Nailed it.

Friends. Romans. Countrymen. I have just won at life. A small aspect of life, and in my life specifically, but nevertheless, I have won it. So it's Friend's birthday tomorrow. Friend, whom I see almost every single day. We were talking about what she wanted yesterday in her dorm, and she told me that she had a random list of things she wants on her computer. (I have to reign in my resentment that she owns a mac because she's my friend. Supposedly.) I scoffed, thinking "How presumptuous, having a list of things you want people to buy you!" Now? People with lists of shit they want who are willing to share it with people who have to buy them shit are my favorite kind of people. It's way better than buying things for people that they might not want. This method takes out a little bit of the surprise factor, but there is a one hundred percent success rate of the victim liking what you got them. Anyway, so I scrolled through all the video games and stuff that there was no way I would ever be able to afford, until lo and behold! Friend wants leather-bound copies of Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass!
My brain immediately rejoices. More mead, for tonight we feast! it says. My mind is a strange place... But I digress. I had bought a book a year ago because I thought it was pretty and would make me look like the kind of person I wanted people to think I was if I owned it. I've never evened cracked the spine, or flipped the gold-edged pages. Its title? Something like The Completed Works of Lewis Carroll. Score!
That's the good news. The bad news? I live with my grandmother because she's closer to College than my house is. This book? Back at home, gathering dust on the bookshelf. Immediately upon exiting Friend's general vicinity, I whip out my cellular device. My dad works right near campus, so how awesome would it be if he could bring The Book to me? Kickass, that's how awesome. I call him up. He's in. Kickass. 
All that was last night. So true to form, Dad dropped The Book off about an hour ago. But I couldn't 't just give this random book to Friend and be like 'Happy birthday...' and awkwardly shuffle off. No. Absolutely not my style at all. So, I ask Grandmother if I can use some wrapping paper. She's like 'Sure!' except with a lot more words 'cause she can never just answer the question without launching into a speech about something else that may or may not be related. So I wrapped this book like a boss with the limited Christmas-themed items that were available to me in my grandma's stash and an onigiri sticker that I found in my desk.

Next order of business was a card. I look in my desk again, and I find only thank you cards. What the hell, she can deal. The finished product? "Thank you..." printed on the outside, "For being awesome!" written on the inside. Nailed it.  So, overall? I just spent zero dollars on a birthday present I found out about two days before the 'due date'.

Hello all you people who read this in my dream world! This is gonna be a quickie, 'cause I have a mid term in approximately 23 hours that I really need to actually study for. So I just finally buckled down and opened a lozenge from hell aka a cough drop, cause my germ finally decided that coughing sounded like a good substitution in for the body aches that stopped sometime yesterday. But on the halls wrappers, the logos and stuff are printed in this gross mustard yellow. Not the bright yellow mustard, the brown mustard that only that one obscure uncle in your family actually likes but a jar of which every family owns. It pretty much just exists to lurk in your fridge. Anyway, the point is the regular print is gross yellow, but there are these random chunks of like 4 words in dark blue. I wasn't going to read them. I was going to stick it to the man and resist their capitalist propaganda. But I was not strong of will, and I caved.
"Seize the day", it told me. "Nothing you can't do" "Buckle down and push forth!" "Be unstoppable" "Do- Waste a min-" (That last one got cut off, but I'm an equal opportunity employer so hey). Yeah. Even my death candy is telling me to get off my lazy ass. Well you know what'll inevitably happen as soon as I actually attempt to make a go at life? Something akin to what happened to this guy.

Thanks a lot, wrapper, for wanting me to crash and burn.

Edit: What is it with me and forgetting titles?! Is there an app for that?

So I've been sick, since like 4pm on monday. It's now ...haha, 4 on wednesday, how ironical. I came home directly after class, a rare thing for me because I like to keep the grandmotherly contact to a minimum. Not because I loathe her or anything, simply so I can appreciate her finer points without becoming overly... ah... annoyed? Enraged? with her presence. So anyway, I came home today and she says "There's a surprise waiting for you in your room!" She's glowing. My immediate reaction? 'Aw, daaaayyynng it. She cleaned it, didn't she?'
 Lo and behold! My room had been cleaned. I hate it when she does that! Despise it! Now all my piles are NOT in any sort of chronological order at all. They actually don't exist anymore, now isn't that going to be problematic. I don't have a before picture, but here's the after:

Except that the bed wasn't made. She left that for me. Wow, thanks! Can you see the smug little sparkles that bounce off every newly-revealed surface? The new trashcan-turned-laundry hamper that just screams "There are strings attached, now you owe me"? Because they are glaringly obvious to my practiced eye.  ...Do you want to know what the biggest infraction is ? You know, besides the grossly obvious invasion of privacy and the very apparent nosy-ness? This.

