<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6539400849388845851</id><updated>2011-04-21T17:39:54.647-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Map of the Problematique</title><subtitle type='html'>Life is a complex puzzle, one that can only be played once.&lt;br&gt;I am here to describe it, battle it, and live it, as it is meant to be played.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Fraulein</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737446890383273750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cHJl4c9032E/SbMeOjL95mI/AAAAAAAAAG8/_ISS-K_5P1s/S220/Fraulein+Superiority.png'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>21</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6539400849388845851.post-6041706888568920312</id><published>2009-04-04T17:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-04T17:55:30.911-07:00</updated><title type='text'>-- twenty one: last.</title><content type='html'>Go to &lt;b&gt;spikenerd.blogspot.com&lt;/b&gt;. Nao.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6539400849388845851-6041706888568920312?l=ssfraulein.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/feeds/6041706888568920312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/04/twenty-one-last.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/6041706888568920312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/6041706888568920312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/04/twenty-one-last.html' title='-- twenty one: last.'/><author><name>Fraulein</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737446890383273750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cHJl4c9032E/SbMeOjL95mI/AAAAAAAAAG8/_ISS-K_5P1s/S220/Fraulein+Superiority.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6539400849388845851.post-1518900382717774500</id><published>2009-04-04T06:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-04T06:52:18.995-07:00</updated><title type='text'>-- twenty.</title><content type='html'>&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;mood:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Neutral.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; The coffee maker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;reading:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing. I need some new books. = =;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;watching:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;playing:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;eating:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Attempting toast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;drinking:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Milk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wisdom teeth finally hurt.&lt;br /&gt;For the past week, they were just sore, so I'd thought maybe it was just my braces causing that. Now they flat-out hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought of informing my mother (because it's hard for me to, you know, &lt;i&gt;eat&lt;/i&gt; with pain in the back of my jaws). The debate that sparked in my head went like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;font face="Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;font size=2&gt;NO!&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;font size=2&gt;Yes.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;font size=2&gt;NO!&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;font size=2&gt;Yes.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;font size=2&gt;NO NO NO.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;font size=2&gt;I really think we should. It's probably important.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;font size=2&gt;But she'll have them pulled out! D:&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;font size=2&gt;We've got to have them pulled out within the next year anyway. We could get it over with now, you know.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;font size=2&gt;Yeah, but I don't want to have to deal with all that pain.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;font size=2&gt;It's painful now.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;font size=2&gt;I'm also scared of being "put under" for the operation—especially with an IV. I don't want any needles anywhere near me, whether I'm unconscious or not. I don't want needles in my arm.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;font size=2&gt;There isn't much else they can do about that besides gas us, and I don't think that makes tooth extraction anymore pleasant.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;font size=2&gt;; ;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;font size=2&gt;Maybe we should tell her.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;font size=2&gt;Let's just wait a bit. If it still hurts later, we can tell her.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;font size=2&gt;I can work with that.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... I think a lot nowadays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think waiting would be best for right now, though. It could just be the braces. (Wait, shouldn't I also say something even if it's that?)&lt;br /&gt;So I'll wait just a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to go shower, straighten/spike my hair, and then get a picture or two already. I forgot to do that last night. D|| Ta.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6539400849388845851-1518900382717774500?l=ssfraulein.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/feeds/1518900382717774500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/04/twenty.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/1518900382717774500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/1518900382717774500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/04/twenty.html' title='-- twenty.'/><author><name>Fraulein</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737446890383273750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cHJl4c9032E/SbMeOjL95mI/AAAAAAAAAG8/_ISS-K_5P1s/S220/Fraulein+Superiority.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6539400849388845851.post-414120959811285546</id><published>2009-04-02T18:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-02T18:34:23.385-07:00</updated><title type='text'>-- nineteen.</title><content type='html'>&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;mood:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; I dunno, really. Neutral? I'm still a bit randomly irritated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; "Kremlin Dusk" - Utada Hikaru.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;reading:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing. I need some new books. = =;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;watching:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;playing:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; With FireFox and Songbird! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;eating:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;drinking:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Monster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ one;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long story short:&lt;br /&gt;A week ago, I got my hair cut ubershort, like I did last spring, only this time I had a certain style in mind.&lt;br /&gt;The woman cutting it cut it &lt;i&gt;wrong&lt;/i&gt; and it looked &lt;i&gt;bad&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;I went back yesterday to get it fixed, mostly at the command of my mother's.&lt;br /&gt;It now looks fucking &lt;i&gt;fantastic&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll probably take a picture or two for you guys tomorrow rather than right now, because I want to get photos of it when it's spiked and straightened... and the severe winds we had today pretty much ruined that over the course of the day.&lt;br /&gt;So, expect that, if you're curious. :]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=red&gt;&lt;b&gt;[Reviews (lol)]&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Tomas:&lt;/b&gt; You could probably pull off looking like a girl Super Saiyan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Allison:&lt;/b&gt; It's definitely better than what it was yesterday. It's more girly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Luke:&lt;/b&gt; It gives you more attitude. ... I would not dare challenge you now, whether you're in a bad mood or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Mrs. V:&lt;/b&gt; You got it all styled and adorable and everything. ;D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=red&gt;&lt;b&gt;[/Reviews (lol)]&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ two;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember when I told you guys that I was going to take a written test to get my permit last or this week?&lt;br /&gt;Consider that plan moot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would seem that Texas has yet another imbecilic set of rules that teenage drivers in training must abide by:&lt;br /&gt;Because I am still under the age of eighteen, I cannot simply read the driver's handbook I was given, take lessons from my mother, and then walk in and say, "Alright, let's take this written test and get a permit, eh?"&lt;br /&gt;Beginner drivers under eighteen can't take tutoring from their parents unless their parents have been Texas citizens for three years... and, obviously, my mother has not been. So the alternative is that I have to take a &lt;i&gt;class&lt;/i&gt; to relearn &lt;i&gt;what I already studied over&lt;/i&gt; and &lt;i&gt;then&lt;/i&gt; take my written test.&lt;br /&gt;Here's the problem with that: All the classes we've found so far are ridiculously overpriced. (The classes in town cost three hundred dollars... apiece. Remember that Chris has to learn this as well as I do.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That really figures. Honestly, my gut felt that one coming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sighs* I'll just take the stupid class. I need to get to driving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ three;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;font face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;font size=2&gt;&lt;font color=red&gt;WARNING:&lt;br /&gt;NERD ALERT&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I've been trying to personalize my laptop to suit &lt;i&gt;me&lt;/i&gt; in the last few weeks, I recently downloaded Firefox and its accompanying media player, Songbird.&lt;br /&gt;I am so unbelievably, funnily, adorably, insanely obsessed with both by now, because they're easier for me to use than Internet Explorer or Windows Media Player and I can actually &lt;i&gt;customize&lt;/i&gt; them the way I see fit, which tickles and amuses me ever so. ||D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am such a huge nerd.&lt;br /&gt;That's okay, though, because I'm a cute nerd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. The only real problem that &lt;i&gt;I'm&lt;/i&gt; having with Songbird is that it "crashes" between every few songs, and I have to keep sending crash error reports to their website. Luckily, I don't lose any of the songs in my playlist when it happens, and it doesn't bug me that much as long as I still have those, so I still recommend Songbird—but that's only if you have the patience to put up with the occasional crashes I'm having.&lt;br /&gt;I'll find a way to fix it later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ four;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just wanted to let you guys know that on April 9th (next week), right after school, Mother is taking my brothers and me to visit our grandparents in Arkansas (I haven't been down there since a certain time of harsh eye-opening), and, if I remember correctly, we'll not be back until sometime the following Saturday.&lt;br /&gt;That means this: I will not be online at that time, and I probably won't be texting while I'm there, either. (And &lt;i&gt;that&lt;/i&gt; means &lt;i&gt;this:&lt;/i&gt; DO NOT SEND ME MESSAGES, GUYS, DAMN. I don't have unlimited texting anymore, since we need to save up on money.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you that will be waiting for me, just remember I love you and keep yourselves occupied until I return. I won't be there that long anyway.&lt;br /&gt;If you want, I'll take pictures. Mm-hmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6539400849388845851-414120959811285546?l=ssfraulein.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/feeds/414120959811285546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/04/nineteen.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/414120959811285546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/414120959811285546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/04/nineteen.html' title='-- nineteen.'/><author><name>Fraulein</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737446890383273750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cHJl4c9032E/SbMeOjL95mI/AAAAAAAAAG8/_ISS-K_5P1s/S220/Fraulein+Superiority.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6539400849388845851.post-8325713170430940321</id><published>2009-03-24T17:57:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T17:57:39.400-07:00</updated><title type='text'>-- eighteen.</title><content type='html'>&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;mood:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; A little sad... I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; "Map of the Problematique" - Muse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;reading:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;watching:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;playing:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;eating:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;drinking:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Water&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ one;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father brought us back to Mother's last Friday.&lt;br /&gt;The last two days I was there could've gone much better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My weekend could have, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ two;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't feel so well lately, physically or emotionally—mostly emotionally.&lt;br /&gt;For me, things have been... very off and on recently, and it's left me with a bad feeling deep in my stomach. It's left me feeling nervous.&lt;br /&gt;... That's really all I can say about the last few days. I mean... what more is there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;font face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;font size=1&gt;There's more. Of course there's more.&lt;br /&gt;I'm just good at keeping my mouth shut nowadays.&lt;br /&gt;I still respect privacy, unlike some people here.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of what I'm feeling right now... confuses me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I need to cry, but... I worry that I'll be crying for no reason if I do.&lt;br /&gt;My chest feels empty (and yet my head feels so full).&lt;br /&gt;I feel lost, for some reason... like someone let go of my hand and just left me here, as though they expected me to make this journey on my own.&lt;br /&gt;I feel hated, but I think that's just the negative aura in this house. Then again, I don't really know anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess all I can do about this right now is talk about it when I can find the words and keep thinking about the good things that lie ahead, to keep myself going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;font face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;font size=1&gt;But what if those good things actually turn out to be bad?&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ three;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only things I find worthy of updating from recently:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• I've been studying my driver's handbook, and I plan on taking the written test probably this week or next week to get my permit... finally. (I can't wait to get my license.)