Storms

I don't like these storms. The power's been out, and there's trees down everywhere . . . very stormy year, this is.

I just watched Breakfast Club. Good movie. Hadn't ever seen it before.

I'm mad, though. My little Marauder posse that was going to go with me to HP3 is bailing out. We've been planning this for SIX MONTHS, too (because we're absolute losers)-- we thought about dressing up and we had characters all picked, or we were going to make t-shirts or just SOMETHING, even just GOING, but together . . . but then "Wormtail" and "Prongs" had to go and make plans with some other group of friends, and so "Padfoot" got tickets with someone else, too. So Mr. Moony me is going to have to go, all alone, in the rain, crying. I told them that, actually. I think they thought I was joking.

Maybe I'll dress up anyway, and wear a sign that says, "The Only Marauder That Hasn't Been Proclaimed Dead at Some Point." Either that, or I could carry around stuffed Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, and give them their own theater seats, and talk to them as if they're real, and scare off people that want to sit in their seats by snarling at them or just babbling in character.

Why do people abandon me? Even the other "loser" who didn't go to prom and promised he'd talk to me online that night didn't even take his away message off. My friends all went off to Cedar Point on my birthday. No one really even bothered to apologize. No one ever sits with me on the bus, even if every other seat is packed-- they'll sit three before they fill my seat-- and I LIKE sitting with people. I'm just easy to abandon, I guess. It doesn't matter if you disappoint ME, because EVERYONE does . . . like what my friend said last night when she hit me and I yelled at her about it: "Oh, I don't abuse you as much as your other friends!" So you're entitled to hit me, just as long as it isn't as bad, is that it?

Still . . . SIX MONTHS. Talk about one hell of a broken promise.

Heh, how's that for an angstful rant? I love complaining, sometimes. Because I'll get over it. I always will. I'll bring it up, years later, though, bitterly, guilt trip (-:

Okay, rant done.

Storms

I don't like these storms. The power's been out, and there's trees down everywhere . . . very stormy year, this is.

I just watched Breakfast Club. Good movie. Hadn't ever seen it before.

I'm mad, though. My little Marauder posse that was going to go with me to HP3 is bailing out. We've been planning this for SIX MONTHS, too (because we're absolute losers)-- we thought about dressing up and we had characters all picked, or we were going to make t-shirts or just SOMETHING, even just GOING, but together . . . but then "Wormtail" and "Prongs" had to go and make plans with some other group of friends, and so "Padfoot" got tickets with someone else, too. So Mr. Moony me is going to have to go, all alone, in the rain, crying. I told them that, actually. I think they thought I was joking.

Maybe I'll dress up anyway, and wear a sign that says, "The Only Marauder That Hasn't Been Proclaimed Dead at Some Point." Either that, or I could carry around stuffed Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, and give them their own theater seats, and talk to them as if they're real, and scare off people that want to sit in their seats by snarling at them or just babbling in character.

Why do people abandon me? Even the other "loser" who didn't go to prom and promised he'd talk to me online that night didn't even take his away message off. My friends all went off to Cedar Point on my birthday. No one really even bothered to apologize. No one ever sits with me on the bus, even if every other seat is packed-- they'll sit three before they fill my seat-- and I LIKE sitting with people. I'm just easy to abandon, I guess. It doesn't matter if you disappoint ME, because EVERYONE does . . . like what my friend said last night when she hit me and I yelled at her about it: "Oh, I don't abuse you as much as your other friends!" So you're entitled to hit me, just as long as it isn't as bad, is that it?

Still . . . SIX MONTHS. Talk about one hell of a broken promise.

Heh, how's that for an angstful rant? I love complaining, sometimes. Because I'll get over it. I always will. I'll bring it up, years later, though, bitterly, guilt trip (-:

Okay, rant done.