It's Simply a Difference of Opinion...

Is it okay to be repulsed by human nature?

Just think it over. Every single human has a opinion on everything, educated or not, and they're going to try to convince you that their opinion is correct.

Even if you tell them repeatedly that you really don't care.

I don't care about global warming. If it's a "natural cycle" in the atmosphere, then I'll deal with it. If it's caused by humans, I'll deal with it. Either way, I'm none of your business. So back off.

I don't care about politics. Socialists, communists, capitalists, anarchists--they're all liars. They all have the EXACT SAME MOTIVE. They all want to convince you that their system of political beliefs is right, and everyone else is wrong. They're so consumed with the idea that they'll gather a band of followers and take over that they don't even bother to provide the opposing side of the story. They never admit that they are wrong.

Notice that I'm speaking in absolutes. If anyone out there disagrees with me and thinks that they don't fit this stereotype, by all means say so. I won't argue. I'm done arguing.

Why is it necessary for people to have to "choose sides"? Why? Will I become just like every other adult one day, with a strong opinion that I shove down my opponents' throats? I would love to say that I've held onto my childhood innocence and kept myself away from the world of arguments and politics for as long as possible, but apparently I'm falling in.

Soon enough I will fall victim to a lifestyle that I don't want to live.

I don't like conflict. In fact, I hate conflict. I hate conflict so much that when I start to feel the very first tingling emotions of disagreement, I usually leave the room. I find a way to tune out the argument, simply because it's stupid. It's stupid, stupid, stupid, and wrong.

Humans were not put here to argue amongst themselves and kill each other. I don't care what religion you follow--even atheists must accept that humans beings ended up here somehow. Even if it was simply science that landed us all here together, WE'RE STUCK TOGETHER. And if we don't start realizing that life is short and disagreeing over trivial things is a waste of time, we're all going to die angry.

That's right. Angry. If we don't start loving one another despite everything we hate about each other, we're all going to die angry. And then there will be nothing left of this world but the rubble of war and the stinging emotion of unnecessary hatred.

Call me a dreamer; I don't care. Call me anything you damn well please because I don't care. I have found reality, and I don't like it. I thought that growing up would be exciting, interesting, maybe even fun. It's not. It's a pain.

I have found reality, but I'm not willing to accept it.
-Abigail is [disappointed, and] OUT.

Update

The latest updates on my "authoring," my father's return from Japan, and other random shtuff:

The book is now only 400 pages. I put the font back at 12 and went typing-crazy to get myself back to 400... and in the meantime, I rewrote the entire beginning and added vital information throughout the first 50 pages & ending. So technically it's longer, though the page number went down. And I'm finding myself more and more excited about it as time goes on. :D

Today we went to Kinko's and asked for two copies on 3-hole paper. They said they'll be done by tomorrow. I do feel terrible about all the trees that will die for this cause, but not bad enough to stop myself from printing it. If anyone is seriously that concerned about me wasting paper, I'll plant a tree. Or maybe they can. I truly don't care. :)

My father came home from Japan on the 13th, bringing plenty of pictures and souvenirs to keep me busy for awhile. He and my uncle are home and safe. :)

DI has become the most stressful part of my life. Regionals is exactly 2 weeks away, and we're barely beginning to practice. But we always pull through somehow--this time will be no different. I trust those kiddles with this. :)

Oh, and in school... My parenting [ugh] class does those electronic babies, and my weekend is March 16th-18th. Let's just say I'm less than excited. But it will be a learning experience, if nothing else, even if I get less than 10 hours of sleep the entire weekend. Naming my block of plastic and wires will be fun though. :P

Until next time-
Abbs OUT.

Gasp! :O

THE BOOK IS DONE.

Yes, that's right. I finally finished writing the book. 453 pages, a little over two years, an entire bulletin board of notes, and a heartbreaking ending that left me breathless and near tears.

I'm enjoying myself thoroughly.

I actually finished on Tuesday of this week (February 6, 2007--a day to be remembered for Abby Morgan). We didn't have school Monday or Tuesday, so I barricaded myself in my "office" and worked my way toward a severe case of carpal tunnel syndrome. Monday I was lenient, but Tuesday I cracked down... Six hours of no eating, moving, or leaving that chair. I emerged from my trance in the evening with tired eyes and a burned-out mind, but satisfied. More than satisfied.

