Procrastinator ...

I don't remember to start writing my blog today until ten thirty. Oh yeah, that's great. It's going to give me a lot of time to put detail into what happened last week. Because last week was quite a week, I'll tell you. I kind of want to forget it, but hey, it gives me something to write about it. And let's face it, I like to blab. Ask any of my friends. They'll say yeah, that Abby, she just goes on and on to the point where she's just talking to herself. Yup. That's me. No one listens, so I talk to the Air. And you know what? No one thinks that the Air would listen, would carry your voice. No one really thinks that way. So the Air's all mine. While it may not have ears or any sentience, it would eternally carry the sound of my voice as I talk because that's what sound waves do. They may cancel each other out at some point, or the waves may spread out so far that a sound can no longer be heard, but sound is always there. And this is the Air I'm talking about, not some vacuum.

So maybe I still can't explain why I believe in the elements to my family or to anyone else, but I've got my ideas. I talk and "pray" to the Air because it'll carry my words. The Air is responsible for all weather patterns, but why I ask the dear Air to change it for a sunny day or whatever, I still cannot explain. I'm determined to do it, though. I'll explain my faith in the four elements at some point. Because, at least right now, it's important to me. It has been for over a year now? And I ought to be able to explain why. Especially to my family when they ridicule me. Honestly, why should they care so much to make me angry over it? It's not like any of these beliefs and religions hold more merit over another. Mine is no different. All of these things originated from one person at some point in time. While I don't expect my view to expand, it's personalized for me. 'Cause we're all individuals. I don't pretend to blend in with the crowd. Never really have. Sure, I may shy away from it, I might hide in its shadow, I may stalk around its edges, but I've never tried to conform. That isn't me.

Maybe I should get to my point now? What happened last week, y'know? While it's great that I'm getting my thinking down, my journal's point is to document how I thought and what happened in my life. Events are just as important as who I was. Maybe I don't believe that leopards can change their spots, not completely, but who's to say that cats can't gray? Hmm? Oh yeah, now I'm turning into Hammond. Great. Mull over everything, why don't I?! Everything has some hidden philosophy just waiting to be uncovered, is that it? But right now, I'm not up for a debate. Nah, I don't do well in debates. I'd probably get to snappy or cross after a while. Find something I'm passionate about, you'll know. Definitely.

That still isn't my point. I'll blunder around with words, testing new sentence structures and adding length and something to my paragraphs, but I will never get to the point. Perhaps I'm feeling extra wordy tonight, feel like I have to prove something with what I have written. That isn't my conscious goal, but now that I've brought it up, it doesn't sound that far from me. I like writing. I may not be a writer, but I am better than some authors out there.

Ha! I just finished reading The Ruby in the Smoke again, a Sally Lockhart series book, and I couldn't believe how choppy Pullman's writing was. I was walking and talking earlier, and I brought up that my writing is better than his. In my role playing, in Ninja Woods. I'm not a choppy writer. Not anymore. I like to beef things out to the point where there might be too much detail. Ninja Woods got progressively better over the years as I expanded my writing ability to this point. And now I wonder: Just how hard would it be to publish Ninja Woods as a single novelette? I've got the backbone work done, and I've added some meat to the structure. All I have to do now is add the polishing effects, and send it out. I don't want to be a writer, far from it, but I might as well let my little side hobby and project get somewhere. I can't hoard everything I do, sucking it up in the black hole that is my room. I should get my word out there. I have yet to figure out how, but I'm going to publish Ninja Woods. I've been saying this for a while, have I not? At least I'm consistent about something.

Frederick, whose last name I discovered was Garland, is a nice character. He's one of those happy folks, self-satisfied. No wonder, though, since he's an artist, and he's aware that he's a darned good one. He has self-confidence, carries himself because he knows it. But he's also willing to risk his good name in a fight if he has to, to protect his friends. He's very protective. And it's during those times that he can get quite angry. He used to fence, so he has some fighting skill, but his biggest asset is probably the fact that he's determined and not so afraid to get hurt. He, like most of my favorite characters, has a certain intensity. So I can see why I liked him. I certainly can. Frederick's a great character. Pullman, on the other hand, is not such a great author. If he had written the book better, I still would be attached to Frederick, and he would stay on my top ten favorite characters list. But Pullman's writing betrayed him, and he didn't breathe in enough life into Frederick for his true radiance. It's a shame, really. So much potential.

Last week, already. Yes. That's a good idea, indeed. I already wasted about a quarter of an hour chatting about things that I have probably already mentioned. I am very good at repeating myself, despite the fact that I say that I don't like to repeat. How ... hypocritical of me.

I was sick last week. It started during the weekend. I don't remember if I was sneezing or coughing, probably sneezing, but the more I did it the more aware I was that I was going to get sick. I got the stuffy head feeling, where you feel like you have cotton in place of brains, and it wasn't so great. I lost my appetite, or at least thinking of food didn't make me feel wonderful, but I could still eat.