Winston is ON. the FLOOR. Next to the TRASH, to add insult to injury! HOW DARE SHE! I CANNOT BELIEVE aw fuck it, I'm done.

Yes. If it had met my grandmother, it most assuredly would.

Edit: I just realized the time down there? at the bottom of this post? says I wrote this at like 1 or something. At first I lol'd, like 'my computer is so fucked up!' and then i realized that you all ( I say that like there's people reading this) would think I'm a huge liar. I'm not, pinky promise.

Edit: Oh, fuck, I forgot a title.

So. I'm sick. It's terrible. It snuck up on me yesterday, when I was all unsuspecting and feeling awesome 'cause the professor who's class I was avoiding in my first post cancelled class. (Why does spell check think I spelled 'snuck' wrong? That is a word, isn't it? MY LIFE IS A LIE) So I was sitting in my friend's dorm, reading Black Butler online, having a splendid time. Grell makes my life, just sayin'. Before she left for class, Friend said "Why are you wearing your sweatshirt? You look like you're leaving." Or something like that. I said I was cold, that I get that way when I don't move at all because I'm too busy staring at Sebastian's face. And when I'm laying on the floor. Little did I know that this coldness was an omen. A terrible sign of the plague that was just making itself comfortable in my body after inviting its rude self in.
Friend left for class. I continued reading. Looking back, I realized that it would have been better to start making fortifications. Or talking to miss Fish-Moor, my high school A.P. Bio teacher. I'm sure she could've intimidated the germs right out of me. I decided that I was tired, and grabbed up a blanket to sleep. But everything touching my neck made me want to puke- even my lovely necklace that has my name on a grain of rice. I must have been delirious by then, because I thought that was normal.
I eventually figured out that it was, in fact, not normal at all, so I left Friend's dorm. The front desk people stopped talking when I left the building with my hood up and my hands shoved into my pockets, but that may have just been them trying to contain their laughter until I passed rather than in concern for my well-being. "Haha, look at that fluffy white chick trying to be a gangster..." No. I'm dying. Stfu.
The plague had set in by the time I'd returned to my grandmother's house which is my current place of residence. She hovers like a boss when I'm sick, which is actually pretty annoying. "I'll check back in an hour..." No. I'm dying. Gtfo.
Also, I had a draft for an English paper due at 5 pm today. I'd talked to my professor earlier that day because I can't make my idea have a thesis, and he gave me some pretty alright ideas, but by the time I got home implementing them was beyond me. So I submitted the shitty thing I'd already had written before I'd talked to him, and then added an addendum to the bottom that basically said 'All that was a lie. Here's what I'm really going to do.' The worst part? A group of people in my class has to read that shit. And that's the impression they're going to have of me. Awesome.
There's not even any outside media in this post. I could attach my draft... but I won't subject you to that. Just all my woes and thoughts of death, is all. And this.

Deplorable.

All right. I know that I have already posted twice today, and posting a third time is like calling the girl five minutes after you dropped her off at her front door after the first date to set up the next one and saying 'i love you' before you hang up, but I have seen something. A something that is in no way shape or form deep or epic or applicable to anything, which further tarnishes my reputation as a blog-person. Or something. But look, and you'll understand.

Do you see that blemish on that banana I so unwittingly bought at the store the other day? (Ignore the homework in the background that I swear I'm going to do someday.) That's right, kids, it's one of those take-a-picture-of-me-with-your-newfangled-iPhone-and-I'll-send-you-to-a-cool-website stickers! ON A FREAKING BANANA! Your nanners are no longer safe. I happen to own a trac phone, the kind you buy individual minutes for, and I'm claiming phone-ism. A banana with an iPhone-sticker-link-thing on it is appealing to the thin upper crust of phone technology. Stupid-phone owners eat, too! I want adorable stickers on my bananas that I can stick on my calculator, not THIS rubbish! (If I see an iPhone-thing on a package of ramen, I'm boycotting food.) And what link to technology can a banana possibly warrant? Well, there was the address of the website on the sticker too, so I went there. Yonanas.com. Apparently there's a machine that turns frozen fruit into something that resembles ice cream. Woo, a glorified blender! JUST what I need. A bit of advice from the webpage? Something like "Don't freeze the bananas with the peel on. Peel them, then freeze." Just throwing that out there for your contemplation.

Edit: I clicked this tab up, and looked at this banana, and thought that maybe I should take a picture of ALL the iPod link-thingies I see because they piss me off so much, and they seem to breed on campus. Then I imagined me walking around and whipping out my camera  to take a picture of one, and someone telling me 'You're supposed to use an iPhone for that'. You don't say... but I'm not going to take those pictures now, on any account. Not even to the ones that only give you the stupid little ink blot and nothing else. Not even a web address. I won't even take pictures of those ones.

