Oy Vey

I cant even begin to say how many times i have tried to start out this blog. Every time i try to post, i start talking about something serious, something thats going on in my life or in my head, and by the time I'm done, i just highlight it and erase. I even spent two hours writing something, granted it was four in the morning and i was home alone to scared of the strange noises to go to bed, but i still did it, and of course, once i had come to the end of my "book", i highlighted it, though it took a couple minutes seeing as how i had forgotten the nifty select all feature, and pressed the backspace button. Why i keep doing that, i have no idea, who knows, mabey i will do it to this one too, depends on what exactly i write in thie little white box.

The first time i began to write about a speech we had recived in Career and Consumer when our teacher was angry with us, and some things that botherd me that she said about unplanned pregnancy.

The second time i started, i had a long list of "I am...." and "I am not..." I guess i was hoping that people would then get a better picture of me without me having to actualy make an effort to show who i am.

The third time, i was just in a bad mood, so i wrote about everything that had gone wrong in my life, or at least the big points, to say the least that was deleted quick.

The fourth, and latest attempt, i just wrote about everything. I talked about politics, love at our age, boys, God, how people on fanfic.net take so freaking long to update, what was going though my head, how much fun contemplating your navel actualy is *quite fun btw, you should try it some time* and i even ventured onto the topic of how old Alan Rickman actualy looks.

And now i come to this one, will it survive? God only know's. But let's just say i think it has a fighting chance, seeing as how i don't intend to delve into anything to deep, because as soon as i do, this will be in the trash bin.

I got my first actualy phone call on my cell phone today, quite pathetic actualy, but it turned out to be the last person i expected it to be, it was none other than Matt Green. For some reason, unknown to me, he thought he would call me and ask why i hadn't been at chruch that morning, he then proceeded to ask if i was coming that night, and of course, i said that i might, of course i never intended to, but i still said i might. We talked for a bit more and the conversation ended and i went back to the Seventh Heaven marathon (which is still going on as i type) But then, after i had finished updating my own fanfic (and cursing those who took over a week to get theirs posted) i realized that i had nothing left to do for a few hours untill the reviews would start coming in, so i went to my mom, who was sleeping on the couch, and announced that i would, in fact, be going to church that evening. She was shocked to say the least, because usually when i do go, im being forced.

Now why did i go you may ask? Well, because eairler this week i recived in the mail, a letter from the church. When i opened it, i started busting out laughing. It was a 'we miss you' card, complete with bible verse and what i think was a handwritten card from jeff asking me to come to chruch. Then on wednessday, i got a call from Susanna, asking me to come to wednessday night chruch, but i didn't really catch the call, i was sleeping at the time, so i didn't go, that and i didn't have a ride. But then, today i got the call from Matt, so i decided that i should go, just to get everyone off of my back.

A few people were suprised, to say the least, to see that i had actualy shown up there, but i must say, it was kinda nice actualy seeing people on the weekend other than cami occasionaly.

Now you maybe wondering why exactly i don't really enjoy going, and while im not going to go into depth as to why exactly, i will say that it is not entirley because of the "poop heads" that go there.

Anywhomers, I wish i could end by saying something profound or intelligent, but alas, i cannot, so i leave you with this.

Alan Rickman is the hottest, british, over 50 man alive.