... Dead Trees can talk using dead trees.

Cylvia, Ron, Zack, or any other idiot I know longer remember who had this, and gave me the slim chance to find it: thank you. I want to beat the shit out of you for putting it there and letting it get damaged by the weather, but thank you.

PS: To either of the Washington "Maidens" : Saturday's complication has been moved to Sunday. If you're bored, feel free. I might not react immediately, but I promise to call back as soon as I can. I won't be available to harass on Sunday, though.

PSS: I don't really like the idea of that floating around longer than I can help it. Since the princess can see what I've written even after I've deleted it, I don't see any reason to keep it up there.

Pathological Cannibalistic Serial Goat Killer.

I've settled on a name that isn't entirely pulled out of my ass: Azazel Zlogonje. Still perfectly peculiar, yet both are actual, legitimately used names. Hurrah. Kind of sad I didn't think of using Azazel until I started digging around, as his entire character emanates him. Making his name a reference just feels more appropriate in this case.

Also, I have deemed it appropriate to give him narcolepsy. Narcolepsy can, in rare cases, result in psychosis due to sleep deprivation. That, and I find the idea of a random cannibalistic goat murderer spontaneously and contently falling asleep while gnawing on someone's leg delightful. :D

This also means I can give him a minor variation of a side-effect of narcolepsy called cataplexy, so that when he gets too emotional, the muscles in his face lax, making him have a really messed up droopy expression and an inability to talk properly while he rages after goats.

Dear god, I'm having way too much fun with this guy.

The hell, man. The hell.

Where in the hell did I hear this song, when did I hear it, and why in robotic teddy-bear sex is it in my head now? I had to hunt it down just to figure out what it was.

Seriously, you sardonic brain; At least put songs in my head I actually remember hearing before.

Cotton.

I'll probably send the more interesting dreams to Ophie exclusively - because I'm a meanie and I can - but I shall share the thoroughly pointless ones here!

Cotton explains the entire dream.

I was stuck in a super-ultra-giant cotton-ball, and spent the entire dream trying to fight my way out of said super-ultra-giant cotton-ball.

The blanket has been usurped in the game of stupid-things-that-I-get-stuck-in, apparently. Wonderful.

Just wonderful.

Pissy pissy little lady.

I feel asleep today! Wooo-hoo! Naps are wonderful things. It means I don't have to sleep tonight. Hehe.

Of course, the first dream I can remember, and it happened to be Mariko. Heh. I was hoping for one of my weirder, world-conceptualizing dreams I can use to play with ideas. Haven't had one of those in a while, and the last idea I wanted to play with I lost my typed record of that dream. Still annoyed by that. >>;

I still need to find a new name for "Mariko." It feels like Mariko, but I only ever really saw a fragment of her anyhow, so even if it was a perfect replica from the Mariko I've gotten used to, it doesn't mean it's even a decent replica of Mariko herself. It's just bothersome to call her "Mariko."

Ivory, at least, never stayed around long enough for me to be worried about her. Or at least, not around me long enough. One visit, a cautiously formal greeting, a few hours wandering around my lovely half-destroyed orange town, and then a cautiously formal farewell. ( Well, okay, not entirely. Ivory expressed something to the effect of "Your place is strange" to me when she was getting ready to leave, and while I don't recall exactly how I retorted, but I know I reacted a little bit more defensively than I normally would have, which seemed to earn me a raised eyebrow. Well, not a physically raised eyebrow, but it sure felt like Ivory raised a metaphorical brow at me. You know what I mean. Or not. Whatever. )

Mariko and I tend to share a kind of bonding that's common with a lot of the guys I'm used to. By that, I mean that most of our time is spent figuring out new ways to insult each other in the most colorful ways we can pull out of our asses at the time. She reacts to some of the oddest of comments. One of the odder ones she reacted to had been when we were playing checkers, I called her a "fire-breathing jellybean." She gave me a long look, captured one of my pieces, threw it at my eye, and demanded I get her some trail mix. The entire trail mix bit through me off too much to retaliate to her assault. Which might have been the point, as she's never eaten any of the snacks set out by gods-know-who when we play. The only thing she's ever eaten at my odd dimension was roasted field mice, which she declared so miraculously burnt that it could potentially cause a volcano to vomit.

She's a sweet girl, that one.

This time around, however, she hardly glanced at me. We tend to play a lot of boardgames - namely Chinese checkers and Baduk, both being games she tends to destroy me at - so we don't actually talk a lot. In fact, outside of insulting each other, we really don't speak to each other at all. However, there's a sort of mutual recognition in playing a board-game together, and normally we both allow ourselves to give the game our full attention.

