Valentine's Day

I fucking hate Valentine's Day.
Hate. It.
And no, it is not 'cause I'm one of those 'yay, Singles-Awareness guys!' people. No, bad things just happen on Valentine's Day. Not only does school suck because of all the couples making out and casting cutsie-eyes at each other, nor the equally annoying couples saying, 'I love you', to which the lovee answers a moment later with '. . . I love you too'. No, that is not the reason. Bad things just happen. They. Just. Do.

Plus, people are so brainwashed. Most women think that if their guy doesn't go 'you are the stars in my heart' or something equelly as vexing and then buy them mounds of chocolate and roses that there is no love in their relationship. And tell me, what do they give the guy? Sex, you may say? No. No. Mister Right gets nothing at all. Maybe a think you before our selfish chiquita gorges herself on the chocolate and then finds something bad about the roses to bitch and moan about with her friends. I feel bad for the male population. And yes, I am fully aware that it isn't Valentine's Day yet. But I can assure you that when it does roll around (ahem, two days) that I will be rocking back and forth in my closet and clutching my head just like the recluse I am at heart.

I saw a girl today that had a copy of 'Breaking Dawn', the final book in the Twilight instalment. Now, I am not against the series, I think that they got people to read that normally wouldn't do so and that cannot be bad, right? But I am against the kind of worship that this girl was doing. The pages were literally brown with use, and when she flipped through it to find her spot I saw that nearly every page had highlighted lines, and often the corners were folded down to mark something particularily romantic or whatever. Upon a closer look, I found that most of the highlighted lines were said by Edward. Now, after than, you tell me she wont be happy with 'hey babe happy Valentine's Day'.

I Have a Stalker . . . and I Like Him Much More Than I Aught To.

It's going to be long, but here's the story:

At the very beginning of the year I was put (assigned seating, it sucks) next to a very introverted guy. We are going to call him S. I greeted him and he wouldn't even look at me. It pissed me off, plain and simple. So, basically, I made it my mission to get S to greet me at the beginning of the period on his own without me having to force it. I achieved my goal in a week or so (it was a while ago, okay?). We sorta kinda started being friends. Once he actually started talking, I found out that he was a total freak. I can't even begin to describe it. I don't even know where to start. His appearance? He's tall, like a head taller than me (which really doesn't say much as I'm about 5'3) and pale. Not too sickly pale, but pale enough to be described as pale. S has blue eyes and blond hair and mild acne. He would be good-looking if he wasn't so skinny. And I'm not talking about 'oh, he could stand to gain a few pounds' skinny, but 'holy fuckballs this kid is a stick' skinny. He's 110 lb, as he told me not too long ago. I am 105 lb (roughly, my weight fluctuates like five pounds either way). So he's that skinny.

On with the story. So we had a strange sort of buddy-ship (buddies to me are like one-period friends). Their wasn't a problem until he followed me to the place I ate lunch at and spied on me. I noticed right away but pretended not to because, frankly, I didn't know what to do. I was always an awkward kid and pretty gross in middle-school and below so I have less guy-experience than your average six year old. Oh, and during this time I was walking from 3rd to 4th period with him, he didn't say much to me though. Anyway, S hung like that for a week or so, and I let him. He sat behind a tree where we ate lunch on the grass and listened to his mp3 player - which was so loud that I could hear it screeching - and basically stalked me. 

THEN I made the 'mistake' of inviting him to eat lunch with us. In my mind, I figured that if he was gonna hang around us he might as well really hang with us. I was in a big group then, but really only talked to my couple best friends. So he came over and sat with us while we ate, hardly talking, and just doing stupid stuff. Like making patterns in the dirt or tossing sticks into the bushes. This continued for, oh, a couple of months. He hardly spoke at all, and when he did what came out of his mouth was so awkward and strange and off-topic that we all just kinda stared blankly. One friend of mine, let's call her M, hated him. She was always trying to get him away and I admit that I was all for her mean and snotty ways of pushing him from us.