&lt;br /&gt;• My counselor and I got my classes for next year figured out today, so I'm approximately six or seven months ahead of schedule in that area.&lt;br /&gt;• I get out of school May 29th—nearly two months away—and I am psyched.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you anticipating my arrival back home for this summer, here is the plan, after I get out of school this year:&lt;br /&gt;Chris and I will head down to Father's for a week to visit him once again. After that, we'll have to drive back here, because I have to get my braces tightened that following weekend. Then we'll fly out to Vegas for three weeks to visit you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have no idea how much I miss you guys and that place. Really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ four;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;font face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;font size=1&gt;&lt;font color=red&gt;LONELINESS, BE OVER:&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;font size=2&gt;&lt;i&gt;You once told me in a Valentine's letter that things will get worse before they get better.&lt;br /&gt;I need &lt;/i&gt;you&lt;i&gt; to believe that, too, because I have ever since.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you forgotten how much I care for you?&lt;br /&gt;I care &lt;font color=turquoise&gt;endlessly&lt;/font color&gt;. Deeply.&lt;br /&gt;That, &lt;/i&gt;fleur de lune,&lt;i&gt; is just an understatement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will never abandon you.&lt;br /&gt;I told you that. I &lt;/i&gt;promised&lt;i&gt; you that.&lt;br /&gt;I watched you cry and felt your heart break, and I promised to do my best for you, for us.&lt;/font face&gt;&lt;/font size&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;font face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;font size=1&gt;&lt;font color=red&gt;I JUST CAN'T TURN AND WALK AWAY.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;font size=2&gt;It's hard to say what it is I see in you&lt;br /&gt;Wonder if I'll always be with you&lt;br /&gt;Words can't say and I can't do enough to prove&lt;br /&gt;It's &lt;font color=turquoise&gt;all for you&lt;/font color&gt;&lt;/font size&gt;&lt;/font face&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't give up on me, 'cause I've been fighting for you since day one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;font face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;font size=1&gt;&lt;font color=red&gt;I BELIEVE IN IT.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6539400849388845851-8325713170430940321?l=ssfraulein.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/feeds/8325713170430940321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/03/eighteen.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/8325713170430940321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/8325713170430940321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/03/eighteen.html' title='-- eighteen.'/><author><name>Fraulein</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737446890383273750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cHJl4c9032E/SbMeOjL95mI/AAAAAAAAAG8/_ISS-K_5P1s/S220/Fraulein+Superiority.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6539400849388845851.post-4635160657508410455</id><published>2009-03-18T09:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T09:20:40.904-07:00</updated><title type='text'>-- seventeen.</title><content type='html'>&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;mood:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Mellowed out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;reading:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;watching:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; The time, and &lt;i&gt;The Patriot&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;playing:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;eating:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing, but I'm hungry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;drinking:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; I really, really, really, really, really want a Monster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those that have been blatantly unaware, Chris and I have been at our father's house in Oklahoma since late Friday night.&lt;br /&gt;I decided it's time I update.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;font size=1&gt;&lt;font color=red&gt;MARCH 13&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School was literally a blow-off day.&lt;br /&gt;We didn't do &lt;i&gt;any&lt;/i&gt; work (save for Chris's and my Japanese final exams that &lt;i&gt;finally&lt;/i&gt; came into our counselor's mailbox), and most of the day felt like the perfect technique to waste time in my life.&lt;br /&gt;More than half the things that happened aren't worth explaining.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After school, we immediately drove three or four hours to meet my Father. Then we drove four or five more hours with him to his house. We arrived home late at night and went to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;font size=1&gt;&lt;font color=red&gt;MARCH 14&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father had to work, but my stepmother has the weekends off, so she stayed home with Chris, our baby brother, and me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since my father's internet connection is superior to my mother's satellite, and I can actually &lt;i&gt;watch&lt;/i&gt; videos here without causing a problem, I spent most of the time watching stuff on youtube (material on September 11th, &lt;i&gt;Zeitgeist 9/11&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;The Grudge 3&lt;/i&gt; trailers, both endings of &lt;i&gt;The Grudge 2&lt;/i&gt;, Captain Disillusion, Jeff Dunham).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Father got home, we waited for my grandmother to arrive. When she did, we did a little late celebration for Chris's birthday. We had chicken for dinner and chocolate cake for dessert. C: Yum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also got to webcam with my Kitsune.&lt;br /&gt;Even now, still, I can't describe how happy I was to see him, or... what happened to my heart when I saw my pretty boy... and he is indeed still so, so, so, so pretty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*chuckles slyly* And then I got on later that evening...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;(Can you say, "Censored for your protection?")&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;font size=1&gt;&lt;font color=red&gt;MARCH 15&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I webcammed with Tyler some more before he and the family went out shopping. :]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Father got home, he took Chris and me shooting. He brought two of his rifles and Chris brought his own.&lt;br /&gt;Because I'm extremely clumsy, prone to accidents and injury, and I nearly shot a guy's foot off last time due to lack of trigger safety, Father insisted I stick to using his 22 Rimfire. I couldn't have agreed more, after hearing how loud Chris's and his guns were—and seeing how violent their kicks were when they were fired.&lt;br /&gt;I got three bull's eyes on my first round.&lt;br /&gt;I don't shoot for a living. I don't even practice.&lt;br /&gt;Kick. Ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;font size=1&gt;&lt;font color=red&gt;MARCH 16&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a good day, and then... not so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;font size=1&gt;&lt;font color=red&gt;MARCH 17&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, this was yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father had the day off, so he decided that we would go out and do a few things together—just him, Chris, and me, the way it used to be (the way I like it, admittedly).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to Braum's for lunch, like we always do at least once each time we visit. Chris got a chicken sandwich and I got chicken fingers.&lt;br /&gt;Father wondered if we ever put any variety into our food choices. xD&lt;br /&gt;While we ate, the three of us chatted away, had in-depth and meaningful conversations—probably the most intelligent conversations I've had in a long, long, long time. We even caught up a little bit, learned some new things about each other. (I don't know what Chris is doing staring at my female friends' asses when I'm not looking, but I'll be having a stern talk with him about that later, the disrespectful twit...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, Chris and I got ice cream: strawberry for him, chocolate for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; Ew, you're getting strawberry?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Chris:&lt;/b&gt; Yeah. What's wrong with strawberry?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; Strawberry is nasty, dude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Chris:&lt;/b&gt; It is not! D: Strawberry is good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; It's disgusting, bro, honestly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Chris:&lt;/b&gt; You've never even tried it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; I have so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Chris:&lt;/b&gt; When?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; In elementary school, then again twice in middle school, then again in freshman year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Chris:&lt;/b&gt; ... Try it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; xD Yeah, no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Chris:&lt;/b&gt; You like strawberry milk!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; No, I don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Chris:&lt;/b&gt; DDD8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; I don't like strawberry ice cream. I don't like strawberry milk. Hell, bro, I don't even like &lt;i&gt;strawberries&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Chris:&lt;/b&gt; ... There's something wrong with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; No, I'm just better suited with chocolate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Chris:&lt;/b&gt; Well... chocolate looks like crap. |3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; Very nice, very nice. You stay up all night thinking of that one, Mister Originality?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Chris:&lt;/b&gt; I got to bed around two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Afterward, we went to Wal-Mart to do some grocery shopping.&lt;br /&gt;I, however, went looking in the music section, just to see if I'd find anything interesting.&lt;br /&gt;I got a CD from a new band called Thriving Ivory, and after giving it some time, I love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Review time:&lt;br /&gt;• The vocalist, Clayton Stroope, could use a bit of work. I don't think he's a horrible singer, but... there are some parts where his singing isn't that &lt;i&gt;great&lt;/i&gt;, either. When I first listened to the CD, I thought he sounded as though he were trying to imitate Jag from A Skylit Drive. I found that it just takes some getting used to, though, and now I'm perfectly okay with his voice. :]&lt;br /&gt;• The lyrics... are better than anything I could've come up with, ever. They flow together easily with the music, and they're sweet and inspiring.&lt;br /&gt;• The music itself is just amazing. It all fits perfectly with the lyrics, and some of it has even made me cry because it's so touching. (Then again, I'm a little sensitive.)&lt;br /&gt;• I've found that there's imagery in their songs. It's like... the band uses their lyrics to conjure up half of that imagery, and then they use their music to complete the rest, and then they blend it all together so it turns into something pretty and soothing. (In fact, I think the music blocks out Clayton's voice most of the time.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only two songs I don't like are "Overrated" and "Light Up Mississippi". That's it.&lt;br /&gt;My father even likes them, and he's super judgmental when it comes to music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later on, my family took to teasing me as we ate dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Father:&lt;/b&gt; ... I'm afraid you're going to starve to death before you ever get to finish eating, with those damn braces in your mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; I know, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Shannon:&lt;/b&gt; Honey, she'll be fine. Just takes some getting used to. Trust me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Father:&lt;/b&gt; Well, just be sure you brush really good afterward, okay?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; No, I'm going to rebel against you so that I can suffer cavities and bad breath and discoloration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Father:&lt;/b&gt; ... &lt; &lt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Shannon:&lt;/b&gt; She's joking, honey. x3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Father:&lt;/b&gt; Yeeeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Shannon:&lt;/b&gt; The two things you probably won't be able to eat the whole time you have braces are corn on the cob and whole apples.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; ... Great. I fucking love apples and now I can't eat them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Shannon:&lt;/b&gt; You can, if you cut them into pieces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; That's no fun, though...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Father:&lt;/b&gt; Applesauce!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Chris:&lt;/b&gt; *tries to stifle laughter*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; Yeah, no. Applesauce is disgusting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Father:&lt;/b&gt; Oh really?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; Yeah. Y'know, I don't see the point of applesauce. You've got the whole apple, so why make it into a sauce, honestly?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Chris:&lt;/b&gt; ... Maybe for people who have braces LOL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Father:&lt;/b&gt; *takes to laughing his ass off*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Shannon:&lt;/b&gt; *stifles giggles* Walked right into that one, Shelby...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; Yeah, yeah, yeah, I hate you all and whatnot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHY ME?&lt;br /&gt;Ugh... Stupid scrap metal...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;font size=1&gt;&lt;font color=red&gt;MARCH 18&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The parentals are at work, so I'm using this time to update. Sitting here with Chris, watching &lt;i&gt;The Patriot&lt;/i&gt;. Texting Tyler and waiting for him to come home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not much going on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6539400849388845851-4635160657508410455?l=ssfraulein.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/feeds/4635160657508410455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/03/seventeen.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/4635160657508410455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/4635160657508410455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/03/seventeen.html' title='-- seventeen.'/><author><name>Fraulein</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737446890383273750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cHJl4c9032E/SbMeOjL95mI/AAAAAAAAAG8/_ISS-K_5P1s/S220/Fraulein+Superiority.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6539400849388845851.post-3813988840992599400</id><published>2009-03-13T13:30:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T13:30:41.481-07:00</updated><title type='text'>-- sixteen.