Bucket List

1. Crush the hopes and dreams of small children every single day.
2. Get a steady and well-paying job in the future.
3. Meet my friend in Nova Scotia in real life.
4. Meet my friend in Utah in real life.
5. Ride on the Goliath at Six Flags over Georgia.
6. Travel to California.
7. Meet Orlando Bloom.
8. Get Daniel Radcliffe’s autograph.
9. Finish the Hunger Games trilogy.
10. Take part in my first play.
11. Become a Psychologist/Therapist.
12. Get married.
13. Have at least 1 kid.
14. Get Ragnarok Online to actually work on my computer again.
15. Get a good laptop with a lot of memory and a high-quality graphics card.
16. Graduate from High School.
17. Graduate from College within 4 years.
18. Become more sociable and involved with others.
19. Get into a healthy relationship with someone I can trust.
20. Write my first GOOD short story.
21. Go to my first Prom.
22. Go to my first Masquerade.
23. Get my own custom item on Subeta.
24. Become a good artist.
25. Meet Andrew Hussie.
26. Practice Taekwondo with Chuck Norris.
27. Get Chuck Norris’ autograph.
28. Read my friend’s soon-to-be-published saga and write a review on it.
29. Own a kitten under the age of 12 weeks.
30. Get my hamster, Flora, to eat things other than peanuts and sunflower seeds.
31. Own a ferret.
32. Own a fennec fox.
33. Ride on an airplane for more than two hours.
34. Own a dragon mask.
35. Beat Skyrim’s main storyline.
36. Defeat my first Dragon Priest.
37. Watch all of the episodes of Elfen Lied.
38. Paint a picture on a concrete wall.
39. Find the cure for cancer.
40. Watch all of season 1 and season 2 of Superjail!
41. Watch The Lorax (the movie, not the cartoon).
42. Sing a song in front of a crowd of people.
43. Play my senior solo in front of a crowd of people.
44. Complete the National Pokedex.
45. Understand the basics of the Pokemon card game and play a single game.
46. Win at a Pokemon card game.
47. Get a new phone.
48. Get a new iPod.
49. Visit Hollywood.
50. Finish a roleplay FOR ONCE IN MY LIFETIME.
51. Beat up a criminal with just my viola case.
52. Beat my brother in a multiplayer game of Halo 3.
53. Beat Halo 3 on legendary.
54. Successfully build my house in Minecraft without it getting destroyed.
55. Become a mod/admin of a Minecraft server.
56. Complete my very first cosplay (accessories and all).
57. Learn to sew.
58. Learn to knit.
59. Learn to crochet.
60. Paint a masterpiece.
61. Buy my first GOOD cosplay.
62. Catch up to everyone else who is reading the webcomic ‘Homestuck’ by Andrew Hussie.
63. Cosplay god tier!Jade Harley.
64. Cosplay god tier!Nepeta Leijon.
65. Stand up to my horrible sub of a math teacher.
66. Tame an ocelot on Minecraft.
67. Grow out my fingernails.
68. Get over my nail-biting habit.
69. Become a well-known artist.
70. Invent something.
71. Prove to people that the amount of friends doesn’t matter; what matters is if you can trust someone with your life.
72. Learn morse code.
73. Learn Russian.
74. Learn Italian.
75. Learn Latin.
76. Get over stage fright.
77. Kill an Enderdragon in Minecraft on Survival mode.
78. Earn admin powers on a multiplayer server on Minecraft.
79. Get my own Minecraft server up and running.
80. Become ~tumblr famous~.
81. Get my own laptop.
82. Pass my current Math class.
83. Write my first novel/saga.
84. Write a review for my friend’s soon-to-be saga.
85. Have a great time at prom.
86. Ride on a hot-air balloon.
87. (Possibly) become an astronomer.
88. Live to see the day new life is discovered on another planet/star.
89. Find out if aliens are real.
90. Get an iPhone.
91. Live to see the day I turn 21.
92. Beat someone at pvp on Ragnarok Online.
93. Beat someone at pvp on any of the Halo games.
94. Become a pro at FPS games.
95. Beat The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword.
96. Clear up my face.
97. Eventually vote for someone as President of the USA.
98. Beat the Pokemon Adventure level on Happy Wheels.
99. Become a pro at Happy Wheels.
100. Become a pro at Super Smash Bros.: Brawl.