You see, whoever-you-are, I was freaked out. Downright scared. I mean, he followed me everywhere. He joined the club I joined, he walked with me whenever he could. I especially hated it when he walked down stairs with me, because he would always sort of drift closer until he was pushing me against the railing. He was to damn close! And it pissed me off. It scared the crap outta me. I was half afraid that he was going to kidnap me, rape me, and leave me in a ditch somewhere for the flies. I was a scared girl that didn't know what to fuck was going on or why some creeper was following her.

So M hated him, my best friend, D we'll call her, thought him a bit strange and was worried for me, and I was still torn between wanting to help mister social introvert and being freaked out. So then homecoming dance rolls around the bend, blaring opportunities. I wanted a certain guy to ask me, and it was not S, but he did not. However, S did ask me to the homecoming dance, which just proved to scare the shit out of me further. I felt/feel so guilty, but when he asked all I did was mumble some excuses and scurry away like a pathetic, frightened retard. Thing is, he asked me not two hours after I'd been telling D about how I would say no to any guy that asked because I didn't want to go. I didn't want to waste my ten bucks, was my pre-planned excuse. So when S asked me I couldn't exactly use that excuse because he'd been their while I planned it out. So from that I surmised that he is/was either really thick or really bold. Now, after that, I really wanted to get rid of him. I did all I could during lunch break to make him get the freaking hint that he was. not. wanted. Period.

He did not understand.

And I still fail to comprehend why he would want to spend his breaks with a bunch of girls who weren't really the nicest to him instead of some guy friends. And he did have them, guy friends, because he hung out with them in some classes and he was greeted in hallways. It wasn't till much, much later that I really got to know him . . . but I haven't gotten there yet. No . . .

So for several months I tried to get rid of him. It was all I could think about. I mean, he scared me! He scared the fucking shit outta me! And from here I don't have much else to say for a while. Things continued pretty much as usual. After time . . . lot's of time . . . we sorta started to become friends again. Or at least, I grew fond of him and started to consider him as more of a permanent addition to my little group. We stopped hanging around the big masses of people and instead frequented the hallways because where I live, it is rainy in the winter and very cold. I think my fondness started when a guy (the very one that I wanted to ask me to homecoming, and still like very much) started to take notice in S. He said things like he was gonna kick his ass for me and how big of a total freak S was. I didn't say much partly because I kinda complained about S earlier that year, and partly because I really like W (the guy that I like, we'll call him W). I just . . . didn't do the right thing.

But I felt protective over S, so I discouraged W. I said he wasn't that bad, and that we were sorta becoming buddies. W laughed and made fun of me and I was embarrassed because, frankly, S is a freak. Now I'm not miss popular, far from it, but still . . . I don't know, okay? I made bad choices and confided in the wrong people.

So in January I ended up with his cell number from one of my friends because I wanted to see if he was at school. None of my other lunch buddies were. Turns out he wasn't, but we did end up texting a lot. And we're been kinda becoming friends before that but after we started texting we had more conversations and over the last month we've been growing closer and closer.

Okay, and here is the CLIMAX (hey, I am an author. I think of everything in story terms). We were texting and it was like ten o'clock. I was tired but unable to sleep and I suspect he felt the same. I get really honest and blunt (more so than usual) late at night so we were having this strange sort of conversation. We were both being really honest and talking about personal things and it was just weird. And touching. He told me that since he first met me he's had a massive crush on me . . . something I already kinda knew but still. I told him about how I like W and he goes 'i hate him'. I asked why and S said that it was a gut feeling. I think there is something more . . . maybe . . . but I am not gonna press. He mentioned a lot of parties and weird stuff. I asked further, and it turns out S has done drugs and stolen and drank. But he hasn't in, according to him, a year and five months.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, explains so much about him. Why he's such an outcast, for one, and why a lot of people avoid him. I had no idea, and I think not everyone knows exactly what he did. Well, I had no idea what to say to that. He just started telling me all this stuff and I felt so happy that he trusted me enough to tell. It was the weirdest thing . . . a heart-to-heart conversation type thingy.