</title><content type='html'>&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;mood:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Mellow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;reading:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;watching:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; The time. Almost time for school to end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;playing:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;eating:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing, but I'm hungry. :c&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;drinking:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; I WANT MONSTER REALLY BAD REALLY REALLY REALLY BAD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In first period this morning, my ugly side began frolicking about and screaming inside my head. She put horrible, frightening thoughts into my mind, and in doing so triggered high levels of my paranoia.&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know what to do. Having here there with me &lt;i&gt;again&lt;/i&gt; scared me. So I did what I do best: I wrote.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wrote anything—anything at all.&lt;br /&gt;I just snatched a pencil and flipped my notebook open to a random page, and... I'm not sure. For a minute or two, it felt as though I blacked out, but I was still awake. That doesn't make sense though, does it?&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it was that it felt like something else in my head—her, maybe—was controlling my hand, controlling what I wrote, controlling my state of mind, but not my mind entirely. When I was writing, it didn't feel like &lt;i&gt;I&lt;/i&gt; was the one writing. I felt... robotic. But there was something there... There was... some&lt;i&gt;body&lt;/i&gt; there... with me. But I couldn't see it.&lt;br /&gt;After I put my pencil down, I read what was there... and I couldn't remember writing any of it. It seemed foreign to me. It was a plethora of negativity, of things that just didn't make sense to me, but felt all too familiar to me. The voice that formed in my head when I read it sounded sad and innocent at first, but then I remembered who had been inside my head before I'd even gotten the notebook out, and I stopped empathizing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That thing in my head isn't an innocent little girl, the way she always comes to me.&lt;br /&gt;She's ugly.&lt;br /&gt;She's mean.&lt;br /&gt;She's horrible.&lt;br /&gt;She hurts people. She hurts me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to show anyone what she wrote, but... she needs to get out. She needs to leave. She needs to disappear.&lt;br /&gt;And I have found that the only way to kick her out is to let her have her say, but to help her out the door when I do, without letting her control me... and I finally figured out how.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I think only Tai will know what I mean by all this.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6539400849388845851-3813988840992599400?l=ssfraulein.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/feeds/3813988840992599400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/03/sixteen.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/3813988840992599400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/3813988840992599400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/03/sixteen.html' title='-- sixteen.'/><author><name>Fraulein</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737446890383273750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cHJl4c9032E/SbMeOjL95mI/AAAAAAAAAG8/_ISS-K_5P1s/S220/Fraulein+Superiority.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6539400849388845851.post-2591860276888354684</id><published>2009-03-11T19:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T19:58:34.152-07:00</updated><title type='text'>-- fifteen.</title><content type='html'>&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;mood:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Horrible&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;reading:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; My IMs with Tai and Kathy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;watching:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;playing:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;eating:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;drinking:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Milk&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly the rain feels like acid.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6539400849388845851-2591860276888354684?l=ssfraulein.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/feeds/2591860276888354684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/03/fifteen.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/2591860276888354684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/2591860276888354684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/03/fifteen.html' title='-- fifteen.'/><author><name>Fraulein</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737446890383273750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cHJl4c9032E/SbMeOjL95mI/AAAAAAAAAG8/_ISS-K_5P1s/S220/Fraulein+Superiority.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6539400849388845851.post-2779794239594865541</id><published>2009-03-11T17:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T17:06:24.661-07:00</updated><title type='text'>-- fourteen.</title><content type='html'>&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;mood:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Loving. &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; "All Star" - Smash Mouth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;reading:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; My IMs with Tai, Menna, and Lily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;watching:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;playing:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;eating:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; I finished dinner. |3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;drinking:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Gonna probably get milk soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ one;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The past thirteen hours or so, overall, have been quite decent for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up around 4:30 this morning because of both the roaring thunder and rain against my windows and a severe case of those annoying cramps. For the latter I got some Alleve and my heating pad, then headed straight back to bed until my alarm rang at 6:00, like it does every morning, and I got up again to get ready for school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the shower, I used the new face cleanser that I got yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;It actually &lt;i&gt;works&lt;/i&gt;, unlike everything else I've used since, what, middle school? Less than an hour later, I checked my face again, and—this is funny—my eyes got big, because holyfriggincrap my skin was much clearer than it's been since we &lt;i&gt;got&lt;/i&gt; to Texas, and it even felt better, too. C:&lt;br /&gt;Let's see the humidity destroy my complexion now. &gt;D&lt;br /&gt;Now if only I could make it leave my hair alone. :/ Man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though, yesterday, the lady trimming my hair cut it too short, I tried to pull it into a ponytail after I straightened some of it anyway. It took me quite a few tries to make it look and feel right (if it doesn't, it bothers me), but I managed to get it pulled back and went to school that way. Honestly, I thought it was very pretty, very adorable. That's the first time I thought highly of my physical appearance in quite a long time.&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, the massive amounts of wind passing through this area blew too many strands out of place, so I had to take it out during school and leave it down for the humidity to touch, once again. = =&lt;br /&gt;I'll sue her. I specifically told her to &lt;i&gt;not&lt;/i&gt; cut off half an inch. I specifically told her to cut only the very edge, just enough to get rid of split ends and yet allow me to pull my hair up, but that was too much to ask at the end of the day, wasn't it? God. *restrains a certain racial comment*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, in U.S. History, we all went to the computer lab so that we could work on our semester-ly History PowerPoints, but since I do mine at home, where I can concentrate on it better (and since Chris's PowerPoints always turn out better when he does them at the last minute, we've found), Chris and I just sat there looking at Waffen-SS info online, and I managed to sneak a few pictures of him and me for my multimedia project.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In algebra, my teacher had a change of plans. Last time we were in her class, she told us we were going to start practicing for our upcoming math proficiencies today, but apparently she wanted to start a new chapter instead. So we did that.&lt;br /&gt;She's lucky that I finished my homework before class ended... and that I love her. &gt; &gt; She's a really nice teacher, full of spunk and good spirit with a light (and shockingly innocent) sense of humor, and it always makes me feel better whenever I walk into her room. That's weird, considering she literally loves math and I hateloathedespisewantokill it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In geography, we had a class discussion about the Middle East. For the most part, our teacher basically told us about his service in the Army during the war in Iraq, informing us about the nine-and-a-half months he was over there in 2004 and about their culture and way of life. He even showed us a slideshow with pictures he took while he was there, and I have to admit that they were pretty neat.&lt;br /&gt;Then he brought up camel spiders he saw over there, and I started laughing, remembering the bunch of crap Tyler told me about those spiders in order to scare me. xD&lt;br /&gt;Tyler, I told him about that. He loves you for it. ; ; Lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did nothing worth explaining in English or chemistry: It was just work, work, work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Multimedia, however, was fun—probably the most fun I've had since September.&lt;br /&gt;Aaron, Tomas, Gwen, and I went into the video/news room that's next door to our classroom, just like we did yesterday. Today, though, I fetched Chris from his algebra class and brought him with us, because I needed more pictures of me and him for my project, and he got to hang around with us for most of the period.&lt;br /&gt;• Aaron and I teased Gwen and Tomas for a few minutes when the two of them sat there the entire time holding hands and cuddling. They're so adorable together. &lt;3 I wish they would go out already. &gt;:C&lt;br /&gt;• Gwen was a sweetheart and took wonderful pictures of Chris and me goofing off with the news team's costumes and supplies. I will be using those on my project tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;• Aaron played with a keyboard we found sitting on the counter. He found a button that triggered the sound of birds tweeting and a button that made the noise of gunfire going off. Chris ran around the room, flapping his arms, pretending to be the bird making those tweeting noises, and then when Aaron turned on the gunfire sounds, Chris pretended to convulse violently "in midair" and then "fall to the ground" like a dead bird. xD It was pretty hysterical.&lt;br /&gt;• I spent some time telling them more about Tyler. While I was talking, I must have been blushing or sounded really sincere or something, because when I looked at the three of them they were smirking lightly at me and Gwen was on the verge of tears. (Then, of course, she made this really loud gasping noise, covered her heart, and went, "Ohmygod that is the most touching thing I've ever heard in my life ohmygod...") I think that's the strongest reaction I've gotten out of anyone since he and I started dating, which is good, because that's the kind of reaction I expect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was fun, and I was really glad to see that Chris got along well with them. Normally... he has a bit of trouble being social, so when I saw that, even when Tomas and Aaron teased him just a little bit, he joined in on our conversations and acted like his goofy self to make us laugh, it made me happy for him. He's opening up more than he used to. &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;I'm kind of sad that Tomas, Aaron, and Gwen are graduating this year. They're really fun to be around (when Aaron isn't being obnoxious, or threatening to flick me in the forehead and, quote, "Knock me to the floor doing it and leaving me with a huge welt between the eyebrows" after I make a smart remark about something stupid he's done), and I'm going to miss them when they leave. :c&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got home, I took another shower, since the humidity made me feel filthy and icky, and I just finished eating three bowls of chicken and noodle soup—so now I feel good and plump in the tummeh. ||3&lt;br /&gt;... I'm on my period, and I eat like a male when I am. Give me a break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm sitting here and waiting for my little fox to get home. C: I'm feeling very loving tonight, and I want to spoil that boy in said lovins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ two;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a few messages to certain people, all of whom shall remain nameless:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;x-x-x&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not everything that comes out of my mouth is negative. If you would listen to &lt;i&gt;everything&lt;/i&gt; I say during a conversation, rather than just pinpoint the pessimism so you can gripe at me about it afterward, you would see that.&lt;br /&gt;If you don't like what I have to say, then don't listen to me. But don't complain when I say something to someone else just because you don't like it.&lt;br /&gt;If it isn't directed towards you, you shouldn't worry about it. Learn that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And stop spying on your entire family. That's despicable, honestly, and it's stupid of you to think that we don't know you're doing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;x-x-x&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I liked you.&lt;br /&gt;At first, I did, but after everything I've heard since I first met you, that doesn't seem to be the case anymore. Even from what I've been told by your best friend, it seems like all you've done for the past few months is cause trouble... and it's spread throughout my system of friends like a virus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is my honest-to-god truth:&lt;br /&gt;I wish you would grow up.&lt;br /&gt;I wish you would realize that your life isn't a novel of negativity, as you constantly complain that it is.&lt;br /&gt;I wish you would stop complaining about &lt;i&gt;everything&lt;/i&gt; you seem to think of.&lt;br /&gt;I wish you would be &lt;i&gt;grateful&lt;/i&gt; that you have a girl who cares deeply for you (as deeply for you as I do for her), loves you just as I love her, and focuses the majority of her attention and compassion on &lt;i&gt;you&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;I also wish you would take that girl seriously (and &lt;i&gt;thank her&lt;/i&gt;) when she tries to &lt;i&gt;tell you&lt;/i&gt; that you mean something to her and that she cares for you, instead of blowing her off and complaining even more that you are good for nothing. If she takes all the time she does to tell you things like that, do you really think you are worthless? When someone cares about you as much as she does, do you &lt;i&gt;honestly&lt;/i&gt; still think nobody cares about you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know there are things in your life right now that are hard for you to deal with, but I'm going to let you in on a blatant yet often overlooked truth, as I've done for too many people lately:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Life is hard. Everyone's life is hard. That's just the way it is.