I'm wet. There's something wrong with that.

I have noticed that within the past several months, I've developed a drinking problem.

I saw your face when you read that, and I am laughing at you. I don't mean alcohol... I mean the actual act of raising a cup to your face and swallowing liquid.

This is becoming a real issue, so try not to laugh.

Sometimes I make it into my mouth, sometimes I don't. Most of the time I just spill my Gatorade down my face (or my swimsuit at practice) and feel really stupid because I totally just missed my mouth in front of a bunch of people. Humiliating, right? That's not even the worst part.

Every day in first hour, I eat a protein bar and drink from a water bottle. Correction: I attempt to drink from a water bottle. The very second I feel the seal break on the cap, it pours down the bottle edges, along the desk, and all over my pants. Yeah. Every single day.

I'm not sure what the issue is. I could blame it on the asthma steroids, they make me shaky... I could blame being tired, but still, tired people manage to get a water bottle to their face without spilling it... I suppose I really have no excuse. I'm just a klutz.

But even the klutziest (is that even a word???) people I know manage to quench their thirst without making a mess. It's really hindering me, making it difficult to get the fluids I need to get healthier (yes... I'm sick again lol). Don't laugh- I'm sure one day you'll completely miss your whole face in an attempt to take a drink and you won't find it so funny then.

Never mind. It's hilarious. Go ahead, laugh.

A final thought: Would coffee be a good idea?

Goodnight :)
~Abbs<3

Oh dear...

Today is October 18, 2006. Mark this day down in history, because I'm going to answer one of life's biggest questions... in this post. Be prepared.

What is love?

Ahh, such a tricky phrase. Only one who is young and innocent could truly answer this question.

Ha, innocent. Right. But I'll do my best anyway.

Love comes in many different forms, as I'm sure anyone with half a brain could tell you. But to make things logical, we'll say that there are 4 kinds of love:

First, there's blood-related family love. This is USUALLY the strongest kind of love that exists. Undying, unbending, and unbreakable, love for those with similar DNA has withstood the tests of time and never, ever dies. Just because you don't particularly like someone in your family for awhile does not mean that you don't love them. In the most extreme (and sad) cases, a blood relative could possibly distance themselves so much in morals or physical location that you lose your family ties over time. But that is rare.

Type II: Friend/family love. Some say there is a fine line between friends and family, but I disagree. There is a certain point in a friendly, non-intimate relationship where you virtually become family and the roles of brothers, sisters, or other relatives can be filled. These are not just come-and-go friends who take your clothes and never return them; these are the everlasting, 'til death, by your side forever, your "brother from another mother" friends. The kind that jump to your aid when someone's messing with you in school, or call you when they know you're down. In sad actuality, these kinds of relationships can also fade, but they are never forgotten and I'm positive that years down the road, if indeed a "brother" or "sister" is distant, they'd still love to hear from you.

A third kind would be love for abstract ideas, or emotions. Hard to describe, this kind of love falls in line with obsessions, habits, traditions, and thought. The rush from skydiving- borderline obsession, yet has that lingering love to it. That "butterflies in your stomach" feeling just before a swim meet or a DI competition- that's love for me. I love to feel that way and there's no better word to use to describe it. It is love. It is a desire to feel that particular way, and the need to feel it. The love to have emotion. The love to get a hug from a friend. Love to be on a stage. Love to ride on the water. Etcetera.

And finally, the kind of love that I know ran through your mind first when I put that BIG QUESTION on the top of this post. The fourth kind. The biggest, most dangerous yet most rewarding kind of love.

"True" love.

The giddy, high-on-life feeling one gets when they're around someone they care about deeply. Not puppy love- that's more Type II. Real love. Now, I'm not saying I've been in love... I'm just a kid. But you never know, eh? It could happen. But true love is deep. It is real, after all. There are more dimensions to love than there are to the universe (and trust me, I've looked into those too). I'm finding it difficult to put into words exactly what this kind of love is, so maybe some examples would be better.

The tingly feeling in your hand when it happens to brush theirs. That stupid grin you get when you meet their eyes and it's just so funny you can't stand it. The laughing. The smiling. The day-to-day knowledge that somebody cares and there's nothing you have to do for it. You don't have to change, you don't have to be someone else... You love them, despite their defects, and you know deep down that maybe, just maybe, they love you too. It's different than the other three kinds of love, because unlike the others, this one hits you by surprise and comes on strong. It's overwhelming and intoxicating, the perfect combination to make each and every day seem like a good one.

If you're wondering, I'm not "in love." I'm a kid, remember? But I was thinking about all of this, and the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. The more I think, the more I want to share it with the world (or my world, anyway... aka the readers of this blog). So if any of these ideas strike you as juvenile, that's just too bad. It's a collection of my thoughts, MY answer to the BIG QUESTION.

Love to you all-
Abby<3

Pseudonyms

As a writer, I have come to respect the value of pseudonyms for an author (and anyone else who wishes to remain anonymous).

But does everyone else understand?

In this post, I shall explain why I chose my pseudonym and what it stands for. I will also explain why I used a pseudonym in the first place.

As expected, my real name is not Abigail Morgan. Shocking, eh? Alas, I refuse to put my real name in this blog. For multiple reasons.