Like I said, the ending was intense. I almost cried (and that's something big for me... I don't get worked up over books/movies that easily). I guess I've grown so attached to my characters that to see them... Well, I can't tell you. Sorry. Authors (published or not--right now I'm undecided about where I'm going to take this thing) never reveal the endings of their books.

Note the plural on that last word. Yes--there will be more than one. The novel I just finished is Book Two in a trilogy... I've yet to do books one & three. One has been started; three's just a dream. But someday, I promise you, they'll be reality.

Isn't that my purpose in life? To find reality? Take a good look at the title of this blog: Still Finding Reality. It's here, and it's real, but I'm still working on tweaking the finer points. My future is so very undecided...

So that's my "big news." Book's finished. Oh, and my father got 8th place in the ice carving competition this past week in Japan. Some day I'll pick up a chainsaw and learn (if I manage to improve my visual-spatial relations and relinquish myself from clumsiness).

Until next time--
-Abigail <3

I daresay, I'm offended.

I was recently informed that I think too much. It was said that I am too deep, that I apply too many parallels to utterly useless information and try to make something out of nothing too many times in one day. It was also added that when I did overthink things, I made them sound like "MAJOR ISSUES" and that not everything in life deserved a blog entry simply because it struck a funny chord inside my head.

To this, I had three possible responses. The first was simple, nothing more than "okay" followed by a silence that clearly screamed "I truly don't care what other people think." The second was more complicated and involved a long-winded debate, defending my position in that thinking is a good thing and builds character, as well as creating the foundation for INTELLIGENCE. [!]

I went with the third. It was concise, to the point, easy to say, and made me feel very good inside when I was through...




"You're an idiot."




:] -Abby

The Essence of Evil, Hatred, and Pure Distaste

After much evaluation and consideration, I have come to the conclusion that it is unavoidable to be completely and utterly disgusted at the indecencies of human nature.

Evil, hatred, and distaste. The three categories in which I place human action and choice. Find me a person who dwells only in good, whose actions and choices speak only of benevolence and charity. I promise you, it is naught but philanthropy, "fake" goodness. And it disgusts me.

You cannot deny that even you are to blame. You cannot deny that at least once in your lifetime you have committed philanthropy, either for public acceptance, approval, or praise. I'm just as much at fault as anyone else--my evils, if materialized, would tower over me in a pile. I cannot and will not claim to be perfect, or even anywhere close. I am just as evil as anyone else.

Is evil chosen? No. It is nature, it is the beast within. Beneath your surface you have just as many natural, evolved instincts as the next human. Completely unavoidable (though not unable to be repressed... read on).

Is hatred chosen? Yes and no. Some hatred is created from your environment, absorbed through the words of others and what they feel deserves to be hated. Some hatred is forced into a society, forced to be kept alive even though it makes little sense. But as an adult, a human can make the choice to hate, the decision to loathe entirely whatever it is they feel strongly against. Hatred can be changed, but it would take time and lots of it to do so.

Is distaste chosen? Yes. As a temporary idea, distaste is selected and enforced, and can be changed more easily. Distaste is not something evolved (such a trait would fall under "hatred") and therefore could not possibly become part of one's being from the beginning. Do not confuse hatred with distaste, for the second a distaste becomes permanently embedded in one's brain it turns into hatred; I am sure that there lies a fine line somewhere drawn between the two, but why waste time arguing over finer points when the big picture is more important?

So distaste can be changed as often as wished, much like the weather, and hatred is a deeper feeling (yet still has to be acquired, not simply there) that can be changed with time. Evil, however, cannot be removed, altered, or "gotten rid of" by simply wanting it gone. Evil is permanent, unchanging, and vague; evil is not directed toward other people, places, things, or ideas. It is directed at everything, the entire world and all beyond it, with its intent solely being to keep oneself in prime condition. It is essentially selfishness, though to be selfish would imply that you had an understanding of what you were taking away from others and still proceeded. Evil does not care what others have, or what others want. It only cares its host, its human, has everything it could possibly want, despite the consequences.

By now, you probably think I'm the most negative person to walk this earth. I don't blame you for thinking such things, but you're wrong. Read on.

Evil, though it cannot go away or change, can be repressed, ignored. If the human host wishes for its evil to step aside, such an action CAN happen. The human can make the choice to override its evil, though difficult, and do something good. If indeed one such individual can overcome its internal evil, it will only make them that much stronger, that much more capable to overcome it again and again and again...