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your life is no exception. Honestly, it cannot be as miserable as you are making it out to be, and from what I've seen and heard you are making it as miserable as possible, maybe just to get attention from her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did like you at first, but, unfortunately, now I would like you to stay away from me when I visit in June.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;x-x-x&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You've changed a lot.&lt;br /&gt;Yet your behavior right now seems all too familiar.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how to confront you about it, except to just follow my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;x-x-x&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, no, no, no, &lt;i&gt;no&lt;/i&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Leave me alone.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I. Do. Not. Want. To. Be. Friends.&lt;br /&gt;I've told you again and again and again that you have &lt;i&gt;ruined&lt;/i&gt; your chances at it, and that is &lt;i&gt;never, ever, ever, ever&lt;/i&gt; going to change.&lt;br /&gt;Stay away from me or I'm going to give you a facelift with my nails. I mean it. &lt;i&gt;Seriously.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;x-x-x&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stay away from my brother.&lt;br /&gt;If you lay a finger on him, I will kill you.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not kidding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;x-x-x&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6539400849388845851-2779794239594865541?l=ssfraulein.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/feeds/2779794239594865541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/03/fourteen.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/2779794239594865541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/2779794239594865541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/03/fourteen.html' title='-- fourteen.'/><author><name>Fraulein</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737446890383273750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cHJl4c9032E/SbMeOjL95mI/AAAAAAAAAG8/_ISS-K_5P1s/S220/Fraulein+Superiority.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6539400849388845851.post-3321373492906442204</id><published>2009-03-10T09:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T09:56:06.480-07:00</updated><title type='text'>-- thirteen.</title><content type='html'>&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;mood:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Content, overall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; "Wordplay" - Jason Mraz&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;reading:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;watching:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;playing:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;eating:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;drinking:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided to update again because I get lonely and bored in third period. (I tend to stay away from the rest of the students in here because they're either complete morons or druggies... or both.)&lt;br /&gt;Plus, I can't seem to pass this algebra lesson on slope-intercept form. I've been stuck on it for a week now, and it won't let me move on to the next lesson until I pass this one... so it's really frustrating.&lt;br /&gt;Only &lt;i&gt;now&lt;/i&gt; do I thoroughly regret failing algebra my freshman year. *sighs* I'm almost done with it, though, once I get past slope-intercept, so... I'll just keep working at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today has been pretty decent so far, excluding this morning before I got to school, when I felt depressed and didn't want to talk to anyone at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt better when I got to U.S. History: The humidity made my hair curly again once I got out of the car, even though I straightened it this morning until it was board-flat. When I got to class, I randomly asked if anyone had a hair tie I could use to pull it back, because by this point I've grown too annoyed with it being curled up in my face to tolerate it anymore.&lt;br /&gt;One girl let me have one of hers, so I went to the bathroom to pull it back... and I was super happy to find that most of my hair is now long enough to keep in a ponytail.&lt;br /&gt;Super, super happy. C: I've missed being able to pull my hair back; it feels really nice.&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm walking around campus with my hair up, wearing what I call my "Nazi rookie hat" on top of that. (It's the black hat I bought when I went to the mall with Menna and Kathy back in August, when I visited Vegas for the summer.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Law was flat-out easy for me today. Our teacher let the class correct their failed tests from last week, and since I'd already done that immediately after taking that test, I was free to sit around and do whatever I wanted—which was, basically, to sit around and talk to the teacher, Laura, Chandice, and some guy that sits behind Chandice, whom we've begun calling Dude Guy since we can never remember his name. (Tomas was at a college/career assembly with the rest of the seniors in the school for most of class.)&lt;br /&gt;Laura, Chandice, and I chatted throughout the hour, basically, about anything—mostly our boyfriends, how tiny Chandice was compared to Laura and me, that sort of girl stuff.&lt;br /&gt;When the seniors finished the assembly, it was time for the juniors to go, but I'd already decided ahead of time that I wasn't going to go. I stayed in Law instead. (I'm not going to college here anyway, so why bother, I thought.)&lt;br /&gt;When Tomas came back to class, he had to correct his test, too, to his disappointment. xD When the teacher didn't appear to be listening in on us, he constantly tried to ask me for the answers he didn't know, but I couldn't remember any of them and I wouldn't have indulged him even if I had. ||D;&lt;br /&gt;For the rest of the class, the three of us (Tomas, Dude Guy, and I) wasted time talking about (a) Tomas's ability to mimic Elmo's and Smeagol's voices perfectly, (b) his issues with him, Chandice, and her boyfriend (and how jealous she apparently gets when he hangs around with other girls), (c) something about Mexican similarities between him and his father, and (d) advice from Dude Guy about my braces, since he has them, too (because the wire in mine has begun to stab at the backs of my cheeks, proof that they're doing their job and moving my teeth, and it's bugging me).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left Law to find it was raining outside, and my hair is unaffected now that it's pulled back, so I'm not annoyed with it. &gt;D HA! TAKE THAT, CRAPPY TEXAS WEATHER!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still have fourth, fifth, and sixth period to deal with today now, but I think it'll be fine. I hope so, at least.&lt;br /&gt;After school, Chris and I are going to get our hair trimmed, because my hair needs to continue growing out smoothly and he wants to look nice for Father next week. (Our spring break is next week, for those of you who don't know that, and we're going to be in Oklahoma visiting our father for the whole of it. :/)&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and once he and I get home, I really need to get some more pictures of me and him for my multimedia project, before Thursday. So I'll do that tonight. (Those of you that expected me online tonight will have to wait a little bit. I need those pictures; they're part of a major test grade. Be patient with me, mmk?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... I'm doing pretty well right now, save for the fact that my braces are ripping up my bottom lip. q__q Ow... Should've brought the wax I've got left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I'll talk to you guys later, ne? &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=#990000&gt;P.S. I owe an explanation about this morning to my little flower.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also need to have a serious talk with a certain individual about some ridiculous behavior that I've been hearing about another certain individual.&lt;br /&gt;Why do I have to be the peace keeper, guys? Honestly? = =;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh! Kathy! I am so sorry I ignored you last night on AIM. ; ; I had shit going onnn.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6539400849388845851-3321373492906442204?l=ssfraulein.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/feeds/3321373492906442204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/03/thirteen.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/3321373492906442204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/3321373492906442204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/03/thirteen.html' title='-- thirteen.'/><author><name>Fraulein</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737446890383273750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cHJl4c9032E/SbMeOjL95mI/AAAAAAAAAG8/_ISS-K_5P1s/S220/Fraulein+Superiority.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6539400849388845851.post-6752867497212265935</id><published>2009-03-08T07:56:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-08T07:56:36.756-07:00</updated><title type='text'>-- twelve.</title><content type='html'>&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;mood:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Sore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; The damn birds outside&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;reading:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; &lt;i&gt;Thinner&lt;/i&gt; - Stephen King&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;watching:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;playing:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;eating:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Toast&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;drinking:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Milk&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just going to take this time to complain a little bit. (I always find Sundays a suitable day to complain about small things.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• My teeth hurt again, for some reason... mostly the front ones. It's nearly unbearable to eat toast. :/ Is that supposed to happen after I've gotten used to them, or what?&lt;br /&gt;• I have a lot of Japanese to study for my late semester exam... = =; I've gotten too used to going several weekends in a row without homework, so this doesn't seem right to me. Ahah.&lt;br /&gt;• My right hand has been hurting strangely since Friday morning. At first, the soreness was just in the center of it, but now it's spread to my fingers, and I can't crack my knuckles without yipping in pain.&lt;br /&gt;• It's still overcast, and I do still love that, but it seems to have gotten more humid... and the entire house is sweltering. Not even the giant fan in my room kept me cool last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall, I feel like crap right now.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'll feel better once I shower.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodles.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6539400849388845851-6752867497212265935?l=ssfraulein.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/feeds/6752867497212265935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/03/twelve.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/6752867497212265935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/6752867497212265935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/03/twelve.html' title='-- twelve.'/><author><name>Fraulein</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737446890383273750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cHJl4c9032E/SbMeOjL95mI/AAAAAAAAAG8/_ISS-K_5P1s/S220/Fraulein+Superiority.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6539400849388845851.post-6362501534270474651</id><published>2009-03-07T13:21:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T13:21:29.105-08:00</updated><title type='text'>-- eleven.</title><content type='html'>&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;mood:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Content.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; "Outside" - Staind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;reading:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;watching:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;playing:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; With my layout&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;eating:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;drinking:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Dr. Pepper&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ one;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a few have probably already noticed, I've decided to organize my blog a little bit. Make it more personal, y'know? Decorate it.&lt;br /&gt;I won't, however, change the template itself. I don't see the point of changing it when I'm content with it, anyway, right?&lt;br /&gt;I'm just moving a few things around, testing it out. Trying to see what works best for me, nothing more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ two;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today has been eerily calm and quiet. There's been no yelling, no griping, no bad moods (not that Chris and I can see).&lt;br /&gt;It's cloudy, the way I like it, and windy, but unfortunately it's also humid and Mother insists on keeping the windows open to let that thick air in. It's disgusting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully the rest of the day will go smoothly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ three;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;font size=2&gt;&lt;font color=#990000&gt;&lt;i&gt;And you bring me to my knees again.&lt;br /&gt;All the times that I could beg you please, in vain.&lt;br /&gt;All the times that I felt insecure for you...&lt;br /&gt;And I leave my burdens at the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm on the outside,&lt;br /&gt;And I'm looking in.&lt;br /&gt;I can see through you,&lt;br /&gt;See your true colors,&lt;br /&gt;'Cause inside you're ugly—&lt;br /&gt;You're ugly like me.&lt;br /&gt;I can see through you,&lt;br /&gt;See to the real you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the times that I felt like this won't end—it's for you—&lt;br /&gt;And I taste what I could never have: It was from you.&lt;br /&gt;All the times that I've tried, my intentions filled with pride,&lt;br /&gt;But I waste more time than anyone...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm on the outside,&lt;br /&gt;And I'm looking in.&lt;br /&gt;I can see through you,&lt;br /&gt;See your true colors,&lt;br /&gt;'Cause inside you're ugly—&lt;br /&gt;You're ugly like me.&lt;br /&gt;I can see through you,&lt;br /&gt;See to the real you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the times that I've cried,&lt;br /&gt;All this wasted—it's all inside,&lt;br /&gt;And I feel all this pain,&lt;br /&gt;Stuffed it down; it's back again.&lt;br /&gt;And I lie here in bed&lt;br /&gt;All alone; I can't mend,&lt;br /&gt;But I feel tomorrow will be okay.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I was away for a while.&lt;br /&gt;A lot of things have changed that feel really new to me. Most of these changes are, to me, bad. I can't believe some of them.&lt;br /&gt;I... Well, I can't believe some of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6539400849388845851-6362501534270474651?l=ssfraulein.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/feeds/6362501534270474651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/03/eleven.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/6362501534270474651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/6362501534270474651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/03/eleven.html' title='-- eleven.'