Hey, at least I'm not listening to the radio this time. I just double clicked on "Viva La Vida" so that should. . there it goes. Love it.
There's this little device in front of me. It's called a flash drive or a thumb drive, depending on what region of the United States you live in (just kidding, it actually depends on your educational status).
This is a really special flash drive. It's really, really tiny. And it's got like this clear cover on the device itself that you can basically see through except for this part that says "Corner Office" which I'm guessing is the brand.
My dad and I bought it at Walgreen's for like 10 bucks a couple of months ago because we needed one and it was an emergency. It's just 1 gig, and it was cheap, and it definitely came in handy.
I love it. It's so tiny and perfect. I couldn't have designed a better flash drive. I think I've fallen in love with it's perfect clear coat cover, and it's petite frame.
I'm currently debating whether I should ask my dad for it in exchange for my flash drive, which was originally his flash drive, but somehow ended up in my stuff with all my stuff on it. That's partly why he had to buy this one. I'd trade him any day. Mine's all plastic, not soft clearish covered like this one, and sort of tacky looking.
I'd have to clear all the stuff off of it first of course, since basically all that's on it is tacky thinspo. Most of it was photoshoped anyway. I kind of dreamed that "Real Girl" thinspo was really of real girls. Not real computer-generated girls. Whatever. I liked looking at it though, and sure, okay, I still do. But it was like an obsession back about a year ago. That's all I did. That was also my lowest weight. Not sure what the numbers were, since my parents took my scale away.
They still haven't given it back, actually. . . Or maybe they broke it because there's this old crappy scale that highly resembles my past prized possession in the basement. Laundry room to be precise. I've stepped on it quite a few times, just to make sure it doesn't (just this time) give me a correct weight. It never has. But even if it had, how would I know it was a correct weight? Like when I went to the doctor's last. They told me I weighed 105. Huh? I haven't weighed 105 in years. Are you kidding me? Are you sure I don't weigh 112 or maybe even 117? I was so tempted to ask them that.
I'm sure I've gained weight since that doctor's visit though, because I went through like 2 weeks when my appetite was freaking doing somersaults. I felt like a teenage boy, and ate like one too. But then again, this last week or so I have had no appetite. Basically, I've been eating Jello, Bocca burgers and diet lime Coke. Whatever.
(Death Will Never Conquer now.)
My dad's gone. Five days or something at this conference where they charge him over a hundred bucks to tell him that Jesus needs his help to save all the international students in college campuses across the US. I wish he'd give me the money, and I'll even throw a motivational speech in the mix to sweeten the deal.
At least he's gone. Lately he's been totally freaking out about Internet history, checking it and rechecking it every time I go upstairs to grab a bite or get some water. That wouldn't be such a problem if I wasn't reading the Book of Mormon half the time. Needless to say, I have to retype my passwords to Facebook, Myspace and Hotmail every time I check them. Which is every couple of minutes. (Fix You now.)
He comes back Monday night, I think. Perfect timing, too.
Monday morning is some kind of Memorial Day breakfast thing that Curtis invited me to. I'll letcha know how that all goes.
Tomorrow it's Rachel and I day. We're going to the mall, to see a movie and to hang out. I love that girl. I'm noticing more and more though that our political/moral views are really, really different. It causes tention sometimes.
Phones are funny, funny things. We speak through them and lie through our teeth and disguise our voice to sound less sleepy or busy or tired or whatever. I wish I could just see the person's face and feel their breath when I'm talking to them- every time. How much more personal would that be compared to a piece of plastic shoved next to your ear. And then your ear gets hot and sweaty and red and you switch ears until the same thing happens. And "Hello? Hello, are you there?". Yes. I am. I'm just trying to imagine what your eyelashes look like when the moonlight glimmers on them. Sorry, go ahead. "Well, anyway, I was talking about this boy at school. So friggin hawwt." Oh. And does he love you? Do you love him? Would he cherish you? "And his hair is so perfect, just falling over his eyes in a swooshy thing. And he has the best abs. . " Where did you see his abs? Don't awaken love, baby, because once it's up, it can't go back to dreaming. "But he has this girlfriend who's such a whore. ." So is he looking for something more? Or just a warm body to play with? Will he brush the hair away from your face to get a better look at your eyes? Will he resist the temptation to kiss you because he thinks you're more valuable than that? Will he hold your haid gently and put you before him? Will he stir your vanilla milkshake before he hands it to you because that's the way you like it? ". .every day when he goes to his locker. I didn't even know those types of pictures on there were allowed in school!" Would he kiss you on the forehead? Would he tell you you are beautiful even if he didn't think he'd get something out of it? Would you be treasured far above rubbies or would you be replaceable?
Maybe I am a romantic. I don't know.
Maybe I want perfection. No, no.
I just want truth. And honesty.
I want more than the afore mentioned warm body.
I want a soul that goes a long with it.
Did you know that I love you? Yep: Aye. Lurve. Yaoo. Ferh. Evah.
Did you also know that on average a child uses 730 crayons by their 10th birthday? This, of course, doesn't count if the child hates drawing.