Distaste changes quickly. Hatred changes slowly. Both can be repressed easily. Evil cannot change, but with strength from what we humans call hope, it can be ignored.

Hope. Such an interesting idea. Hope does not appear to come from any exact source; instead, it shows up deep within the mind, a flicker of light in evil's darkness (to be metaphorical). It is the only reason I can sit here and write about evil and hatred and distaste and not feel completely lost. I know that the human race has hope; we have seen people overcome their evil, people being good. We have a chance to make the most of ourselves, and I do not intend to have this chance wasted.

I cannot, will not, and shall never force you to make the choice to repress your evil. If you wish to follow it for the rest of your life, so be it. But if you want to, if you think it sounds enticing, try. Try to hold back when you know what you're doing is wrong. I'm going to try, I really am... And I know I will fail more often than not, as would anyone else, but I refuse to give in. I refuse to let go of that hope.

Call me a dreamer, call me a wisher, call me a liar. I don't care. I have hope for our world, and I defy anyone who tries to drive it out of me.

-Abby

Post V: Five is the loneliest number...

GAH.

I FAILED.

I just KNEW I couldn't do five posts in five days. I'm such a slacker. Remember my resolution to "work diligently?" Yeah, about that... Kind of like a grenade to the forehead. BOOM.

So here's the last of the five, a few days late.

I chose to talk about the number five in my fifth post to be ironic. That title has really only two meanings (though I wish it had five, how cool would that be?) and I will do my best to do them both justice.

To begin, let me reference the fact that it seems to be my fate to always be the fifth wheel amongst my friends. How awkward can it get? Seriously. It seems like there are always two couples, all giggly and smoochy and blehhhhhh... and then there's me. The fifth wheel.

Cars aren't made to run on five wheels for a reason. Tables have four legs for a reason. There are four seasons, four quarters in a dollar, four Beatles, four oceans... Never five. Five is the loneliest number, simply because there isn't room for a fifth. Ever heard of 5/5 time in music? No. Or five slots on a toaster? No.

As so nicely stated in Monty Python and the Holy Grail, "Five is right out." And that's the truth.

Not only am I found to be the fifth amongst my friends, I have also found that on BOTH sides of my family I am the fifth oldest. I'm not talking about ALL the kids, like the cousins I never see, I'm talking about the group of kids that are always at the gatherings (so there are some I'm not counting). In the "core group" on my mother's side, I come after four second cousins; on my father's, after two second cousins and two first cousins.

Why does that even matter, you ask? Well, as I get older, I'm starting to notice a pattern.

The kid gets their license. They bring a girlfriend or boyfriend to a family party for the first time. They graduate, go off to college... Etc. It has always been funny to me, hearing the stay-off-the-road-so-and-so-has-their-license jokes and watching how awkward that first meeting is with the boyfriend/girlfriend. But now I'm terrified.

You see... I'm next.

On my mother's side, anyway. On my father's, I still have some time. I'm not in limelight just yet. But it is still as intimidating.

I know I'll eventually get a license, and graduation isn't far away. But as for the boyfriend thing, I'm stuck. They all have their significant others by their sides at the family gatherings, leaving me two options: either I hang around with them and feel like a loser for not having someone by my side as well, or I join up with the younger kids.

If I move up in rank, I feel stupid. If I move down in rank, I feel like everyone thinks I'm stupid.

I suppose that time will ease this situation, and eventually I'll follow in the footsteps of my older cousins and whoever is next in line will be scared. I know it's normal to feel like you're trapped between age groups when you're a teenager, I already know that. But it doesn't make the transition any easier.

So for now, I'm number five. And five is the loneliest number as far as I'm concerned.

-Abb5igail

Post IV: This is really messed.

I've been really thrown off for the past few days because of an experience.

It was in third hour, Chemistry. Boring beyond belief. If I had only known that we would spend all of our time doing example problems that look pretty much the same to me, I wouldn't have been so excited about the class. Stupid double replacement equations...

Anyway. We were drawing on each other's hands, as we always do (it's either that or writing notes back and forth with Lo). It may sound immature, but it's fun and when you're really THAT bored there's not much else to do.

So as my friends copied down some more notes, I doodled aimlessly on my left hand, drawing squiggly lines with curls at the end. Once again, sounds dumb. But here's when it happened.

