And then, of course, his guitar exploded.

I apologize for never writing. And though I should technically be cleaning my room at the moment, or studying for a biology test that revolves around a topic that flew over my head and I must re-learn, I am in a very bloggy mood, and thus must write. 

I decided I would add pictures in my upcoming blog (Very Hyperbole and a half, no?) but not today, because my laptop does not have a paint feature. But next week, thou WILT see pictures (Hopefully).

I just want to write on account of a single person who inhabits my new school whom we shall call "Peter". Peter was very welcoming in the beginning of the year. Though belonging to a very "Holier than Thou" group, he was in all of my classes (except for second period, in which I had art and he had music) and though we weren't buddy-buddy, there was no tension between us. 

I do admit that, at that time, I did have a crush on him, or some type of hormone-out-o'-wack seizure thing that caused heart palpitations sometimes. I am proud to admit that I soon got over this (in about a month or so after meeting him) when his, for lack of a better word, "Douche-baggy" personality and arrogant manner took a front seat to his physical features.

Wait. Where was I going with this? Oh, yeah.

ZE TENSION.

It appeared suddenly, after New Years, that he would avoid talking to me despite classes with one another, and would sit far away from me during such classes (which didn't really bother me. I don't appreciate close contact with males) and though this sudden burst of cold-shoulder weirded me out in the beginning, I didn't care, because, I mean, Why should I? I wasn't about to be bothered and freak out and burst into tears because some student in my grade had stopped interacting with me. If anything, I appreciated it. Less contact=less stress about worrying over whether I was slipping over the boundaries of modesty between opposite genders. No problemo. He had just made my life a whole lot easier.

Until he implied that I sniffed paint.

Okay, Clarification will be needed. Peter, a group of friends also belonging to the same class and I were waiting for our English teacher to arrive.

(The following conversation's inhabitants' names have all been changed, and "Loony" refers to me)

Rachel: Hm, I wonder where Mr. C is.

Peter: Yeah, I thought he lived in this room! *laughter*

Emily: Yeah, well I don't see what's wrong with that. I live in the orchestra room, ya know?*Laughter*

Loony: If anyone needs me, I sleep in the art room :D (I am known for spending all my free time there)

Rachel: *elbows me* Yeah, inhaling all the paint fumes, that explains a lot! *Laughs and I laugh along, because I know she's not being serious*

Peter: *completely serious* Thank you, Rachel, for saying out loud what we were all thinking. 

*everyone becomes silent as the awkward atmosphere settles*

Loony: ... *cough*

Now, I must admit that though I knew at the time that this was a diss at me of some sort, I hadn't really paid any attention to it. It was more of a "Oh, haha Peter. You think you're so effing brilliant" thought that went through my mind.

It wasn't until later that it occurred to me that he had somewhat questioned the effectiveness of my brain, as well as my mental sanity and that I inhaled paint intentionally.

And yes, I just did make a joke about that. Because there's only so much paint you can get in contact with before you just breathe it in XD

Which, as you all know, shouldn't have bothered me as much (I'm known as "Loony", for Zeus' sake) but it was in such a rude manner, a serious tone, and the way he emphasized "we were all" that bothered me.

Well, not bothered, because honestly, I don't care. He's just some kid, right? And If I'm bothered by every rude remark that someone tosses at me, then I'll go ballistic and start murdering snowmen by the time I'm 30. 

It's more of a "Why?"

And not a "Fall on your knees as you sob and scream to the heavens 'WHYYY?!?!?!?!?'"

Merely a "Why? What did I ever do to you?"

And yes, I am over-exaggerating this occurrence, but I am just looking for some answers.

So, do any of you have an idea as to why Peter would say something like this? Or do you want to just say something that occurred in your life that you would like to share? Or would you merely want to discuss the eating habits of Red Ants? Leave Thine comments in the commenter section below :D

Cheers,

Loony

I'm taking a page out of Amar's Book/Blog

And will write random stories up on here. I love to write, and I would like to experiment more with my terrible style. So...ONWARD. (this is a sudden writing sample, thus the grammar may suck. You have been warned.)

EDIT: HOLY. CRAP. THIS IS SO CHEESY. NO ONE SHOULD LET A TEENAGE GIRL ATTEMPT TO WRITE A SAD ROMANCE STORY AT MIDNIGHT AFTER SHE EATS CHOCOLATE.

The picture was wearing away.

The corners of it were starting to gray and chip, the picture had scratches that didn't belong. The sepia tones were slowly fading. Soon, there would be nothing left except for a blank sheet of shiny paper and some gray splotches where his tears landed. But they would fade eventually.

Hopefully.

He didn't want to upset her.

He was kissing her in the picture. Young and dashing, with his black hair and clean shaven face, he kissed her while his lips formed a faint smile half in amusement, half in bitter sweet happiness that melted his heart and burned his stomach. Blazing butterflies? Inferno Butterflies. Perhaps rhinos on fire.

He chuckled softly. Fire-y rhinos. She would get a kick out of that.

And HER. She was simply beautiful. Her loose blond hair stumbled over her shoulders and tickled his jaw. Her face was smooth and soft and felt like silk between his fingers. Her eyes were open, and despite not being able to see the color of her eyes (grAy, not grEy. The color of thunder clouds and silver and sweet-bell chime laughter that still rang in his ears) you could tell she was studying him with rapt interest.

He has asked her about it, once. Why her eyes were open, and for God's SAKE why are you looking at me like that was there something on my nose or-

And then she'd laugh her sweet bell laughter and kiss him softly on the nose.

"You big dope. I was wondering how I'd fallen in love with someone like you."

And he'd dutifully ask "Why?"

"Does there need to be a reason?"

"I'd like to know."

