Irrsinn.net

This is just a quick entry before I begin my eons worth of homework tonight. I decided to comment in Sonny’s blog today, just a simple post about not knowing who Avril Lavigne is. He probably won’t even notice it. I got to talk to my old buddy Anthony today. He’s grown up quite a bit since… hell, since last year. No more humping on trash cans and sprinklers in front of theaters. Ninth grade was so fun and carefree, yet despite that, I miss it, but I don’t want it back. A lot of bad crap happened that year (and tenth grade year too). I kind of don’t even…

I revising a statement I made previously: Micah is only annoying about 40% of the time. With Micah, these types of ratios are prone to frequent change, as anyone who knows him can probably verify (although there do seem to be those few people that don’t find him annoying at all, it seems; I’ll never understand them, nor can I usually stand them). Bonsoir.

See above. My whole day just started off like crap. Some background info: I have that problem in which if I can reach my alarm clock, I will turn it off seconds (literally) before it goes off and go back to sleep without ever fully waking up. So this morning my mother is knocking on my door, and says when I open it, “What time does your clock say?” Like, WTF?! Just tell me I overslept, don’t ask me what time my clock says. There are both electric and battery-powered clocks in the living room and her bedroom, and the likelihood of them all messing up is slim-to-friggin’-none. So I…

Lately I’ve been revelling in the lives of other people, people I don’t even know. These are pages and blogs and journals linked from my friend Micah’s page. After reading about his friends’ lives (two of whom I actually know), I move on to their friends. I feel like a voyeur, but a happier one. I used to spend hours on the telephone listening to people’s problems and occasionally helping them solve them, but really just listening, and I liked that. I hang with a different crowd now, and I’m not at all confortable with them. Not like that. Their problems annoy me. But to read the blogs and journals…

I’m working on a practice French IB Paper 1, listening to “Wrong Way” by Sublime. I am now conviced that I practe crustean bed criticism when I listen to music. How can I possibly identify with these lyrics? I’ve never been a whore, nor have felt pimped by my family (except maybe regarding education by my mother) Annie’s 12 years old, in two more she’ll be a whoreNobody ever told her it’s the wrong wayDon’t be afraid with the quickness you’ll get laidFor your family get paidIt’s the wrong wayI gave her all that I had to giveI’m gonna make it hard to live(Big) salty tears running down to her…