I was looking through last year's yearbook this morning for pictures of my friends for a project, and I came to thinking.  Of the Class of 2004, all but one person pictured had on a silly vacant grin, was stoned (or in a mug shot), or looked obviously bored out of their skull/fed up.  Is that really the way we want to be remembered?  In the entire senior class, there was a single real person.  Among all of the sparkling perfectings and blank stares, there is one person who does not seem to be hiding.  Instread, he looks out of the page and seems to say "I know who you are, and you can't hide from me.  You don't need to."  Funny how that one person is one I know was hiding from everyone at the time.  Even those who I know are far deeper than they appear, all of the people we used to hang out with, are just false smiles tacked onto a mask.  In this time when everyone has something to hide, who are going to be the ones to truely see the world?  When you are hiding behind a mask, you can't see the whole view.  You can only see through the holes infront of your eyes, holes which are sometimes smaller than is safe.  I challange you to look behind the masks.  See what is really there, not what you would like to see, and in return, let others see what is really under your mask.  In this world of superficiality, with the rich and the beautiful ruling the social trend, be deep.  Open the door to the real world.

Those of my friends who have last year's yearbook, see if you can find who I'm talking about.  Maybe I'm reading too deep into it because I'm overtired, or because of my most recent reading material, or maybe my feelings about said person are making me see things that aren't there, but look anyway.  I might not be reading too deep.

Peace out.

I have a cat.  Well, you all probably know that already, but this one is currently sitting on my lap, after being lifted up (with much protest) by me.  Why can she not just jump, you ask?  Well, a few days ago I got in the car after school to go home and my mom says "your cat has somehow managed to injure herself.  Dad took her to the vet"  I instantly half panic, seeing as how of the last four (non regular check up) visits to the vet, two have resulted in dead cats and one very nearly prevented a dead cat.  It turns out she just sprained her ankle or something, crashing aroound the house like she usually does, but its still kind of sad.  She really hates going to the vet, and usually turns into the cat demon from the nether regions of hell when we have to take her, but this time she apparantly behaved fairly well.  She simply was very bitchy when she got home.  Angry cats in pain make some wierd-ass noises, I swear.  When I say demon cat, I mean it, because the howls she lets out sound like nothing of this earth.  Anyway, that was a few days ago, and she has been constantly getting better.  She is still limping somewhat, but her ankle is not swollen anymore.  And as an added plus, the vet managed to trim her claws, so when she kneads, she can't latch into our flesh anymore.

In other news, I spent the day in Kent doing some wierd test things for a scholarship.  One was like a reasoning test thing, and the other had a bunch of shapes and stuff.  We drove back and picked dinner up on the way home.  We stopped at the taco bell on Broad, mainly because i was hoping that Shaun was working (that damn boy needs to tell me when he is free!  If you are reading this e-mail me, IM me, call me, text me, SOMETHING!  grr. . .)  He wasn't, so I was sad, but then The Widow came on the X so I was happy.  I can't wait for Frances the Mute!  Yeah, I know, me and my periodic wierd music obsessions. . .

Peace out.

So, I spent most of the afternoon putting the base coat of paint on my walls yesterday.  Painting is actually alot harder work than you would think it is.  As of now, my room is kind of like being on the inside of a giant peach, colorwise.  Hopefully when I finish, it will look a bit more aged plaster-y.

I like the smell of fresh paint, surprisingly enough.  I mean, I couldn't live in that smell all of the time, but it makes me feel good.  And not in a high kind of way, I'm not like that.  I guess it has to do with me moving around and stuff.  Whenever we moved into a new house, it always smelled like paint because the walls had been done before whoever was there last just repainted before they left.  It reminds me of new beginnings, chances to start from the beginning again, a clean slate.  It also reminds me of spring (currently in the running for second favorite season with winter.  It will probably win, considering that most of my colleges get lake effect snow). because when we moved into our new house, it was March.  I can't believe it will be two years next month. . .and in seven months, I'll be moving again, and starting over, this time without my parents to help out.  This college thing really kind of scares me now.

Stupid Rhapsody, doesn't have Stand Alone Complex soundtrack.  I'll have to go find it somewhere else, probably order it off of Amazon or something. . .

I don't feel like re-typing/rewriting my entry in my other journal, so go to www.livejournal.com/users/dol_the_elven/

So it's Thanksgiving. . .I like food, and I'm hungry, but I'm too lazy to get up and eat something. . .Oh well. I'll eat later.

Some random wierd person called my cell today.  I was sitting at the computer and suddenly my phone, sitting across the room, goes off.  I honestly forgot it was even on, but oh well.  I anwered ans some little girl asked if Michael was there.  I said no, it was a wrong number, and she started pressing random buttons, and then the phone disconnected.  It was wierd.

I thought I had something else to say, but I guess I don't.  So, Happy Thanksgiving, or whatever. 

Edit: I remembered what I intended to say: my dad installed a new web browser, so I have another excuse not to use Microsoft, except as my OS.  Other than rearranging all of my bookmarks, it seems pretty cool.

My knees smell like brown sugar, which probably has something to do with the dirty mall floor. Oh well. At least I like brown sugar. I mean, the mall floor could have smelled like ass. And I think I will stop rambling now, and get on to the actual content.

I went DDRing with Mary/Fie yesterday, and it was fun. I got decent scores on some stuff, considering that I had only ever done it once and that was in the middle of the night nine months ago. You can see one of my scores (and my finger) in one of Mary's pics. Go find them on her blog.

Man, my civics class pisses me off. If I didn't need it to graduate I would drop it so fast. First of all, the class is full of delinquents because the teacher is also a part time discipline administrator. Second, it has the incredibly creepy student teacher. He actually thinks that he is supposed to take an interest in our social lives. Silly man, only the incredibly cool full fledged teachers can do that! Thirdly, there is the wierd kid Brian who sits behind me. Fourth, they expect us to be parrots on all tests. Seriously, I got stuff wrong on a quiz today that was so not wrong. Speaking of quizzes, I also got stuff wrong that he told us in the notes. I hate that damn class, I'm glad there are only four more weeks of it.

Oh, and work was work, I guess.

Peace Out

Well, this is my first post in this blog. It is going to be the same as the other one, so you can check either. I'm really just here to post randomly in my friends' journals.