And she'd stare at him again, studying with her sharp focus. intelligent eyes, and smile. He melted his heart, you know. Broke it to bits and kissed it back together again. Bandaids one wounds to make the pain go away.

"You make me happy."

He looked up from the photo sharply. Zeus, his memory was going off again. He hated it. Hated being old. Hated being foul. Hated being-

He stopped.

And cleared his throat, pushing away everything from his mind. Not now. Not in front of her.

He clutched his cane tightly, bony knuckles turning white. They stood out sharply against the dark and smooth roundness of the cane. Scarred white against deep black. White+Black= Grey, he thought absent mindedly.

He looked upwards into the open sky. Rain. Thunder clouds. Deep rumbling that scared children and brought people close under old blankets, sharing stories and drinking hot tea.

Gray.

He bent down slowly, creakingly, as only an old man does, and lightly set the picture against the cool hard tombstone, next to a single yellow flower. 

Dark spots begin to appear on the stone. Rain.

Gray.

He began to get up, slowly but surely, leaning against the cane

Gray

His bones creak, and the rain began to pour harder. It soaks his hair and clothes and makes him a million pounds heavier and darkens everything and makes everything harder and-

It hurts.

"I love you."

He's glad it's raining. 

No one ever comes to a cemetery when it rains. No one ever catches an old man crying so hard and clutching the cane as if it will protect him and repeating "I love you I love you I love you" over and over and over as if it will stop him from feeling like this.

No one ever comes when it's Gray.

*exhales deeply* Well. That was cheesy.

I'm regretting making the guy an old guy. It makes it seem worse. Do me a favor, and make him like, 30-45 or something. Or keep him as an old man, if you want.

Based on this comic: http://browse.deviantart.com/cartoons/?q=Three#/d2mdp27

-Loony

30 Dan Points to whomever can guess who sang this song:

"I didn't mean to cook your dog!

 But hey, that's how things happen! 

That thing was standin' there, and then his little toes started tapping! 

So I cut his throat,

 hey go get a goat,

 and then I put him on the barbeque!"

I'm going to get killed for this. I swear. And I will lose my watchers, who are probably dog fans. And then they will google it. And Laugh. 

...

Yeah, I changed my background. It looks cooler this way, I think :D

Also, I made the font bigger. You're welcome, Darcy.

It occurred to me the other day

That I have no life, nor any funny stories.

Though, that may be just me and not being able to understand humor that much. I laughed when Mrs. Lovett fed innocent civilians her "Meat Pies".

Laughed Hard.

Though it's true that I haven't been able to eat Meat Pies since then.

On another note: It seems I've gained weight during Ramadan. The scale-thing-whose-name-i-do-not-remember-right-now says I haven't, but I knows it's a lie. The bluffing idiot *fumes*.

"How do you gain weight when you don't eat the entire day?" Some of you may ask.

The answer is simple: IFTAR. Or the time-when-you-break-your-fast-and-consume-so-much-food-your-pants-explode-and-you-end-up-having-to-buy-a-new-pair.

Yesh. Methinks this explains it quite well.

NOTE: The following includes the minor bashing of Hollister from a girl with no fashion sense (me!) and a small, anti-girly rant which may get me killed. Please understand, I'm not trying to offend anyone who loves to shop and enjoys going to malls. That is NORMAL. The abnormal one is me, possibly the only teenage girl who  does not like shopping. So please don't be offended :)

OH! My friends kidnapped me and took me to the mall on Friday, saying I had no sense of fashion and could not shop. My ratty cardigan and giant shirt and too-big jeans took offense to that. We believe we have a unique style.

In any case, I *sort of* enjoyed it. I usually don't like acting girly and "OHMYGOSH THAT LOOKS SO CUTE ON YOU. BUY IT!!!11!!!!!" But I let myself have 2 hours of such actions. And I...liked it, as much as I hate to admit it. It was a weird experience, but I had fun.

Until they took me to Hollister o_o

I constrained myself for 2 minutes and then let myself scream bloody murder and ran out the shop, all the way to a store that sold Harry Potter Shirts.

You don't understand. Look, stare at your thumb. That was the size of the lipgloss they had at Hollister.

And it was $10.

And they were BUYING it.

Either the lipgloss has supernatural powers, is edible, or the buyers have figured out how to grow money on trees.

In any case, it was a unique experience, shopping with my friends.

*whispers* And I'd go again if they asked me.

*strikes superhero pose* YES! I do believe I am maturing.

...

Somewhat.

I had something supremely witty to say...

...but I don't remember it.

I honestly have no clue as to what to say here at the moment. (I'm still contemplating as to whether or not I should publish it. Methinks I will)

So...

Random Question of the day: Would you rather find true love or 10 million dollars?

So what do you think? Wealth or true love? Please post your answers :D

-Loony

You know...

... considering the amount of insanity I show on a daily basis, it's amazing I haven't been locked up in an asylum yet. Like the fact that I talk to the voices in my head OUT LOUD ("No, shut up! Ack, I'm not talking to you!").  How I quote books, don't watch T.V, and listen to Beethoven one minute and then rock out to System of a Down (did I just say "Rock out?" Please do me a favor and send me away. Now.) the next.

Also how I love horror movies and laugh at them, and watching chick flicks give me headaches.

...

If anyone has any useless laptops, please send them to room 203. I'm the one with the straight jackets with the doodles on the sleeves.

Thanks,

Loony :)

Random Fact of the Day: The symbol on the "pound" key (#) is called an octothorpe.

Quote of the day:  Sheriff of Nottingham: Locksley! I'm gonna cut your heart out with a spoon!

Guy of Gisbourne: Why a spoon cousin? Why not an axe?
Sheriff of Nottingham: Because it's dull, you twit, it'll hurt more.