I feel awful right now.

I don't want to explain it. It's my blog, so what I say goes.

I just felt like telling someone that I feel like shit in every way possible.

Maybe I'll explain if my mood ever improves and I don't have a test to cram for.

Harry.

So I saw HP7 part 1 again. I really feel like I should write about it. I'm such a ridiculous Harry fan. I don't have the money to go show it with nifty glasses and a set of robes and all the proper books like A History of Magic and a pet owl or anything, really, except the book themselves. But I think that's enough really.

But here lies the problem. As I got older, I had less time to myself. I, of course, made time to lock myself in a room for 8 hours and read the book the day it came out. The time scale went something like, go to midnight opening, get book at 12:10 after waiting VERY impatiently in a line at B&N, take book from person, throw money at person and hope its enough, sit on ground, read chapter one, go home at 12:30ish, reading chapter two by overhead light in the car, much to the dissatisfaction of my mother, who was trying to drive safely, get to room at 12:45, read until I pass out at 5:30, sleep for 4 hours, wake, go to bathroom, read, read, read, read, finish around 6, GO PEE, eat something for the first time all day, then SLEEP. That day was my own. There was no nonfictional human interaction. But again, as I got older, I didn't have time to do that multiple times, like for the first few books. I could reread them whenever I wanted. But with age came a proper social life, and my attention shifted.

In summary, I only read the 7th book once.

Call me a wannabe if you must, but I do consider myself a loyal fan. And as such, since seeing the movie, I have decided a rereading is in order, to get a proper and fresh perspective. I'm starting with 5, since that's when the social life started. I've only read it cover to cover twice, I think. The details are fuzzy, and that sucks. When I can't remember what happened and the book is exciting simply because I don't know what comes next (except very generally), I know I need to be reading it. I expect better of myself. I should know the books scene for scene, chapter for chapter, given my level of interest. These books are more to me than simple books. These (you ready for this?) are a seven part gateway to another world. To a place where magic is real. To a place where Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and all of the other characters, have perfectly realistic traits, relationships, and struggles.

These are the core things the movies fuck up so badly, by the way.

The reason I love the books is because the characters are so real. They act like teenagers. They ARE teenagers. Harry gets pissed off like a teenager. They have high school drama like real teenagers. They have that whole Voldemort thing and something about magic, but the inside magic jokes aren't what keep me reading. The way the characters connect with one another, the way Dobby cares SO much for Harry, the way Ron and Hermione fight for six and a half books before getting together, the way Harry tears apart Dumbledore's office in a few pages where the caps lock key was in full swing... these are the things that make the Harry Potter Universe real. The things they go through are completely plausible, just minus the setting and general plot, and I love it.

And the movies rely completely on the setting and plot. They miss the good stuff, nearly entirely. I'll give them some credit... they tried sometimes. They have scenes like where Fred and George bring a little piece of Hell to Umbridge, but even that scene wasn't what it was in the book. But somethings, they just really mess up.

And completely unnecessarily. Example time. So, sorry if you didn't know, but Snape kills Dumbledore. It really does happen. (I wonder if Jo added those names to her dictionary on Word...that little red line would get SO annoying. I'll bet she did it in the first few pages for Dumbledore.) And in the book, Harry is frozen in place under an invisibility cloak because Dumbledore froze him. He was fighting with every ounce of his body and mind to cry out and distract the death eaters, to make them follow him, to fight them, to stop what was happening. To ACT. To do ANYTHING. Because that's who Harry is. It's just in his nature. He has to act. He needs to DO something. So how did this translate to movie Harry? The invisibility cloak (a perfectly good prop that has been basically missing since the first movie - issue for part two, much) is gone; he might as well be in plain sight of the death eaters. Snape comes and hushes him, and he doesn't curse him with anything, which is unlike him. He stands and watches, silently and unrestrained, as Snape kills Dumbledore. Just all on his own. Now, I have to ask, DID THE DIRECTORS READ THE BOOK AT ALL? They completely missed it. And it's not something that would take more time. If it's not time that is being lost, is it just cinematic effect? Will da wittle awdeeunce membuhs not get it if wittle harry is undah da cwoke or fwozen in pwace? Aww, poor awdeeunce. Seriously? Is it too much to ask for a little intelligence from the audience? You don't have to dumb everything down. I can't wait for someone to come and remake these movies someday... properly.