/><author><name>Fraulein</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737446890383273750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cHJl4c9032E/SbMeOjL95mI/AAAAAAAAAG8/_ISS-K_5P1s/S220/Fraulein+Superiority.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6539400849388845851.post-2169859227511323607</id><published>2009-03-06T10:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T10:06:16.442-08:00</updated><title type='text'>-- ten.</title><content type='html'>&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;mood:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Calm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; The other students rambling away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;reading:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;watching:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;playing:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;eating:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;drinking:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ one;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;font face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;font size=4&gt;&lt;font color=red&gt;Today is Chris's birthday~&lt;/font face&gt;&lt;/font color&gt;&lt;/font size&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dear little brother is a year older today.&lt;br /&gt;I've made very sure that everyone here knows it, too:&lt;br /&gt;• This morning, when I first saw him, I wished him a happy birthday.&lt;br /&gt;• When we arrived to U.S. History, I left him messages on the whiteboard while he went to his locker. I wrote, "Happy Birthday, Chris!" in Japanese. Next to that was:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;font face="Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;font size=4&gt;Today is Chris's birthday!&lt;br /&gt;Love it. &gt;:C&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My goal with this was to make him smile and laugh, because everyone deserves that on their birthday—especially this guy—and I succeeded. :] It made me happy to make him happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the other students wished him a happy birthday, he and I showed off our knowledge about WWII during discussion and proclaimed ourselves superior to the rest of them. |3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm in third period, so I haven't seen him for a couple of hours or so now. I won't again until lunch, after next period.&lt;br /&gt;... I like sharing a lunch hour with Chris. Even though it's completely different from last year, being that it's just me and him at that time now, it's really nice. Every single day, we sit at our own table—by ourselves, I might add, which is nicer still—and while we eat we chat away and just hang out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also have fun doing what I sometimes call "vocal skits".&lt;br /&gt;It's... something we used to do with our lunch posse last year, back in Vegas. I would be Hitler, Anna would be Mussolini, Sara would be Stalin, Alicia would be Churchill, and for some reason (probably because he imitated the line "I'M FUCKING JESUS!" from a certain movie we once discussed so well) Chris was Jesus. We would perform (verbally, for the most part) the silliest skits with those famous figures that we could possibly think of. Funny ones I can remember are:&lt;br /&gt;• The dictators are out with Jesus playing golf. However, Jesus decides to try and show off his magic powers by playing with napalm grenades instead of regular golf balls. Thus, he sets himself on fire when he hits the "ball". When he tries to jump into a nearby pond to put it out, he forgets that "he is Jesus and therefore walks on water", so he can't pierce the surface of the pond to put out the flames. He starts running around in a burning frenzy looking for help, and he ends up setting Hitler's Volkswagen on fire when he tries to drive to the fire station for a water hose—and, of course, that explodes. He's reduced to nothing but ash. What do we do about it? We laugh.&lt;br /&gt;• Hitler and Stalin are accused of being gay lovers simply because they're found in a room making plans to invade Italy (unbeknownst to Mussolini, lol). Hitler tries to convince them that they are both straight by wrapping his arm around Stalin's shoulders and saying, "Stalin and I, we do everyzing togezer, ja?" Stalin immediately replies, "Ja! :D" Jesus summons a rainbow to sprout over their heads and shouts, "GAY!" before running off into the distance... and maybe playing napalm grenade golf again, we concluded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was simply something we did for our own amusement. However, now that it's just Chris and me, he and I take to voicing the "characters" rather than acting them out in the courtyard, hence why I call them "vocal skits" now. It keeps us entertained, and there's always something to laugh about.&lt;br /&gt;Recently, Chris introduced General Isaroku Yamamoto into the skits, where he constantly shouts, "I WANT TOAST! SOMEONE GO MAKE TOAST &lt;i&gt;NOW!&lt;/i&gt;" His first appearance basically began when he barged into Hitler's bunker when the entire gang was having a billiards party in there, being told to get out, and then exclaiming, "NO. I AM WELCOME. I AM ALLY WITH GERMANY. *points at Hitler* YOU! YOU WILL WELCOME ME TO YOUR HOME."&lt;br /&gt;Even though, in reality, Germany and Japan were allies during WWII, Hitler now consistently tries to get into Yamamoto's head that they are not friends and that he does not like the Asian, but... it never seems to work. xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's very, very weird, yes, but it gives us thousands of inside jokes and serves as a sort of laughter therapy for us, especially when we've had a crappy day and would like to feel better, even if just temporarily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love that kid.&lt;br /&gt;He makes me laugh more than anybody else ever does. He's just a natural comic, I suppose. &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;He's also a brick wall now. :| I wouldn't recommend punching that kid, ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, message for some people:&lt;br /&gt;I promised Chris that I would play some videogames with him tonight because it's his birthday. He loves it when I play them with him, even if I do suck at them now. So if I'm not online, I'm probably getting my virtual ass kicked by him, mmk? :] Ta~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;--&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ two;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week has taken forever to get through, so I'm glad it's Friday now. I get to relax and stay up late tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I really want to do is go home and talk to Tyler, spend some quality time with my little fox and make him &lt;i&gt;happy&lt;/i&gt;, make &lt;i&gt;us&lt;/i&gt; happy.&lt;br /&gt;That boy... deserves it, and I owe it to him. I think we both need it right now, too, a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's my baby.&lt;br /&gt;He's my heart.&lt;br /&gt;He's... my little moonflower. A little flower that I've been devoted and attracted to ever since we &lt;i&gt;met&lt;/i&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;If I want him to become bright, happy, and successful, I have to go back to tending to him—giving him the water and the sunlight (maybe even the moonlight) that he needs, being gentle with him so that he doesn't gray and begin to wilt, because sad flowers never grow and angry flowers can turn into cacti. Maybe even the kind that shoots its needles into your leg when something ventures too close.&lt;br /&gt;I also have to &lt;i&gt;want&lt;/i&gt; to go back to taking care of him... and I do.&lt;br /&gt;The old me, the Shelby that hasn't been touched by the affects of distance and Tyler-deprivation, has woken up, and there's a huge mess I need to clean up if I want to make things right again.&lt;br /&gt;There's a little flower from the moon sitting in the corner, scared and starved of any light and love that it once knew from me, and I have to help it, very carefully and very quietly and very gently, because it'll take a while to help it get better again.&lt;br /&gt;I know that now. I'll be sure to keep it in mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;--&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6539400849388845851-2169859227511323607?l=ssfraulein.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/feeds/2169859227511323607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/03/ten.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/2169859227511323607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/2169859227511323607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/03/ten.html' title='-- ten.'/><author><name>Fraulein</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737446890383273750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cHJl4c9032E/SbMeOjL95mI/AAAAAAAAAG8/_ISS-K_5P1s/S220/Fraulein+Superiority.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6539400849388845851.post-5310707280271962551</id><published>2009-03-05T13:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-05T13:10:44.240-08:00</updated><title type='text'>-- nine.</title><content type='html'>&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;mood:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Not entirely here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; The class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;reading:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing. Working on my Premiere Pro project.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;watching:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; The video on my project. S'getting better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;playing:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;eating:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;drinking:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;font face="Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;font size=2&gt;&lt;i&gt;Sticks and stones can break bones,&lt;br /&gt;But words can break a heart.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all take the risk of experiencing this sort of thing when we remain together.&lt;br /&gt;We all hurt each other, and we all get hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;font face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;font size=1&gt;I SHOULDN'T HAVE&lt;br /&gt;TO BE AFRAID&lt;br /&gt;TO TALK TO YOU,&lt;br /&gt;AFRAID THAT YOU&lt;br /&gt;WILL SAY SOMETHING&lt;br /&gt;THAT WILL HURT MY FEELINGS AGAIN.&lt;br /&gt;I'm serious, being honest.&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of keeping quiet about it anymore.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6539400849388845851-5310707280271962551?l=ssfraulein.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/feeds/5310707280271962551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/03/nine.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/5310707280271962551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/5310707280271962551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/03/nine.html' title='-- nine.'/><author><name>Fraulein</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737446890383273750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cHJl4c9032E/SbMeOjL95mI/AAAAAAAAAG8/_ISS-K_5P1s/S220/Fraulein+Superiority.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6539400849388845851.post-6865101775855312733</id><published>2009-03-04T18:48:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-04T18:48:47.239-08:00</updated><title type='text'>-- eight.</title><content type='html'>&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;mood:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Very, very irritable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;reading:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Short stories by Stephen King.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;watching:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;playing:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;eating:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;drinking:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm too tired to talk about my day.&lt;br /&gt;It was good, for once in a long, long time, but I'm too tired, and my mouth is too sore for me to concentrate that well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hooks on my braces, where the rubber bands are going to go, have cut nasty scars into the insides of my cheeks. The areas around those scars have swollen up.&lt;br /&gt;No, I do not look like a chipmunk. The swelling isn't even noticeable unless I open my mouth wide enough and let you look in—which I refuse to let anyone do by this point. /stubborn and self-conscious&lt;br /&gt;Eating, talking, laughing, and yawning have all been made extremely painful due to those scars, to the stupid scrap metal in my mouth. I just want to rip them out on my own, but I've been told by so many people that I'd only lose my teeth as well, and it would hurt worse than just getting used to the damn things anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's during times like these nowadays that I get very, very angry that I had no say in this whatsoever.&lt;br /&gt;If I were, say, seven or eight years old, then I could understand not being given the choice to get braces or not. But I am seventeen, for crying out loud! Shouldn't I have had at least &lt;i&gt;one&lt;/i&gt; word in edgewise about this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For an invention that is so beneficial to me, it sure does depress me a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does anyone remember, back in middle school, when I would cover my mouth with one hand each time I laughed, because I was worried I looked stupid when I did it? Remember when, after someone told me I looked prettier when my smile was &lt;i&gt;visible&lt;/i&gt; while I laughed, I finally stopped that?&lt;br /&gt;I never, ever thought I would have to start doing that again. Hell, sometimes I find myself with my hand over my mouth even if I'm just &lt;i&gt;sitting&lt;/i&gt; there, not doing anything, not talking or laughing or grinning at anything. And, most of the time, it's hard for me to take it away again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why not just yank my wisdom teeth out now and get everything over with all at once? That'd be another nice dose of karma for me, wouldn't it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sound pathetic.&lt;br /&gt;And I absolutely &lt;i&gt;hate&lt;/i&gt; when I sound or feel pathetic.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6539400849388845851-6865101775855312733?l=ssfraulein.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/feeds/6865101775855312733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/03/eight.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/6865101775855312733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/6865101775855312733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/03/eight.html' title='-- eight.'/><author><name>Fraulein</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737446890383273750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cHJl4c9032E/SbMeOjL95mI/AAAAAAAAAG8/_ISS-K_5P1s/S220/Fraulein+Superiority.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6539400849388845851.post-2707262106563981085</id><published>2009-02-28T11:48:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-28T11:48:36.241-08:00</updated><title type='text'>-- seven.</title><content type='html'>&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;mood:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Uncertain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;reading:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; &lt;i&gt;Guardians of Ga'Hoole: The Capture&lt;/i&gt; - Kathryn Lasky&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;watching:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;playing:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;eating:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;drinking:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Coke (through a straw, of course).