currently: gimme gimme

*listening to Welcome to Earth*

I've finally started the big revamp of my webpages. I've reformatted almost everything to be frame friendly or no frame friendly. But there are still some pages that I have no idea what to do with, such as the vashti page and the love page. The vashti page is just old and crusty, and the love page has next to nothing on it.

Oh, well, if you're bored, hit "my webpage" far below to see the changes.

I haven't talked to anyone much this weekend. I have no excuse. Hardly anyone contacts me, either. I have to work 7-11 or something shitty like that tomorrow, so I might as well crawl into bed. Murr.

2:43 p.m.

currently: I'm a bit player

*listening to Apop and lots of it*

So, I finally got out of bed just a few minutes ago. MMm sleeping in is so good. But what woke me up was my mother ringing the doorbell, so I am hiding. Hiding, yess, Precious. We hates disturbances. (Gollum on the brain)

I have come very close to buying a Game Boy Advance twice this week. Somehow, I managed to forget about it or hold on to my wallet. I spend too much money as it is. Tattoo comes before anything. Then Gamecube. SHITE. School books. *cries*

OOo. I still haven't registered for classes. Slim pickings are my specialty. Greaaaaaat. Then again, it's not like I want to go to school, so it's really unimportant what I take. I'm still waiting for a challenging class. Math is not challenging to me; it's a fucking nightmare. I'm avoiding math until it's all I have left to take. But in every other area, I've never gotten lower than a B. I was trying to keep a nice 3.5-4.0 GPA but slipped a little last fall. Too much work= A, A, A, B. And then I started caring less and got another B in the spring.

I have a failure complex. I might have brought this up before. In elementary school, my grades were very very shitty. Naturally, my teachers and father thought I was just a slacker. This amounted to me being put in SAFE (a detention-like atmosphere during school hours) nearly every day and crying my fucking eyes out because the "teacher" in SAFE was just plain evil. She would sometimes make me stand at her desk so she could yell at me in front of the other fuck-ups. She'd say encouraging things like, "You can do better than this. I don't want to see you in here again. Why are you here?" between sips of coke. At the time, I had no idea what was wrong with me. I tried. I tried as hard as everyone else.
At night, my dad would sit me down at the kitchen table 'til sometimes midnight to finish my homework. He was really encouraging, too, I assure you. Did he not suspect something was wrong with a kid that had to work on 3rd and 4th grade homework for 5 hours?? *grumble* I guess he thought I was just stupid. He made me repeat the 4th grade. (Which wasn't horrible, really, since most of the people in my class were complete bastards. I wouldn't have met my now best friends had I not been held back.)

I was in all advanced classes when I got to middle school. Until I met a certain English teacher that, once again, made me feel like a moron. The next year I was in dumbass English. Wow, my self-esteem was sky-rocketing. My classmates were the worst of the worst. These kids didn't even try. It was there that I began to realize something had to be wrong with me.

I'M DYSLEXIC, YOU ASSHOLES! I'm not stupid; my brain can't absorb numbers and letters like the average brain. FUCK YOUUUUUUU!!!!!!!! AGGHHHHHHHHHHH!

Hell, yes, I'm bitter. It should have been obvious to my teachers. I don't blame my dad, though he should have questioned why I was so slow. I missed out on a lot of cool shit for a kid by being stuck in SAFE all day. I missed talent shows and "field day."

Anyway, since all that crap from elementary school, it's inconceivable for me to get less than a C in anything. I'd sooner drop out and run away screaming than be looked down upon again. Dyslexia isn't a problem anymore. It only affects my speech sometimes. (brain is faster than mouth, brain thinks backwards= "don't fuck the slamming door" or "stick that in your smike and pope it")

So, now I have dyslexia and a failure complex. Or dyslex and a failure complexia.

Oh, happy day.

1:41 a.m.

currently: I love AC

*listening to VNV Nation, FuturePerfect*

I made my dad watch Boondock Saints with me. I love Willem Defoe. He is TEH GAY. (yeah, that was intentional, you fucks)

Can you feel the love tonight?

ACK. Spider bites still ITCHY! Murr. Itchy itchy. I hate spiders now. They shall feel my wrath in cans of raid!! (Which I will have to go buy tomorrow)

It's strange, you know, I have never been bitten by a mosquito. In fact, I have watched one land on me for a few seconds then take off. I've been told that they like potassium, so I must not have much of that in my blood. Ah, but spiders like me. I would not even mind this so much if one of them were radioactive and made me spiderman spandexilicious... BUT NO! I get your average, every day, I-just-want-to-bite-you-and-make-you-itch spiders. GRAWL! HULK SMASH!

Is anyone else a little afraid of next year's movie line-up? Hulk, Daredevil, X2 (X-Men), and so on? (Not that my ass won't be in those theater seats--"hooray for spandex and leather!")

Willem Defoe makes the ugliest shemale in the world. But he looks good in green. Alas, the Green Goblin is dead, and James Dean will take his place... Er... I mean, Hobgoblin.

WHAT? I can't help it that my brain is filled with this useless shit! You'd think I'd be good at Trivial Pursuit, but I wouldn't know since I've never played it. Balderdash is fun, though. I reign supreme in BS.

Wow, look at the time. I have sheep to kill. No, not quite tired yet.

In the beginning, Fyx created the diary and the guestbook. And the diary was without purpose and stupid.

Okay, I'm rambling.