Petition to buy shampoo for Snape

Disregard the title.
This is not about Harry Potter.
There, now you know. You're free to leave this page, sigh from relief, or maybe even read on...

Okay, okay, that isn't a complete truth. I mean, I can't write the day after seeing the concluding chapter of my childhood series played out on the big screen without at least mentioning it! And I'll simply ask a question to those pseudo members of Dumbledore's Army which truly befoggles my poor vacation struck brain...If wands can be won by simply disarming someone, then why don't wizards have, like, stashes of wands that they've won?  This is a major plot point, guys, a major theme which was only brought up once Harry's wand was snapped back in Part I. Maybe I'm being silly. But besides crying hysterically during Snape's emotional memorical breakdown (men have feelings??), that question kept popping up like the bad-flavored Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans (in any of the books, does anybody ever actually find one that tastes good?)

Back to reality now. (Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?)

Back to reality now. Hey, I'm legal! Hey, I have (hopefully) 70+ years to do all the things I can do now that I'm legal. In fact, I should have been trying NOT to do those things before, since technically I only had 18 years to savor that!

Outside there's a boxcar waiting. Pixies. Quality music. Meaghan Smith. Quality cover. Check it out.

Dude, after spending two days in Memphis, I think I'm gonna like it. The barbecue is amazing (eee the vegetarian thing has descended into 'portion control' at this point), though the college food was barely edible. I love the classes I'm taking, though there really is not a whole bunch of variety (no 'Jane Austen' course or 'Psychology taught in the tradition of Sylvia Plath' or 'Underwater Basket-Weaving' or 'Picking your nose with a pipe cleaner') . There are some super cool hipstas like me (breaking into college buildings at night is so badass, and, like, spacey, man), but millions of bros and 'business' majors too (no judgment yet, though! I won't remember more than five or six names/faces anyways).

No math or science, did I mention that? I get at least a semester of simply exploring those subjects which I believe hold my true passion. Perhaps I will enjoy my studying, maybe find some people who like tea and discussing literature and listening to Frank Sinatra for two hours every Sunday night. Or maybe I'll study abroad somewhere and never, ever come back. Geeze, I wish I had the money/talent/balls to do that.

It was interesting, meeting people at orientation. Okay, my social skills are not the best. Best word to describe me with new people: forgettable. Anyways, very few people knew others. Most of us were thrown into this sea of new faces, a new city, a new lifestyle, a new FREEDOM. A deja-vu high school experience, except there's no home and old friends to go home to at the end of the day. Instead, there's the dorm and your roommate and Facebook to connect with home. And many people are thrown off by that. And when you see these people, obviously big fish at home, thrown into this ocean of other big fish and bigger fish, it's almost amusing. It would be, if I didn't feel the exact same way.

I can't wait, though. After eighteen years with all of you Dallasites, I'm ready to sign out permanently in a month. I'll be back de temps en temps, mais je voudrais voir le monde, seulement Tennessee maintenant, mais perchance other exciting places soon.

For Harry Potter fans

Superstitious people say that when you experience a full body chill, it means that someone is walking over your future gravesite. If that's so, then I'll probably be buried right in the middle of Trafalgar Square, where thousands of people gathered yesterday for the final red carpet premiere of the Harry Potter series, which opens next week on the very night of my 18th birthday. Of course, the wizarding age of becoming legal is 17, so the correlation is slightly off, but still, it is the end of childhood for me and for those cute little wizards and witches who somehow all had the luck to grow up and be attractive.

Although I didn't start reading Harry Potter till about 7th grade, and I've never been one of those diehard fans (quite frankly, some of those movies are pretty dull, the books are angsty, and the characters don't use NEARLY enough magic as Rowling created potential for in her world), for a fiction writer to reach this degree of fame in this century without any "Wizards Suck" movies made and actually receiving positive reviews from critics worldwide and even from the Vatican press? (Catholics have pretty darn good taste, man) Admiration and obsession are warranted.

The Harry Potter books are absolutely absorbing. There is one degree of literature and film that I call 'the vicarious dream', when the reader or viewer feels such a degree of oneness with the work of art that he or she is overwhelmed at the end and needs a moment of reflection and that sense of deep regret that there aren't 100 pages left to read. Woahhh when teenagers want a 500 page book to be longer, you know there's something special in there somewhere.