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm beginning to wonder where my baby went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;font face="Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;font size=1&gt;&lt;i&gt;Too much change took place.&lt;br /&gt;Is that my fault, or yours?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't feel the same, talking to you anymore.&lt;br /&gt;It's almost like you were never there to begin with...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;font face="Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;font size=1&gt;&lt;i&gt;Except the memories.&lt;br /&gt;They're there.&lt;br /&gt;You're in them.&lt;br /&gt;But I wish you were here, too...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6539400849388845851-2707262106563981085?l=ssfraulein.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/feeds/2707262106563981085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/02/seven.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/2707262106563981085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/2707262106563981085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/02/seven.html' title='-- seven.'/><author><name>Fraulein</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737446890383273750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cHJl4c9032E/SbMeOjL95mI/AAAAAAAAAG8/_ISS-K_5P1s/S220/Fraulein+Superiority.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6539400849388845851.post-3357207578192177325</id><published>2009-02-27T19:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T19:04:10.922-08:00</updated><title type='text'>--six.</title><content type='html'>&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;mood:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Very mellow and tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; "No Air" - Chris Brown and Jordin Sparks&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;reading:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; &lt;i&gt;Guardians of Ga'Hoole: The Capture&lt;/i&gt; - Kathryn Lasky&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;watching:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;playing:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;eating:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; I'm thinking of getting &lt;i&gt;something&lt;/i&gt; I can actually eat...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;drinking:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Coke (through a straw, of course).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ one;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Argh.&lt;br /&gt;I must have a &lt;i&gt;serious&lt;/i&gt; case of OCD or something. I keep changing the way this thing looks.&lt;br /&gt;Sorry about that. I can't promise it won't happen again, but I am pretty satisfied with the way it looks now, so it'll probably stay like this for a while.&lt;br /&gt;I'm too tired to continue changing it anymore, anyhow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now, in terms of the layout, I am content.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ two;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since, apparently, there is no "February 29th," Tai and I are celebrating our year-and-a-half on the 28th—which is tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe it's already been a year-and-a-half with that boy...&lt;br /&gt;It feels as though we were celebrating our half-a-year yesterday (and I can remember that night very clearly), and yet it also feels so far away...&lt;br /&gt;Time works too strangely for me to figure out, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;font size=5&gt;あいしてる, TAIRA.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I love you, Tyler.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font size=6&gt;♥&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ three;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This place went from below-freezing to late-spring temperatures in a matter of twenty-four hours. For the past two days, it's been warm, sticky, and humid, to the point where it's been difficult to breathe the outside air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, I'm not eager for spring or summer. Not here, anyway. Here, warm weather = humidity and unwanted bugs/animals.&lt;br /&gt;Humidity = suffocating moisture in the air and constantly curly/frizzy hair, no matter how many times a day I straighten it or how much anti-frizz stuff I use on it.&lt;br /&gt;Bugs = Constant uneasiness and pumped levels of paranoia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Summed up, to me, Texas summers mean:&lt;br /&gt;-Spiders, ranging from house to jumping to wolf to black widow.&lt;br /&gt;-Giant ants with wings... and I thought the little kitchen/bathroom ants in Vegas were bad.&lt;br /&gt;-Snakes. We shot two this past summer, after we got here, in our &lt;i&gt;yard&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;-Long days and long nights alone, which means more time to wait for this whole Texas bit to speed up.&lt;br /&gt;-Boredom, and even more intense than last summer if my art inspiration doesn't kick back in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is &lt;i&gt;not&lt;/i&gt; stuff I enjoy living around/in. I am a &lt;i&gt;city person&lt;/i&gt;, for crying out loud.&lt;br /&gt;I want to go back home &lt;i&gt;so bad&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, because spring is quickly approaching, I've been thinking more and more lately about cutting my hair, because the humidity messing with it irritates me thoroughly anymore.&lt;br /&gt;I'm still not entirely sure, though... I really want to grow it out, to see how it looks after cutting it so short nearly a year ago, but I can't &lt;i&gt;stand&lt;/i&gt; what the humidity does to it every day, and it's getting harder for me to keep clean for twenty-four hours anymore.&lt;br /&gt;I'm also afraid to cut it because... every time I cut my hair, I feel as though I'm getting rid of something that became a &lt;i&gt;part of me&lt;/i&gt;. I don't know exactly what's up with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So... I dunno. I'll have to think on it some more, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ four;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got some more songs downloaded tonight, mostly material from the mid-/late 80s or early nineties. Stuff I heard on the radio a lot in Vegas. Stuff I grew up on and still love to listen to from time to time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except Michael Jackson. I never listened to him as a child, I don't think, but "Thriller" and "Beat It" are too amazing to pass up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I didn't know any better, I'd say my childhood songs help to calm me down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ five;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I would share some funny situations from this week with you guys, if you're at all interested.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Orthodontist:&lt;/b&gt; Well, we'll have eighteen months to get to know each other better, hmm? :]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; Heh, yeah... Should we start calling our appointments &lt;i&gt;dates&lt;/i&gt;, because you're gonna be getting up close and personal with me for that amount of time. |3;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Orthodontist:&lt;/b&gt; *bursts into giggles* You're so funny. C:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Tech:&lt;/b&gt; Stop hitting on my wife. &lt; &lt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; Don't worry, you two are cuter together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Orthodontist:&lt;/b&gt; LOL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Mr. R:&lt;/b&gt; If you were to side with someone during World War II, which country would you pick?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Chris and I:&lt;/b&gt; GERMANY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Amy and Collin:&lt;/b&gt; RUSSIA!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Other students:&lt;/b&gt; ... Uh-oh. -snickering and giggling and whispering about the conflict and whatnot-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Chris and I:&lt;/b&gt; *look at each other slowly and grin*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Collin:&lt;/b&gt; We'd totally kick their ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Mr. R:&lt;/b&gt; Haha, &lt;i&gt;would&lt;/i&gt; you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; No, he most certainly would &lt;i&gt;not&lt;/i&gt;. *stands up and looms over Amy*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Amy:&lt;/b&gt; *stands up as well, mere inches from my face* Oh? What makes you think that, [some sort of insult in Russian]?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; Not only are we more aristocratic and &lt;i&gt;better-looking&lt;/i&gt;, but we're smarter, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Collin:&lt;/b&gt; OH, PSH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Chris:&lt;/b&gt; *waves his hand nonchalantly at Collin* Srsly, garlfrand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Collin:&lt;/b&gt; ARE YOU CALLING ME GAY?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; It wouldn't &lt;i&gt;surprise&lt;/i&gt; me, you filthy little Russian. *snickers*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Amy:&lt;/b&gt; Now you're calling us homosexuals?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; No, I called you &lt;i&gt;filthy&lt;/i&gt;. And &lt;i&gt;stupid&lt;/i&gt;. Maybe I should think you're deaf, too?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Collin:&lt;/b&gt; Prove that you're smarter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; Ever heard of German engineering?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Chris:&lt;/b&gt; OWNED.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Collin:&lt;/b&gt; Oh, please, we brought you the AK47.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; Oh, &lt;i&gt;this&lt;/i&gt; argument again?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Chris:&lt;/b&gt; We brought out Tiger tanks! And you don't want to get caught in the range of one of those motherfuckers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Amy:&lt;/b&gt; ... Uh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; I see you don't know what that is. Shall I consider that another loss for the Soviet Union?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Amy:&lt;/b&gt; &lt; &lt;;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; HA! DOUBLE-OWNED, PROVED MY POINT, IN YOUR FACE! Told you we're smarter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Chris:&lt;/b&gt; Better, overall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; I concur.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Collin:&lt;/b&gt; IT'S A &lt;i&gt;TANK&lt;/i&gt;, AMY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Amy:&lt;/b&gt; I'M SORRY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Chris and I:&lt;/b&gt; *high five* Alriiiight. ||D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Mr. T:&lt;/b&gt; Alright, now, this is a be*ruffles through a box for something*er.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Tomas:&lt;/b&gt; O O WHAT?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Laura and I:&lt;/b&gt; LOL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Tomas:&lt;/b&gt; DID YOU JUST SAY &lt;i&gt;BEANER?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Mr. T:&lt;/b&gt; I said &lt;i&gt;beamer&lt;/i&gt;. *holds one up*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Tomas:&lt;/b&gt; OH! OKAY, GOT IT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; Way to go, Tomas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Tomas:&lt;/b&gt; I thought he said &lt;i&gt;beaner&lt;/i&gt;, I was gonna be like, "Whoa, really?! My uncle lives in a box! ;D"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Laura:&lt;/b&gt; *falls out of her chair laughing*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Tomas:&lt;/b&gt; ... You scare me, dude. xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; That's nothing. Watch this. *leans over Laura* ... Pudding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Laura:&lt;/b&gt; *turns red and laughs harder*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Tomas:&lt;/b&gt; ... *slowly turns around with a weirded out look on his face*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; YOU DON'T KNOW US.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Tomas:&lt;/b&gt; I know enough. &lt; &lt;;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; Tomas, get your foot off my chair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Tomas:&lt;/b&gt; Make me, white girl. *kicks it*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; *pushes his leg away* OFF, MEXICAN!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Tomas:&lt;/b&gt; HEY! *bangs his fist on the desk and gets in close, snarling through his teeth* &lt;i&gt;Shut up.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; LOL. /fails at keeping a straight face&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Mr. T:&lt;/b&gt; Ahahaha... You two are gonna get marriiieeed~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Laura, Tomas, and I:&lt;/b&gt; UGH! O.e NO!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; Dude, c'mon, Tomas is like my &lt;i&gt;brother&lt;/i&gt;. That would be so weird and so wrong, beyond belief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Laura:&lt;/b&gt; And she's taken anyway by that Tyler guy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; ... *drifts off into girly lala land*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Tomas:&lt;/b&gt; Dude, just ew...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; WHAT DOES &lt;i&gt;THAT&lt;/i&gt; MEAN?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Tomas:&lt;/b&gt; It means &lt;i&gt;disgusting&lt;/i&gt;, or d'you not know words? |D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; I'll &lt;i&gt;kick your ass!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Tomas:&lt;/b&gt; YOU CAN'T EVEN PUSH ME OFF MY FEET WITHOUT FALLING BACKWARDS, HAHAHA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; &lt; &lt;;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Laura:&lt;/b&gt; ... He does have a point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; THEN YOU DO IT &lt;i&gt;FOR&lt;/i&gt; ME! ._. It's not my fault I'm scrawny and weak...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Tomas:&lt;/b&gt; And pathetic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; ... &gt; &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Laura:&lt;/b&gt; ... *kicks him*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Tomas:&lt;/b&gt; OW. D: *pretends to sob*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Laura:&lt;/b&gt; *once more falls into one of her uncontrollable giggling fits*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; *looms over Tomas* I THOUGHT WE HAD A RULE, [insert his last name here]! YOU AREN'T ALLOWED TO CRY, EVER!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Tomas:&lt;/b&gt; I-I'M... SORRY...! Dx&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; Coooaach? Can I have a piece of butterscotch? C:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Mr. T:&lt;/b&gt; &gt; &gt;; *starts to walk out of the room*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; ... Coach? I asked you if I—&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Mr. T:&lt;/b&gt; No, I heard you. I was just... ignoring you. :D;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; What, why? D: That's mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Mr. T:&lt;/b&gt; 'Cause I don't want to answer you... y'know, say &lt;i&gt;no&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; ... Haha, just say no. I'll live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Mr. T:&lt;/b&gt; Yeah, I could, but...