Dante’s Inferno World Lit Activity

OKAY so I’m not sure if I’m supposed to make 7 levels of hell or 9. I’m not sure.

Also this post will be insanely long so Imma do a page break.

Blogiography – Chapter 10: 12th Grade

Ah, yes. Senior year. The epic of my school years, not to mention the present grade I’m in.

Let’s see, where to start off?
Oh, I think I know what to talk about, first.

From freshman year to senior year, I had taken care of six hamsters. Spottie, Giggles, Honey, Badge, Cecil and Lucas. Surprisingly, despite the fact that most hamsters live from 2-3 years, Honey had outlasted all of the other five hamsters (of course, Spottie doesn’t count; she died before Honey was even bought).
It was probably late in September. It was days before AWA, an Anime convention that my sister and I annually went to, and I was getting pretty hyped up because I was going to be Nepeta, a character from the webcomic ‘Homestuck’. I was so excited because it was the first costume I had ever pulled together instead of buying the whole costume itself.
Honey was pretty old at this point; possibly 3+ years old. But she was pretty lively, so I never understood how she could’ve passed away while  I was at school.
I came home that day, and I went into the room where we kept the hamsters. My dad was in the same room, working on his computer. We talked about how my day went, and I went ahead and checked up on Honey in her decorous cage.
She wasn’t moving.
She was laying there, completely still.
Of course, she frequently slept on the first floor of her cage, so I wasn’t alarmed at all. I then deigned it appropriate to bawl my eyes out when I picked her up. Her body was desiccated and stone cold, rigor mortis having already set in. It was obvious that she had been dead at LEAST a couple of hours.
I had gotten used to the deaths of my hamsters over the years, so it didn’t take long for me to calm down and eventually bury her. I went to the convention as usual, and while I was there, I met a few awesome Homestuck fans and we quickly became the group known as ‘Formation 9’. Sadly, the group didn’t last long. There was a lot of strife in that group over the next few months, and it just died out.

Later in the year, my orchestra had arranged a trip to New York City. This would be the last year they would ever do such a trip, since it cost so much money. My mom chaperoned once again, and we proceeded to have an amazing time in the City that Never Sleeps. The main highlights were going on the airplane, going up to the Top of the Rock and seeing the 9/11 memorial.
However, since I had never been on an airplane before, that was probably the cynosure of the trip, and it’s pretty putative and cognizant to know that I was more excited than ever.
We departed early in the morning; it was cold and rainy, and we were all still sleepy. It wasn’t until we got on the plane that I began to feel pretty antsy. I sat between two ladies who were complete strangers to me. However, they both reassured me that the ride would be fun. By the time we were ready to take off, I had gotten them both excited for the ride. My nervousness began to engender when we took off, mesmerized by the roar of the engine that took over the rest of my senses.
Needless to say, it was pretty awesome. I’ll never forget the trip to NYC.
Oh! We also visited the Metropolitan Museum, the Rockefeller Center, the Wax Museum, the Statue of Liberty, and saw the Phantom of the Opera (which had the efficacy to pull me into liking it; I mostly wanted to see Wicked while we were there) and listened to Wynton Marsalis and his jazz band at the Lincoln Center.

Just recently, I asked a boy to the upcoming prom. On that same day, I got my prom dress; a white dress that’s short in the front but long in the back. It’s a shame that prom is on my birthday; not to mention that same week is packed with a ton of events, such as my cousin’s wedding and finals. Hoo, Senior year. Definitely the most eventful and ethereal year of my life.

Symbolic Picture:

Symbolic Song:
Pomp & Circumstance

Blogiography – Chapter 9: 11th Grade

Ah, yes, junior year. Said to be the worst year of high school for everyone, since it’s so difficult. And that’s because of all of the difficult classes and taking the SATs.

