|
|
|
WARNING
I do not hold myself responsible for just about anything on this particular page. It may give you the idea that I am an airhead or it may send you into phycotic depression. It may completely obliverate your ability to use correct spelling and punctuation. Your loss. Continue reading if and only if you want to hear a few somewhat private thoughts with cryptic references that I don't care to explain to you. You probably won't understand any of this, but for some reason writing all this makes me feel better when I know that someone may one day read it.
|
|
|
|
Schitzophrenia and Chocolate April 14 Wednesday 2004 9:02 PM
So, I'm minding my own business (you don't believe that do you?) when WHAM, easter hits me like a ton of bricks headed straight for my stomach. I'm strong for a few days and then the cravings hit and my alter ego TORCH emerges and demands chocolate. My alter ego always was stronger than me so naturally I decide to eat just one malted chocolate egg. Then another and another and eventually I end up with a decapitated easter bunny, empty wrappers and a serious sugar high.
About this time I start to contemplate bulemia and then I realize that I have a great way to work it all off before it even finished digesting. Aikido class. It's always been a tradition with me to eat chocolate right before I test for my next belt in Aikido, so I know the effects my hyperactivity can have on my performance. (Mormon Steroids)
I arrive at the dojo ready to kick...well I was ready to kick anything sensai told me to kick. As always I'm practicing with men that are twice my size, one of which happens to be a police man who suspects me of public vandalism (don't ask me why, I think he's still hung up on the fact that we were tossed into eachother not too long ago...that wasn't pretty) So these men are twice my size and all of the sudden they're attacking me with wooden knives.
As you can imagine I'm not too thrilled about the whole let's-disembowel-Laura-idea. Plus there's the fact that I'm supposed to do a random technique, the only thing that pops into my head is a simple puny white belt technique. I keep doing this technique over and over and I keep hesitating as I struggle to think of another technique that will work when someone is trying to gauge out your eyes.
My sugar high is starting to wear off when lo and behold! Some idiot turns on the heat. The place becomes an instant sweaty sauna. The word pergatory starts turning up in conversations. So now, I am not only trying to do precise wrist movements to guys whose wrists I can's wrap my hand around; I have to attempt to do precise wrist movements to sweaty men who I can barely hold on too. They're so slippery and I swear they were dripping on me.
Plus the police man did something to his finger and it started bleeding and sensai got a splinter from the wooden knife and it started bleeding and my gi is white. It was pointless to try to avoid the blood, all I could do was hope that I hada lot of bleach at home.
Finally after getting bruised, battered, beaten, sweated and bled on as well as the time I was thrown almost directly into this guy from school (that would've been an interesting story for school gossip) class ended and I went home. The surgar had long left my system and the crash was slowly descending upon me. I showered, drank a glass of milk, and ate the rest of my bunny.
|
|
|
|
|
Ryan Who? 9:00 PM 2004 April 16, Friday
Ok, so, my big mouth has got me in trouble once again. I think I'm ADD because I can't seem to focus on anything for very long...oh look something shiny. Today Mr. Bunner asks the girls "Who's a sophomore?" I raise my hand like the obedient girl I am. He looks at me and says "Do you know where Ryan is this period?" My thought process went something like this: Hmm, who's Ryan, is he talking about that guy that sat in from of me in Math? I remember him, he's such a pervert, he wouldn't shut up about his weekend "adventures" How should I know where he is this period?
So I answer Mr. Bunner with the first stupid (and very rude) comment that pops out of my mouth "ummm smoking somewhere?"
Mr. Bunner says "What!"
Apparently I gave the wrong answer because the class is laughing. I realize by the looks I'm getting that I have the wrong Ryan in mind. So I do some fast talking "Kidding Mr.Bunner, I really have no idea where Ryan is."
Mr. Bunner looks convinced that I'm an idiot as does the rest of the class. Then this girl (who's name I still don't know) pipes in "Ryan doesn't smoke, you shouldn't say that about him"
I answer as graciously as possible (my sister tells me I'm really annoying when I'm trying to be gracious, but I'm sincere, I just come across as a jerk sometimes) "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."
