Sing us a song,

You’re the piano man.

Was this a bad idea? I think it might be a bad idea. But, it’s too late to go back now. Oh well. I can’t help it.

I think I might move to a blog that lets me customize it more. I’ll look into that.

Thanksgiving break is treating me well so far. I enjoy an entire week off from school.


And the talkin’ leads to touchin’,

And the touchin’ leads to sex,
And then there is no mystery left.
And it’s bad news….

Interesting week… Matt Demma, good lord. Ludicrous speed will serve none of us well. But I do like you. Quite a bit. I’m glad this worked out. Now, if only Emily could find a way to teleport home without me tomorrow. And if only our parents didn’t care about it being a school night.

I want to go to college. I want UCF’s housing to be put up, right now, but mostly I want to go to college. I want to live in a dorm and have a killer math class and make homemade meals once a week with Amanda. I want to be able to stay up until three in the morning playing hide-and-seek if I feel like it.

I’m pretty sure that 75+% of the angst I experienced in my first two and a half or so years of high school could have been cured by making out with a guy on a semi-regular basis.

I enjoy Rilo Kiley lately.

I want to buy new clothes!

I’m done rambling for tonight.


So, we definitely didn’t deserve that one.

Oh well. Marching band is starting to matter less and less to me as time goes on. UCF, here I come. Ultimate frisbee. Heck yeah. Maybe Quidditch. I’ll have to check that one out.

Thank god for less homework this weekend. Seven APs is starting to get ridiculous. Absolutely ridic.

I want a job second semester. Or to work at SOCKS. Either way I’m good.

UCF is letting me bring Albus. Fuck yeah.

Winter. It’s good. Next up: Christmas. Then, Mad March.


she couldn’t help thinking that there

was a little more to life somewhere else. Know what I mean, man? Most of the time I just want to GTFO of this place. Because it’s hot. And it has no skyscrapers and not enough gay people.

Marching band is starting again, albeit for the last time. I’m going to make it awesome this year or die trying. Not that it ever hasn’t been awesome. But, still.

I wanted that Cherokee so bad… Lame parents. Mostly, though, I just want a vehicular device. Anything they want to give me is A-okay. But that Cherokee was pretty… Ah well.

Go out, break up. Go out, break up. Is there any escape from the cycle? For anyone, ever?

Don’t want to get up at seven. Not in the least.



hello wordpress people!

I know I’m the most sporadic, cryptic poster in the blogosphere, but I’m trying to stop that now. Regular posts will become, I hope, a feature of this blog.

I used to keep a journal, actually. Wrote in it almost every day. I’ve got about eight or ten spiral-bound notebooks filled with the inanities of eighth and ninth grades. Reading them now makes me want to shoot myself, but whatever. 😛

Got the weirdest freaking sunburn in the world. You’d think I was a red-and-white cow if you only saw my ankles. Stupid Accutane.

But, simultaneously, wonderful, wonderful Accutane. I love it. Prevents me from scarring, woohoo!

And now I must finish my Algebra II review before my final exam tomorrow. 😀 Goodnight!


And so begins

a new chapter, hopefully, in this whole “life” thing.

We shall see, I suppose. We shall see.


Gold teeth and a curse for this town

were all in my mouth.
Only–I don’t know how they got out here.
Turn me back into the pet I was when we met.
I was happier then, with no mindset.
And if you’d have took to me like a gull takes to the wind,
I’d have jumped from my tree
And I’d have danced like the king of the eyesores
And the rest of our lives would have fared well.

Go look up Frank Abagnale, Jr.

June 2018
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