So I am putting aside the four other books I have started in the past couple weeks (Satanic Verses, Autograph Man, To the Lighthouse, Eating Animals) which have yet to catch my fancy (Virginia Woolf uses 11 commas on the first page, in one sentence, of her sensationally successful novel. And peers always tell me to cut my sentences down...) and rereading that final Harry Potter. I will probably be disappointed by the movie. I've been disappointed by all the others and all movie ever made based on my favorite bits of literature. Yet, I will conform, for the world for once made a good choice in choosing a global obsession. It'll all be over in a few months; the new Twilight movie will hit like a hangover, and an even newer craze will strike. But perhaps, Harry will remain that childhood favorite. Nancy Drew prevailed, the Simpsons prevailed, Woody Allen prevailed, Potter will prevail.

And Malfoy will always be my favorite.

apomakrysmenophobia

Last night, at about one oh clock in the morning, I finished writing a very deep, moving, sentimental reflection on my recent trip to the waterfalls and hills of New York, the caves of Kentucky, and the battlefields of Pennsylvania.
Then, Blogspot decided to shut down and not save any of it.

So, tonight, I decided that I would blog about my greatest fear.

During the last episode of the Glee Project, the subject was 'vulnerability'. There's an Irish guy competing (Damien, my future spouse, fyi), who has had a little difficulty with all the challenges. He's unable to open up. He can't make connections with his competitors, with the music (he's Irish and yet expected to know the latest Katy Perry), or with his own emotions. But in this last episode, he sang an Elvis song, 'Are You Lonesome Tonight.' (Now, despite my close proximity to Graceland next year, I've never been a huge fan. Elvis ended the jazz era, and I've always held that against him.) Damien sang the song, tears obviously forming, and he was saved to compete another week by those self-same tears. He'll get out soon; he doesn't have the right personality to be a star; plus he's already famous in Ireland, so it's all good. But yet, he described himself as 'numb', just going through the motions of life, without those necessary feelings or thoughts that really bring humans closer together. And he was crying about it, how his numbness had ruined the only relationship he had been able to start.

I was the exact same way (probably 'frozen' would be a better word than 'numb', though, my case was pretty serious, man) until this year, when life just kinda snowballed on me, and I had to force myself to feel or else be stuck, forever. So I felt (rather dramatically, if you ask those closest to me at the most intense times). I felt. Then the school year ended and once again, the wall closed up again. The little boy in Denmark stuck his finger in the dam's hole and stopped the flow of water.

I lost touch with people, or made touch but failed to maintain that touch. I tried, for sure, maybe not quite as hard as I could have, but I don't like to seem overbearing or to even put myself at risk for seeming overbearing. Some of them reciprocated the trying, some didn't. So I saw some people and didn't see many others. Obviously, schedules interfered outrageously, vacation, work, family, transportation, the whole drill, and yet, excuses don't always register in the brain and mind. Sometimes they make the situation worse (Why would THAT cancel our plans? Maybe she/he/it really doesn't want to spend time with me...MAYBE NOBODY LIKES ME. MAYBE I'LL NEVER FIND ANYONE. MAYBE ALIENS WILL ATTACK TOMORROW AND I WILL DIE WITHOUT EVER BEING LOVED!!!!) Others that I thought I had bonded with deeply over the past year, I've communicated with, but I honestly have not seen several of them since graduation. And that started up my fear again:

that your connections with people are ultimately shallow, that although your relationships feel congenial at the time, an audit of your life would produce an emotional safety deposit box of low-interest holdings and uninvested windfall profits, which will indicate you were never really at risk of joy, sacrifice or loss.


ajdklfjakldjfaskdf. It's an annoying feeling, knowing that you are loved, but doubting it all the same. What does it mean?





You're human, congratulations!




P.S. I seriously doubt that this is a real word, so don't use it in a Psych paper or anything...You might just give your teacher a really good laugh

chaos.

Hmmm I'm multi-tasking to the extreme right now...eating freshly baked chocolate peanut butter chip cookies, reading some short stories on the 'true meaning of loveeee', watching (500) Days of Summer (in French-just as heartbreaking), and contemplating the little things that absolutely wrack chaos on my overworked brain. This world is way too confusing for me. If I didn't love men so much, I'd become a nun in a secluded convent in Switzerland (Why Switzerland? So I wouldn't get too hot wearing the habit, naturally. Also, so that I could eat as much Swiss chocolate as I want, get super fat, and look exactly the same wearing that spectacular habit as I did 50 pounds earlier.)