Junior year was, of course, the hardest year of school for me; the nadir of my life. Not only were some of the classes very difficult, but my Algebra 2 (but we call it Math 3. The heck is up with that?) class always discomfited  and languished me. Although our teacher made it better by being sarcastic and snarky, it was still pretty difficult. Sometimes his attitude would discourage me from asking questions. Math always put me into a very plaintive, melancholic state; it was also very hapless. Because I didn’t really like Math, I was always perfunctory when doing the work; I just never understood it.
My parents decided to get me a tutor that year. Well, to be honest, I had two tutors. The first one was always late for tutoring sessions, and my mom eventually got so exasperated that she asked for a different tutor. That’s how I ended up with Kerry.
She was a nice lady; not only did she help me with my Algebra 2 stuff, she also helped me with my Physics stuff. Everything she taught me was very laconic; concise. I was able to understand her a lot better than I would my regular Math teacher. She was the best; she introduced me to two restaurants: Pinkberry and Gigi’s Cupcakes. It’s a shame that she had to move up north to get a new job; she was going to get laid off at her other job as a special education teacher. So I got through that year with average grades in Physics and Algebra 2. Of course, the grades were still irreparable, in the end…
However, Junior year had its highlights. I was starting to become more gregarious; more sociable. There was also the field trip I went on…

My orchestra class was going on yet another Spring field trip. This time, it was to Orlando, Florida. We were going to go to Universal Studios for a special orchestra and band competition. My mom wanted to go with me, so she became a chaperon.  She and I were (and we still are!) huge Harry Potter fans, so on our first day to Universal Studios, we went to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter. Upon taking one look at the Dueling Dragons roller coaster ride, I immediately wanted to ride it. My mom, not being a roller coaster kind of person, waited for me outside of the exit of the ride. As I went through the hallways towards the line, I could hear dragon roars; sound effects. My heart began to race and my palms started to sweat as I got closer to the line. The adrenaline began to rush through my veins as I patiently waited in the line to get on the roller coaster. Looking above my head, I saw silhouettes of fake lightning and the opened maw of two dragons. It was as if I was hiding from them, hoping not to be seen. The whole ride, even when it came to waiting, was very impeccable.
Anyways, I got on the ride and it was positively amazing. I’ll never forget riding on that thing. The next day, my mom got the courage to go with me on the roller coaster again. I got a few souvenirs at Universal Studios, too: a replica of Sirius Black’s wand, a plushie Pygmy Puff, and a black and silver mask. Why the mask? Because it was close to Mardi Gras and Universal Studios was getting into the festivities. About a night before we were to depart back to Georgia, they had the ceremony for the orchestra and band competition. I forget what we got, but as they called out different schools’ names, I could hear the Mardi Gras parade outside. It was kinda depressing; I really wanted to see the parade. Mardi Gras is one of my favorite holidays; the masks really fascinate me and such.

Symbolic Picture:

Symbolic Song:
Main Theme of Harry Potter

Blogiography – Chapter 8: 10th Grade

A lot of stuff happened Sophomore year. In fact, I don’t even know where to start.
Oh, right. Let’s start at the beginning of fall semester.
Nah, let’s start the summer before Sophomore year started.

So I told you about Spottie in my last post. She was a black and white panda hamster who was the sweetest thing I’ve ever taken care of; she didn’t bite at all.
We went on our yearly vacation to Delaware to visit family and we left my sister’s friend in charge of taking care of our two cats and Spottie. Everything was going well.
Until we got a phone call that Spottie escaped from her cage. Of course, she was quite the escape artist. But I was still quite surprised, not to mention greatly distressed.
Over the next hour after hearing the phone call, I was bawling my eyes out. I was afraid that Spottie would somehow get into the basement and my cats would kill her. What made it worse was that we had about four days left of our vacation, so we couldn’t immediately go home. The days that followed were especially onerous for me.

