My RAZR is accumulating subtle scratches as I keep dropping it, as with my bluetooth.

 

 I must admit that the Razr is sturdier than I expected, since it has not been smashed into a billion peices against the ground; even during the few times when it fell while I was running.

 

 My first cellphone ever was a Nokia that cracked at its screen when I dropped it. The cracked corner died, and I had to read all my txt msgs without the end of the first line. Then I dropped it again, and the rest of the screen died too.

 

 Every phone since then has been a flip. God, I love the sound of flip phones when you snap them shut. Motorola did a commercial where the entire 30 seconds was just different flip phones snapping shut to a rhythm. I almost signed my life away to work as a slave for them, forever.

 

 

 I've put more shirts into my donation bag: there's almost half a garbage bag now, but my room is still littered with clothes.

 

 

 This blog post has been written with correct punctutation.

 It is much less fun to write this way.

 I prefer to use commas where I please, even if it is wrong.

 Third year English has ruined my life forever.

 

 ...Which is amazing, because all I did in class today was draw more hair onto the picture of the guy coming out of water from "Not Waving But Drowning".

 

 

 

 

 

 I decided to comment on my last blog post.

 The conclusion of my strong will is that a week has gone by and my room still looks like a tornado has swept through it.
 Except I now have a plastic bag in front of my closet with four shirts folded into it.

 

 

 I find myself looking for something meaningful to do, like saving the world.

 

 

 

 Three weeks into school and already it's getting ridiculously crap.

 Why can't they make it more fun?

 

 I have a lot stuff lying around.

 If I throw all the clothes I don't want/won't wear into bags and donate them, my room would be SO much emptier.

 But that takes effort.

 Which is against my religion.

 

 Sigh, perhaps I should do it.

 I've been thinking about it for ages.

 

 Hmm. Weird.

 Suddenly I have the urge to sort out the clothes I dont want!

 OMG this is so weird!

 

 Oh well, I'm off to be a nice child now.

 

 My mom will think aliens have planted a chip in my brain and altered my personality.

 And then she will laugh gleefully.

 

 

 

 Last week during Geography I felt so dead.

 Which is weird because my Geog prof lectures like a bard.

 Anyway, I remembered reading somewhere that massaging your face stimulates you and makes you feel refreshed.

 So I was like, okay...

 And I spent ten minutes pinching my cheeks and squishing my face around.

 Amazingly, I did feel awake.

 

 Except at break when I went to the bathroom, I noticed these two dark red circles.

 And I was like, "Did I get marker on my face?"

 So I looked closer.

 And they were bruises.

 

 I bruised my face with a massage.

 

 I now have newfound respect for massusts.

 

 It took 3 days for them to fade.

 

 

 This girl in my Geog class spends most of the periods on her laptop on facebook.

 I spent my time drawing happy faces onto the oxygen molecules in the ozone diagrams.

 

 

 It's not nice to say negative things about people.

 Especially behind their back.

 It's just not nice, even if your English teacher is racist and cocky and rude and obnoxious and ignorant and you hate her and you hate her and you hate her guts so bad.

 

 

 I've finally gotten my Skullcandy headphones!

 After like... four months.

 I had to order them online because the model I wanted was only available in the States.

 On the downside, if I use them I will no longer be able to discreetly listen to music during class like I was able to with earbugs.

 

 

 I really like the song "Love Fool".

 It makes me feel all sad inside, but not too sad because the melody is so cheerful.

 

 

 

 

Went to RC, outsmarted by my inner self and bought some foundation.

In my defense I put up a fight and did not buy concealer or powder.

 

Went to Bluenotes (heart, heart, xoxoxoxo) and got a blue top.

Helen made me feel bad by not splurging and buying anything for herself.

I dislike sensible people.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Okay so I have been putting it off, but I need to go buy make up.

 

I hardly ever wear the stuff; I wish they came in smaller containers.

I haven't even used a quarter of my foundation before it expired.

Even less concealer, and the powder looks new.

 

I just need a tiny tiny bit stashed around for whenever I want it.

Unfortunately, like dresses, make up comes with the promise of lasting through many uses, even though everyone knows you will only wear it once.

 

 

 

 My writing urges are like groundhogs.

 They will suddenly appear like little furry things out of holes.

 And before I can do anything about it, they are gone.

 

 I can't even decide on which genre I am most interested in.

 Fiction/Humor is the most natural for me, but with Fiction/Fantasy I come up with ideas faster.

 I've finished my children's book for ages, but I know it's far from polished.

 It is like the groundhogs again, except instead of holes, the groundhog is like, "Which genre should I pop out of now?"

 

 School is starting in 2 days.

 Sacre bleu and merde.