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TogetherYou may not be able to see a difference, but I can. I see something that is fixed. Looking at this photo, I have confidence and I smile. But when I look in the mirror, I’m sad once again.


A Greeting

Hey guys. I know I haven’t updated this in a while, and I know that none of you are going to read this. But I wanted to update this.

Life has been bad lately. I’m losing grip of myself and my friends and my relationships.

The weird thing is, I give my friends advice that they love, and I give them the best pep-talks….but I can’t do it for myself.

Over the last few months I have changed, and people have noticed. I have calmed down, have a more level head, and can see things from a new perspective. But I’m still learning. I won’t be able to move on with life so quickly. I guess I have to keep moving, even if I don’t want to.

And if I can do it, you guys can, too.

Keep looking up, no matter how bad life may seem, there is always a bright spot somewhere. You just have to find it.

To Paris!


Hey guys! Sorry I’ve been gone for so long. I’ve been busy with dramatic stuff…but it doesn’t matter, I mean, only 3 people read my blog anyway.

So I was getting out of the shower when I thought of a story idea. I was confident that I had a good basis, but it lead me on a different thought. Models around the world are beautiful and “natural”, right? Well they’re also skinny as heck…and the search teams that look for models are all looking for girls who wear a 0 in jeans to a -1. So what’s the message here? To be considered “pretty” and magazine worthy, you have to consume nothing but water and almonds. These emaciated girls get into fashion magazines, and I’m talking about freaking Paris designer magazines. Girls will slave over these clothes that look like horrid messes of chopped of fabric that was super glued together. And when regular people call them horrid, we are blamed with having no sense of clothes or fashion. Seriously? Is this (photo above) really what every girl wants? If you want this, imagine wearing it to school. Will people be fawning over it now? Yeah, I don’t think so. And the young, innocent teenage girls who delude themselves into thinking that it’s gorgeous clothing, long to have them and store them in their closets until they’re yesterday’s thing. Oh, but here’s the fun part. Back to being size -1, they don’t make these clothes in a size 3 or 5. No. It’s always -1. So bigger girls out there, who are also beautiful despite what anyone says, will never feel beautiful because they can’t squeeze into that tiny excuse for decent clothing. American fashion isn’t good either, but at least we don’t wear chopped up business suits with space pants. That is all. Oh. And I don’t own the photo above. So, it would be great if no one sued me. Peace.

Video Game Thiefs?

Is it just me or has anyone else noticed that games like to “steal” from each other? From WoW to Dragon Age, they have Orgrimmar and Orzammar. Have you ever noticed that all Dwarves dig deep down and make huge cities below the ground, but they are always abandoned?  Or how about Elves, always slim and beautiful? Usually archers? Does anyone have another comparison or stereotype to share?

The Fair

Ahh the fair. Such a lovely time to spend ridiculous amounts of money, get into fights, and vomit on rides. What could be better? 

How about, anything?

I have never had good experiences with the fair. I’ve cried, been cheated out of money, and had awkward to bad run-ins. I thought, maybe this year would be better. Oh no. 

It’s the first day, I was sick, and I saw a few people that didn’t really make me smile. In fact, I have had problems with these people in the past. Contact was made, temperatures rose, and I cautiously avoided them with ease, while keeping a close eye out.

The fair is not a good time. Na-da. Since I am tired I will retire to bed, but I do plan on writing about these three people another day. This post was just an update to say that I am okay. Fair winds 🙂

Book Review: Fifty Shades of Grey

Now I know what you’re thinking, porn book? Really? Why in God’s name would you decide to read that? Well, all I knew about this book was its graphic scenes of erotic foreplay and exotic sexual fantasies. (I won’t go into detail). Being the bookworm I am, I looked up the summary on the oh so trustworthy internet. I didn’t get an eye-full of sexual words, but what sounded like an excellent plot. Take away the sex scenes and it could be a magnificent teen book. What I am used to reading, however, is not found in this book. So when I expected him to whisk her away into his room, it would end there and then at the beginning of the next chapter they woke to fresh pancakes. No. Oh no no no. Not this book. I can say one word. Detail. Holy cow, the detail. But let’s not think of that.

For a little backstory, my mother has always been a lover of books, so she is more than happy to buy me any book I find on the shelf. I was in shock when she told me no to a book. No? Well I guess I can understand. Finally, I got my hands on it (through her consent). And I began a long and perilous journey through the life of Anastasia Steel and Christian Grey. 

Ana is the average college girl in her Senior year, ready to graduate. I won’t sum everything up, but she ends up meeting Christian, the most perfect being there could be. Tall, handsome, mysterious, loaded with money. He’s polite and generous, and has a strong passion for things. Passion doesn’t even cover his secret.

Even though his…rough side…is dangerous (to say the least), he finds himself smitten with Ana. She’s not like the others, and he’s gentle with her. She feels vulnerable around him.

This story sent me on a whirlwind of emotions; shock, suspense, lust, jealousy, hair-gripping drama, and endless gasps. I couldn’t put the book down.

The ending…oh the ending. To put it bluntly, I cried. I cried inside. I sobbed inside. On the outside, one tear fell. The resolution made my heart jerk for Christian, the sadist. And Ana I felt like I could empathize with.

Many think I’m weird for picking up this book, but it helps me advance as a writer. Now I won’t go into detail, but watching intimate scenes in movies or reading them in books make me squirm in awkwardness. I can write better, now more comfortable with exploring the depths that my pen can take me.

Oh, but it’s not over. There are two more books in the trilogy, and I plan to get my greedy hands on those and read the heck out of them as well. 

Wish me luck. Oh, and make sure to pick up your own copy. You won’t regret it.


I know I said that I love Love, and I hate Love. Right now I am not sure what to make of her. We all have loved, and a dear friend of mine says that I am too young to know love. I don’t know if this statement applies to everyone, but I’ll be damned if what I felt multiple times was not love.

My first love was at an early stage of 12 years old. And no, it was not smitten, or a haze that I felt might be love, I would have done anything for this boy. He was all that was in my mind. I forgot the outside world. I neglected my friends for this one boy, who ended up ripping my heart out. The experience was horrid. For months I sulked in my room, and the worst part? I don’t remember any of those months. That’s how bad I was hurt.

I loved again, when I entered into my first year of high school. This boy was older than me, but he loved me dearly. I could not imagine my life without him, and he put me through Hell, as I have done to him. We committed to each other, a bond that we swore to never break. But all good things must come to an end, and this one did. But we forever know, that no matter how far apart we grow, we will always have that spark.

It’s easy for me to fall, and I did one last time. I met him, and I looked straight into his eyes and I was lost. I couldn’t think of anything but him. But, knowing from my previous relationships with friends and boyfriends, you must not cling. So I distanced myself, as hard as it was. He strung me along in his own, sick, twisted way. But I couldn’t leave him alone. Then, without knowing, he ripped my heart out of my chest and danced on it. I protected him, and I still do, whether he knows it or not.

I’m afraid to fall again. I’m afraid for people to fall for me, because I may not feel the same. Falling in love brings, to me, a feeling of panic. I know at that moment that in the future I will be crying. I will weep and mourn. Do I distance myself? Do I take back from society and sit in my room, reading romance novels, wondering what could be? 

In the meantime I will clean my room and tend to household chores, maybe walk on the treadmill. For now, what lies ahead is uncertain, and frankly, it scares the fuck out of me. I don’t want to be hurt again.

And I think once again, I’m falling.