First, safety. Internet is now its own world, with its own liabilities. My name stays off of this.

Second, detachment. If I was to put my own name in here, it would be just like journaling, and I've grown sick of the normal "diary" scenario when writing. I wanted something new. Now when I type, I can become Abby Morgan. I am Abby. Not in a schizophrenic way... It's just like becoming your actual self instead of what everyone else sees.

Third, fun. I like being called Abby because it's different and just fun. It's like an adventure, changing your name and adopting a personality.

Now about the name itself:

A dear friend of mine and I were once just kidding around and we changed our names. I was Abby. Now it has stuck, and there's no way it will ever change. Inside, I feel like an Abby. Kinda like meeting a little kid named Theodore. It's hard to call a little boy Theodore, so in your head, he's Teddy. It sounds strange, but you probably do it too, subconciously.

And Morgan? In one of my favorite movies, "The Prince & Me" (yes, I know, chick flick), the main character is Paige Morgan. After watching her life unfold in the film so perfectly, I decided to take on her last name so maybe I'll be a princess too...

So there you have it. Abigail Morgan, aspiring scientist, author, and young thinker, creator of an online post that you apparently read. Now you understand. :D

~Abbs♥

ESTOY TOSIENDO!!! AHH!!!

I. HATE. COUGHING.

I thought I'd just put that out there for all to read. As I sit here, in this computer chair, I am hacking up a lung.

I do not want pity. I WANT AN ANSWER.

The question: Why am I sick?

I suppose a doctor will tell me it's because of bacteria or a virus or asfklgjsdh¿huh?lfgksdfgd etc.

A priest will tell me that God is trying to get me to slow down in life.

A teacher would hand me Purell and blame it on the janitors for not sanitizing the desks the day before.

A techy would launch into a speech about computer viruses and make lots of stupid puns and I'd walk away.

A Trekkie would blame something extraterrestrial and once again, I'd walk away.

The Rite Aid lady behind the counter will make a sad face, totally avoid my question, and recommend I buy another fifty bags of cough drops. "Try the expensive ones!"

A swim coach would blame it on the chlorine level and ask that I please not cough on my fellow swimmers (or drink from their Gatorade).

A D.I. coach would turn this one into an Instant Challenge and I'd get some really bizarre answers.

And finally, my favorite... My mom would tell me it's a virus, I need to slow down and rest more, Purell could help me avoid more viruses, it has nothing to do with computers or extraterrestrials, I don't need the really expensive Halls, the chlorine is not to blame but I shouldn't share Gatorade, and the answers I got at D.I. are way off. Then I'd get put to bed and I'd be able to sleep soundly, knowing that I finally understand why I'm sick.

I love you, Mom. I'm going to bed. :)

~Abby (*cough)

"What happened today?"

I'd just like to take a moment to announce that our high school swim team is still undefeated.

And today, we became county champions.

The closest competitor was 40 points below us.

It was AWESOME.

I wasn't swimming (didn't qualify this year) but it was possibly the most intense, nerve-racking meet I've ever attended. And we WON!

So after we went out to dinner, we all took nice naps and then had a bonfire/party. And every time we'd start lapsing into normal conversation that had little to do with our win, one of the parents or our coach would lean out the back door and yell, "What happened today, girls?"

And their question would be met with a fierce "WE WON COUNTIES!!!" followed by much dancing and rejoicing.

I love my Lady Falcons :D Long live our memories from this amazing season...

Abbs <3

Play with the Hand(s) You're Dealt

That title is meant to be taken literally and figuratively.

Figuratively, it's another "take life's challenges" quote.

Literally, it's my life story.

Unfortunately, I was cursed with incredibly short fingers. Abnormally short. I mean, I'm short height-wise too, but this is just another extreme.

But, unlike most short-fingered people, I play the piano.

It has taken me years to get to the range I'm at today. 9 keys comfortably, 10 at a stretch. It's kind of pitiful, but considering that I have dwarf hands, I find it funny.

About hands... they're really interesting. Often times I find myself watching my own hands play the piano when I'm going through a song I know well enough to not have to think about. It's amazing to see my own hands, my own fingers, thinking for themselves.

Each finger has a personality. The thumb is like the commander of them all, short and in charge. It is the strongest finger and the one I can always count on to land a particularly hard jump to a note.

The index finger is the big, oafish outcast who tends to fall on the wrong notes all too often and make things sound bad. I really don't like it.

The middle finger is second in command, the second-strongest. It usually dictates my direction and flow in a piece.

Ring finger is the third strongest, but kind of shaky. I have to actually warm this one up before I play, or else he's useless.

Pinky? The weak runt. It is completely useless if I am tired or caffeinated; it seems as if exhaustion and stimulation reside within him, making anything I attempt to play highly disturbing and odd. In the first book I ever learned from, there was a song called Crack the Whip that was meant to strengthen the little finger. Let's just say I battled that song for too long and eventually just moved on.

So that's my thought(s) of the day. Hands. They seem so extra (hence the word "extremities), so... not vital. But they're really just kinda cool. Like having ten little people living with you.

That was creepy. I'm stopping this madness before it gets out of hand.

Ha. Ha. Get it? Out of hand...

Somebody stop me.

Abby<3