I traced over one of the lines again and felt the ink etch itself into the first layer of skin. And then I had the weirdest instance of déjà vu that I've ever had the displeasure (or pleasure) of witnessing, followed closely by the feeling that I should look at the back door.

I get déjà vu, on average, six times a day. It's nothing new to me. Other people don't even know I'm seeing it because I only remark on the ones that are most extreme or severe.

So if this had been normal déjà vu, I wouldn't have said a word. Even if it had been what I used to consider "extreme," I probably still wouldn't have said anything because the room was so quiet and really, nobody cares about that-girl-in-the-back's déjà vu.

But it was the farthest from normal that I've ever seen. Two images flashed before my eyes, like still frames. Like memories. At first I thought it was a flashback of my own memories, until I realized that I'd never seen those images before in my entire life. Ever.

The first was of a path in the woods, trees on either side, and leaves all over the ground. I've been places where it was similar to this, but not exactly the same. The second was of a man turning to run, with a row of cabinets and a counter to the right of him. I've never seen the man before, nor the cabinets. They were orange.

The only reason I consider it déjà vu is because it felt like I'd seen them before, yet I know I haven't. And when I turned to look at the door again, I could feel the same emotions that had come round the first time. Tranquility, for the first one, and then anguish and an adrenaline rush for the second. They were very, very real emotions, and for a few minutes I was left feeling uneasy and almost fearful from the man's expression.

I was scared.

Something had happened to that man, something to make his face look so terrified and to make him run. At the time, I had stopped myself from wondering about it, because it's not right to look at someone else's memories. That's got to be the biggest infringement on privacy that I've ever heard.

I was also scared because that's really not normal. I thought I was going crazy, seeing what could potentially be somebody else's memories. There were people through the door that I could see; what if it was one of their minds I was probing into? They were all men, too. Weird.

I finally came to the conclusion that it was overactive imagination. I was tired, so my head was mixing up thoughts and creating pictures for me to think about. Still weird, but more normal that the mind-probing theory...

That doesn't explain the emotions, though. Or that I could only feel them while looking at the back door. I've been so confused. Now when I look back there, I don't feel a thing, like the whole experience never happened.

I don't know what it all means, but it certainly has me thrown for a loop. Maybe I'm just crazy.

Maybe.
-Abigail

2000 What? Post III: I hereby resolve

This one is relatively short... I'm in a time crunch. And anyway my New Year's resolutions are pretty basic, if you ask me.

First, I want to "live life to its fullest." Meaning I'll be more positive, laugh more often, have more fun. Etc.

Second, I'm going to be nicer to everyone (even Manzo). And if that means putting myself through hell to be the kindest, most caring person possible, so be it.

Third, I'm going to work dilligently. Not just on my story or my schoolwork, but also at relationships and all that jazz.

Hopefully I can keep these up... I'm trying, anyway.

Happy New Year & love to you all!
-Abbs

2000What? Post II: Holidays

Christmas and New Year's. Oh my. I have quite a bit to say about those, of course. They went well this year, and I'm happy, but of course I need to vent a bit.

For a long time, I strongly disliked holidays in general, even my own birthday. Now I'm back to liking them, but it still gets to the point where you're stressed to the breaking point and are nearing closer to a snap.

Don't get me wrong, I really do like seeing my family and my friends over break and for the Christmas celebrations. I love giving presents (and getting them isn't too bad either... just kidding). But after nearly ten get-togethers, I was ready to go crazy. Or maybe I already had. Either way, by December 31st, I was a beast.

A not-very-nice beast.

But I tried to maintain good social behavior. I wasn't mean to anyone, I just felt like I'd been beaten over the head several times with a large bat. If indeed this beating did occur, I would like to lay my bets on a impish little elf being the wielder of the bat, or maybe even Santa (Jesus didn't do it- he's the real reason for the season, and I'm glad; he didn't stress me out at all).

So that's my little rant about holiday tension. Yet I survived, and at the same time, had some fun.

New Year's Eve was pretty much AMAZING. My friends and I, along with some family, gathered at my friend's house and partied it up. Christmas Day and all those other gatherings were fun too- most memorable would have to be the Ouija board my cousins brought and we messed around with all evening. Or possibly the hour and a half conversation about ghosts we women held in my kitchen. Or maybe the séance we had in my friend's family room, late Friday night. Note the odd supernatural theme here; I daresay, I really am strange. But it was all in fun (not being anti-Christ or anything here). Good times, good times.

