Duet With Myself

I thought I'd share the brilliance. I think I've wasted a significant enough amount of my life going through his videos to share with whoever hasn't found him yet.

To rant

They say ranting relieves pressure. I say gibberish is a stress reliever. But I'll still take a rant.

Everyone gets to a point where they feel forgotten, right? I've been feeling so constantly. Perhaps because no one in my family seems to understand what an introvert is and likes to shove me about in places and situations that only amount to a pounding head and great terror. I'm different, they don't understand it. Hiding in my room for so long all the time? What could be going through my mind? They don't like it. I'm broken, wrong. I must be fixed. Unfortunately for me, it amounts to all ranges of hell. So maybe not forgotten in existence, but no one clearly pays enough attention to realize I'm running lost.

It seems as though every day gets worse--I can't even be around six people talking without my vision fading and my ears ringing oppressively anymore. And the response from my friends? Scolding for not attending a party.

At the same time, though, I don't want to be left alone entirely. Is it only those extremes though? A party where I may combust or nothing at all? A friend I've helped in Chemistry all throughout the year (I took AP, she was struggling with regents) is having a group of people help her study for her final. I'm not one of them. In the whole scheme of life, it really isn't anything, but I feel forgotten. Or inferior, maybe. After all, with my other friend I'm hardly needed. No one ever is.

Maybe I'm just in a bad mood. I mean, really, what else am I mad about today? Tuna. Of all things, tuna. I was hungry yesterday, I hadn't had a proper meal at all and so I was trying to make a sandwich after I showered only to be informed my father was cooking a meal (that I had to wait another hour and a half for). So I had to stick the tuna I'd just made into the fridge. I'd eat it the next day, fine. Just let me be. (Of course, I fell asleep, tired after having to drive a drunk sister home at two thirty in the morning and being a bit of an insomniac as it is.) But today, where was my tuna? Oh yeah, on my drunk sister's plate.

It's been a while, I know. Too long, probably, since I've last written anything. School's over (well, sort of. I'm still doing work so I'll have to track down my Chemistry teacher before the 23rd and, of course, there's tests.)

Really, I haven't written anything. I've posted something, sure, but it's another thing stolen from an English assignment as I felt guilty: Just a Day. I know, I'm horrible about keeping up with things.

What could I write in this, though? This blog when I had not written anything new? That I had to my cousin's wedding for a girl that no one had met before? That because I'm such an extreme introvert and I get migraines I felt as though I had a hangover all of the next day but for some stupid reason went to school anyway? And, of course, because of that, I got a migraine near every half hour. Self-destructive, perhaps that's what I am. I'm still not quite sure.

Perhaps I should write about the power of a ginger's glare: how it forces people to back away slowly from touching a the glaring redhead, or to delete a picture they've taken of the redhead. A redhead, satanic? Perhaps. Regrettable? Never, not when a ginger's glare has so much power.

What is there to write, to rant?

Another one-shot: Get Together.

I'm afraid the story behind this one is simply too cruel to tell though and I am far too ashamed to share it. It's not a bad story, though. And so, without the story of its nacence, I do love to share it.

I have the next installment of Noah up and on my fictionpress. (I actually did that two days ago--the same day I spent time with God, Deity and the former's Hitler Cat. Not to mention a mass of brilliantly creepy music. But, of course, my Internet enjoys being tetchy and not letting Google work.)

And so, for any interested, my God-fearing man continues on his gloriously illegal journey.

Two things posted today. Both on my fictionpress (I'm sorry, I'm too lazy to link them directly here). The first is Flustered which I wrote in utter boredom today in resource as I've been getting a bare minimum of homework lately (which is both odd and becoming increasingly annoying).

I also wrote another, slightly longer, snippit that I didn't think fit for posting and a poem which I will refrain from posting because I never really like posting my poems. I'm not sure why, really. I'm just more protective of them. (And I'm still only learning to be less protective of my stories.)

I also posted something I came across that I wrote last year, A Glaring Blunder.

I've also learned that there is a hereditary curse of a bad left shoulder in my family (my uncle's is being operated on, so it's confirmed that it's hereditary) and I now have a great fear replacing what was once just aggravation towards my evil left shoulder. That, combined with my absolute lack of balance and coordination, convinced my friend to drag me into yoga with her.

Huzzah for finishing treacherous essays (not that I think I did a particularly good job on it).

Now, in honor of my brother, who continually calls me queer which I am ridiculously sick of, I present another of my little fragments: Antics.

Today's a bit off. I want to be angry. I had been this morning. My sister refuses to take the bus so she has me get a ride with her and her friend to and from school. I never really did ask if I had a choice in the matter. I don't think I really cared, because with my migraines I would love to avoid the bus.

However, her friend has one of those two door cars. And I'm always shoved into the back. And then when she picks up more people, I'm forced in first. My sister gets to the door first, so I don't understand this and it irks me. Actually, my temper is far worse than that. The impulses I get are probably best left untyped.

Her friend also smokes. Stuck in the back, when she rarely opens the window, I'm pooled in smoke. I can almost feel it in my longs. It's terrible. And when she ashes out of the window it often flies back and lands on me. Not to mention her suffocating air freshener. It's even worse when she picks up others who smoke as well.

But can I take the bus? No, of course not. What sister would allow that?

I also believe I sufficiently freaked out my teacher a bit today. My Chemistry teacher. In a different way though. Although, I rather often utilize his apparently unending kindness. He allows me to sit in the dark in this office when my head pounds from headaches. And, because I do not take in enough salt, when I was severely light-headed and apparently bordering on passing out, he gave me some of his food.

Today was a bad day. I realized that when people make obnoxiously loud noises I feel the urge to injure them. Or perhaps only when they ache my head. But I had a horrible migraine which caused me to cry rather hysterically. I think that worried him.

Of course, I feel guilty for usurping my teacher's kindness (especially when I realize how often I should have thanked him and some other teachers and yet never have).

And, even when I would still be mad, someone important to me died today. A family member who wasn't really a family member but considered so. Considered close by me. (Close is a better term for I am not very fond of my family.)