I later discover that the girl is Ryan's (What was his last name?) girlfriend's sister. I apoligize to the girl after school feeling like an idiot (I'm terrible at apoligies I always seem to sound insincere) She accepts and tells me it was no big deal. I still feel like a jerk.
|
|
|
|
|
Heels, April 23, 2004 4:38 PM
I have big feet. I am tall. These are two facts about myself which I have come to grips with. I am happy with my height and I have absolutely no desire to increase it. SO WHY ARE THE ONLY FASHIONABLE SHOES PAINFULL AND HIGH-HEELED? If a person has big feet then it stands to reason that a person is tall. If a person is tall (especially if that person is female) then they probably aren't trying to get any taller.
I went to buy a pair of dressy shoes just the other day. HA! The only nice pair that came in my colassaly huge shoe size had heels three inches thick.
Another thing. For some reason there are fewer nice shoes in large sizes than there are in smaller sizes. When you look at a size six you will see a wide variety of petite, slender all around hot shoes. However, once you hit size eight there's nada. It's as if designers are saying "oh you wear THAT size, you must be enourmous and dumpy. Here take there ugly shoes, you'll never be little and pretty like me" aaargh, please guys make shoes for all of us tall and pretty people!!!!
|
|
|
|
|
Stalker Plural May 3, 2004. 5:08 PM
This is the second time I've been semi-stalked. What is it about me! First there's that guy from Aikido who's hands trembled whenever he practiced with me and he'd just give me this look and he started showing up at my church and he wasn't investigating the gospel, I can tell you that much. I kept trying not to hurt his feeling and hoping that he'd go away, but after he painted me a picture and asked me out five time I had to be blunt. I ended up making him cry. Have you ever made a man cry? It's the worst feeling in the world.
Now there's this guy who shall be henceforth be refered to as "Bob" (don't ask me for his real name, that would be very rude and unkind of me too tell you after all the insulting I'm going to do to him, I'm hoping that you won't figure out who he is so I don't damage his reputation.) At first I thought Bob was a nice guy, so we became friends. Then he decides that it isn't enough. Why wasn't I consulted before this sudden change in relationship status was made? He was my buddy, don't get me wrong, he's an ok guy. But all of the sudden I realized that he's slightly... well more than slightly...perverted. How could I failed to have noticed this before? I should've seen it coming.
Once again I've tried to spare the feeling of these two boys. In trying to be nice and polite and friendly to them I ended up encouraging them. I have brought this sad fate upon myself. I merely prolonged the agony.
Bob keeps trying to touch me. What have I done to deserve this terrible fate. He puts his head on my shoulder, I move away. He hugs me, I tense up and shrug him off. He clasps my hand in his, I give him the icy stare of death. He tries to massage my back, I tense up and make a lame excuse about being bruised. He keeps at this all during Drama when I can't escape him because there's no real structure with Mrs. Ammons in charge. In math at least I can ignore him and talk to Spanish during my free time. But then he comes over and just stares at me, I don't like where he stares or the way he stares. I know he doesn't even really like me, he's just desperate. I've heard stories about his complete lack of self-control. Does he think that I'm an easy target? Sure, I have a soft spot for lost puppies, misfits, misunderstood people, and suffering artists; but I have no intention of giving away THAT much attention out of pity.
Why do I always attract the losers? I'm not ugly, stupid, mean, or evil. I have a decent personality and I'm moderately attractive. Yet these guys that I don't like at all keep asking me out. Is it because I'm the only girl that's nice to them? Is this punishment for something? Is it so wrong to be nice to people that everyone else dislikes? We're supposed to be every one's friend right? So why is that getting me in trouble? I guess that there's most likely a reason that everyone else dislikes these guys. Yet I'm a sucker for hard luck stories. I always want to see the best in people, so I never spot their less than desireable qualities until they already think "oh Laura's such a great friend" and at that point I can't just drop them like a hot tamale on a cold kitchen floor.
And to make matters worse lots of people I'd like to become friends with see me hanging around these guys that I'm trying to get rid of and they think "Laura is such a loser, look at who she hangs out with" Ok, ok, so I'm over exaggerating, but it does damage my reputation, and my celtic honor just can't allow that. So now I end up spending lots of time with people I don't really like (don't worry guys, if I gave you my website then you're one of my friends and I'm not trying to get rid of you.) How do I end up in these situations?
Thank goodness for my really awesome friends. Otherwise I would spend my high school career avoiding people and hiding in lockers.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
