Heeeeeellllllooo moving.

My parents and I have moved many a time. Perhaps more than normal people should. I at the tender age of seventeen, have moved...wait let's count together children, *mumbles incoherently* Australia, uhhh.... 2 the first time, and uhhh, well all together it makes eleven. A remarkable number when you compare it to the amount of times my best friend has moved (0). This includes four countries, several states and a lot of groaning and complaining about incompetent movers. At least according to my mother. As we moved this last time, as I would be going to college this fall, I began to wonder...what the heck I was going to do. I mean honestly, I should start dropping a few pounds. That's a given, however beyond that, shouldn't I accomplish something. Then I found the wonderful thing they call intern sites. I may have applied to *cough* seven, different sites, in the hopes that I would at least get one internship. So here's to hoping.

Doug Adams.

 

Let's face it. We all have enjoyed the GOOGLE Doodles, once in a way. Perhaps a little too much on occasion. However this one has to be my own personal favorite.

 

I was probably first eleven or twelve when I caught a good glimpse into the life of the Hitchhikers. My first experience with the several movies had me slightly in awe, of the number 42.

 

Today I delve much deeper. An AP Lit student, I suppose it is a requirement that I do so, or otherwise be torn by the staunch amount of people who are that much better than me in all scenarios.

 

He felt that his whole life was some kind of dream and he sometimes wondered whose it was and whether they were enjoying it.

Douglas Adams, "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy"
English humorist & science fiction novelist (1952 - 2001)

 

I have always wondered, what exactly is the difference of life when you are awake or dreaming? Inception, though an interesting thought, is not exactly what I have in mind. We live on in moments, and could one dream a dream? I suppose it is possible, except that it seems incredibly impossible.

 

Life in itself is more impossible than not. A heart that breaks with small permutations to the skin, growing more and more uneasy about the day. The idea that a soul should lift into the sky and become at peace. An eye that sees a world of pure beauty even in the most desolate of conditions.

 

Whether these things are myth, fantasy, or a cruel idea of a dream, it is not up to me to know.

I have frequently been told that everyone has their own truth. I can only hope that my truth is one filled with love, dreams and hope. For what are we but shells, if we do not love, we do not dream, and we do not hope.

 

I suppose with college admissions finally coming out this week I am getting a little sentimental.

I only hope I get into my dream college. However that seems like a fantasy even the most amazing dream will not be able to fulfill.  

 

 

Counting calories.

Now everyone, boys and girls, humans and aliens, have been on some kind of diet at one point in their life. Madonna, one very prominent alien in the community, is probably on one right now. People magazine pretty much advertises for diet fads. Paula Deen and her everthinning family are the subject to much contreversy as is their new motto eat fat, stay thin? Or is it be healthy, be happy? I frankly have no idea.

I haven't blogged in a while. One could say it is because of the ever growing stream of madness inside me, once I realized, aww hell I ONLY applied to seventeen schools. In actuallity it was more like 22, but lets not let the crazy overwhelm us. With all the stress of college applications, not to mention AP literature is like a shovel in your soul, you can tell I haven't been eating exactly healthy.

My parents constant encouragement in this area, has started my rebellion in this area, as I eat crispy chicken strips in my ever rebeillious stream of revenge. (On second thought my parents are pretty lucky if the worst form of rebellion I could think of was eating overly fatty foods). My parents have actually forbidden me from the growing stack of Thin Mints (I SUPPORT OUR GIRL SCOUTS!), that have piled in our fridge. Which obviously is a serious cause to call the cops on my parents. Because that has to be illegal.

Unfortuately, even though I maintain I am incredibly happy eating only fatty substances for the rest of my days, I still have the growing feeling that I could be getting a bit too big for my britches. So, even though I refuse to give up cheese, I am...wait for it...counting calories.

I know the amount of impressiveness is pretty sad. But there it is.

I may start posting my caloric loss. However as of yet, I am still too embarressed.