Hope everyone else had a splendid holiday, and if you also "contacted spirits" let me know so I don't feel like a complete and total freak. :P

2 posts down, 3 to go.
-Abbsigail

Two thousand what? Post I: Step into my office...

I offer my deepest, most sincere apologies that I haven't update in forever (well, almost a month, anyway). You see, I've been incredibly busy, more than probably anyone could understand.

Because of being so busy, I've had time to come up with excellent post ideas. More ideas than I can fit in one post. So to save my poor computer from a technological meltdown, I've broken them up into 5 separate posts, and for each of the next four days I'll write a new one. Easy, eh?

Now to the good stuff.

As already stated, I'm a busy girl. The source for all this activity? Well, actually, it's all because of a book. One book, that I'm absolutely positive no one has ever read, but someday might get to read.

You think I'm joking? I'm not. See, it's not just any book... It's my book.

I've been working solidly for exactly two years (anniversary of my start date is sometime this month). Right now, I'm at about 240 pages. It is not a biography, nor an autobiography. It is fiction, more likely to be considered fantasy by some. It's not about fairies and elves and all that happy magic stuff, but it is set in an imaginary world, on an imaginary continent, with some pretty strange names for its people.

Originally, I based the seven main characters, the core group, after myself and six of my closest friends. When it became clear that changes needed to be made, the core adapted quite a bit, and now only a few actually resemble my friends at all; I combined some of my friends into one character and created another out of thin air. It was quite fun, really. I have this ancient floppy disk full of people whose fate I can control, twist, destroy... It's like playing God.

Not that I'm power hungry, or that I consider myself equal to God-- I'm simply suggesting that it's fun to be in command of such characters.

Yet at the same time, they are in control of me. I can't force any of them to behave in a way untrue to their personalities, or make them do something for the wrong reasons. Despite the sorrow that could result, I have to do as the characters would do naturally. The brave must be brave. The wicked must be wicked. The martyrs must be martyrs (no matter how I am affected by the loss of such a character).

So it is a mutual ownership, I in control of when and where, my characters in control of how and why. They have affected me in a way I cannot properly convey through words. It is amazing to see how much I have learned from my own creations, what my own brainchild has taught me; it is my favorite part of this writing process.

It's so strange to have them interject into my real life, too. For instance, their first home in the novel is pretty much an exact replica of the basement in my friend's house. Whenever I'm in her basement now, it feels like they were there before, like I am standing in the very place my seven characters once stood. It's the oddest feeling.

Or even when I'm watching a movie, or reading another book. My own plot will somehow manage to intertwine with the other, and soon enough I've found a way to squeeze my characters into the story. I love it. Not just because it's totally weird, but because it's hilarious as well.

Speaking of hilarious... Did I mention that the computer I'm using for thsi particular project runs on Windows 95? Yes. Twelve years old. I'm shocked that it still runs at all. I have to use a floppy disk for saving since I don't have a CD writer or a USB port, and then I've got to type in size 14 font to even see what I'm writing because the moniter's all messed up. Not that that matters much, because the font sizes are differently proportioned as I go from 95 to XP... Like I said, it's quite comical.

Take yesterday for example. I refer to the incident now as "Battle of the Technology." I was typing on my computer and watching Pride & Prejudice with the portable DVD player on a card table next to my desk. The first attack was very swift, coming when I accidentally kicked the power strip and my computer shut down; my loss was only three pages of text, so I was thankful. Casualties of the next attack were far worse. After I had set up the computer again and settled back in to type another three pages of text, I proceeded to once again manage to somehow hit the switch on the power strip, costing me again those same three pages. Not only that, but as I flew back in frustration, the DVD played shot off the nudged table and crashed to the floor, where the movie instantly stopped (not because it collided with my floor, but because now it wasn't level... I find that funny somehow) and the DVD tried to escape from the player.

I should now mention that I was quite panicked, for the DVD was not mine (borrowed from a dear friend) and it would have been difficult to attempt to explain how I had cracked it after only one day of the loan.