She was pissy this visit. Not to me, exactly, because she wouldn't even react to my attempts at light jabbing. She seemed... Frustrated? It was almost on the level of disgust with something or another. She just kept bickering under her breath too quietly for me to hear any actual words. She also played the game of Baduk pretty poorly. Maybe I have far worse spacial reasoning skills than I'd like to admit, but I'm bad at that game, no matter how fascinating I find it. She normally eviscerates me at it. However, even I managed to win a game against the distracted Mariko by three points.

She stopped mumbling to herself after that, though she still seemed extremely agitated. Eventually, I had to accept that she wasn't exactly "all there," and fell back on the card game War, which is blissfully brainless, and just watched as she fumed internally. She doesn't really show anger on her face - she's pretty good at pulling off the blank expression - but her eyes showed that she seemed to be trying to invent new explicit profanities.

TL;DR Had a dream with Mariko in it. She was mad about something, and pretended I wasn't there despite having shown up in my own dream. Heh. Wish that was the first time, but it's the first time she seemed so thoroughly pissed off. It was kind of bemusing.

Oh, internet. You do give me very bad ideas some times. I like it.

And with that, I hope you all have pleasant dreams.
Good night, loves.

The man on the moon stole from me what I never had.

The last few days, the moon has been intoxicatingly bright. I burned a few hours sitting outside staring at the thing, thinking of... well, absolutely nothing, to be honest. I seem to be pretty good at drawing blanks lately. Wonderful things, blanks.

I have no idea why, but somewhere near the edge of three in the morning last night / this morning, I started having this very peculiar feeling like the moon had taken something from me. Absurd as it was, I spent another hour trying to figure out what it might have been. The more I thought about it, the more perplexed and irritated I got. While amusing to say, I'm still kind of annoyed with the fact that I have the unnerving feeling like it's snatched something from me. It makes no sense.

The shiny ball in the sky stole one of my shinies.
I know it.


I dare say, my good chaps, that I've gone mad.


That thing that I own. The small thing that's currently black, has lots of little buttons with numbers on it? That thing that lets me talk to people? Yeah. That thing. I need to remember I actually own one of those things. I don't think I've touched it since early November or so, and that's being mildly generous. Needless to say, I annoyed the hell out of quite a great number of people. Only a few of them matter - if only because the mass majority of the vexed people wanted something from me - but it still seems a bad policy to forget that I own things.

The moon might steal them from me, and I'd never realize they were gone.
Bloody bastard. Simply because you're very, very shiny right now doesn't give you the right to steal my not-as-shiny things. Or thoughts. Or whatever snippets of a soul I probably stole from someone else. Or other things.

Bastard.

At any rate: I'm severely sorry for not responding to the princess or the puppy. Zack, whatever you needed you've probably solved on your own by now, so I don't feel so bad, and the mere idea of you not calling me if you weren't asking for something is outright adorable. So yeah. Suck it. Or some other figurative jester of bird-flipping.

Stuff.

With the very weird feeling that something of mine got stolen by a giant glowing rock in the sky, I destroyed my room, and found out that I owned one of those "phone" thingies. So... my bad.

-snort-
This is why I never bothered with buying one of the bloody things until not having one became too much of a pain. I think I'm one of the few men under the age of eighty - I am under the age of eighty, right? - who still wears a watch. Everyone I've talked to say that they never forget their phone because it's their new watch. Honestly, pulling a giant hunk of plastic out of my pocket and pushing a button so the screen lights up just to see the time seems like such a hassle when I can just glance at my wrist and be done with it.

Or badger someone else for the time.
That's way more fun.

It is odd that I prefer having a watch, though. That weird issue I have with not liking things around my wrists never went away. I should really considering getting a pocket watch. They look nifty to boot, and would make me feel like a snooty bastard. That sounds interesting.

Wait.
What's the difference between a pocket watch and a cell-phone at this point?
...
Well, shit.

Hm.
-glances up-
Note to self: No listening to celtic - or folk rock, since they sometimes blend together for me because I'm uncultured like that - music while typing. It tends to make me type out things that are even more bloody irrational and hyper-active than usual.

I'm not high, I swear.

-munches on left-over gingerbread zombies-
Good god these things are stale now. Granted, that's kind of appropriate, but... Bah to you! I shall drown you in choco-coffee as punishment! Graaaaaaaargh!