Just . . . It sorta worries me. I will never tell anyone his secrets (he even told me that I am the only one that knows about this stuff other than himself, of course) but if he starts up drugs again then . . . God, I don't know. I would hate it. I would feel obligated, I would want, to try to help/fix him and his problems. And I am not one of those people that randomly pick out screwed up dudes and try to 'fix' them, it is just that S is my friend. I would want to help him if I could, and if I couldn't then I would want to find someone that could. And to be honest, I am not stupid. I know that it is quite possible he is lying about being clean. And that fucking scares me. I don't think he would ever try to get me into drugs, so make no mistake that is not what I find frightening. It's just that if he can be that convincing then what else could he do? I don't know. And I don't want him to be into drugs and other shit. I just . . . don't. I cannot really explain it well, but I feel like I should protect him. Isn't that dumb? I have no experience whatsoever with any of that stuff and I want to protect a guy who's actually done it from it. So I'm stupid. Whatever. I just care about him, and actually like him a lot more than I should.

Is it strange that my stalker became one of my closer friends?

This was all yesterday, if I haven't said that before. We texted until around one in the morning. I got three hours of sleep, maximum. S turns out to be pretty witty, suprisingly, and rather brave. He goes on about having a low self-esteem and stuff, but I think he is just talking. He is bold and smart. I enjoy speaking to him and I like listening to him talk. Because that's not weird or anything . . . ah well.

Okay, there is just about one more thing I want to confess too. As we were wrapping up our conversation he . . . erm . . . said something about liking another girl. I know her and she is nice and I was trying to be objective. Trying really hard. But the honest truth? I was jealous. Fucking jealous because the stalker that I hated for a good four months was finally moving on. Is that twisted? I gave him some advice, told him to be nice to her, maybe ask her to a dance or something. Inside I was all twisted up and unhappy. Because my skinny-assed, pale, creepy stalker didn't like me so much anymore.

And this weird, irrational desire to hug him isn't helping me at all. I told him, actually, that I was going to hug him today but I never did. The 'right' time just never came around and I was too awkward and uncomfortable to do it. I just . . . I dunno. He said he would like to receive my hug last night, and I said I would like to give it. And I know he thinks I am a lost cause. Ha, if only he could read my mind. That would be . . . amusing. If I could manage to not be embarrassed, that is. So I want to hug him, and not just because I think he needs a hug. I want to hug him to see what it would feel like, If you can understand.

Of course you cant, because you are not real. Thank God nobody reads this.

Some People Just Aren't Worth the Trouble

    There are people out there in the big, bad world that will hurt you, hate you, break you if they can. They will do this not because of any outright reason, but just to make themselves feel better. Better than you. Humans are jealous animals, and don't argue. Everyone has been there, everyone has wanted what someone else has. Whether it be a skill, friend, item, lover . . . . It is all the same.
    We are like a patch of grey on the Earth, neither good nor evil. Do you think suicide bombers are running around thinking, I am going to kill someone, here and now, just because.? No! They are people with parents and friends and homes. They think they are doing the world a favour, just like we do when water, open a door or nurture a baby. But in reality, we are just contributing to water-shortage, discrimination, and overpopulation. Everything one does has good and bad in it, and that is something we, as people, have to live with.
    Some people, though, just don't understand. They think they are right 'just because' and should be treated justly. They believe themselves at the center of everything, think the world turns on its axes just for them. Of course, it might. This could all very well be just some deranged sort of dream I am having as I type, helping the little white letters on the keys fade away into abyss. But if it is a dream then it is obviously a dream that we are all having together. A dream that we share and need to sustain in order to survive. It is an important dream, in short. Some people are still stuck in that childish mindset, I guess, that flowers bloom just for them. 
    And for those people, they don't get anything. They don't get time, friendship, trust . . . . At least not from me.