When we got home, we instantly unloaded the car and began to search for Spottie. Finally, my dad found a hole in one of the vents that resided in the rafters of our unfinished basement. We concluded that somehow, Spottie managed to get into the back room and climb into one of the floor vents, then chewed her way out and landed in the basement. While I continued to search for her upstairs (I was too hopeful that she would still be up there), the rest of my family searched downstairs. It wasn’t long when I finally went back downstairs, only to hear a sickening thud and my dad shouting in shock and anger. My sister screamed, and eventually she came to me with Spottie in her hands. Apparently, a book or an umbrella fell down on top of her when my dad was moving a bookshelf. I assumed she was behind it.
Cue the tears. I begged for Spottie to hold on; I had grown so close to the little thing over the past three months of summer vacation. Sure, she was an escape artist, but I loved her all the same. I watched her brokenheartedly as her moribund movements were small twitches. Every tiny movement she made, a spark of hope seemed to grow. However, she died anyways.
We buried her a few days afterwards, and we bought another hamster to replace her and give back to my teachers (except she was kind of a jerk, so we bought another one. But I fell in love with that one, too, so we kept both of them). But that was after I confessed to one of my Biology teachers, who shared my sorrow. She understood that it was all an accident. But kids at school didn’t see it that way. They just chose to make it another reason to deprecate me and hold their asperity and towards me. Of course, my teachers backed me up, but it still hurt my feelings.

At the end of spring semester, my Orchestra was going on a trip to Savannah for GMEA. I eclectically obliged to go, and it was one of the best experiences I’ve ever had.  We went on a ghost walk, had a performance, shopped… it was quite the experience for me. The most delectable part of the trip was the ghost walk.
Now, I’ve always been ebullient with the supernatural. I’ve watched many tv shows on ghost hunters and hauntings and such, and it all just amazes me. I’ve always wanted to come into contact with a spirit of the dead; but sadly, I don’t have those abilities. Nonetheless, I’ve always sequestered the idea of talking to a spirit, because the idea seems so ludicrous and impossible.
Anyways, about the ghost walk. We were taken around some parts of town in Savannah, such as a graveyard and a rather old house. Savannah was apparently rife of ghost stories and stories of hauntings. As I was saying, the old house was rumored to have a small girl occasionally peeking out from the window. While our tour guide was talking about it, one of the girls in the group screamed. Apparently, so she says, she saw the little girl in the window. As expected, I didn’t see anything unusual on the ghost walk. I guess spirits just don’t like me. Or they’re uninterested. One of the two. Maybe they’re inexorable when it comes to speaking with me because I’m so intent on speaking to them.

Symbolic picture:

Symbolic song:
Waltz of Chihiro – Music Box Version

Blogiography – Chapter 7: 9th Grade

So my years through high school are PROBABLY the most fresh in my mind. Mostly my senior year, but we’ll get to that, later. For this chapter, we’ll be focusing on my freshman year.

My sister had just graduated, and my brother was a junior in high school. I had just moved up from 8th grade to 9th grade, and everything was good, because I had a boyfriend.
Except, yanno, he was in Germany.
He was a really sweet guy; I can’t believe we broke up. Then again, it probably wouldn’t have worked out; his foible was that he was self-destructive and he was always trying to break the habit of cutting himself. We started dating in 8th grade and we were both the same age; we were even able to speak to each other in English. He was quite fluent with both that and his native language, German. He was probably the best boyfriend I’ve ever had; we both loved each other peremptorily.

I had another internet friend. I’m not going to reveal her name, but she caused me a lot of grief through my freshman and sophomore years. She and I roleplayed a lot, so we were pretty tight with each other. She even got to know my boyfriend quite well.
We had our quarrels, though. She was apparently fraught with ‘so many life problems’. She always whined about how ‘horrible’ her life was. “My dad is so mean! He yells at me! Bluh bluh bluh!”
At one point, she and I were arguing over such a petty issue, and she was acting like she was having so many issues in her life at that time. I snapped, and I told her to get a therapist. I was through with her whining about her issues and putting them all on me. Because that’s what she did: she put her load on my shoulders so I could carry the burden; not her. She was, and still is, the most obtuse person I’ve ever met.
During that time, my boyfriend and I broke up.
She then practically pounced on him and started flirting with him, which, I have to admit, was pretty low of her. She was even out of high school! I don’t see how she could stoop so low as to try and woo my ex.
Me, wishing to still be together with him, came back and we reconciled. Once we started ‘dating’ again, the girl noticed me flirting with him. She decided to be a complete and utter jerk and act like she and him were together, and she started attacking me for ‘making her boyfriend cheat on her’. It caused me to rebuff from them both.