1. Feather hair extensions.

Feathers? In your hair? And not even as part of a pretty bow or a cool accessory, but for weeks? I fail to see the attraction of this fad. My superpower of choice would be flying, but I don't want to become a bird. They smell, they poop on my car (especially right after I wash it!), and yes, I'm more or less vegetarian, but all the rest of you heathens EAT birds. Putting feathers in your hair is like using Pomeranians as earmuffs, or those stick insects as chopsticks. It's strange. But saying that, I cannot judge hair alterations, as I am fond of the dye bottle myself. But I would freely admit that I might look silly with red hair. Admit that you definitely look silly with feathers in your hair.

2. The fact that politicians are stupid enough to post lewd pictures of themselves on the web/ have open affairs and babies with women other than their beloved spouse/ are more hypocritical than televangelists...AND YET WE STILL VOTE FOR THEM?

3a. How Keanu Reeves became famous.
3b. How the Kardashians became famous.
3c. How Jon and Kate became famous.
3d. How the Biebs became famous.
3e. How Paris Hilton became famous.
3f. How I'm not famous.

4. The purpose of calculus

5. The attraction to the cowboy persona: country music, boots, dirt, hick accents, plaid

6. Why nobody (excepting my family and a few privileged others) enjoys Marx Brothers' movies anymore.

7. The addiction to smoking tobacco. You smell.

8. Russian writers.

9. Insomnia at night, but practical narcolepsy during the day. Perhaps I'm nocturnal?

10.  The difficulty people seem to have with their vs. they're vs. there.

11. Stonehenge and crop circles.

12. Fax machines.

13. Parking, particularly parallel.

14. Time zones.

15. North Korea.

16. Why organized religions are so damned complicated. If heaven is really THAT hard to get into, than it probably isn't completely worth it...

17. Google makes a rainbow appear when you google something related to homosexuality...gay, lesbian, LGBT, queer (derogatory?)

18. Video games.

19. Strapless bikini tops. Lady, if you're THAT picky about your tan line, than you might want to consider your purpose in life.

20. Quantum foam.

21. Perfectly serious Facebook statuses that tell your life story. "My boyfriend broke up with me I just ate a cashew I just worked for twelve hours spent an hour and five minutes at the gym fml the guy next to me winked! OMG! I'm fat ugly perfect better than you better than lmao my parents whom I hate with a fiery passion even though they paid for my brand new iPhone a car omfg a college education that I will never take advantage of since I will be hungover everyday and not go to class and did I mention that I named my new fish Fluffy lol?

22. How on earth so many nail parlors stay in business. There's one on every single corner, I swear.

23. WHY DID SHE LET GO OF LEO?

24. The issue so many people have with dating outside their racial groups...

25. War.

26. Decorative zippers.

27. White rappers.

28. Rick Perry's stint as governor.

29. And why it never ends.

30a. And finally, why EVERYTHING seems to be attracted to me.
30b. Except for men.
30c. Sigh.

Read uh Book.

Summertime. Ella Fitzgerald's heavenly voice floats through my head every morning (*cough* afternoon...) when I wake up, inspiring me to new heights of achievement: cleaning the house, color-coding my closet, alphabetizing my bookshelf, learning guitar or practicing piano, developing a taste for tofu, exploring Dallas before I leave (forever?). Then I step outside, HEATSTROKE!, and step inside or run to the wonderful air-conditioning of my car. Why did I not choose the college in Minnesota again? Too cold? Barmy.

So, summer, as always, becomes a time to experience new things...vicariously through literature!
Here's what has caught my eye during these early days of summer (technically late spring, I suppose...):

1. Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri

I have been incredibly fascinated by Indian culture recently, perhaps because of that viral song "Jai-ho," or maybe because I was Indian-born in my past life (reincarnation is definitely my favorite component of any organized religion today). This is a collection of short stories by the acclaimed Indian-heritaged, English-born, and America-living author of The Namesake. It explores the difficulties faced by families trying to hold on to heritage and tradition, but being influenced by modern Western culture. I've read a few of the stories, one of which brought up the issue of how children, or lack of, can absolutely destroy a  marriage, and even the individual person. Another confronted adultery, yet another abandonment. They all incorporate food and religion to a certain extent and truly are poignant.