You Only Live Twice - MAP

   Okay, so here is the map I made this morning for my original story, You Only Live Twice. The story in question is currently unfinished but being posted on the website fictionpress.com, if anyone wants to check it out. Actually, I am pretty sure no one reads this, so never mind. Under the cities/forts/towns in the middle zone I either put a (F) or a (R) to represent who owns it, Felines or Reptilians. Since the only people who will see this are the readers of the story, I am not going to bother explaining about that. Hopefully it's big enough . . .

    Oh, and I might make changes as the story progresses. For instants, I might add a township, or a battle mark, to the mess above. To see it bigger double click. Thanks.

Me, Myself and I Would Turn Into Me; as Myself and I Would Be Long Dead

I don't think I would get along with myself. In fact, I'm fairly sure that if there were a copy of me, we'd be at each others throat constantly.  Frankly, I cannot stand people that jump from topic to topic, people that are frank, people that wont answer me if they don't want to, people who are often rude, people who constantly try to help, people who crack jokes at others expense, people who  ... it goes on and on. But the thing is, is that I AM all those things. I DO crack jokes at others expense, I am rude and frank and often ignore stupid people and their stupid questions. I am the biggest hypocrite EVER!!! <-- See, I even hate it when people do all caps and multiple exclamation points in writing, but here I am, doing it right now. Granted I try to avoid the caps and exclamation points in my writing, but all the same. So, anyway, I filled out a character questionnaire, one that I use for my characters, with myself. I tried to be as honest as possible, but . . . I don't know. Ehh, no one's perfect, right?

Name: Caitlin Ashley (last name)

Nickname: Cait

Gender: Female

Age: 14

Height: 5’2

Weight: 107

Body Type: Medium/average

Physical Condition (Fit, unfit or something in between?): fairly fit

Eye Color: brown

Hair Color and Style: naturally brown, blue streak on right side, short

Distinguishing Features:

1. Dyed hair

2. Smile/sullen look (or so they say)

3. I’d like to say my thoughtful, beautiful expression/disposition, but that would be more than unrealistic!

Physical Imperfections/Would Like Most to Change:

1. Uni-brow that I pluck

2. There is a gap between my first and second toe.

3. My teeth are far from perfect

4. Stinky feet

Characteristic Gestures:

1. Cursory examinations

2. I talk with my hands theatrically

Race: White

Ethnic Group: the good ol’ American Mutt, baby!

Religion: … if I had to pick one I’d say Christian, but I’m more of an agnostic.

Family Background/Lineage: We come from all over, but the two most prominent ethnicities are Irish and German.

Years of Schooling: Middle school, first year of high school

Degrees: I’d like to study some sort of art/literature combo. Maybe some history

Grades Achieved in School: A’s & B’s

Skills, Abilities and Talents:

1. Writing.

2. Artistic.

3. Pissing people off

Occupation: Student

Military Experience: None

Short-Term Goals:

1. Finish HS without failing any classes or getting my ass beat up

2. Finish a few stories, maybe publish

3. -

Long-Term Goals:

1. Decent college

2. Visit my ever growing list of places: Venice, Quebec, Pompeii . . .

3. Kidnap Mr. Right - permanently

Short-Term Needs:

1. Food, water, oxygen, etc.

2. -

3. -

Long-Term Needs

1. Food, water, oxygen

2. -

3. -

General Personality Type: Eccentric, if I had to pick one

Introvert/Extrovert: Introvert

Eccentricities:
1. I enjoy shocking people with unconventional behavior.

2. My room is an eccentric mess.

3. -

IQ:

Temperament: Bad. I am Impulsive and het angry too easily. Doesn’t help that I’m frank and it takes a special kind of person to get alone with me.

Method of Handling Anger or Rage: I repress anger, until it gets to be too much. At which point I pretty much explode.