Edit squared: Did you know you can get necklaces with those things on them? A hunk of metal around your neck that random strangers can come up to you and be like "Oh, can I iPhone-picture that ink blot on your necklace?" And you'll say "Sure random stranger, that's what it's there for!", and they'll get an awesome shot of your cleavage and run away.  Seems like poor planning.

Eureka, a discovery!

So I just made this blog, as none of you know because no one knows about it.But lets say that someone was reading this. They would know that i just made this blog. So I was thinking about blogging, and a thought slowly rose to the top of my brain: Haven't I already made one of these? So through sheer ingenuity and the act of googling 'blog sites', I found my old blog. There were two posts, one that was a sentance long stating that I was, in fact, 'new to blogging', and another one about a dream I had.

... Dreams can be very realistic. From what I remember, I started off lying in a small, sterile bed in a nondescript room, with a searing pain in my hip. I knew that the man standing just out of my peripheral vision had hurt me, had stung my left hip with his scorpion tail. I knew that I had been poisoned, and that I didn't have much longer. I think I must have asked him, because then I knew that I had 18 minutes left to live. Not 20, not 15, exactly eighteen minutes. So I lay there, slightly hyperventilating, and then I looked over at my teacher. She had been sitting there, facing away from me at her desk from senior year English class all along, grading or doing something equally important. She turned around in her swivel chair, motherly and concerned, and I asked her self-consciously if she would tell my family that I loved them. When she said 'of course' in her sweet way, I asked if she would tell my parents that I loved them, tell my  friends. I guess I was finished speaking then, because she looked at me, reassuring and sympathetic and mournful, and turned back around to her desk to continue her work. I turned my head back and lay there, thinking of what else I would have said to her had I thought of it while she was still turned around, and then the man with the scorpion tail came into my line of vision. He walked around to the left side of the bed from the right, passing my teacher's desk, and smirked at me; though I wouldn't call his expression cruel. So he smirked, said "Eighteen minutes left...", lay down on the bed next to me. I was surprised, shied away. What was he doing? I wanted to ask, but before I could finish my first word, his scorpion tail had snapped out again and pierced me for a second time in the hip. "Plea-" was all I got out before indescribable pain ran throughout my pelvis. I think my back arched, and then I was dead.
But I was also awake, eyes stretched wide in the darkened room. I was so utterly grateful that I had not died at the hands of the scorpion man, so completely filled with relief that I would have another chance at my last words, that I cried. ... You know what's funny? The day before, I'd fallen down the stairs in my rush to get to class on time... I have a huge bruise on my left hip.

So there's most of the post. I realized that I have always been melodramatic, and peculiar. After that initial thought, I wondered what made the infamous last words of a dying person so vitally important. Shouldn't their entire life speak for them rather than a few lungfulls of words spoken in the last seconds? Maybe we're all just kind souls and want to comfort the living once we're gone. Or maybe we've got a vendetta to settle, or something, and blurt it out when push comes to shove.  I dunno, and I suppose I won't find out until I'm about to die. And by then it'll be too late. Maybe my last words will be about last words! I shall be famous upon my death, for finally clearing this debate up once and for all! ...

The post I should delete but I can't because it's the first one

So, I was walking on campus the other day to a class I kind of dread, and I was taking my sweet old time getting there when I happened upon a bed of tulips. All of them were this deep purpley color, with white edges. I remember this because I stood there and examined them, so as to avoid extended contact with this class I was slowly making my way to. I'm sure the people walking by thought I had some sort of problem, staring at the flowers so intently that had been there the day before and the day before that, too. That's beside the point, which I assure you this story may or may not have one of. So I was staring at these flowers, and I saw that one single tulip was yellow. The bright, cheery kind, standing alone in this sea of dark purple. I waxed philosophical in my mind for a few moments about individualism and the struggles of those who are different. What a struggle it is, to walk to the beat of your own drum in this constrictive society! How brave, that little flower, for standing up for itself and showing its true colors! (dramatization). And then looked at the time and saw that I had a minute and something like 38 seconds to get to class. But that flower made such an impression on me that the next day, I brought my camera.

Not as exciting as you were imagining, right? That may be in part due to the fact that I can't take a decent picture to save my life. But it struck me, in that moment, as really monumental thoughts that needed to be shared with the world, lest they live their whole lives without discovering them! The rest of this blog will probably be like that; me talking about something that happened or something I saw or heard or read that seemed like too huge of a thing to overlook, but that seems absolutely inconsequential when anyone else reads it, or even when I go back to it later. Even now I'm debating deleting this entire blog right this second and actually dedicating myself to the English paper due tomorrow on Orwell's 1984. But I already put so much time into this thing, choosing the background and all...