Appropriate reading time: right before bed
Length: 198 pages

2. Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer

Oh, Jonathan. How I adore his other two novels: Everything is Illuminated (made into a spectacular movie starring little Frodo- the sausage scene and Sammy Davis Jr. Jr. the seeing-eye bitch are unforgettable) and Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close (one of those visually stunning books). This is in a bit different vein, seeing as it is non-fiction and basically a book which vegetarians love and everyone else ignores. It turned Natalie Portman into a die-hard vegan, and yet the first chapter opens with Foer reminiscing about his grandmother's chicken stew, and how important food traditions are to development. Perhaps it will inspire me to keep up my vegi/flexitarianism-ish lifestyle in college, perhaps not. I just look forward to reading more of this wonderful wordsmith.

Appropriate reading time: before meals if you are trying to lose weight. Otherwise, read when in a wordy, non-fiction sort of mood.
Length: 352 pages

3. The Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie

I looked at the title..and my rebellious teenage raised-Catholic spirit said, "YES!" It is purely coincidence, I say, that the book stars two men from Bombay, and that the first line directly references reincarnation. Aaah, coincidence?, you say. Perhaps this book will clarify the difference between coincidence and fate. Perhaps the "metamorphoses, dreams, and revelations" which occur to these men will occur to me? It's gotten a bit of a hostile reaction from Muslims, even warranting a fatwā and many burnings. However, that serves to make it appear even more fascinating. This one might be skipping up a few places on the list, so I can read it and be enlightened sooner...


Appropriate reading time: after yoga
Length: 547 pages

4. Middlemarch by George Eliot


Mmmm. Victorian literature. My very favorite. And, when written by that genius of English literature, George Eliot, this particular piece of literature, touted by some to be the greatest English novel ever written, is a must-read. George Eliot is the penname of Mary Anne Evans, a controversial figure who lived with a married man for twenty years (have no fear, his wife was aware of this 'open marriage,' for she had had two children with another man). I have read Silas Marner, a vaguely fairy-tale like story, and was incredibly impressed by Eliot's writing style, which was not weighted down as much as say, Henry James' style, by dalliances to architecture and mysticism. I know absolutely nothing about the plot, though, so this should be a good surprise!


Appropriate reading times: at a coffee-shop, when trying to appear smart and attract suitable mates
Length: 904 pages (a bit of a heavyweight...but then again, most instruction manuals average about that length nowadays.)

\

5. The Autograph Man by Zadie Smith

Zadie Smith is one of those authors who somehow blends intellectualism, beautiful words, one-liners, realism, sex, religion, race, and true humor all into one. Her other novels, White Teeth and On Beauty are re-readable, an achievement which truly qualifies them as gold in my book [to date, I've only reread comic books (the badass 1950 Superman ones!), Nancy Drew, and Chaim Potok novels]. This one...has gotten mehh reviews. Zadie admits to having writer's block while writing it (writer's block only once out of three books? She's a goddess.) Somehow, the book features a Jewish Chinese-American man (a rare combination, I believe) who, surprise!, sells autographs for a living. Zadie Smith is never a boring writer, so this probably qualifies as more of a quick-read than any of the above. I recommend checking out her other books first, though. They might just change your perceptions a bit.

Appropriate reading times: tanning, airplane trips
Length: 432 pages

In college, I don't anticipate getting as much free reading time, especially as I am probably heading toward an English major, which requires just a bit of reading. So, this is cram time for me. Finish off all those books that I never got around to opening. Let's see how far I get....

See you...later?

I graduated today?
What....
When did this happen?
How can I say I had a great time in high school and made spectacular friends, when I simultaneously say that I hated my school and everyone in it?
Is this teen angst?!?!?!


I feel like a dweeb admitting it, but Bishop Lynch really did change me for the better. I know for a fact that I am much more confident, knowledgeable, likeable, hateable, and generally equipped with a much more defined personality to enter college with than the one I possessed four years ago.


Perhaps that's just normal development, that anywhere I had gone to high school would have shaped me the same way, but now that I'm completely done without any threat of having to return, I would like to thank everyone in my class, everyone that taught me, everyone that I was so thankful to say goodbye to forever today, everyone that I will see tomorrow and in the next week for more celebrations, and duh my family, even though they're exhausted from all the crazy events happening in this supersized household and decided to all take a nap tonight while I went out to other people's graduation parties...


To my classmates: Congrats, guys, you made it just as far as millions of other high school students this weekend. Join the masses. 
Don't flunk out of college. Don't drink away your liver. Don't smoke away your lungs. Don't sex away your fertility. Don't remember me as the prude who told you not to do anything fun. 
Remember me if you're ever famous. Wear sunscreen. Listen to quality music. Marry the one you love. Treat your children well. Take care of your parents. Travel the world. Volunteer. Cry.