Admirable Traits:

1. Frank/honest (this is an extreme for me)

2. Kind, deep down.

3. Passionate

4. Loyal, stands up for friends/weaker people

Negative Traits:

1. Frank/honesty (can be good or bad)

2. LAZY

3. No common sense

4. Impulsive/too ready to fight

Bad Habits/Vices:

1. Bites fingernails

2. Laughs when nervous

3. Wolfs down food

4. Chews lower lip/clenches fists/jaw

Prejudices:

1. Wednesdays! Worst day of the year, something bad always happens.

2. Cheerleaders/jocks. I’ve learned that they aren’t really all bad, but still. I don’t trust ‘em as a rule.

3. Tracks. Like, jogging tracks. Hate ‘em.

Pet Peeves and Gripes:

1. When people speak in ‘text talk’.

2. People who cannot carry on intelligent conversation. I find myself very short with the majority of the population.

3. People who use bookmarks.

Things That Make Uncomfortable or Embarrass:

1. People watching me when I don’t know/sneaking up on me

2. Strangers being too close

3. Family members reading my writing

4. Being around drunken people that are overly gushy.

Most Painful Things in One’s Life:

1. My father went crazy when I was twelve. He went to the hospital (asylum) and everything. Now he’s okay, but every couple of years he lapses back into it and has to fight it. We think it might be bipolar disease or something.

2. -

3. -

Ever Been Arrested? (If so, for what?): No

1.

2.

3.

Opinion on Abortion: I’m all for it, as long as they get the kid before it develops enough nerves to feel it.

Opinion on Environmental Issues: If we could just make the switch to electric cars . . . don’t pay the corrupt oil companies!

Opinion on Homosexuality: I think it is absolutely fine. If they love each other, well, who cares? They aren’t living in your house and fucking you, are they? Besides, monkeys are gay too.

Opinion on Military Intervention: Only if it is necessary

Opinion of Progress: ?

Opinion on Crime and Gun Control: Taking away guns won’t do any good, because the bad guys would still have ‘em and the rest of us would be helpless
Opinions Peculiar to Character:

Political Party: Democrat

Liberal, Conservative, Middle of the Road, Radical: Liberal

Income: None

Sense of Humor (None, dry, understated, witty, slapstick, dirty, etc.): Dry/Dirty

Fears:

1. Death

2. Being buried alive

3. Being covered in duct tape/mummified.

Phobias: I don’t believe I have a phobia

1.

2.

3.

Manias: I don’t believe I have a mania.

1.

2.

3.

Physical Illnesses or Afflictions: I’m pretty healthy

1.

2.

3.

4.

Mental Disturbances: I’m pretty mentally healthy

1.

2.

3.

Hobbies:

1. Writing

2. Painting/Drawing/Pottery

3. Reading

Interests:

1. Museums

2. History

3. Art

Sports:

1. Tennis

2. Jogging

3. -

Favorite Pastime: Writing

Favorite TV Shows: None.
1.
2.
3.

Favorite Movies:

1. Lord of the Rings (all ten hours)

2. The Day after Tomorrow

3. Signs

Favorite Travel Destination: The cost

Pets: One dog, two cats, lots of fish
Drinks Alcohol? (How often?): Never

Favorite Alcoholic Drink: None

Favorite Meal: Spaghetti

Favorite Books:

1. Eragon

2. Someone Comes To Town, Someone Leaves Town

3. Follow the River

Diet (Rich, low cholesterol, restaurant, low-fat, etc): Whatever I can get. Cheap?

Favorite Restaurant/Ethnic Food: Chinese

Favorite Physical Attribute In Opposite Sex: Hands. I cannot get over hands.

Attributes About Character That Turn On Opposite Sex:

1. Well at my age? Just the fact that I have boobs seems to get guys running.

2.

3.

Sexual Turn-Ons:

1. Hands

2. Long hair

3. Hair around belly button, down. (I sound like a whore)

Sexual Turn-Offs:

1. Bad breath

2. Assholeism

3. Really skinny or fat guys

Romantic Status: Non-existent

Romantic Personality: Yes

Traumas/Psychological Scars from the Past:

1. -

2. -

3. -

Clothing Style/Favorite Outfit: Jeans and a tee shirt/skirt and combat boots.