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; Just say no. &gt;:C&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Mr. T:&lt;/b&gt; ... Not this time. &lt; &lt;;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; ... *facepalm* Y'know, for an Army veteran, you aren't very assertive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Mr. T:&lt;/b&gt; I'm just nicer when I don't have the gun in my hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; I'll bet. &gt; &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Mr. T:&lt;/b&gt; You can't have butterscotch anyway. You're wearing braces now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; NO I'M NOT I FORBID YOU TO SPEAK OF THEM! *hides my face in my hands*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kylee:&lt;/b&gt; ... Over two million Jews? Dude, Germans are so &lt;i&gt;weird!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Chris, Dollie, and I:&lt;/b&gt; *slowly glare at her*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kylee:&lt;/b&gt; Uh, what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Chris, Dollie, and I:&lt;/b&gt; &lt;i&gt;We're&lt;/i&gt; German.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kylee:&lt;/b&gt; ... Oh. &lt; &lt;; Uhh... I was kidding?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Chris:&lt;/b&gt; Italians are even weirder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kylee:&lt;/b&gt; ... Hey, I'm Italian!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Chris:&lt;/b&gt; That was the point, dude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ six;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm beginning to get used to the braces now. They're still really uncomfortable, though... :/&lt;br /&gt;They don't hurt as much as they did before, which surprises me. I thought they were supposed to be excruciating for the first week or so. Maybe the pain factor depends on the person's teeth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one thing I'm &lt;i&gt;not&lt;/i&gt; yet getting used to is the insane amount of work it takes to keep my teeth clean in spite of said braces.&lt;br /&gt;Brush my teeth three or four times day—basically, after each time I eat something (which isn't much anymore).&lt;br /&gt;Inhale Scope at least once a day.&lt;br /&gt;Floss at night. (That has become a bigger pain in the ass than it ever was before, now that I've got these things on. It's gotten harder.)&lt;br /&gt;WaterPik at least twice a day (which I haven't been doing since I got braces, but I'm working on it, really; I just don't like that thing because I'm lazy).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You would think my teeth suddenly became celebrities, considering all the work they need done to them for the next year-and-a-half.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe getting my wisdom teeth extracted will be like putting them in jail for doing drugs, like most celebrities do anymore.&lt;br /&gt;... Lol, what, Shelby?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ seven;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stole this from Menna.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. [x] You like to be content in everything.&lt;br /&gt;2. [/] When a person confesses his/her love to you and you don't like him/her, you start feeling very tense and/or you don't know what to say.&lt;br /&gt;3. [x] You enjoy listening to smooth and relaxing music.&lt;br /&gt;4. [/] You are quite hyperactive.&lt;br /&gt;5. [/] If you don't like something, you start crying and/or you don't care if you start talking too loud.&lt;br /&gt;6. [x] You love candies or any type of caramel.&lt;br /&gt;7. [x] You like making others blush.&lt;br /&gt;8. [x] You sleep with a doll/teddy bear/pillow in your hand.&lt;br /&gt;9. [ ] You're usually shy with the opposite sex. (I speak some of their language. Why would I be?)&lt;br /&gt;10. [/] You like romantic-funny anime.&lt;br /&gt;11. [ ] Between L or Light cosplay, you prefer L.&lt;br /&gt;12. [x] You have listened to AnCafe.&lt;br /&gt;13. [x] You LIKE listening to AnCafe.&lt;br /&gt;14. [x] You have one or two songs on your computer by AnCafe.&lt;br /&gt;15. [/] You are innocent and a little clumsy. (I'm pretty clumsy.)&lt;br /&gt;16. [/] You smile at kitties.&lt;br /&gt;17. [ ] You usually say "kawaii".&lt;br /&gt;18. [x] You like plushies.&lt;br /&gt;19. [x] Between light blue and blue, you prefer light blue.&lt;br /&gt;20. [x] You hate Paris Hilton because she is an idiot.&lt;br /&gt;21. [x] You have gotten lost in a shopping center/parking lot/cinema.&lt;br /&gt;22. [x] You have called to the mistaken number twice or more.&lt;br /&gt;23. [ ] You cried at the end of Pocahontas.&lt;br /&gt;24. [x] You have a very feminine dress or shirt.&lt;br /&gt;25. [x] You call your pets with cute names.&lt;br /&gt;26. [ ] You believe that yaoi/yuri is the best.&lt;br /&gt;27. [ ] You're easy to trick/convince.&lt;br /&gt;28. [ ] Men scare you. (That's a laugh.)&lt;br /&gt;29. [ ] You have seen Pucca and you like it.&lt;br /&gt;30. [ ] You have pink/red clothes and/or they are decorated with flowers.&lt;br /&gt;31. [x] Sometimes you start looking at the clouds and you end up getting lost in space.&lt;br /&gt;32. [x] You've said "kyao", or something like that, before.&lt;br /&gt;33. [ ] When someone of your same sex gets angry with you, you're at the defensive.&lt;br /&gt;34. [x] You like J-pop.&lt;br /&gt;35. [ ] You have cried over more than one movie/TV series.&lt;br /&gt;36. [ ] You felt like Shuichi when you watched gravitation, and you felt like Nagisa  when you watched Strawberry Panic.&lt;br /&gt;37. [ ] You smile for no reason.&lt;br /&gt;38. [ ] You are usually very positive. (...)&lt;br /&gt;39. [ ] When there's a rainbow, you run out to see it. (I've found they aren't that amazing.)&lt;br /&gt;40. [/] You usually don't understand what your parents say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over 20 = Uke (Submissive)&lt;br /&gt;Less than 20 = Semme (Dominant)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;I got 21.5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not that far above Dominant, hm?&lt;br /&gt;(I actually would've thought having over twenty would make you dominant, not submissive.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6539400849388845851-3357207578192177325?l=ssfraulein.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/feeds/3357207578192177325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/02/six.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/3357207578192177325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/3357207578192177325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/02/six.html' title='--six.'/><author><name>Fraulein</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737446890383273750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cHJl4c9032E/SbMeOjL95mI/AAAAAAAAAG8/_ISS-K_5P1s/S220/Fraulein+Superiority.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6539400849388845851.post-8082185016599958709</id><published>2009-02-27T09:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T09:45:34.175-08:00</updated><title type='text'>--five.</title><content type='html'>&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;mood:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Mellow. Lonely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; The class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;reading:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Wikipedia~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;watching:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;playing:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;eating:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;drinking:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found a way to bypass the network restrictions at school.&lt;br /&gt;I guess that's exciting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhoo, for a Friday, school sure has been boring so far. I'm in geography right now, but nothing exciting has happened yet. :/ It seems like just another work day, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just thought I'd say hi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll probably update again later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chiao.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6539400849388845851-8082185016599958709?l=ssfraulein.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/feeds/8082185016599958709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/02/five.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/8082185016599958709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/8082185016599958709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/02/five.html' title='--five.'/><author><name>Fraulein</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737446890383273750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cHJl4c9032E/SbMeOjL95mI/AAAAAAAAAG8/_ISS-K_5P1s/S220/Fraulein+Superiority.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6539400849388845851.post-1556064991286620957</id><published>2009-02-25T17:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T17:24:31.245-08:00</updated><title type='text'>-- four.</title><content type='html'>&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;mood:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Aching. A little depressed (not a lot, but enough). A little scared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;reading:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; &lt;i&gt;Guardians of Ga'Hoole: The Capture&lt;/i&gt; - Kathryn Lasky&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;watching:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;playing:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;eating:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;drinking:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Dr. Pepper&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ one;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, when I brushed my teeth, one of the bands came off my braces.&lt;br /&gt;We went after school today and got it fixed, though. So it's okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They hurt so bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ two;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some things are better left buried and SUFFOCATED WITHIN THE EARTH.&lt;br /&gt;God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Not&lt;/i&gt; in the mood for this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6539400849388845851-1556064991286620957?l=ssfraulein.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/feeds/1556064991286620957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/02/three.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/1556064991286620957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/1556064991286620957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/02/three.html' title='-- four.'/><author><name>Fraulein</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737446890383273750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cHJl4c9032E/SbMeOjL95mI/AAAAAAAAAG8/_ISS-K_5P1s/S220/Fraulein+Superiority.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6539400849388845851.post-1471656479457092963</id><published>2009-02-24T19:06:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T17:23:39.103-08:00</updated><title type='text'>-- three.</title><content type='html'>&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;mood:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; A little grumpy. Tired. A bit lonely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;reading:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; &lt;i&gt;Guardians of Ga'Hoole: The Capture&lt;/i&gt; - Kathryn Lasky (OWLS! :D)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;watching:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Yet another Presidential speech to the nation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;playing:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;eating:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Ice cream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;drinking:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; NOTHING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ one;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;font size=4&gt;BRACES = ; ;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes.&lt;br /&gt;As I said, I got them today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, at first, they didn't hurt. Save for the fact that my jaws felt a bit heavier with them on, I almost forgot they were even there. Now, however, they only grow more painful.&lt;br /&gt;I dread how it'll feel tomorrow, and the next day, and maybe even the day after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least, when I went back to school, I only had to attend chemistry and multimedia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bro was fascinated. That or he was unsure of what to really think of them.&lt;br /&gt;Mother was irked (at first?) that they put silver braces on me instead of clear. I, honestly, could care less, and I think I preferred silver anyway.&lt;br /&gt;My chemistry teacher snickered a bit and told me to use the wax I was given. Trust her, she said, it'll help. Wax is apparently a godsend when it comes to braces.&lt;br /&gt;Tomas flinched when I showed him and told me that it must hurt, and I gave him a &lt;i&gt;no shit, Sherlock&lt;/i&gt; look.&lt;br /&gt;Gwen told me to eat lots of ice cream to help diminish any pain—and she guaranteed there would be quite a bit of it in the next week.&lt;br /&gt;Kacie told me that the front teeth always hurt excruciatingly in the beginning. Judging from the pain I felt today, I believe her.&lt;br /&gt;My multimedia long-term substitute empathized. "I'll be honest," she said. "Braces are always the worst on the second day you have them, but, if it makes you feel any better, they're worse than &lt;i&gt;that&lt;/i&gt; on the third day."&lt;br /&gt;Yes, Mrs. J, thank you. I feel... loads better. D| Then again, I'm glad she was an adult I could get an &lt;i&gt;honest&lt;/i&gt; opinion from. All the other adults continue to insist that they don't hurt—and how full of crap they are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It feels unnerving to eat. Even eating ice cream, like I am now, feels odd.&lt;br /&gt;It almost feels like I'm trying to relearn how to eat, if consuming food was ever a &lt;i&gt;learned&lt;/i&gt; process and not a natural one.&lt;br /&gt;Even eating ice cream hurts, damn...&lt;br /&gt;I WILL PUNT YOU IF YOU LIED TO ME, GWEN.&lt;br /&gt;Agh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait until they come off. Already, I can't wait.&lt;br /&gt;... You know, in, like, a year-and-a-half.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ two;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately, I've begun to wonder if Obama was actually the right choice for America.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;(&lt;i&gt;I'd rather my generation not be in debt for the rest of our lives. Thanks, homey G fuckin' dawg.&lt;/i&gt;)&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Were we wrong to vote for him? (I know most African Americans in this country were wrong to vote for him simply because he is &lt;i&gt;black&lt;/i&gt;.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I haven't gone Republican. Hell, I was never even a Democrat.&lt;br /&gt;I'm an Independent. (Maybe I'm not even &lt;i&gt;that&lt;/i&gt;. I don't like politics, and most of the time I do my best to stay out of such affairs.)&lt;br /&gt;Maybe my heart is telling me that we need an Independent President. Both parties of the U.S. government are corrupt, and neither one can satisfy all the people here... Maybe I'm waiting for someone who will take care of &lt;i&gt;everything&lt;/i&gt; instead of just one set of goals, like the current parties do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My future is at stake, damn it. I &lt;i&gt;do&lt;/i&gt; actually care about that.&lt;br /&gt;All the U.S. government has done lately is spent away money for bills I've never even &lt;i&gt;imagined&lt;/i&gt;, even though spending money like that is part of what got us into this recession in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;Wonderful "stimulus plan", guys. I applaud you for your ass-in-chair efforts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought of an amusing, snappy letter to write to those idiots up there, mostly to make myself feel better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;font size=2&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;Dear Congress,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quite honestly, you're killing us.