Eventually, I forwent from her completely. I blocked her, removed her phone number, and did everything I could to erase her from my memories. She practically decimated my life; I’ll never forgive her for doing such a thing to me. But, she has inured me to the point where I can deal with her kind of personality. For a while. Maybe even an hour. Then I end up just ripping apart the person with her personality, verbally. I’ll never be penitent for the things I’d said to her; she deserved every last word.

But, if there’s one thing that cheered me up the most, it was spending my summer vacation with the class hamster, named Spottie. She was given to my two Biology/Environmental Science teachers, and I begged for my parents to allow me to bring the little girl home over the summer. So, once we resolved to do so, I brought Spottie home. She was the best; she never bit and never had a horrible temper. She was the most benign hamster I’ve ever taken care of.

Symbolic picture:

Symbolic song:

Elfen Lied – Lilium

Blogiography – Chapter 6: 5th Grade

Okay, so a few things happened during 5th grade. One of which was at the beginning of the year. We were tasked to draw self-portraits of ourselves, so I was pretty hyped about that. Except, I was getting into anime, so I wanted to draw myself anime-styled. So I got permission and did; except I got mocked for it. Not only because my style looked so different from everyone else, but because I had drawn a bright red choker on my anime self. The motif behind the drawing was the idea of being different; deviating from the norm. So I got a lot of flack  and diatribes for that. Kids were really immature in elementary and middle school. Okay, so kids are still pretty immature in high school, but that’s beside the point. My point is, I got mocked for drawing myself differently than everyone else. Throughout elementary and high school, I was the abject derelict of my class; barely anyone payed much attention to me already. Of course, the teasing, mocking and bullying was quite intermittent; at most, at least half of the week I would be mocked.

Another strange time in 5th grade was when a firefighter came in to talk to us about fire safety. Now, we had to have these talks since kindergarten, so it was getting pretty repetitive and dull, not to mention boring. The firefighter was showing us how to use CPR, one of the kids being a volunteer. I was particularly hyper that day, so I was getting pretty antsy as I impatiently sat in my seat. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I jumped to my feet, yelled “CPR! AAAAAAAAGH!” and proceeded to self-volunteer as the person who was performing CPR on the girl who was also volunteering. Mind you, it was NOT actual mouth-to-mouth. But it still got quite the rise in the other kids in the classroom.
Words cannot describe how strange I was in elementary school.

There was another time when we were finally being taught about ‘sex ed’. Since this was the first time we had ever had the talk about ‘the birds and the bees’ in school, us kids were just a bunch of neophytes when it came to that kind of knowledge. The boys and the girls were separated into two different groups and put in different rooms to learn about the opposite gender’s sexual organs and such. I honestly don’t think I payed attention that much, because that time is pretty fuzzy to me. All I remember from it was being showed a scientific diagram of the male genitalia and just… well, staring. I didn’t know what to say. It was like some kind of horrible, yet inane, alien you would see in a movie. Except, y’know, not phallic-looking. I have a brother, so when I saw that diagram, I was like, “… So my brother has that thing? -insert awestruck and disgusted expression here-”
So I could never look at boys the same ever again. But that doesn’t compare to the sex ed I had to endure through middle school. Unfortunately, I’m afraid that I cannot talk about middle school; my World Lit teacher has pushed forward the deadline to finishing our blogiographies by next week. And middle school is only extra credit, so… perhaps I could type about middle school in one huge blog post some other time.

Let’s see… oh! I was still in small classes with Alleighson, Kaitlyn and Daniel. I think Billy was taken out of our small classes or something; I rarely ever saw him again, except on the bus.
We had a really testy, horrible travesty of a math teacher who always yelled at us. At one point, she was bending over to pick up a marker or something on the floor, and I indubitably caught sight of her thong. It was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen, and I never looked at her the same ever again. Of course, it was fitting for a teacher like her; she probably wasn’t even married, either.