Favorite Pet Sayings, Words/Idiolect:

1. What if hokey-pokey really is what it’s all about?

2. -

3. -

Speaking Style (Talkative, taciturn, soft-spoken, loud, formal, casual, accent, fast, slow, etc): Casual

Philosophy on Life:

Type and Number of Close Friends:

Best Friend: Delanee

Other Friends: Mikayla, Toria, Ben, Aaron . . . . Long list

Most Crucial Experience (Or experiences that helped to mold characters personality or attitude): The thing about my dad. I think I am a lot more empathetic now, and I just understand people better. I am still short with people, but I also feel the need to stick up for the little-guy. Though that may be because I was bullied like hell all through middle-school and was pretty much the outcast.

Home (Apartment/tenement building/high-rent, low-rend district/house/mansion/castle, etc): Rental house

Neighborhood: decent, best I’ve lived in so far

Car: None

Color: Emerald greed or burgundy

Drive Fast or Slow/Obey Traffic Laws: Doesn’t drive

Major Problems to Solve or Overcome:

1.

2.

3.

Solutions to Problems:

1.

2.

3.

Minor Problems to Solve or Overcome:

1.

2.

3.

Solutions to Problems:

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

Character Growth (By the end of the story)/Character Change/Lessons Learned:

My Guilty Pleasure Is Fan Fiction

I am so excited. The kind of excited where one jumps up and down and screams 'hallelujah!' really big font. Typing giant letters is making me pretty darn happy, that's for sure. I've started writing fan fiction, and I cannot decide if I like it or not. On one hand, it is practice, and practice is all the same, but it's just not . . . real. You know? Fan fiction does absolutely nothing for my creativity, even if I'm writing game fan fiction - which, in my mind, is marginally better than book or movie fan fiction - it's still fan fiction. Fan fiction is creepy. It's all about pairing up characters, like Edward Cullen and Shreck. Weird, slash pairings. Which makes me just as much a freak. Not only have I started writing it, but I actually enjoy reading it. At least, sometimes. Admittedly some parodies are absolutely historical. It is like, I hate myself for liking it. Only not that dramatic and emu-like. I realize that fan fiction is really stupid, and no good for my writing skills (especially when I could be working any one of my stories over at fictionpress). But I just cannot help reading it, squealing along with all the other psycho fan girls - and guys! - out there. So there it is, folks! Part of Me in a nutshell. Love you, and b'bye now...

Nothing But Time

I just finished finals - my first ever - and I think it went okay. Some of the tests were so easy, and some were borderline difficult. Science and Algebra are my main worries right now. If I fail either one then my grade will probably drop to a D. Baaad!

But now I am off for two whole weeks. Can we hear a 'woot, woot'? I woke up this morning (first day of vacation) to nothing. Literally. My dad is out cold in his bedroom, I don't expect to see him for at least another hour, and my little sister is in school. My Mom is at work. She gave me this job to do, addressing letter to her various clients (she's a Realtor). I wasted about 1 hour on that. Now I have nothing do to, nothing but time.

On a different note, I am seriously starting to get annoyed with my English class. I have the highest grade (96%) and I'm a lazy ass. My problem, really, is that I should be in an honors class. My teacher practically begged me not to switch out for his sake. What a prick. He's now grading me harder that the rest of the class, I can tell, and I'm still getting the highest grade on every writing assignment out there. I swear, I don't think of gotten anything below an A on any of the Essays/ creative writing assignments he's given us. Higher on the creative writing, because that is like, my calling. He's actually tried to read aloud some of my stuff, and confiscated my Fahrenheit 451 essay. Says he wants it for some reason, wont tell me why. I figured, 'what the hell,' and told him he can have it. Frankly, I wouldn't care if I didn't have this friend that keeps going, "well, he only likes your stuff because of that first essay," and various other things like that. I'm sorry that I'm a better writer than you, Mikay, I really am. But the thing is, is that I practice about five hours out of every day.


Eh, I shouldn't be so harsh. It just bothers me.