Aight. Think I've said everything I really needed to say.
It's in there somewhere. Probably.

I'll be a bit busy tomorrow. School starts up on Monday, but I scheduled my classes to only be on Monday and Wednesday because cramming everything in less days tends to work for me.

You know, since I don't procrastinate and waste the extra time I give myself on stressing myself out about all the work that I should be doing.

I'll probably give calling late Thursday or Friday a try. Assuming I'm not shanked by that one girl I really, really pissed off last semester. I thought it was cute of her to try and sick her boyfriend at me, because he fidgets around more than an elementary school-girl and didn't have the balls to even threaten my nerdy ass. Granted, the girl herself is pretty bloody scary. It's a shame she's such a vile bore; intimidating people are fun to keep around. They keep you on your toes, and I never feel bad about arguing with them for the sheer fun of having a heated argument.

Hm.
Yeah.
Gotta wake up early, so I'm gonna go pretend to sleep for a few hours, stay awake until four in the morning, and then actually sleep for two hours.
You know, the usual routine.

I've developed a temporary fascination with Blackmore's Night, so I shall give you one of the songs that may or may not have controlled the tempo of how I wrote this.

I is so easily effected by things.
Sad panda. D:

There is absolutely no point to this.

I forgot how peculiarly charming this tune was.

Boo.

Here's a quiet hope that everyone had an at last semi-kind-of enjoyable Halloween.

I have this feeling like I should be saying a hell of a lot more than this, but I honestly can't think of anything that I should be saying. So I'll leave it at this.

Good night to the ones that have the infuriating habit of never completely leaving my thoughts.
Sleep well.

Good night, my beloved little princesses.

I should pick up / call in a day or two.

Things have been... preoccupying, to say the least.

The house seems to want to die. Since my mother has become more of a procrastinator than I am nowadays - bloody, the fact that I can say that with a strange face is amusing - I've been juggling with keeping it in working order. One of the sets of electrical wires connected to the fuse box died, so that needed replacing. Our sink started vomiting red shit, so that needed fixing. A variety of... interesting things happened, resulting in the need to get all of the locks replaced on the house, so there's also that.

Beyond that is the usual juggle of pretending to have some visage of a social life, dealing with the fact that John and his new girlfriend don't seem to want to stay away for more than a day, and keeping up a notion that I wasn't actually in a mood where I wanted to tell them all to go blow an elephant.

Our last living family cat, Pepper, was put to sleep. Mother took it pretty hard, where as I... took it worse, just in a more discrete manner.

It wasn't so much the death of the cat itself that bothered me. The poor thing had cancer, and I was at the point where I felt she should have been let go of a week earlier. The last week was torture for her. No, it was more that the death of anything tends to remind me of... well, the usual, I suppose.

Kyle used to have this fake plastic pistol that could be loaded with these small red caps that were essentially noise makers, making a loud bang whenever a "shot" was fired. I still remembering him harassing Pepper with that thing, chasing her all over the house and cackling like a mentally deranged goblin from the cheesiest movie you could possibly imagine.

Michael also fed her "jalapeno" milk once. Poor thing, though I thought it was amusing that she trusted it to begin with - she was never fed milk before. I've since tried recreating that recipe, and while I can, it's quite thoroughly revolting. A shame, because it doesn't sound like it'd be that bad at all. Then again, there's a hell of a lot more than jalapeno juice in it.

In a way, I guess I feel bad about the fact that Pepper's death bothers me less because she died, and more because I've, in a sense, lost another genuine, living momentum to the idiots I still adore more than most. I have a big "letting go" problem, but god damn it, losing that connection hurts.

On the flip side, my mother couldn't handle not having a cat in the house, so Pepper's spot has been replaced by Lily, a fairly large Bobtail. I quite like her, really. The fact that she's big enough to stun a full sized German Shepard when she bitch slaps the dog across the nose makes her immensely amusing.

I was a little too disoriented to want to pick up the phone, to be blunt - something I'm sadly sure you're used to at this point. I've been in a prefectly decent mood to call since Friday morning - it being Saturday morning now, that's not that much time, but still - but couldn't pick up the phone due to dealing with all of the other messes. >>;

Yeah. I've spent most of this week keeping messes from being more of a problem than they already are, keeping the house intact, dealing with me being emo, and other such.

I hope this week wasn't too eventful for you. Things tend not to go well for you when things are eventful.

Also: I couldn't find out where the original sound clip for this came from, but someone from college sent me this video. The fact that this very, very pointless line amused me as much as it did was more or less the "Okay, yeah, I'm better" moment for me. Woot. Stupid things amuse me.

