What the tertiary education?

I really don't seem to have much luck in life. It took me my entire highschool life up until now to decide what I wanted to do next year. During the past five years, I've changed what profession I wanted to go into so many times, I've lost count. Last week alone, I changed what I wanted to do and what university I wanted to go to five times, no joke. But yesterday, I suddenly found my ideal course and University. Isn't it wonderful? The only problem is... It's in the middle of New South freakin' Wales. Usually when you are choosing a tertiary study place thing, you go "These are the ones in my city. I'll go to one of them." But, because I'm a special kid, I can't seem to operate like that.

I went to this careers expo on the weekend, and didn't really come across anything spectacular, as always. But yesterday I was flipping through some of the course brochures I'd picked up, and was drawn to the vibrant cover of the University of New England one. Normally, for anonimity's sake, I don't mention names of places, but I'm nowhere near it, so that doesn't exactly give much away. Turns out UNE has the most amazing International Studies degree, and the whole place is just beautiful. I completely fell in love with it. Seeing as I have pretty much no money, and I am, let's say, rather young, there is no way that I could move there next year. So, in the time that I should have been sleeping, I concocted an amazing plan: study the first year of a Diploma in Languages (Spanish) in mah city, and spend the rest of my time working to get enough money to make the move. I know, I am just so incredibly intelligent. I pride myself on the fact that everyone else was like "Yeah, I'm going to one of the big three universities in our state" and I was all "Stuff y'all, I'm heading somewhere different." But, let's face it, I've never been one to follow what everyone else is doing. I like to do my own thang.

So yes, despite the strangeness of the situation, I'd just like to sit here and gloat for a bit anout my awesome planning for my future. Not that my planning has really been that great. I mean, I've changed what course I wanted to do so many times. I think that's what made finding 'the one' more satisfying. No one told me to go there. No one told me to do that. At the time, I didn't even know of anyone who would be interested in going to university there. It was all my choice. And that's what makes me so satisfied with it.

I'm hoping that university forces me to be social or something. I mean, I like talking to people, but in moderation. At least if I'm not studying full time next year, I won't have to be stuck in books so much, which will be awesome. But, I should stop thinking of that. The mother of all anti-ninja total lamities is coming up in 6 weeks. Sitting a test that pretty much determines what I can do for the next few years? The word I'm looking fr here is 'shizballsofhorrible'. 'Scary' for all you people that are DSG-speak impared. Ooh, I should totally have my own language. That would be awetasticness. I wonder if there are people in the world who are annoyed by the use of such joint-words. Please excuse me while I go and muse about this...

... okay, I'm done. I haven't blogged in a while, so I should probably insert something about the random shiz that has been going o in my life. My school is having an Academic Assembly, and I'm getting an academic award. I don't know how, but I've managed to pull it off once again. Well, I do know how; it was through hard work, persistence and a lot of whinging. As much as I am looking forward to getting out of it, I've realised that I'll miss school when I leave. I know, sentimentality.

I shall cut this off before I go all cheesy on you. Hopefully I'll be back to blogging regularly soon, and have some interesting and fun shizzywobble to share. Buenos noches!

Let's Get Shizzywobble.

Goodness, gracious, great balls of ninja! It feels like so long since I last blogged! Actually, I haven't really being much on the social media side lately. But, I now feel compelled and obliged to blog, because I know just how deprived you've all been. What's that I hear? People screaming that they concur. Oh wait, that's just silence and my imagination. Mah bad! Well now, this is thoroughly awkward. Wait, you want me to keep blogging anyway? Oh this is amazing, tears of gratitude are pouring down my face.

Yeah, I don't even know what that was just then. See now, this is what happens when I decide to blog the day before I have to return to school. My brain is more than a little mixed up and fuzzy. On the pupil free day, I usually decide to do all the school-related things I should have been doing on the holidays. Well, I decide to do them, but I don't actually do them, because I'm lazy and unmotivated like that. Today I spent an hour practicing clarinet, which is the longest practice session I've had in quite a while. What can I say? I've been very uninspired. I wanted to practice oboe, but you know, the repair people didn't fix it at all, so I can't. Thanks guys, I really appreciate you not fixing my instrument.