Um… for the symbolic picture, it would be this:

As for the symbolic song, it would be:

Opening theme for the first season of Yu-Gi-Oh! … because my sister and I were obsessed with it for a time.

Blogiography – Chapter 5: 4th Grade

Let’s see, I can’t remember much from 4th grade; the acuity of my elementary school life is quite foggy, now that I think about it, so I can’t really delineate much. We had a pretty strict teacher named Mrs. Martin, and this was the year when I started cracking down on Daniel and his cursing, not to mention his lewd actions towards me.

We had this special ‘checking’ system in 4th grade. Each week we would earn money in our ‘check books’ depending on how good our behavior was that week. That money would be garnered and then used at the end of the year for an ‘auction’, where we would bring in new and used toys and items we didn’t need and ‘bid’ on them. Now, I was a pretty good kid; I rarely got into trouble and such when I was in 4th grade, so I got a few things at the auction at the end of the year.

As for the rest of the year, a few of my friends and I were separated into a few different classrooms that year. Alleighson and Kaitlyn were in two different rooms, while I was with Billy and Daniel. Daniel and I still got along pretty well, but he was still pretty crude when it came to language and jokes, not to mention he was practically depraved of kindness. As stated in the last chapter, he was the primary reason why I enervated into a much more crude-languaged person that I am, now.

At one point, my dad was asked to come in and read us a story. So, being the cat fanatic I was (and I still am), I had him read this book called ‘Purrfectly Purrfect: Life at the Academy’ by Patricia Lauber and Betsy Lewin. It was one of my favorite books at the time; and it still is. I pretty much hallowed it from all of the other books I read as a kid. I can’t remember where I put it; I probably gave it away, though.

A few years earlier, most likely when I was in preschool, we got a cat named Bailey. She was a ragdoll; a purebred, even. She was probably quite sumptuous; costly, since she was a purebred and all.  My siblings and I were being babysat while our mom and dad went out on an errand. We weren’t sure what was going to happen, but when they came home, they brought a kitten with them. The kitten was meowing like crazy, so my siblings and I knew fairly well that we hadn’t gotten a dog; we had gotten a cat. Which was probably a good thing, because I now have a penchant for cats; I don’t really like dogs as much as I used to. They smell funny, especially when they’re wet. Eugh.

Bailey died when she was six years old; when I was in 5th grade. But that’s a very sad story for the next chapter. I’d rather not spoil any more of it.

Anyways, a bit more about school life.

Each day we would have like… a vocabulary/English activity. We would have a sentence up on the overhead projector, and we would have to make corrections to the sentence. Now, I was a pretty good speller; amazing, in fact. It’s probably why I’m such a ‘grammar Nazi’ now. If I see the slightest grammatical or punctuation error, even a misspelling of a word, I get really irked and angry at whoever made the error. It’s kind of sad, really. I have a few friends nowadays that make grammatical errors and they don’t seem to notice, and as much as I want to correct them, I don’t want to seem like a know-it-all.  It’s like… grammatical errors are ubiquitous; I see them everywhere I go, and I get really irked about it. I’m just really fecund when it comes to grammar and punctuation. I’m also too modest for my own good.

As for the symbolic picture:

And for the symbolic song:
Kirby’s Pad from Kirby’s Epic Yarn (IT SOUNDS ADORABLE AND CHILDLIKE, OKAY? DON’T JUDGE ME XD)

Blogiography – Chapter 4: 3rd Grade

Now, this is the time when things started to get real. Some new kids moved into town and were in my class, and I was starting to get pulled out of my main class for ‘small sessions’, because apparently my ADD/ADHD was greatly affected depending on how many kids are in the room, so I had to be incarcerated from so many other kids. Which is bullcrap. This is one of the things I’ve always had to grouse about; I shouldn’t have had to be pulled out of my classes because of this. I’m not stupid. ADD/ADHD doesn’t mean I have mental retardation. It means that my attention is easily taken by something else; so I have to take medications for it. Seriously, I think my parents were just being too careful; being in small classes made me the butt of people’s jokes (I mean, it’s not like I wasn’t getting enough flack already), and I was frequently called ‘sped’ (short for special ed) and ‘retarded’ later in my middle school years. But that’s another story for another time.

