Sometimes, I’ll just open up a document and stare at the screen for a while.

I will type out a poem. Right here. On this Xanga thingy. I will entitle it, “I Hate This Xanga Thingy.”

 

I HATE THIS XANGA THINGY

I hate this Xanga thingy
The service is ever so stingy.

The features that they lack

Are like creatures on my back

Scratching and biting into my flesh.

Perhaps I should blame my lack of caring

For not long at the features list I have been staring.

I gave it a single glance

But not a single chance.

 

So in the end

Am I to tell a friend

That Xanga is lame

Or am I the one to blame?

 

 

Alright. I didn’t say it would be a good poem.

Alright, I’ve joined the “Etiwanda High Rules!” blogring. I must make this perfectly clear now. I do not believe that Etiwanda High does any ruling of any sort, unless it rules the Land of Schools That Suck.

 

I spent Thanksgiving weekend at my grandma’s house. There was food and stuff. Nothing spectacular.

Everybody to the limit! The CD came today. “STRONG BAD SINGS and other type hits”

Oh, it is pure awesometasticness. I strongly suggest that you pick it up.

I’m a hopeless romantic with no social skills.

I need to find equilibrium. I’ve been trying to keep things evened out by switching between extremes, and I feel that things are going to tip one way some day, and I’m going to fall.

Found some cool stuff the other day:

A very disturbing dark comedy
http://www.foxsearchlight.com/lab/shorts/farmsluts/quicktime.html
A comic about DDR
http://10kcommotion.com/index.html

I hate everybody.

There was the opening for the photo exhibit thingy tonight. I went. It was cool stuff. blah blah blah blah blah

Oh yeah, I was going to type up some crap about how I go through these cycles of depression, and how I hate having casual friends and blah blah blah, then that chick knocked on my door.