these very very very very short paragraphs, what makes a guy hott? Looking on the covers of magazines, there seems to be many sides to girls calling guys hott. Like Johnny Depp is the sexiest man alive? *shudders* Well there seems to be a pattern; stubbly beard, big abs, no distortions in the face. *shudders again* Glad I got that part over with. Anyway, that is who all the girls drool over. Is that any the same as what guys feel makes a girl good-looking? Leave your answers to all of these beautiful beautiful questions, down BELOW, whoever reads me blog ((no one)). I'm always gonna remind myself that. And also, to anyone who's generous enough, give me some ideas for the blogs I write, because I can't think of everything to cover.

Let's talk more about this luvvy duvvy stuff - LatAR. Until then-

Just for You,

-Alex