And, of course, the sick didn't get bad until Monday. But I had to go to school; there was no way that I could miss it. I had MMEs for most of that week and then the next week, this week, is the finals. I had too much information to learn yet, especially in Chemistry and Calculus, and I wouldn't allow myself to sleep it off. So I suffered through school, feeling miserable, yet trying to learn at the same time. I cried in Chemistry because of the stress and the feeling that I was going to fail myself somehow. I lost my self-control, and it shames me. I'm not supposed to do that. I put on a mask for those who don't know me well. Only those close to me can see that I'm hurting. Not Monday. Even Kulick got to see some of my tears. He is my least favorite teacher by far this trimester, I don't like him because I believe that he sees us all as young children rather than teenagers that should be treated with a little more firmness rather than whatever the heck it is he does. I cried in front of him. I was still feeling miserable from crying in Chemistry, I felt terrible because I was sick, and I was starting to feel stress. Something that I don't often acknowledge in the least bit. And in Calc, I gave up for the day. I couldn't cry again, and I gave up on really trying to learn something. I took notes on the chapter, but I didn't even attempt my homework. I got home that day and went to bed at nine.

Tuesday was no better. Perhaps worse? Because I had MMEs. I took some Advil to school so that I would be able to think during the ACTs, but it didn't help too much. My head cleared a little, but I had a running nose like my leaking shower and I was still tired. I got more sleep than normal, but it was nothing to help my body fight the cold. I finished the two English related tests on the ACT with time to spare. I know that I wanted to remember one of the topics that I skimmed over, but after the test was over I didn't remember a lick of it. The Science and Math tests on the ACT, though, I didn't have time to finish. Which is a dead shame. Because those are supposed to be my strongest areas. Although, the math had a lot of three-dimensional geometry in it, and that is my weakest area in math. I hate geometry. Algebra I love. Geometry, no. I went to bed early that night as well.

Wednesday, I still didn't feel up to school. But I still had MMEs. So I went, I took Advil so that I could concentrate, but by the time I got to Forensics class, since it was a backwards schedule, I was biting people's heads off. The Freshmen were trying to ridicule me and tell me to do things. Honestly, I didn't care what they were saying at all. I was too tired, too sick and too done thanks to the MMEs, that their complaints were petty. I ignored them quite well, I must say. They all got ticked off at me, but Maddie was on my side, pretty much egging me on. And warning the Freshies that they didn't want to see me angry. Smart girl, Maddie. Thanks. Funny, though, that she could say such words in her cute, happy way. She rarely loses her little--pip? For lack of better words.

Thursday wasn't too great, either. My nose was hurting, my head was maybe only a little better, and I didn't bring anything to any of my classes afterward. I drew a Gambit on the Social Studies part of the MME when I was finished (even though I guessed for over half of the questions), but they wouldn't allow me to keep him. I'm sure I already said that before. Have a window open in Gimp right now with a beginning digital picture of him. Just started working on the gray scale shading. Which I know I talked about in the last journal. But anyway, in Chemistry I didn't have anything of what Mrs. Wells was asking for. I couldn't turn in something in Economy because I didn't bring my binder. Whatever, Kulick. And in Calculus I totally forget what was going on. I think I was finishing Mistborn off or something. Love that series. Amazing author. Almost certain I talked about Brandon before, too.

Then Friday, I don't remember much. I was finally feeling better after such a crappy week, though not altogether cured. And when I got home, I was told that I had to pack so that we could leave right away. Okay. So I threw a bag together, stuffed my pillow inside as I always do, threw in a sketchbook with my Gambit lines, brought my laptop along by request, took care of the rabbits, and I was all good. I had wanted to take a shower before we left, but I didn't have time to take one. Not on the schedule I was given.

Ah-ha. Forgot to mention that Alyssa, at some time during the week, had told me that if I wanted a job at the library at all, my best chance at getting it would be to turn in an application by the end of the week. So I went sometime during the week, turning in the Mistborn book and grabbed an application. We dropped it off at the library on Friday as we drove by, and I just heard back from the library yesterday.

And I'd love to write more, I really would, but I've run out of time. I need to get to bed. I'm not sick anymore, even though my nose isn't completely clear, but I need some sleep yet. Eleven o'clock is generally the dead-end time that I go to bed. Normally about ten thirty, but whatever. I wake up at six fifty, I get about seven to eight hours of sleep every night. Fine by me.

I have yet to write about the weekend, the library and probably a multitude of other things, but they'll have to wait. My role play games, I should mention, but I can't tonight. The weekend comes first. At least I got last week finished with. Some of my goal is met. I just have to write another journal tomorrow, that's all. It shall be done. Even if I start it at ten thirty again.

SONG OF THE DAY: Fuckin' Perfect ~ P!nk