Another harmless song.

Because I can.
The little earthquake in Virginia was felt over here, but I was kind of preoccupied with something, so didn't have the time or mental energy to spare for a minor shaking. It was relatively harmless, to the point where it got to be stored contently into the back of my mind to look at it with minor curiosity.

Now then. On to this... obsurd song. This video is a little cheesier than Id care for, but I couldn't find anything better, so... this video it is!

Here's another one of the songs that like to sink into my head. It's been there for at least two weeks now.

Edit: Bloody farking auto-play. D: Shush.

Bears go "... meh. Too lazy."

Out of no-where, I got this song stuck in my head.
I haven't watched this movie since I was seven. o.o; Where in the name of singing teddy bears and hypno-snakes did this thing come from?

Ah well. It's amusing to me, so I thought I'd share a quick demented thought at the moment.
Oh, and something about me needing to go to college to pay for my tuition fee soon. The deadline is Sunday.

I enjoy the strangest of nostalgia.

I seriously suck at finding things that isn't my magical-always-locatable-old-pendant-coin-of-awesome.

I'm easily the most observational person when it comes to human beings. That, or everyone around me is an inattentive dipshit. However, for all my observational prowess when it comes to people, my ability to find my own shit is depressingly horrendous.

So, yeah. Fuck my phone.
It'll show up in a hole on the other side of town or something.
Until I find it, I'm going to show you a song that made me laugh.
Or, at least, makes me laugh right now.



Yes.
This is bloody adorable to me right now. xD
I dunno. Thinking about just how idiotically bad my heartache used to be is distracting me from the actual subject I want to talk about, so I find this beautiful at the moment.

I often end up getting strangely interested in these kinds of songs even when I'm in a perfectly fine mood, but I remember being predictably entranced by this sort of nonsense at the time.

I also recall you making a comment to how I should "stop being emo" once, shortly after we started talking again. Something about trying to provoke me on to talk to you two.

... yeah.
You don't always have the greatest of tact. xD
Granted, in hindsight that's a perfectly legitimate comment, but considering I was still fairly sore when we started talking again at first - the only reason I had made contact was that I was afraid I'd get too comfortable with hiding from you to ever be able to talk to you again - it wasn't the best of things to say.

Anywho, this is one of those songs I ended up bumping into at the time, and listening to it now, it, for some reason or another, amuses me. I had to bite my tongue to keep from waking up the house.

Yes, I found it that funny.
Yes, my sense of humor is that demented.

So... this is me.
Sharing an old "emo" song.
Because it's funny now.
And stuff?

There are two reasons this probably really amuses me at the moment:
I have toyed with the idea of burning your stuff

At a certain point, setting fire to the hard copies of the artwork you had was very, very tempting. Because I'm irrational, I decided to actually buy a fireproof storage box, put all of the physical copies of your artwork that I had, and lock them in there.

The beauty of it?
I lost the key that unlocks that fireproof box.
Yeah.
Like I said, I'm depressingly bad at finding my shit.
I'm surprised I only lose things as much as I do.

The second amusing bit is probably the use of the word 'bittersweet.' You've stopped using it as religiously as you did, but I recall a point in time where you simply loved to abuse that word. So much so, that after a while I started to wonder if you were aware of the meaning of the word 'bittersweet.' I like abusing words too, so I never really brought it up, but... good god, it was one of your favorite words for a while.


... God damn it, where is that fucking phone. >>;

Hide and seek is so not my game.

Well.
This is annoying.

I made damn sure that I had both my personal and professional phone with me when I headed back, and yet I can't bloody damn find them. I called the hotel, but they haven't been found - not that they should, considering, again, I made special care that I didn't leave anything this time, because I tend to do that.

I had to make a business call via Skype, which is hardly the most professional way to do it, particularly with the fact that my internet connection isn't all that stable at the moment. Luckily, I wasn't kicked off that time, but having to use Skype to contact Mathews about anything that I might need to be aware of will get really, really irritating.

So... Geh.
I'm not ignoring anyone.
I just can't farking hear you.


P.S.
While writing this, I stabbed myself in the face. The fact that I could call my own phones to make them make sound eluded my brain. Good god I need to sleep more.

I found my professional phone, but my personal one is no good. It got stuck on silent several months ago, and I could never get it to get out of silent mode. >>; Lovely. I guess I can try harassing it and hope I magically catch it dancing around as it vibrates.