Okay, done with sentimentality.

11:11 right now...make a wish.

Reconciliation

Well, I just finished a great sisters'-night-out (actually spent at home, that's how we roll), watching "Date Night" starring the impeccable Steve Carell, Palin-double Tina Fey, and the white trash JF (Oh yes, I just wrote that, silly teenage girls. Go get Robert Pattinson to bite me.)

Of course, my dear father had to walk in right at the pole-dancing scene (it always happens like that, no?), and very vehemently expressed disapproval that my three year old brother and thirteen year old sister were watching (Apparently, he has higher hopes for us. Go figure.) At least he didn't see the bright purple nailpolish on the nails of my brother, or the ridiculous amount of butter popcorn we had ingurgitated.

Anyways, that experience convinced me to do what I've been wanting to do for the past four years. Confess. (Stop dialing my number, boys, I'm not a stripper.) Yeah, ask me for the connection later, I blank right now.

I often tell little white lies to make people think I'm cooler/ get them to shut up/appear attractive and/or indie/hipster. 'Often' is a relative word, by the way, based on my comfort level with you, how much I like you/want you to like me, wow I just switched point of views in the middle of a blog post and English majors are judging my poor grammar right now joy!, what your favorite color is, how often you like my statuses, and pretty much every random fact about you that influences my opinion of you or what I think influences your opinion of me. But now, I will see many of you very rarely in the future, so you cannot hold my lies against me for very long before I'm eating vegetarian BBQ in Memphis.

These are all addressed to specific people, but I won't specify. Pick yourself out, and I apologize (without a sense of regret in most cases).

- I actually have never seen more than 20 minutes of any Monty Python film
- I did read Camus for fun. Once. And it took me almost a year to get through the book I read for fun (The Plague, I recommend it to anyone who is not suicidal)
- I still haven't finished "A Portrait of a Lady", though I wrote a college essay on it...
- I want to date a douchebag before I die
- I haven't knitted since freshman year
- I don't like coffee
- If I ever insult you, it really is because I'm envious of you in some way
- I never dated any of my neighbors
- I loved going to choir every day, as much as I complained about it
- Barbra Streisand...I really am not a fan
- I love sappy romances. Nicholas Sparks, my sworn enemy, actually did make me cry in ONE of his books.
- I cry during music videos more often than during movies
- No, I really don't care about how your grandfather died. I just like your voice.
- I've probably stalked your facebook at least once
- I love being in pictures
- JF looks too much like Orlando Blewwwm to be attractive
- I dislike beans
- Constant status updates about sports PISS ME OFF
- I quote search. A lot. So I have cool statuses.
- I only stayed on the waitlist at a college so I could have a perfect acceptance record. Still waiting...
- I always feel awkward writing so much about my personal life on my blog/social sites and such
- This is because I like being mysterious- femme fatale style, doncha know
- After having a bit of a troll problem, I always wonder whether anyone actually gets that this whole cutesy blog is 100% sarcasm, or whether I should maybe add a disclaimer at the top, stop writing, get a life, etc...

I feel so free right now. Like, run off and join a nudist colony or quit my nonexistent job or stay up till 4 free. A weight has been lifted from my shoulder. Unfortunately, that weight was my only source for a workout...

Crunch Time!

That moment..when you feel like you are on the edge of absolute exhaustion to the point of collapse

And then...that moment when you can't remember exactly what is making you so tired or why you are depriving yourself of sleep when there are literally only 7 days left of school...what's the point, again?

Then your mind goes on a road trip, roughly spanning the perimeter of Texas, and you evaluate how many days out of the past four years will actually affect your life over the next four years.You discover that those projects will be forgotten, the calculus grade will be irrelevant, the enemies will be too far away to care about, past loves will be meaningless, old friends will have to be hunted down in order to stay in contact, and the only thing left will be the old homecoming dresses in the closet, the pictures on Facebook, and perhaps a slight memory recall when you smell the same scent that your ex-crush wore daily. Woahhh now.

Did you just waste four years of your life on inconsequential nonsense?

If you take that attitude, man, then you will see your whole life as inconsequential nonsense, and that ain't no fun. So don't. Listen to some inspirational music and convince yourself that it was all for the best. And if you're lucky, perhaps it was!

