Facelift

In case you haven't noticed, things are looking a little different around here. I got sick of staring at the beautiful Russian mountains and instead decided to replace them with piano keys. Naturally, the color scheme had to change too, so we'll be using this for awhile.

It's not my favorite--doesn't really flow that well--but for now, it's good. :]

I was going to type a big, long, elaborate post about how my ability to write has returned just in time to be squashed by a 18-hours-of-work weekend...but I don't think I will now. I'm tired, darn it, and I still have to read some Crime and Punishment before I crash.

So goodnight. Hopefully I'll have time to write on here again soon.

Hopefully. :/

Yes, I Got to Pet a Penguin.

I'm still sick. Same thing as two weeks ago. Yes, that's right--a solid two weeks of incessant coughing while feeling, for the most part, perfectly fine.

Other than the coughing, of course.

It just baffles me.

I didn't have school this week [wonderful!] so I spent most of my time with my sisters and Things 1 and 2 from work. I think I'm going to start referring to the two of them as Chiquita and Querida...just for the record...because that's what I call them in person. The three of us speak Spanish at work together...

It was nice to get out of the house this week. I don't get to do that often. Kailey, Cassie, and Pinks actually spent the night at my house once--something we haven't done in years--and although we crashed long before we used to, it was still a good time.

Yesterday I saw RENT again, this time with Anthony Rapp, a Broadway original cast member. Adam Pascal was supposed to be there too [the Roger that I named my car after] but, of course, he wasn't. Something about a herniated disc... I guess I can forgive him for that.

The day before, I got to play with the penguins at the zoo. It was AMAZING. They're absolutely adorable. One of them, a really fat one named Pudge, was totally attached to me, and although he never let me really pet him [feisty little guy] he sat and "preened" me the entire time. Apparently, he felt a strong urge to "fix my feathers," aka my shirt sleeve, my arm, and my hand. It made him happy, though, so I won't complain. :]

A younger one, a female named Molly, hopped right up on my lap and stared at my face. It was actually kind of intense, like she was attempting to pull thoughts right out of my eyes. They're very intelligent animals, each with their own personality and quirky characteristics. They even had their token crazy penguin--named Mad Dog--who literally skipped his way among the others and didn't fit in with them at all. It was hilarious. :P

So at the moment, I'm content. I would love to never go back to school, but I don't think my mother will let that happen. Three more months...three more months...three more months...

Abby's out.

"Don't Tell Me if I'm Dying, 'Cause I Don't Want to Know..."

[Quote from song "Angels on the Moon." Look it up.]

I feel like I have been run over by a large semi, probably carrying Hidden Valley Ranch [because it's my least favorite substance on the planet--so naturally that would be the truck that nails me] and driven by a drunk. I can't stop coughing. It's making me crazy. It's making my family crazy.

And it hurts, damn it. My ribs feel like they're shattering. I can't move too quickly or laugh or sigh or yawn or stretch without feeling like I'm being shanked [yes, shanked].

Why is it always me that gets sick?

On a happier note, I had an amazing day today, other than the whole dying-a-very-slow-death thing. My school does Sonnetgrams for Valentine's Day, and I volunteered this year to be a reader/singer. This would be an excellent time to remind you that I cannot sing at all. So I've never really tried to sing in front of a group of people...much less my peers.

But I did today, and I had a ton of fun. I'm not so bad when I'm with four other people [they counteract my sour notes lol]. I was very proud of myself. Singing for DI is one thing--nobody cares there, we sing all the time and it's never good--but this was different. Even though I was hacking up my left lung, I belted it out, and I felt good.

Oh, and we had donuts in Calc...played literary pictionary in English...did MadLibs in CW...and that was it.

I love the day before holiday breaks. Now I have nine days to relax and get my life back in order.

Hallelujah.




[PS. Happy Friday the 13th, everyone :D ]

Fostering Love

My mom came home with a tragic story today, the kind that I just have to talk about on here. The kind that alters your perspective on life.

A kid in her class had to be taken away by Protective Services today, a little boy whose mother had left marks on his back. Big marks, the kind that could never be an accident. He and his two sisters were taken after school, off to who knows where...somewhere safe.

And I feel bad. Not because he's finally away from his mom--she doesn't deserve those kids--and not because it was Protective Services that took them--the people were really wonderful, my mom says--but because they're probably going to go through hell for the next few years.

They'll be put in foster care; who knows if those foster parents will treat them well? Who knows if they'll even be together? You hear about cases like this all the time, and it's never really bothered me so much.

But now it does. This little boy needs love and care and hope, not temporary homes. He needs someone who will tend to his particular emotional needs. I doubt he will get that.

So I've resolved. Remember how I talked about wanting to adopt kids later in life? Well, I still plan on that, but I think I also want to foster. I want to be able to give sets of siblings the kind of life they deserve. They're just kids--they shouldn't be screwed over just because their parents are terrible.

I want to help. I've never felt so strongly about something, never so passionate about wanting to get involved. I want to change this. I want to make a difference.

I have resolved, and once I'm resolved, I rarely change. Here I go...

ESP in Overdrive

I have accurately predicted every single event today, and I'm not just bragging. I'm getting good at this stuff.

It's not about magic. It's not even the extrasensory awareness that I've been so blessed [and/or cursed] to possess [e.g. emotions to colors...ring a bell?]. It's just knowing people inside and out...even though I hardly know them personally.

They're all so easy to understand. If I do this, they'll do that. If I push this button, they'll react that way. I can manipulate them all.

And I hate myself for it. I know what I'm doing. I know exactly how to tell a lie, how to express a completely and totally false emotion in place of what I'm really feeling. I'm good at it. But the guilt that accompanies such manipulation of minds is astounding, and painful.

Yes, painful. It hurts me to see how easily people will believe me when I'm in one of my manipulative moods. Just like you feel bad for a defenseless puppy, I pity those upon whom I unleash my strength.

I shouldn't like this so much. I shouldn't really and truly enjoy making predictions and testing them on unknowing/unwilling victims.

But I do. Immensely.

So my apologies, world. I don't mean to push your buttons and make you do what I wish. It's just so much fun...