&lt;br /&gt;You're killing me.&lt;br /&gt;You're killing my generation, along with any chance we have left to a happy, less complicated future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why don't you count all the money in the world—in the &lt;i&gt;entire&lt;/i&gt; world—and realize that we do not have that kind of money? America owes more money to other countries than anyone in the world actually &lt;i&gt;has&lt;/i&gt;. We are in debt as an &lt;i&gt;entire country&lt;/i&gt;, for the love of God (Does he sound familiar to you? I'm pretty sure you've complained to atheists that this country was built on the foundation of Christianity). DO SOMETHING SMART ABOUT IT FOR ONCE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks a lot for fucking up my future, tightwads.&lt;br /&gt;I had a lot of faith in you newer members, after everything good I heard, but I suppose you had planned all along to turn around and bite me right in the ass when I offered my hand out to you for once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until I start hearing some &lt;i&gt;good&lt;/i&gt; and &lt;i&gt;promising&lt;/i&gt; progress from you guys down in D.C., you won't catch me watching you guys on TV anymore. All I ever hear on it is the same speech or the same load of &lt;i&gt;crap&lt;/i&gt; or the same arguments about affairs that aren't even &lt;i&gt;relevant&lt;/i&gt; when it comes to our economy (like that woman that had octuplets; who gives a shit, for crying out loud? Let her be a corrupt little bitch, for all I care).&lt;br /&gt;I'd suggest you start using your heads correctly, the &lt;i&gt;right&lt;/i&gt; way. TV's pretty popular and I hear they take you off the air the lower the rates are.&lt;br /&gt;Ha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get bent,&lt;br /&gt;Piss off,&lt;br /&gt;See you in hell,&lt;br /&gt;etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Some stubborn but intelligent high school student that never liked you in the first place.&lt;/font color&gt;&lt;/font size&gt;&lt;/font face&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That'd be nice, but I doubt they'd give a shit, right?&lt;br /&gt;Right. So I just keep it to myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate our government. I hate what they're doing.&lt;br /&gt;It's so tiring anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6539400849388845851-1471656479457092963?l=ssfraulein.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/feeds/1471656479457092963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/02/two.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/1471656479457092963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/1471656479457092963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/02/two.html' title='-- three.'/><author><name>Fraulein</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737446890383273750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cHJl4c9032E/SbMeOjL95mI/AAAAAAAAAG8/_ISS-K_5P1s/S220/Fraulein+Superiority.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6539400849388845851.post-2747317917062542114</id><published>2009-02-22T12:37:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T17:22:18.809-08:00</updated><title type='text'>-- two.</title><content type='html'>&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;mood:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Content.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; "Don't Stop" - InnerPartySystem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;reading:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;watching:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;playing:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;eating:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;drinking:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Monster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ one;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;font size=2&gt;&lt;i&gt;The road I walk is paved in gold&lt;br /&gt;To glorify my platinum soul.&lt;br /&gt;I'll buy my way to talk to God&lt;br /&gt;So he can live with what I'm not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The selfish blood runs through my veins.&lt;br /&gt;I gave up everything for fame.&lt;br /&gt;I am the lie that you adore:&lt;br /&gt;I feed the rich and fuck the poor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got, you want.&lt;br /&gt;It just don't stop.&lt;br /&gt;I got, you want.&lt;br /&gt;It just don't stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The road I walk is paved in gold&lt;br /&gt;To glorify my platinum soul.&lt;br /&gt;I am the closest thing to God,&lt;br /&gt;So worship me, and never stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wretched blood runs through my veins.&lt;br /&gt;I gave up everything for fame.&lt;br /&gt;I am the lie that you adore.&lt;br /&gt;Now feed the rich—fuck the poor!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got, you want.&lt;br /&gt;It just don't stop.&lt;br /&gt;I got, you want.&lt;br /&gt;It just don't stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I turning you on?&lt;br /&gt;'Cause now I'm turning down.&lt;br /&gt;Am I turning you on?&lt;br /&gt;'Cause now I'm turning down.&lt;br /&gt;Am I turning you on?&lt;br /&gt;I'm tuning you out.&lt;br /&gt;Am I turning you on?&lt;br /&gt;'Cause now I'm turning down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear future: I bought you.&lt;br /&gt;I own the right to let go,&lt;br /&gt;Destroy you.&lt;br /&gt;This is my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear future: I bought you.&lt;br /&gt;I own the right to let go,&lt;br /&gt;Destroy you.&lt;br /&gt;This is my life,&lt;br /&gt;And I...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got, you want.&lt;br /&gt;It just don't stop.&lt;br /&gt;I got, you want.&lt;br /&gt;It just don't stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got, you want.&lt;br /&gt;It just don't stop.&lt;br /&gt;I got, you want.&lt;br /&gt;It just don't stop.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There we go: "Don't Stop" by InnerPartySystem.&lt;br /&gt;No, I cannot stop listening to this song. It's too sexy, as vulgar as its meaning really is.&lt;br /&gt;Ily Kerrington. :3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ two;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother just made me giggle somewhere on the inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;font face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;font size=4&gt;"Do not marry a lazy person. That is my advice to you.&lt;br /&gt;Do not marry a lazy person when you pick a spouse."&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She filled me in as to why she said that afterward, because I was confused at first. I'm not going to concern myself with their matters, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why I found that amusing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;font face="Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;font size=1&gt;&lt;i&gt;I think my family is starting to suffer from something like cabin fever.&lt;br /&gt;It isn't so surprising, if that's the case.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ three;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my spacers came loose this morning. :|&lt;br /&gt;Mother and I decided it's no big deal, since I'm getting braces Tuesday morning anyway. I don't think the orthodontists would do anything about it by now anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It feels so nice not to have at least one rubber band in my teeth. ||D; Ahahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now to face the braces...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ four;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is probably irrelevant, but I'm still working on organizing this thing, okay? :D;;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6539400849388845851-2747317917062542114?l=ssfraulein.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/feeds/2747317917062542114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/02/one_22.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/2747317917062542114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/2747317917062542114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/02/one_22.html' title='-- two.'/><author><name>Fraulein</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737446890383273750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cHJl4c9032E/SbMeOjL95mI/AAAAAAAAAG8/_ISS-K_5P1s/S220/Fraulein+Superiority.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6539400849388845851.post-2103022598422765582</id><published>2009-02-21T21:43:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T17:20:25.800-08:00</updated><title type='text'>-- one.</title><content type='html'>&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;mood:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Mellow. A little tired. Lonely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;listening to:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Chris's Kingdom Hearts music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;reading:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; My IM with Tai.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;watching:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; The time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;playing:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;eating:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing. I'm not hungry, and after my gums started bleeding while eating Rice Krispies earlier, food probably isn't a good idea right now, anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#990000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;drinking:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font color&gt; Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ one;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes. I decided to start writing in a separate, new blog.&lt;br /&gt;My nitpicky OCD wouldn't let me continue to update on the other one, simply because I found it too disorganized.&lt;br /&gt;I seem to have an annoying habit of making several fresh starts on sites like these, just to get me motivated to do something on them again. It's weird, I know, and did I also mention annoying?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, if you want to keep up, I suggest coming to &lt;b&gt;SSfraulein.blogspot.com&lt;/b&gt; from now on.&lt;br /&gt;Donke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ two;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose it's now official that, in some way or another, I am depressed.&lt;br /&gt;All I can say is that I'm going to try and get through it. That's all I can do anymore.&lt;br /&gt;Just like this whole Texas thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;font face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;font size=1&gt;&lt;i&gt;Karma is such a bitch.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ three;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday, my dear Kerrington came to multimedia and introduced a new song and band to me: "Don't Stop" by InnerPartySystem. I'm not a fan of the song's meaning, but it is very catchy and I've always been a sucker for laser keyboards and dance rhythms.&lt;br /&gt;I was going to look up the lyrics for it and put them up here, but it seems to me that nobody &lt;i&gt;knows&lt;/i&gt; the actual lyrics, and there are several different versions of it posted on the Internet. So I guess that idea is moot, hm?&lt;br /&gt;I suppose you can look it up on youtube or something and listen to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm.&lt;br /&gt;I like Kerrington. She's nice, very sweet.&lt;br /&gt;She has a calming voice, too. x3 It does help me to calm down after five periods of stress and chaos.&lt;br /&gt;I find it funny that I always try not to talk so loudly around her, because... it's almost as though she'll break if I do. She's really quiet.&lt;br /&gt;... That sounds really weird, but it's true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for a certain Hispanic brother of mine:&lt;br /&gt;Get your ass back into town. We need to talk, ASAP.&lt;br /&gt;I miss you, but I don't miss you enough to get happy with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ four;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I forgot to mention that I got spacers last Monday. For the first three or four days, they were nothing but pain and soreness, to the max. They've lightened up considerably now, though.&lt;br /&gt;Still, that doesn't mean I should be a moron and try to eat hard foods, like Rice Krispies. Even trying to chew on those carefully made my gums bleed, so I guess no more of that. Jip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Trebuchet MS"&gt;&lt;font size=2&gt;Nurse: It might feel like you have some food stuck in your teeth, but it's just the rubber bands.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Hm. Interesting.&lt;br /&gt;Nurse: So, how're you feeling now that they're in?&lt;br /&gt;Me: LIKE I'VE GOT RUBBER BANDS STUCK IN MY TEETH. WHAT DO YOU THINK?&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Duh, woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In all truths, it doesn't feel like there is food stuck in my teeth. Now that they've stopped hurting, I barely notice the rubber bands at all, even when I eat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to get braces this upcoming Tuesday morning, too, after they take the spacers out.&lt;br /&gt;I've pretty much learned not to believe the adults when they say braces won't hurt. I have plenty of other kids—guys, even—who've had braces, themselves, tell me that the braces will hurt for the first week or so.&lt;br /&gt;It isn't the pain that I know is coming that bothers me. I've prepared myself for that, now that I've gotten honest opinions and stories about it. The fact that I'm getting braces at all is what bothers me. I don't really care if those things are beneficial to me. I was completely fine with my crooked teeth, but... well... I suppose that's in the past now.&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;Wow... That really made me sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Fuck&lt;/i&gt; braces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Fuck&lt;/i&gt; my horrible hereditary dental issues.&lt;br /&gt;Just &lt;i&gt;fuck&lt;/i&gt; overall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- - - - - &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=white&gt;&lt;b&gt;◊ five;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing much has happened lately—nothing good, anyway. So of course I don't report on this place much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This Saturday went by too quickly, and I wasted through it by moping.&lt;br /&gt;I was &lt;i&gt;sort of&lt;/i&gt; productive, though. That's good, at least.&lt;br /&gt;Ugh, she'll probably drag us to church tomorrow. I absolutely loathe church, and how she tries to make us pay attention when it just bores the crap out of us. I hate religion in general.&lt;br /&gt;Disgusting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sighs*&lt;br /&gt;So much for getting some sleep tonight...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6539400849388845851-2103022598422765582?l=ssfraulein.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/feeds/2103022598422765582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/02/one.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/2103022598422765582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6539400849388845851/posts/default/2103022598422765582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssfraulein.blogspot.com/2009/02/one.html' title='-- one.'/><author><name>Fraulein</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737446890383273750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cHJl4c9032E/SbMeOjL95mI/AAAAAAAAAG8/_ISS-K_5P1s/S220/Fraulein+Superiority.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
