Feline Friends

I love it when I'm the first one home in the afternoons. Mostly just because the cat (who we commonly refer to as Jack, but his collar/tag thing (which he doesn't wear anyway) spells Jacques (which I'm pretty sure is wrong) is extremely lovable and friendly with the single person he makes contact with after a long day of being alone. And normally, you couldn't pay him to sit within a ten foot radius of you (he's not very sociable). But anyway, today I got lucky and was the first one in (even though Emmett and I had spent the previous half an hour with unsuccessful attempts at following strangers (they would almost always immediately turn into a photo place or some gas station, as if we were wearing a big sign that read in bold orange letters: "hey, we're trying to follow you."))(I'm feeling kind of like I'm doing a calculus problem or something with all these parentheses) and sure enough I heard one of those weird cat noises (you know the ones, I hope, that kind of sound like meowing, but with a Doppler effect thing because they are running, you could almost compare it to say, a baby with the cooing thing) and a thump thump thump ( he hangs around in my room, on my things a lot, and he has to jump down like a mountain goat, due to the clutter) and he came running down the stairs and practically jumped in my arms. Naturally, I was elated and screamed "JACKUMS!" (which is how I refer to him sometimes). And so I put him down and preceded to put away my things, all the while he is busily curling around my legs ( I assume, and with a great hope, that this is a cat's way of showing affection) which made it rather difficult, and then to the kitchen, to give him some food ( I think he likes it when I say "Jack! Din Din! Come and get your supper!" because he always dashes in) because no one has fed him since breakfast. And he meows and tries to get the food before I can get it on the plate. And then he eats it, and purrs. That's my favorite. He hardly ever purrs, except under these specific circumstances. And then when he's finished (for some reason, I watched him the entire time) I plop down on the sofa, where he immediately joins me (something he doesn't normally do) and we enjoy eachother's company and watch T.V. Though, nothing is really ever on after school, so that doesn't last long. And so I turned it off, and Jack eventually went to sleep. Then everyone else got home, and in a flash he was gone. Right back up the stairs to his various hiding spots. And that is the worst. But when I move out, he's coming too. And we'll do stuff like that everyday. Hopefully.

Sahara

So. Over the past few weeks on Wednsdays (shit, how do you spell Wedsnday?) and Mondays (thank goodness I can get that one; a sliver of sanity left) in Latin have been kinda boring. I mean, outside of playing games (oh, and on fridays too) and sometimes shooting the breeze with Emmett and the motley group of regulars (Jennah's there. And Tim Bihl. Jake has even been by sometimes. Alex and Carter. And Katie and Amber. And Mr. Charlie, more frequently as of late. Plus or minus that lady with the red hair and Mrs. Galenis (whom I loathe with my entire being, by the way) and mostly just wasting time. But then, sometimes when I feel creative and I can manage to coerce the computer to cooperate, I paint stuff in Tux paint. I did a few with animals. A Lion, an Elephant, and A Zebra. I want to do some more, if I can find the time (shouldn't be a problem-worry not). Any way. Here they are.

Fluid

I'd like to keep
some meditation in a jar
then perhaps
I'd dump it out,
into a car
and it might run
and I could fly
and find the line
between the ground and sky
or maybe not,
and my hopes, would be shot.
Well, that's all I've got.
But perhaps not?

Flavour of the Week

I don't like drugs, and I don't like vocabulary words. Though, I will admit that there are good and bad times to use both. But if used together, they become ekstreemlee dainjurus.

Future

So today I began to seriously consider my options for the future: where I might attend college, what I might do, where I would go, etc. I ended up deciding that at some point, I want to live in a metropolis of some kind and open up a music shop. Not one of those shitty places that doesn't let you play the instruments. And we won't just sell guitars and drums and things either. I'll make it a point to have plenty of zithers and sitars, plenty of pungis and didgeridoos, and violins and cellos too. And plenty of guitars. And drums too, I guess. But drums can be annoying sometimes. There would definitely be a separate room (preferably noise proof) for the percussion. And you could play the instruments. Hell, there might as well even be a few that aren't for sale that people can come in and play whenever they want. And there could be music lessons and stuff too. Yeah, that would be nice. Very nice indeed. And I could call it something clever. Like Strawberry Jam. I mean, it really wouldn't have to be strawberry or anything. You could call it Blueberry Jam too, I suppose. Just as long as there is jam someplace in it. Because that is what people could do there. Jam. That's the point.

Waste

So, here it is February the Sixth and several weeks have passed since my last post. I kind of feel like the blog thing is slowing down, and it kind of makes me sad a little bit. I enjoy writing these things. It's almost like complaining, but I feel better about this than say, belly-aching to Miss Gross about how I wish she would spend more time explaining problems than doing them, if that makes sense. And I'm not, at this point anyway, really sure about what I want to begin with. So I don't really know what to complain about. I mean, I could complain about lots of things, but it wouldn't get anything done, and I'm certainly not one to waste time.

So...

Have you ever been really excited to do something, but then at the last minute something comes up and plans get all changed around. And you end up not doing anything at all. Like having breakfast for dinner, but no one cooks anything and you end up eating cereal, which, while still considered a breakfast food, doesn't make much of a dinner. Or like going to see Michael Bolton. But it turns out that it's just that guy from office space. But wait a second. I don't even know if Michael Bolton is any good. I don't think I'd pay to see him, anyway. Or like astronauts going into space. And they're about to take off, but then a guy at Houston comes over the loud speaker:
''Sorry fellas. No space flight. Turns out, there's no such thing as mars.''