-glances at his warning post just because he happens to be in here.-
-notices that decade and decayed are now the same word.-
... yeah.
screw it. too lazy to fix it.

The fact that I don't feel like deleting that all together bothers me a bit, but I think I'm just being cautious. After all, nothing has provoked me to the point where I have to look at it yet.
Then again, my actions as of late aren't encouraging either way.

This isn't a part of those actions, but I shall share because I'm stupid.

Self mutilation is such a bizarre form of entertainment, eh?
I'm not entirely sure what provoked a sudden fit of rage today, but I got... pissed.
Not just a little pissed.
Try-to-punch-down-a-mountain pissed.
I don't really care for the childish act of punching holes into the walls. Even if I don't actually punch a hole in the wall, if I end up denting it, it's still a bother. If nothing else, I can't be bothered to clean the blood off the wall if I scrape my knuckles open.

Today I decided to punch a sharp surfaced boulder the size of a three story building until the front skin of every one of my fingers had been scraped into non-existence. This is particularly childish considering the fact that punching in such a way where anything but your knuckle hit the surface is entirely idiotic and counter-productive.

Yes, I'm more annoyed by me not following proper fist-making and punching procedures than I am by my random act of self-violence. Weird things bug me. Shaddup.

It's actually... interesting, watching my figures heal. They've stopped bleeding - I wouldn't be typing otherwise, because trying to get blood out from under keyboard keys is far too tedious and time-consuming of a task for me to want to partake in. However, I can still see some of the flesh under the dried blood, which is great fun.

... Holy crap, typing right now makes my fingers itchy as hell. Not to mention that they're a bit stiff, so expect more stupid typos.

"Why do I have so many scars on my fingers?" Daniel likes to ask himself when he's staring at his too-lazy-to-type-out-reports-when-he-should-be fingers.
-snort-
I'm rough with my hands to begin with, but this is just plain childish.

What shall I be doing tomorrow?
Why, I shall be happily dipping my scraped raw fingers into bleach and other acid-related cleaning substances.
I shall also be working with heavy wood, hammers, nails, saws, and other things that require my hands to partake in hard labor as I help build a cozy, simple cabin. [ I despise anything plumbing related now, by the way. I hope toilets go to heaven when the "Rapture" comes, so I don't have to deal with them ever again. Force people to shit in a bucket, and let's call it a day. ]

Hm.
I'm probably going to have to wear gloves when I'm at the cabin sight to hide my hands. I'll have to see if my leather gloves need to be softened again. Probably, considering I'm not very considerate of their condition for the most part.

My cleaning partner is inattentive to their own job as it is, so as long as I can hide them for the first four or five minutes, I'm fairly sure they won't notice a thing.


Johnny-boy and I seem to be "buddies" again. By that, I mean that I decided to pick up a game he introduced me to a long time ago again to kill time - and apparently annoy myself with, it seems - and he seems to have noticed. Since he seems to still play it, and he noticed me playing it, he now wants to hang out again. Yes, this is how most guy relationships work. If we can do a single activity together for an hour or two once or twice every other month, we're considered friends. I quite like it, really. There really isn't any awkwardness or grudges in a relationship that lives and dies based purely on whether or not people still do a certain activity.

Hm.
Destroyed fingers.
Will be doing manual labor Saturday that is normally designed to relieve stress, but will now be a fun game of seeing how much I can punish myself for being retarded.
John and I are apparently buds again. As long as he doesn't try to take me to the mall to stare at women who would rather pour sulfuric acid into their eyes than be in the same building, I think I can deal with that.

Yeah.
I hope everyone is doing well, though from the small snippet involving no information that I got from Teresa, it doesn't seem so.

No, I probably won't be explaining anything else. You know the drill.

Without Wax,
Sir Prick

A note to myself. Just in case.

This is the place I'm likely to look at again if I'm truly considering all of this.
We lose papers too often for me to risk pinning this to a board or such.
So, to you from you from a few days ago when we were still trying to be reasonable:

Stop thinking needless things.
Any doors that you could have walked in or out of have decade into non-existence a long time ago.
The place in time where you could have been a coward vanished well over six years ago.
Stop being an idiot and considering things that are out of the question.

We'll figure out why you're contemplating being a bastard beyond bastards later on, and get this all sorted out.

Also:
3rd Green, 28th page.
Seriously. We scribbled in those things for a reason.
You know, besides being bored.
Shut up, you.
Though, if you're thinking as you should be, then... heh. We've probably already talked ourselves back.
Sweetness.
If not...