So I wrestled it back to where it belonged and once again set up the computer to continue typing. After finishing a decent section of text, I quickly saved and tried to lean back in contentment. Bad idea. My hand caught on the keyboard and sent it careening off my desk, while in reaction I stood up and once again knocked the DVD player to the floor, where the movie did indeed fly out of the player and I found out the noise a card table makes when it hits a human shin.

Determined not to be the loser in this battle, I shut down my computer, picked up the keyboard, fixed the DVD player, checked for scratches in the DVD (I thank God that there were none) and then watched the movie from start to finish to make sure it worked right. It did, and I was pleased. Final battle won. No shots fired.

As you can clearly see, I've been busy. Quite busy. But I promise I'll have four more posts within the next four days to keep you busy out there.

-Abby :)

Hello, My Name is I HATE WALMART.

I apologize in advance if this post offends anyone [all you "Walmart is God" folk].

I severely, utterly, completely, without a doubt, to the highest degree, and with all of my heart, LOATHE Walmart.

I swear, it's like a breeding ground for stupid people. I'm not talking about "special" people (I'm not mean!), I'm talking about people who are not disabled in any way and yet can't figure out how to walk down a shopping aisle.

Honestly, how hard can it be to just SHOP?

They turn it into a claustrophic's personal hell. Compacted into five-foot-wide aisles with their ten kids (each) and a cart full of underpriced, worthless junk, I find it difficult to breathe. Or in most cases, I hold my breath because at least one person in that mess of people hasn't bathed in a week.

It's awful.

Some say that Walmart has "saved the struggling family." How? By providing you with what could possibly be the most stressful day you've had all year? By basically giving you your products and driving every other grocery store, clothing retailer, or drugstore out of business? They're not helping you, I promise. They're not helping anyone.

Sooner or later, their reign over the market will end. I'm hoping sooner rather than later.

Or else I'll be renaming my Monopoly game "The Walmart." Rawr.

~Abby

Who knew anthropology could actually have benefits?

When I signed up to take anthropology this year in school, I had no idea that it would be like this.

It's essentially a dropout class. Full of seniors who need the social studies credit to graduate. There might be three, maybe four people in that class that are actually interested in the subject of anthropology.

Including me.

It's the study of humans (cultural/evolutionary)... How much more interesting could it be? Seriously. I know people pretty well. I can read your face and I'll know what you're feeling, even quite possibly what you're thinking at that exact moment. I analyze people, their actions, their choices, and I commit it all to memory.

Take it as a warning- watch your facial expressions around me if you want to keep a secret.

But the class itself caught my eye because I've never really thought about why people think and act the way they do. Where our values and morals come from, where we get our religion, how our cultures developed, etc. Sure, I can understand your choices in the present moment, but it's a completely new accomplishment to be able to understand what ancient ethics led you to your conclusive decision. And I wanted to understand that.

For a taste of what we've learned (when we weren't painting masks or something incredibly juvenile like that), I invite you to look at my latest project. We were instructed to take at least 10 pictures or phrases from a magazine and construct a 2D model of what we would change about the human figure. As a challenge, we weren't allowed to use any of the ideas we read about in a packet in class (which were naturally all the good ideas).

So I got kind of ridiculous. I thought of ten things I hated about being human, and found ways to change them. For one, we get headaches too often. That had to go, followed shortly by the fact that our breath spends more time smelling bad than good.

After I was through, I thought about how this assignment related to the class overall (I know you're shaking your head and wondering why I bothered, but I had a lot of time on my hands and I wasn't feeling well and that combination tends to lead me toward thinking strangely for hours on end). The conclusion I came to was that if we had physically evolved better the first time around, I don't think our society would be at the intellectual level it is today.

Just think about it. If we had started out with better eyes, the eyeglasses would have never been invented. And wouldn't have had the need to learn about the eyes at all, because they would have worked fine. Or what about posture? If we were hunched forward, as found to be easier on our backs, we would have been greatly limited by height and any activity that required us to strain backward would be eliminated. And what about our throat? If our "tubes" were arranged in an anti-choking fashion, what we know of as talking would not be possible. Verbal communication would be virtually unavailable to us. Not to mention that if we had been built for hunting, I don't think weapons or any of that lot would have been created either...

Invention is the product of a need or want for easier living. Those needs and wants have to stem from problems, don't they? You can't fix what isn't broken. If we had begun perfect, our evolution would have remained stagnate and we would most definitely not be where we are today developmentally.