Inception

I believe I shall be waking up very soon. Dreams usually don't span more than a day or two, and this one covers three so far.

In world events: a royal wedding, a speedy beatification of the most beloved pope in history, and, of course, the extermination of Osama bin Laden. Seemingly positive events, no? I hope they continue as such.
In personal events, a déjà vu surprise party, ridiculous plan changes, an ultimate failure of a senior prom, and adventuring in the wee hours of the morning, to give you a rough sketch.

I am left. You are left. Exhausted, confused, thrilled, nervous, and anxiously waiting for the busiest month of the year to be over.

Dear Lord. Is this what life will be like?

Mirror, Madness, Creep

Random word generators are the inspiration for 64.2% of my blogposts <- (that's a trade secret)

Prepare yourself for a stream-of-consciousness.

1) Mirror:

Call me vain, call me self-absorbed, call me materialistic, but whenever I pass a reflective surface, it is second nature to look into it, smooth over my hair, inspect my make-up, and, on a bad day, convince myself that SOMEONE in the world MUST be uglier than I am.

I was scarred by a mirror once. No, not literally; I have never been pierced by a shard of glass. And no, smart-alecks, I have not been scarred by my reflection hahahaha. Anyways, I have a tri-fold mirror in my bathroom, attached to a cabinet. The point of this tri-fold mirror is to inspect the back of my hair without having to do the two mirror trick, which takes a ridiculous amount of coordination which I lack. One day, I opened two of the three folds, and was calmly brushing through my gorgeously straightened hair when a cockroach popped out at me.
I'm very skittish.
I screamed, naturally, and so my family thought I was being murdered or raped or something. But since it turned out just to be a nasty little cockroach, I was laughed at, generally made to feel silly, as well as mortally afraid to use that handy mirror again without checking to make sure nothing alive was lurking inside.

When I was in Honduras, I looked into a mirror twice over the ten-day period.

You know why it's bad luck to break a mirror? Your reflection shows your soul, and by breaking a mirror, you are marring the reflection, thus DAMAGING your SOUL. Be careful, now.

2) Madness:

I read a book a while ago, called An Unquiet Mind, which chronicled one woman's experience with manic-depressive disorder. Can I just say, that book made me extremely sympathetic with people who suffer from any sort of mental/psychological/developmental disorder, because it truly is not their fault. I can't even imagine dealing with emotions that are constantly on the edge, and I'm a relatively emotional person myself. Having to take medication just to stay stable? That truly is one of my greatest fears. I would not be able to handle it.

Madness is endearing, also. (P.S. I'm using madness as a pretty broad term, here. Be not offended). I am instantly attracted to you. If there was one career path that would deflect me from my current plan, it would be psychology. The brain is ridiculously fascinating, and I love hearing about how people feel and WHY they feel that way. (This is a hint for you to ahem divulge all your deep and dark secrets to me. I won't judge, man.)

3) Creep:

Ahhh, the most overused word ever. Used to describe pedophiles, Facebook stalkers, strange loner kids, trolls, or the tendency of solid materials to morph under the influence of stress (pullin' out the material sciences reference tonight, guys).

I have had experience with creeps. I won't name names, but believe me, I know of you. Creeps are kind of flattering. Whether they are nice creeps or cruel creeps, they obviously want to pay attention to me. I like to think that I have a prototypical enough personality that people are either totally turned off or irresistibly fascinated (I prefer the latter, naturally - insert cheesy winking smiley face here.) You probably feel about the same way, whether you like it or not. You want to be judged, and you either want to destroy someone's judgment with clever come-backs or rebellious acts, or you want to fulfill a good judgment and be just as cool as your Facebook page makes you out to be. Human condition, damnit.

On some writing tip website I stumbled upon, it was suggested that in order to become a better writer, critical of your own work and more concise, you should be a blog troll for a day. You know, creep around different blogs and harshly criticize people's writing, even if you secretly admire it. Point out grammar mistakes, repetition, cliches, stereotypes, anything that could get a few points deducted on a high school paper. However, the site said to criticize one day, yes, but then the next day, go back to the same blog and compliment the writing. Maybe apologize for the past comments, explain your purpose, and force humility upon yourself. Because truly, darling, you never know what words can do. No, they can't break bones, but they can break spirits, hearts, and even the will to live.

Closing statement: Cruelty is like a cigarette. It makes you feel great at first, but then you get lung cancer. Or just a really bad BURN.