I guess that gives me an excuse to not play it then. It's a shame that the one time I do feel like playing it, I can't. Well, not unless I'm comfortable playing it with half the note coming out incredibly airy and ridiculously flat. Whatevs. I'm going to read Macbeth soon, so I can get ahead for English. Not that I need to read it or anything, I just want to do it to annoy the other English teacher. He can't stand it when our class is ahead. That's right, I am maniacally laughing mwahahaha.

Unlike most "Oh-crap-tomorrow-my-holidays-end-and-I'm-back-at-school" days, I'm not feeling depressed. Seeing as the upcoming term is the most important and stressful in my school life, I probably should be. And, you know, there's the dreaded QCS test, which decides whether I can get into the courses I want to at uni. Plus, the majority of my marks come from this term, and it's just about my last chance to ensure I get an academic award. Which I won't, for the first time ever. Anyway, all of that loveliness aside, I'm feeling pretty pumped! I actually want to go back to school and try my best, and help anyone who isn't feeling that way feel happy. Which is going to be hard, because I guarantee that most people will come to school thoroughly depressed tomorrow. I'm sure my face will cheer them up lol jks it'll make them want to die even more.

This term is going to be my term! When I feel down, and I'm doubting myself, I'm going to re-read this, and get my confidence back up. My main problem with school this year has been whether or not I should try hard. Because, it's common knowledge that I am prone to killing myself over assignments (metaphorically. You didn't really think I was dead, did you?) and whinging about them a whole lot. So, I was all "Well, maybe I should slack off. That might make me happy." But, no-one likes a lazy bum. This term, I'm going to try my best, no matter what happens!

They say that your teenage years are the best years of your life. Well, I sure as heck don't know who 'they' are, and why they have the authority to tell all people when the best part of their lives are, but I do not believe this one bit. In my experience, teenage hood has been by far, the toughest and most stressful time of my life. Not only do you have to worry about a large workload, and making friends, but you're stuck in the strange purgatory. You're not a child, but you're not an adult either. This usually means that people act immature like children, but do things that adults do. I have always been frustrated by this. Then again, I've always been a bit of a special k. I will admit, I'm quite happy with where I am in life at the moment, but things can always be improved. I'm actually looking forward to improving them. I don't know what's up with the happy-sparkles optimistic mood at the moment, but I'm enjoying it.

There is much that I could blog about, but I need to go prepare for tomorrow. Overall, my holidays have been much more eventful than I thought they would be. In many different ways, I have learnt a lot about myself (lolz, mostly through emotionally purging on my parents. Pity those poor people.) Ohohoh! Guess what guys! I'm thinking of majoring in Philosophy next year. Not that it is really a career-leading thing, but hey, critical thinking is always sought after. I'll probably go with the Arts/International Hotel and Tourism Management, and end up doing Events Management. But, that's cool, because I'm good at it, and I do love organising things. Hopefully learning Spanish will also give me international opportunities, because I don't want to stay in Australia my whole life. I mean, it's awesomeballs of amazing here, but I want to see the world. And seriously, with Gillard in power, who would want to stick around? Worst Prime Minister ever? I think so. Oooh, now I've gone all political on you all.

Well, that was meant to be my concluding paragraph, but I can't very well end on Gillard. That would be a disgrace to everyone. I would like to add that I think that in the upcoming two months, everyone is going to need to be there for each other oh-so-much. So those unfortunate kiddiewinkles that get to see my sunshiney self at school every day, let's all help each other out and try our best! On that note, I shall leave you fine readers. Ciao for now!

Growing old is mandatory, but growing up is optional.

Yesterday, I found my first gray hair. I don't know how this is possible, considering the fact that I fairly frequently dye my hair a particularly dark shade of brown. But somehow, I gray ninja managed to defy all scientific reasoning, and escape the colouring. I must admit, at sixteen years of age, the last thing I expected to see when brushing my dark bangs, was a shiny, gray hair. What's with that anyway? Why is grey hair so much thicker and shinier than the rest? Maybe it's just because it wants to be all "Hey bros, look at me! I'm in ur hairz, makin u look old."

I like this idea much better than the scientific explanation of "It's because you're getting old. Old as in, closer to dying. Dying as in dead. Nothing. No longer part of this world." Because, let's face it, when you're sixteen, the last thing you want to think about is growing old and dying. So, like everyone who wants to ignore the truth, I swiftly ripped the grey hair from my head. Most people would simply throw it away, and pretend that it was never there. I, being my melodramatic self, went running through the house, waving it in the air and dramatically yelling

"I HAVE A GRAY HAIR! AT SIXTEEN! I'M GOING TO DIIIIIIIIE! WHY MUST I GET ALL THE BAD GENES IN THIS FAMILY? WAAAAAH!"

This was followed by a ranting session to my Dad about how he shouldn't have had the right to procreate. You see, my Dad started going grey around the time he entered highschool. I was hoping that I would get my Mum's genes for greying, because she is in her forties, and has probably had as many grey hairs as I have now. Unluckily, I got her extremely thin hair, rather than my Dad's think, dark head of gorgeousness. That's right, I got the thin hair and they greying. It is my common complaint that I got all the stuffed genes in the family. My parents usually respond with "Well, you are smart like us!" Little do they know, I was only talking about appearances.

Now, dear readers, I don't want you to all go out and assume that I am a hideous beast. I'm not great at complimenting myself, but this isn't true. I just seem to have ridiculously bad luck sometimes. I seem to always choose duds, and I have the worst luck when it comes to being overheard in conversation. But that's okay, because these things make for excellent anecdotes, don't they?

Surprisingly, I'm glad that I found a gray hair on my head. Why? Because I have been getting much too complacent about life at the moment, and assuming that things can just go on without changes or consequences. The hair proved to be the perfect visual reminder that life is short, and no matter what age you are, you cannot take anything for granted. My biggest fear in life is putting myself out there; sharing an opinion with people, even just simply talking to people, or posting something where it can be seen. I've hidden behind this fear for at lest five years, but now I've resolved to change it. The worst thing you can live with in life is regret, and doing nothing is worse than stuffing up.

One of the main reasons I haven't been blogging a lot lately, is because I don't want this blog to have too serious a tone, and I've had a lot of stuff going through my head. That and the fact that my computer completely crashed at least five times and had to go through days of intensive repair. Thankfully, it should be all good now.

Have you ever had a wake-up call about your life? Do you have any weird theories about why grey hair is so different? Feel free to share. My newest one is that the one grey hair was actually Excalibur in the form of a hair, being there just to bug me.

And remember the saying that everyone writes in birthday cards: growing up is mandatory, but growing up is optional. Or something like that. Just trust me though, I may be growing older, but I won't be growing up any time soon.

Slowly gaining World domination... One blog at a time.

Hey cupcake kids! This is just a quick post to let you all know that I've started up a second blog, dedicated exclusively to anime. This is because I talk far too much on the subject here, when I should be sharing random anecdotes and superhappyfuntime laughs. If you wish to read or follow it, you can find it at http://beyondthepixelblur.bogspot.com

Now you can all breathe a sigh of relief, because you won't have to hear my anime rantings anymore. Or maybe you're sqeeing with excitement, because you'll get to read more about it on this new blog. Maybe you couldn't get a cookie about anime and bloggings. That's okay! I hope I'll see some of you over there, though! :)

Also, who remembers the joint venture to start up "A Blog Named Doug"? Those of you who were involved, we should really start that sometime. I'd still love to write Travel/Arts for it!

Okay, that is all for now. Hope you all have a wonderful night, my confectionary kids!

My trusty steed, erm, ninja? Dog?

I am not a dog person. I have never been a dog person. I will never be a dog person. Up until the age of thirteen and a half, I owned a cat, who I loved very much. He wasn't very needy; he'd come and snuggle up with me in bed at night, and be a good companion when I needed one. One day, out of the blue, he had a seizure, was diagnosed with a brain tumor, and died that night. And there I was, left with a six-month-old puppy that my family had bought only a few months prior to that event, no longer able to call myself a crazy cat owner. This puppy could not have been more different from the cat; he would bite, cry, want constant attention and jump around with the energy of someone on drugs. Actually, in the three-and-a-half years I have owned my dog, he hasn't changed much from that description at all. He is still completely needy and psycho, but, luckily for him, he is also the most attractive dog in the world.

Sirius Black-ear, dalmatian extraordinaire. That's right guys, my dog's name is a Harry Potter reference. Whoot. Actually, he was named after the star Sirius, which is part of the Orion constellation, and is the 'dog star'. As his name says, he has an ear. It is black as black can be. His eyes also both have black spots on them, as does his nose. Unlike most dalmatians, the rest of his face is completely white, making him look kinda like a seal or a baby panda. I don't know, but it's cute, either way. Most people describe him as "A good looking idiot." That pretty much sums him up. He fits into our family perfectly; we're all spotty, yet good looking and incredibly silly.

I had the most amazing plan for today: to put on my hawt-dayum black cape, and get my dog to bite onto a hula-hoop, so I could run/ride around, pretending to be somewhat of a cross between Zorro and Dracula. But with a dog. I'd done something similar before, so I assumed that, loving to bite things, my dog would chomp on and take me riding. Apparently not. For some reason, he appears to have contracted hoop-a-phobia, and decided that he would run around, using only three of his four legs whenever I brought the hoop near him. I don't know why seeing a hoop would stop you for using one of your legs, but he's special like that. I should give him to new nickname of El Tripodo.

... not that he doesn't already have enough nicknames. My family is massive on nicknames. We don't really ever call each other by our real names. In fact, we don't use the correct name for most things. Pets have always attracted weird nicknames. Sirius, for example has been called everything from the predictable Siri to just plain weird things like Chimbo Chambo Chunky Chingles, Dangles Mercutio, Dangy-Yoo, Dan-gee, Pig-Snout, Siri a la Biri and Lotsa-Spots, amongst many others. No wonder the poor dog still doesn't know his name.

Anyways, he my little spotty ninja. He may be the biggest pain in the butt, but his crazy antics never fail to amuse me. He'll eat anything, just because he shouldn't. Like toads. And stuffed toys. And plastic. And whatever he can get out of bins. And his own vomit. And blue powder that he found today that may or may not be drugs from my neighbour's yard. Yum-ee. Weirdly, he is the least vicious dog I've ever come across. He got partially mauled by a dog a few year ago, and he just stood there and cried, rather than attacking. It was pretty heartbreaking. He'll even try to share his bone with you, which is gross, but very un-doglike. And he'll come up and lick potential intruders, and wag his tail at them. Excellent guard dog that he is.

So, hopefully tomorrow I'll be able to persuade my spotty ninja dog that running around with hoops is for cool kids. I mean, that's a crazy antic that I wanted to blog about, but he went and ruined/stole the show. Good on ya, Dangles. Yeah, despite the fact that I am allergic to dogs, and easily get annoyed by their need for companionship, I love my spotty ninja thing. Ohohoh, I totally played hide-and-seek with him the other day. And tag, because we're cool like that. Word. And with that, I will leave you with the [tos]sary definition of word, seeing as I use it far too much. Peace out, cupcakes!

Word - Street vernacular. Short for "word to your mother." As in, "Word."

Word...

//A.N: I still can't comment on anyone's blog. Okay, some maybe Internet Explorer and Google Chrome are both just dodgy. Or Blogger hates me. I don't know, but it's annoying as anything. I really want to comment, guys! So, I'm really not ignoring everyone's posts here. I know whiteribbon is having the same problem, so maybe Blogger just hates us both. Or we're just too cool to comment. Word. Aw crudballs, I really need to stop saying that... Writing. Word. Nuts.

Contrary to popular belief, that is water on my pants.

Oh no I di-int! Wait, yes I did. What are we talking about? Oh, you're there too, blog readers. Don't make me use my smoulder on you! To be honest, I don't even know what that first line and a half was about, so let's start this thang properly now. I can't tell you all how uninspired I've been blogging-wise lately. But, you would have gathered that, seeing as took my longest blogging absence ever, and the few posts I made before that were pretty lameballs. Never fear though, because I have returned to save you all from the fiery pits of woeful misconduct and paranoia... or something. You want to hear a funny, short anecdote? I few minutes ago, I was brushing my teeth, and I accidentally spilt water all over my general crotch vacinity, making it look like I had wet myself. [insert lots of laughter] What, you're not laughing? It's okay, that humour is way too immature for my liking too. Waaait... [flashback to two years ago]

It was a hot summer's day, and two girls departed the school bus, laughing merrily. They had just returned from a glorious (read, painful) school gym class, where they had spent more time ranting about the misdoings of socitey than working on their fitness, or lack thereof. As the short-haired brunette casually stepped off the bus, her pasty friend suddenly came up with a mischevious and diabolical plan. Grinning like a homeless man who had just been given money for booze, the pale girl took out her water bottle and dosed her companion with it. The short hair-brunette responded with a strange mix of emotions, but seemed relatively unphased that her wet clothes made her look as if she was without a properly functioning bladder. That was, until children started staring at her as if they believed she had genuinely wet herself, which left her pale friend in a fit of laughter.

Okay, so maybe I am that immature, and I kinda sort of might have laughed at myself in the mirror. I don't think it's as sad that I had an immature moment as it is that it inspired me to go back to blogging again. It's not like nothing has been happing in my life at the moment. In fact, a lot has been happening in my life at the moment. I've had three days of rehersals for my school's musical failure, sorry, 'musical spectacular', and the term is finally finished. I presented my Extension English assignment, and was awarded an A-, despite the fact that I had a coughing fit in the middle of my lecture. I am rather proud of this, because I worked way too hard on that darn assignment.

I also saw Jesus Christ Superstar two nights in a row, which was incredible beyond words, albeit emotionally draining. [Cue rant! If you have no interest, then skip this paragraph] I have seen so many theatre productions during the past four years, which range from musicals to operas to orchestral recitals to ballet to oratorios to contemporary dance. I have seen local, national and inernational productions which had everything from four people and four chairs to extravagant sets, and casts of over fifty people. However, I have never seen anything with as much heart, guts and genuine attention to detail as JCS. The cast get into the production so fantastically; at some stage all three leads were crying on stage (two to the point where they were properly sobbing), not because they were acting, but because they were genuinely overcome with emotion because the musical was just that intense. It is also a very physically demanding musical. The guy playing Judas broke his leg after just three and a half performances into the season. Funnily enough, that means I saw his first and last full performance in the role ever. Might I just add, he was fantastic. His take on Judas' Death was more moving and disturbing than anything else I have seen in my entire life. I'm not ashamed to say that it made me cry to the point where I was shaking and sobbing. I had a similar reaction to Jesus' Crucifixion, and Gethsemane. The guy playing Jesus was possibly the most talented musical theatre performer I have ever come across. How he is able to hit and hold (for a good 7 seconds, if not more!) a C6, after already holding the G below that, and not taking a breath, is beyond me. His acting was also flawless. He appeared as such a friendly person in the first act, and turned so tragic in the second. It was very refreshing, given the 'I-accept-everything-and-am-always-calm' view of Jesus that seems to be the norm in popular culture these days. Shout-out also to the actress playing Mary. Dang, could she sing! And props for dedication to the role, to the point of crying with makeup running all down her face, and throwing herself across the stage (multiple times!) only to be dragged across it by 'the crowd'. Yeah, it's possible the most intense musical ever, and the production I saw, I am deeming the best ever. I don't just mean the best prodction of Superstar, I mean the best production of anything.

Dang it, I told myself I wouldn't rant about JCS. Well, we all know that I have absolutely no self-restraint. I really do want to make this blog interesting, but bear with me, because I really need to have the obligatory anime paragraph. I finished Hakushaku to Yousei today, which is devestating. Twelve episodes is not enough! Especially when it's left very open-ended. I'm guessing they planned on making a second season, but this never eventuated. Honestly, I wish I knew how to read Japanese, just so I could read the light novels, and find out how Edgar and Lydia's relationship progressed. Anyways, to drown out my post-watching-a-really-good-anime-depression, I started watching a new one. Usually, I purposefully avoid watching animes that I know people I know have watched, because I have serious individuality issues, but, this time I have made an exception. Being in a particularly romance-needy mood, I watched three episodes straight of Kaichou wa Maid-Sama!. Having come to the realisation that every single story that I love has a really tragic ending, I thought it would be good for me to watch a nice, light-hearted rom-com. It seriously is a great show; I can see why it's so popular! I've made it my goal to watch three new anime before the holidays end, and I shall!

0_0 ... Wow, it really is true. I know I just established this, but for realz, I don't think it's possible for me to properly love a story, unless it has a tragic ending. Which is kind of strange, seeing as I haven't expereinced too much tragedy in my life, and when I have, it's been just that- tragic. I'm all "Ohai story. Your characters all get happy endingz, and/or don't have to go through Hell to get there? Me no respect you!" With the exception of some romances, because I am too much of a hopeless romantic. I wonder if that's some sort of complex... Not that I like all tragedies. If they're like "Look at me! Imma so tragic! Cry for meee!" my general reaction is "Bitch, STFU." I find myself crying at things that most people don't find that sad, and feeling rather emotionless towards things that are generally accepted as heartbreaking. Titanic, for example. I was so happy when Leonardo DiCaprio's character finally died, because it meant that I didn't have to see his annoying face any more. I hear this is meant to be a very moving scene. Oh well.

Ohohoh! You know what's really strange? I was on TVTropes, as I often am, and I had this weird epiphany: when I was a really young child, so many of my dreams involved having Stockholm's Syndrome. I'm not going to explain what that is but, yeah, after having this realisation, WTF-ery ensued. Okay, so I'm going to contradict myself and explain: SS is when someone is captured, and they fall in love with the person holding them hostage. I'm not into that kind of stuff, so it confused me as to why I was dreaming about that, as a child nonetheless. Luckily, I've learned that dreams don't actually indicate much about anything. If they did, I'd be a sadistic freakshow, who doesn't know how to do much other than die and be ressurected again, just so I could die some more.

Luckily, I've never died. Though, unless my brain gets creative quicksmart, I may die of boredom this week. I had a lovely time hanging with my wonderful hoes on Sunday, but I am stranded at my rural property for the remainder of the week, as both my parents work. This isn't a problem for most people, because most people live in an area where there is a public transport system. asdghasdbm. Really, government, acreage doesn't mean country-living, you could at least give us a bus service! Anywayz, when both my parents take the two cars and depart from work, if I have left in one of those cars, I'm pretty much stranded on my property, with nowhere to go. This is a rather depressing concept, but at least I'll have my sister with me this week so I can torture her for my own amusement. I shall use my super-powers-of-creativity to come up with fun and whacky things to do! And then, my dear readers, I shall come and blog about them here, for your amusement. Buenos noches!

Oh, those vampires won't let you be.

My brain has been partially deceased lately, thus inhibiting me from blogging. Well, not really, because if it had been, I would be seriously worried and probably in hospital right now, as opposed to in front of a laptop. My brain is feeling quite dull right now, though, so I'm going to do the whole subcategories thing to keep myself writing. You know that I'm not thinking straight when I spontaneously decided to write like a middle aged man, rather than a teenage girl. Just to keep it young and fresh here, I'm going to add a 'word'. Word.

[title of show] kills my vampires.

Is epic. "I'm trying to write a musical about two guys writing a musical about two guys writing a musical." Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. Four people. Four chairs. A semi-mute guy on piano. Hilarious dialogue. Wonderful score. Excellent cast. Touching moments. Smart lyrics. Yes, I just incorrectly used full-stops multiple times for effect, so eat me. The title of this post comes from the song Die, Vampire, Die, which is about not letting what others say and your own insecurities get in the way of your creative expression. The wonderful thing about this musical is, while is it really, really funny, it is also highly relatable and has a great message. I've been dealing with many vampires of my own lately. That said, on to the next sub-heading!

The Vampire of Despair...

I really do go in circles with my problems. Saturday night was such a high, but yesterday saw me completely crash and burn in a blubbering mess. My way of dealing with life is "hold everything in, until you explode". This cataclysmic event happens about once every two months, and dear goodness, you don't want to be around when it happens. Cue "I've already failed at life and I'm never going to get anywhere" rant. [tos] line time!

You know when you're sick and you're like "Please don't throw up... please don't throw up!" then you throw up and you're all "I feel better... why didn't I throw up sooner?" I'm just sorry I threw up on you guys.

I should say that to my parents, because they are usually left with the lovely task of cleaning up my word-vomit. Well, everything is chuck-free now, thank goodness. Don't y'all just love insecurities, though?

Dracula... Literally draining me of blood.

Why thank you English Extension teacher, for not giving me back my draft that I sent you on Thursday. What I mean by that is "You man-bitch! Gimme my draft back, so I can do your stupid-ass assignment for Thursday, crackers!"

Did you just call me 'crackers'? Is this character black?

I have no f'idea how to finish the assignment. Getting a draft back won't help this, but at least it will give me a reason to work on it.

And when they come, run like Hell, see those bats on your Belfry,then call on Vanhelsing.

Anime may as well be a vampire, because...

It's draining me of life juices! I've invested waay too much time watching Hakushaku to Yousei lately. It's so addictive! Sadly, the anime only shows the first part of the story, so I'm trying to read the light novels. Only two of the twenty-five have been translated from Japanese to English, though, which is devastating. If any Japanese translators are reading this, pretty, pretty please translate them. If I had money, I'd totally pay you. Unfortunately, I'm broke. Can I pay you in love?

So. Many. Bishies.

Pop-culture vampires are lame.

They really are. I don't know what Stephanie Meyer was on when she decided that vampires should sparkle in the sun. But, let's not get into a pop culture rant. I've changed my mind, let's do it. You know who really annoys me in popular culture? Enrique Iglesias. I loved him when he sang cheesy-pop about being people's hero. Even his virtually unheard of uber-old Spanish stuff was cool. His recent music just makes me want to cut my ears off, though. Tonight I'm F*ckin' You- have you no standards, man? I see young teenagers writing "zomg. enrique iz soooo hawt and romantic. could he be an sexxier?" with regards to this song. Girls, if a man ever walks up to you anywhere and says this, I don't care if he looks like Enrique, please punch him in the mouth. He is obviously only an egotistical jerk ass who only cares about sex, or isn't man enough to act like a gentleman. Content aside, the amount of auto tune used on his recent album is appalling. It completely ruins any talent that he had, and gets rid of all the remaining traces of Spanish-ness in his voice. In conclusion: I don't care if Enrique is seriously one of the most attractive people alive (sigh. He has such beautiful lips. What? I warned you all that I notice people's mouth more than anything), his recent album was so disappointing, I revoked my status as a fan of him. Sadly, I still live in the hope that he will stop trying to be so annoyingly mainstream, but I doubt this will ever happen. Rant over, word.

Yeah, well, I no happy with you either.

Only four days left of blood-sucking goodness.

Hallelujah! That garlic must be working, because the vampire that is school is going to hide in it's coffin for three weeks in just four days time. I swear, it vants to suck my blood. Grade 12 be no fun, my homies. Well, academically fun anyway.

Yeah, I can imagine my Biol class being the same. Mwahahaa.

And that's the wrap up. Enjoy your evening, children!