As I stated at the beginning, some new kids moved into the general vicinity of my elementary school, and I was lucky enough to have three or four of them in my class. One of them was a boy named Daniel who was, quite frankly, very vulgar for a kid his age, but his jocular comments always made me laugh. I learned a lot of bad things from him; he’s pretty much the reason why I atrophied into who I am, now. Then there was Billy, who moved into the house near the entrance to our subdivision. He was a pretty nice kid; although he was bullied by Daniel a lot for his size. There was also Kaitlyn; a very quiet, soft-spoken girl who loved horses and dogs. The same could be said for a girl named Alleighson, who became a gigantic jerk later in life due to family problems. Boy, am I glad she moved to a different state; her constant whining about ludicrous subjects nettled me to no end.

Now, I gleaned that Alleighson and Kaitlyn never got along with Daniel and Billy. They always had ‘wars’ on the playground, and I was always in the middle of the disarray, pretty much joining different sides each day, mediating the ‘battles’, or establishing a   concord. The four other kids were also in the small class I was put in, so things were generally laid back and enjoyable, at the very least.

As I mentioned before, Daniel was quite the pusillanimous kid. Sadly enough, I was brought up by a strict Christian family, so even the word ‘crap’ was a swear word in our house. So, whenever Daniel said the word ‘crap’… I told on him. All the time. It’s probably the main reason he acts like a jerk to me, now. Oh, well. I guess it can’t be helped; he never really cheered me up, anyways; he always broke me down and reduced me to tears. I think I probably would have been better off without him in my life; I would’ve been a lot happier.

For the symbolic song:

“Tabi no Tochuu de Kibou no Uta wo Utaou” by Kikuchi Mika

For the symbolic picture:

http://itskha.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/playground-1.jpg (okay so our playground wasn’t THIS nice… but hey, it’s a playground, right?)

Blogiography – Chapter 3: 2nd Grade

Okay, so I can’t remember much from 2nd grade. I can’t even remember my teacher’s name. I mean, I guess I could talk about how I got a rock to the head, but that’s not really very eventful besides the copious amounts of blood I was losing.

Oh, well, I guess I’ll talk about that painful day.

So I was home from school (at least I THINK it was a school day, or maybe it was in the summer?) and my sister and I were cavorting around the verdant front yard. During those years, there was an old, primordial tree on the side of the yard that my sister and brother were able to climb, but I could never get up there to hang out with them. So I got the stupidest idea: tie a rope around a rock, toss it over one of the branches and use it to climb up onto the tree.

Now, you would think that the rock would be pretty big. But it wasn’t. It was about the size of both of my fists combined; that’s pretty small. When I tossed the rock over one of the branches, I tested it out: I tugged on it quite violently, causing the rock to go back over the branch and land square on my head.

Now you’ve got to admit, I was bleeding pretty bad. Everything went white for a moment before the pain struck me. Letting out an articulate cry of pain, I held my head and began to bawl my eyes out. My sister, visibly distraught, jumped out of the tree to help me inside the house.

Now, my parents were pretty worried, as well, and my dad immediately started yelling at my sister, thinking that she was the one who did it. Of course, she didn’t, so um… yeah.

I was rushed to this special doctor that helped with scars and such.Apparently he was one of the doctors who helped in sewing my lip up. Ugh. I was quite feckless by the time we got there.

The waiting room was murky; dull, and not to mention foreboding. I think I had an ice pack on my head or something; I can’t really remember. Of course, the doctor was very unwonted; he seemed pretty happy to see me. I’m not sure why; I guess he likes to see small children in pain. Haha. Not really. I kid, of course.

I didn’t really pay attention to what he was saying; his verbiage was difficult to understand, anyways. All I knew was that I was going to be okay. I do believe he prescribed me some viscous goo to put on my head so my wound would heal.

And uh… that’s pretty much it. I don’t even think I have a scar from where the rock hit my head. Yeah, my life was pretty traumatic when I was a kid. It’s how it got me to where I am today, I suppose.

As for the symbolic song:

“Boy On A String” by Jars of Clay

The symbolic picture: