Dear Blog, I feel like crying. I’m dizzy (so dizzy) and more worn out than I’ve been in years. I’m hesitant to bring it up because people tend to kind of freak out, but… my health is acting up.

I don’t think it’s going to be anything HUGE – they’ll probably just want to do a few tests and adjust my medication (which needs to be done anyway), but I am trying to get in to see my pediatric cardiologist a few months earlier than I was planning. (Only like a month and a half early, really.)

And I’m so dizzy and I can’t think to do anything*

[definition of "anything" = schoolwork. writing. basically anything productive or that requires brain power. mah brain is quite scrambled; i'm typing worse than normal.]

so I decided to take a nap. I mentioned the worn out bit, right?

WORST NAP EVER, BLOG!

There were two of them – TWO OF THEM! Plus her. And them. The them are people I DON’T EVEN KNOW but they were MEAN omg. And I stepped on the lawn that you weren’t supposed to step on and everyone looked at me funny and it was so awkward and OH.

MY.

GOSH.

I’m just glad it was a dream. That’s all I’m saying. Because I woke up and I wanted to cry, cry, cry it was so horrible. And then I sat up and remembered how dizzy I was and why I took a nap in the first place and I wanted to cry even more.

THIS DAY IS SUPER FUN, GUIS. /sarcasm

I feel like I need this blog again. I stopped writing (in here) for so long and there were quite a few reasons and I don’t want to talk about them, but…

sometimes I just need to write.

My rules for this (new) (old) blog are thusly:

1. As always, I will be honest.
2. I will write whenever I want and the entries will be as long as I want them to be. No pressure, yo.
3. Sometimes they will be funny, sometimes serious. Just like before.

Your rules are:

1. Be respectful in your comments.
2. If you know me in real life and you’re reading this… um, hi, this is awkward.

So yeah. Hi.

A new post will be coming atcha shortly.

Well I think I win the award for blog updating.

/sarcasm

Let’s ignore the fact that I’ve been gone for a month, mmkay? And instead just get caught up in What’s Going On:

1. The semester is over, I have no major.
2. I quit my job, need new one.
3. Hm. It seems there are only two big important things that have happened lately. Which is really fine by me because, um, sometimes big important does not equal big good important.

So when I was a wee little lass of thirteen I started this notebook in which I would put my PHILOSOPHICAL RAMBLINGS. (And as an aside, wow, I grossly overused the exclamation marks. It’s embarrassing really.)

But some of the things I thought and wrote were… worth thinking. And writing. Here are a few of them:

From age 13…

[about the book CON-FIDENCE by Todd Strasser] It was a great book because it was about how everyone is pretending and no one is what they seem.

..maybe if people don’t talk about you, they don’t know you exist, and then, maybe you don’t exist. [It's very "if a tree falls in the forest and nobody's around to hear it, does it make a sound?" isn't it?]

and aside, to my younger self, ENOUGH WITH THE EXCLAMATION POINTS ALREADY. I GET IT.

…he left the class with a frown on his face, so now I’m wondering how important being the best is and should be to me.

…sometimes out outside image can be good, but inside we feel kinda bad, like we’re not living up to our own expectations of ourselves. … Is our image just an image, or a reflection of what’s inside us? Does a good image make us a good person, or a bad image make us a bad person? 

You may notice I pose more questions here than I answer.

How do I know if I’m grown up?

From age 14…

How do we know how far to go when it comes to keeping a friend? If you have to put on a mask and become a different person, is that friend really worth having?

From age 15…

Why do we invest so much of ourselves into another person just to see it dissolve. Or explode. Or whatever. …even if it’s one-sided, why do we do that to ourselves? … we risk ourselves because somewhere in our heart we always believe that [someone] is waiting – somewhere, for us.

From age 18…

My theory of family is that what makes us family are the stories that connect us. Familial legends passed down and retold. The stories are woven between the members, tying them together as family no matter the distance – physical or otherwise – between them. Without the stories we are just strangers passing through.

I think big thoughts.

Whatever happens from here,

I am not going to pretend like I don’t care and I refuse to stop caring.

Someone please explain that House ending.

I don’t know what happened, or what didn’t happen.

I’m mucho confused on the whole House/Cuddy front.

Also?

Yes, I cried.

That ending was powerful.

Well.

It happened.

Oh dear, it happened.

The last of us is now a teenager.

Explain, please, how that happened.

1. Getting in a car accident.

2. Accidentally sending a text message to the exact person you don’t want it to go to.

*Note that this title works best if you say it in Chandler Bing’s voice.

• When I got home from school today a copy of Exclusively Chloe was waiting at home for me, fresh from the mailbox. And even though I knew the author was going to have a copy sent to me, it was still unexpected.
• Three days this week I’ve gone to Starbucks and done some serious writeology. ie. writing THE NOVEL.
• This Yes song that I’m listening to. (Long Distance Runaround, in case you were wondering.)
• My book blog.
• THE SEMESTER IS ALMOST OVER.

The girl in my dream is all bones and smiling and laughing and evil.

Somehow I know she is evil, though she’s laughing with me. I don’t know what we’re laughing at. I’m not sure what’s funny.

The boys in the corner are tall and lanky and she sees me looking at one of them and she snaps at me. Words that don’t make any sense, that I know are lies. Dream lies.

My dream self seems to know this girl and be irritated with this girl who lies and is evil. My dream self knows she is lying but the lies bother her just in case. Because they might not be lies. My dream self wants them to be lies though, and in dream world sometimes wanting something makes it so.

I don’t know if wanting it makes it so in this dream because we don’t get that far.

My dream self grabs her green purse (since when do I have a green purse?) and hits the lying girl with it (since when do I hit people?) and then runs out of the train car (what?) and runs down the dirt road. She runs into the boy, the one she was looking at, and she hits him with her purse too and he starts to say something and she doesn’t listen. My dream self keeps running and the boy disappears, turning invisible. (My dream self knows this because she has eyes in the back of her head.)

Dream self is angry and everything is the same.

———————————————————————

The city in my dream is made of dirt and is in Utah. (I don’t know why Utah – a state I’ve never even been to.) It’s ran by an evil masterminded dictator who wants us to be buried until further notice.

I don’t know how it works, but somehow the city is buried and abandoned for years and years and everyone is asleep but somehow my dream self isn’t and my dream self is trying to save everyone because we are all dying.

Well. Not dying. More like fading into nothing. And my dream self goes to the evil mastermind dictator and talks to him and yells at him. My dream self locks him in a tiny little dungeon and finds the panel with the buttons to wake up the city.

My dream self wakes up the city made of dirt and everyone gets up and looks around and the city is alone and nothing else exists beyond the city and my dream self is looking for somebody, somebody specific, and when she finds him somehow the dream changes and there is no dirt city there is just a spaceship.

———————————————————————

In my dream I get fired because I can’t cover my friend’s shift and my manager is a fat woman who hates me. She is so fat she can’t get out of her chair. And the store I work at is made of glass.

My dream self yells at the fat woman and runs to my house, which is both in California and Arizona, and the car belonging to my dream self is full of water and soaked and to dry it out my dad fills it with a layer of snow.

It seems counterintuitive to my dream self, but she says nothing because maybe it will work.

Then my dream self misses the book event.

Conclusion: I belong in a mental facility.