Shit.

eghiinorst.

abceeeeeffghhiiiiiiiiklmmmmmnnnnnnoooooprrrrssttttuuwyy..
aaaaacceeeeeeeeffgghhhhiiiiiiiiklllnnnnnnoprsssttttttvw..

I'm probably the only person I'm aware of who can't stomach breaks.
I have Spring Break at the moment, and it correlates with the fact that for the next three weeks, my project has absolutely no need of me.

Gah. Not in the best of minds because of it, but I'm not doing that annoying rant again. Screw that.

On to the other thing:
I just got my phone back today. >>;
I couldn't find the bloody thing for ages. Apparently, I left it at a conference meeting up at Charleston, and I just got it via the mail.
I want to stab myself.

Either way... yeah, I've been paying attention to my e-mail.
For the sake of not knowing what's going to come out of my fingertips, I won't really comment on it. It's a nice development, but I still don't trust myself.

I'll be watching, so if anything comes up, keep me posted.

Sleep is a side-effect of being tired.

I should probably sleep. It's not that I'm tired, but I feel like I could sleep. Since I generally have to coerce myself into crawling into bed, this is something I'd generally take advantage of.

Yet everything inside of me is telling me to not sleep. I'm still trying to figure out why.

The Butterfly Project is becoming a source of frustration. It's at it's longest stage in the entire game: the transferring of hands. I had intended to do this at least a year ago, actually, but I simply couldn't bring myself to do it. I needed it. As bizarre as it is to say, I needed the clutch of being able to lose oneself into the nuances of a project that always needs just that one more thing, one more adjustment, or one more inspection.

Now, it's time to finally get the batons ready. Systems were already in to play to allow for a change of hands. Once things were finally complete, it was to be handed down into someone who could use the damn thing. We're doing nothing more than making a tool. An tool made of interlacing connections and abstract resources, but a tool all the same. I don't want to use it. I do not have the intelligence to use anything there to it's potential, and I won't waste all of this effort by using only a fragment. If it had been for my personal use, it would have been finished in less than two years, not only now beginning to be made for ease-of-use.

There, however, lies the problems: "ease-of-use." Shit. So much was placed into the project, that finding out what's all available to them would take a few months. No one had bothered to stream-line anything, and those who had mentioned making things easier were ignored because they couldn't figure out how. Now things need to be simplified, and it's just... a mess. The most efficient way to do it is to go back and reconstruct the networks we have from one point to another, but while it's efficient, it's not realistic.

Of course, there's the fact that I have made a point not to get involved personally on this huge step. I simply don't have the nerve. I can simplify explanations and words - though I tend not to simplify myself too often - but to simplify a network of human beings and resource materials? No, thanks. I can give instructions on what needs to be done to maintain things as they tell me what they want to do. That really is all Zack, I, or the few others that were part of the "core" construction, really can bother doing.

Micheal would hate me for this monstrosity. I'm sure of it. "Everyone, become the best at something, then focus your attention at one subject, and we'll FORCE the world to notice!" ... yeah. It was such a nice, simple plan. Instead, I've built the means to MAKE those who can make this goal a reality, without ever finding those who could do it on their own.

It may just be a pipe-dream after all. However, I'm not sure if the dream itself matters anymore. One way or the other, when this is done to the point where it can be called done, I'll be able to step back and say my last farewell. I'm sure of it.

I'm hoping for it.

As to why I'm not sleeping, I still don't know. I just wanted to ramble. One rational reason is that I don't think I can drag my ass out of bed to go to school today if I went to sleep. It just has nothing of interest for me right now. It's just a means to an end, and to be quite frank, no one has been saying anything worth listening to. Nothing worth attending class for. I've met a crippled version of John, just more obnoxious and much easier to ignore, I'm talking to a vague acquaintance from high school - Amanda - again, and I met Jamie again, who I talked to once and never saw a reason to talk to again.

I still have that box that I need to ship to Mariah to have given to Teresa. It's all packed up and ready to go, hiding under my bead. There's something in there I need to give her, but at the same time, I'm kind of afraid of it. I don't know why, it's just... unnerving. Only one of those really needs to get to her, despite it being the most useless, and I can send it it an envelope. Everything else seems somehow... superficial and dry. Almost nothing was even bought - I felt like sending something that had no personal value was pointless - yet it still feels irrelevant.

Hell, do I even have Mariah's address anymore? I don't think I've looked for it yet. Heh. Might want to do that sometime this evening.

Mumbling to myself.
I hope both of you are well.