So it's one thing to say that our physical health would be better off if "this were like this" and "that were like that," but you can't ignore the detrimental effect that inital perfection would have had on our development of culture, religion, invention, science, language... All of it. We wouldn't be the advanced species we are today. The world would be so different; I can hardly even begin to imagine it.

I never thought I'd say it, but for once, I'm completely and utterly thankful that I'm not perfect. :]

~Abbs

To continue...

Adding on to my last post:

Stephenie Meyer, I salute you. Twilight and New Moon are the only books other than ToTC that I can say I've fallen in love with.

If I don't find my own Edward Cullen in real life, I don't know what I'll do. Bella is the luckiest girl in her fictional world...

*sigh* Why can't life be a fairy tale love story?

And why can't vampires be real? :[

Abigail Darnay?

Anyone who's read my profile on this site knows that one of my favorite books is Tale of Two Cities. If I could have highlighted it in bold, put it in italics, and underlined it in my profile, I would have, because it is my favorite of them all. Nothing can compare.

Anyone who is literate should read it in their lifetime. That is not a request, but an order. I love it.

Why do I like it so much?

Well...

I kind of fell in love with one of the main characters.

Literally, in love.

He was the kind of man that you'd never find in real life--courageous, caring, strong yet sensitive. As I read on, I found myself wishing I was his wife Lucie, or even his daughter Lucie, because he loved them with all his heart. I wanted him to love ME.

Pathetic? A bit.

It's not as pathetic as I originally thought, though. I've seen others fall in love with fictional characters. It's easy to become emotionally attached when you read their every thought, their every desire, their deep-down beliefs and dreams. When you know everything about someone and that everything is something you love, it's only natural to love them (even if they don't actually exist...).

So though my name on this blog is Abigail Morgan, it's only because Lucie beat me to Charles. Stupid whore stole my man...

:P Au revoir ♥

It's not just a city... It's MY city.

I finally made some plans for after college! :D

They are, however, not what you are probably thinking.

Here it is: A good friend of mine (we'll call him Bob) asked me to be his roommate in Detroit. We both love the city and its good side, and it wouldn't hurt, would it? So yesterday he sent me pictures of possible living spaces and I leafed through them to see what I was interested in.

I can't wait.

Detroit, despite its reputation, is a place I don't mind calling "home." Sure, I'm not really from Detroit... Eastpointe, actually, wayyy back... But I live in metro Detroit and it's all right to call it my home city.

Not just that, but Detroit's history is MY history. Being a descendent of the Cadillac line, the history we learn in school of the founding of Detroit and the creation of an urban "auto empire" is my history as well. I am Detroit.

And for those of you who think it's nothing more than slums, eat your words. Every city has its downside... You just hear about Detroit's more than others. I won't deny that there are parts of the city I wouldn't wander through, but you can't say that it's ALL horrible. That's stereotyping- something I have come to hate with a burning, fiery passion.

So that's today's "big deal." An apartment in Detroit with a friend or two and a chance to experience city life that I have never known. Thanks, "Bob"... lol :P

Abbsigail <3

Pseudonyms: Part II

I'm going to make a brief post while I have a few minutes, specifically to mention the fact that I finally chose a middle name for my pseudonym.

How exciting.

It's Christine, in case you can't read the sidebar (to your left... nope, other left... up a bit... yeah, there-- by the picture). Simply stating, the main character in Phantom of the Opera is named Christine. And I can't sing and I'm not strikingly pretty, but she kind of reminds me of myself.

So it's my new middle name.

Plus, it sounds good. And for those of you know me, it's very close to my real name, another reason why I can connect so well with the character in the first place.

So Abigail Christine Morgan finally got herself a middle name. Three cheers for an identity crisis.

<3abbs

The Perfect Season :D

After my dear friends' amazing performances at Saturday's Division meet, I would like to make a short comment on the perfect season our swim team has just completed.

Our titles include:
Undefeated 10-0
Romeo Relay Champs
Tower Relay Champs
County Champs
MAC White Dual Meet Champs
MAC White Division Champs

Yeah... Defeated by NO ONE. (happy sigh)

Oh, and I would also like to add that a certain swimmer came up with the ideal response to Tower's "2, 4, 6, 8- We got more than you can take!" cheer.

Her reply: "7, 8, 9, 10- We're hot."

:D With that being said, I'm out.

~Abbs<3