I've recently come upon an amusing thought. Blogging is like writing a biography when no one cares about your life. And as far as I've seen it's true. Sure there are some blogs that do have regular readers, but those are less personal and more devoted to a singular theme.
    Whatever. I've also been downloading tons of free ebooks all morning, but I think that it has been decided that my favorite book of all time is Phantom of the Opera. Speaking of books, do you know what utterly disgusts me? Twilight and all of its dipshit fans. Never before have I been so offended by a collection of words. The story is fine I suppose, considering it was aimed at little girls with no pubic hair. The thing which truly annoys me is that it's a fucking template of a book. Annoying Bitch Main Character is left so plain that any annoying little bitch can imagine herself in her place. It was not made to accomplish a goal in the author's life or for the respectable enjoyment of just writing, it was made for money, and lots of it. I think it would be funny if Stephanie Meyer just up and died.
    Recently purchased a guitar on Amazon. I got it for only 80 bucks so I'm not expecting fantastic sound, and it's only a beginner's guitar so it's not a huge deal, but I do want to be good at it. I've thrown away all of my other dreams (model, horse trainer, fashion designer, and the completely inexplicable kickboxer) and now I'll I've got left is rockstar. I think I'm scared that if I'm bad or I don't enjoy playing it, reality will kick me in the face and I'll have to come up with a realistic career. Realism has never been my strong suit, and it honestly scares the shit out of me. So, what will I do, become some mild-mannered CEO of a tampon company, buy a nice home in the suburbs and pop out a few kids, then while away my twilight years in death camp in Florida?No, thank you.
    Speaking of marriage and popping out a few kids, I simply cannot see myself ever getting married or having kids. I honestly hate people. There have been a select number of human beings in my life who I have been able and willing to talk to, but none of them have ever interested me long term, or enough to squirt the equivalent of a watermelon out of my vagina. Kids are irritating, whiny, and nine times out of ten they grow up to be uneducated, shitty people. I'm a living example. I completely respect other's rights to have them, but don't you fucking dare ask me to babysit, because Timmy is probably going to get thrown out of the window and hit the ground like a Hefty bag full of vegetable soup before the night is up.
    Christ, it's fucking cold. It's only 5 days into September and the weather has already cooled down too much for comfort. Seasons are shitty. Not only are seasons shitty, the changing of seasons is shitty too. You finally start to enjoy the heat of summer and then WHAM, it's 60 degrees out, motherfucker!
    I don't understand how people can believe in a god, or gods, if you swing that way. How can you look at the stars, and into the millions of miles of black, empty, and beautiful space surrounding Earth, and say, "This is for me." I hope aliens come just to fuck with the Christians.
    The more I write, the less I want to kill people. Is that good thing?

school, schmool

    First day of life as a sophomore, and it's not too awful. I didn't get many classes with friends, but that's okay. They're supposed to teach me how to socialize and "become a better, more wholesome" person, but fuck that. I'm perfectly fine living my life as a lonely, deranged weirdo with a knack for violent fantasies.
    Speaking of violent fantasies, no matter how much I try to come off as socially normal and in no way insane on the first day, I always manage to fuck it up. Sure, I'm probably skewing things in my mind to beat myself up, but I swear to god, the other kids must think I'm a mass murderer. Or a taxidermist. Both are creepy.
    Everything went fine for the first few classes. I had a few awkward moments, but nothing too horrible. A little stutter now and then, but I kept it under control for the most part. The thing is, the longer the day went on, the worse and more lonely I felt. I would be absolutely peachy-keen for school if it weren't for the group work. Unless I know at least two people in a class, I'm usually stuck alone. And it makes me feel horrible about myself. Whatever, back to the violent fantasies part.
   The last period of the day, Geometry, I accidentally walked into the wrong class and ended up roughly a minute late for my actual class. I knocked and I got let it, but Mrs. T----- gave me a weird look, like I had just disemboweled her dog and strung it up on her front porch by its intestines. Some nice kid showed me where my seat was and I took it, and then we got on to one of the many annoying name games you have to do on the first day, although I couldn't give two shits about any of the people in my class or what their names are. This time, we had to say our names and one thing we did over the summer. I was second-to-last, and I watched in boredom as we went around the room talking about things I didn't care about. When we got to me, I said these exact words: "My name is S-----, and over the summer I went to K-----."
    You could hear a pin drop. I don't know if I've violated some sort of ancient social code that forbids girls with an 's' name from speaking of towns starting with K's, but it went dead silent. Mrs. T----- looked at me and said, "Okay." I really wish I could type the disdain that dripped from her voice, but the limits of modern technology prevent me from doing so. And here's the fun part! For the next five minutes, instead of working out her bullshit logic puzzles, which aren't logic, but more of an acceptable retard test to use in school (Is your hand bigger than your face?), I imagined jabbing a meat fork into her fat ass that was covered in a skirt that could have sheltered an entire African tribe, if it weren't a shade of pink so violent that it made you want to be sick.
    And if someone ever does read this, I'm mostly kidding. I don't have the arm strength to stab a person with a meat fork. Besides, this is just a place for me to vent. It calms me down after a hard day. Oh well, only the rest of the school year to deal with. Happy trails for now, reader(s?).