Now, all that said, the first half of the 7th book-to-movie experience was not painful. It was pretty accurate, as far as I can remember at the moment (again, this movie made me realize I REALLY need to go reread the book), leaving out some details, but nothing huge. They're getting the emotions right, the relationships right, the scenes right, the damn story right, which, sadly, is something of note for this movie series... all in all, this one was very accurate to the book, I think. More so than any of its predecessors, anyway. They should have split up every book starting with the fourth one.

I'm sure I'll have something more to say about it after I'm done with the reread. I'll keep yall posted, obviously. (For a quick example, I'm on chapter 9 of book 5. Lets go over book to movie: chapter 1, done completely wrong. Chapter 2 was a grand 10 seconds with awful interpretation. Chapter 3, more stupid mistakes that could have been so easily avoided. Chapter 4, wrong. Screaming teen turns into perfectly calm person. Need a specific example of stupid? Jo makes a point to say there's no headline news about Harry, but there he is, front effing page, in the movie. Like he has no idea how to buy a paper. 12 Gimmauld? set is all wrong. Chapter 5? Another 10 seconds. 6? Absent. 7? Down right stupid how off they are. 8? Not bad, actually. One little mess up: they totally screw up Dumbledore's attitude. His argument didn't nearly seem as awesome as it was in the book. 9? Absent. This is just sad. It's downright pitiful. Of the 9 chapters, ONE of them was decently in line with the book, and even then they had a major character flaw.)

Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving. :]

How do I manage this?

How is it that I can do this to myself? I surround myself with unhappy people. I'm a magnet for depression. Most of my best friends are badly depressed.

I know this sounds horrible, but its not. I'm not complaining about having to deal with their problems, and I'm definitely not complaining about them. The people I'm talking about right now are people I am so happy that I know and am friends with. I wouldn't be the same person without them, and I'm better for knowing them.

No, what I'm complaining about is myself. They come tell me about their depression. They tell me what's going on. And I appreciate that they trust me so much that they're letting me in.

But I feel so useless. I can hardly relate with what they go through.... sure, I can relate to some things. I'm not completely unaware of what unhappiness is. But that doesn't make me any better at helping them. I feel so completely useless, just sitting there listening, with nothing at all productive to say. I don't have the answers. And I feel like since 6 or 7 of my friends have been struggling with depression for as long as I've known them, and many of them much longer, I should have SOMETHING to tell them. I should have answers. If they're going to go out on a limb and tell me what's going on in their lives and minds (and quite honestly, what they tell me is never what a friend wants to hear, but I'm glad they tell me anyway), I should have something to tell them after they rant for half an hour. Something that actually helps, that isn't insincere and cliche....

I don't know what to tell them. I'm awful with words. I can't express to them properly how much I care about them and I can't give them that love. They don't see in themselves what I see in them, and I don't know how to get them to believe how awesome they are. How much of a difference they make in my life. If I could only impart to them how much of  a difference they are making in my life, if I could only help them realize how awesome they truly are, I feel like that little bit could be my contribution of happiness in their life, because it's something they should be happy about.

Or maybe I'm just crazy. Maybe I'm wrong. But if I felt like I was making a difference in others' lives and that someone thought I was a good person, I would feel better about myself.

The best I can do is try and sympathize with them, and that never works out, since I'm the worst when I'm feeling down. I turn to all kinds of things I shouldn't, none of which are at all productive. I run away from my problems with all the things D.A.R.E. tried to scare us away from. I go try and forget my problems instead of facing them, and that isn't an answer either. That's not the kind of advice I would want someone to give me. I know how to run away. That's not the kind of person I want to encourage them to be. But... I don't know anything else. How do I help someone when I'm no better? When I'm no closer to happiness? The only difference is that I'm content with running away and hiding from the problems.

Again, I feel like I'm being stupid. Like someone with depression will read this and just laugh at me and my ignorance. I don't even know. I just know that someday, I'm going to snap and suddenly, running away won't be enough, and then I'll be the one ranting to a friend and putting them in a spot where they just sit and grimace with the uncomfortable useless feeling.

I have a paper to write. I need to stop ranting.
Any help? Anyone besides who this post is about? (Sorry, it wouldn't make sense if you tried to help :-/ )

At the library

I've realized something. The library is a place of wonder and fun. Study desks are the new bathroom stall walls. I mean that in the cleanest way possible. Currently, I'm clearly sitting in Karaline's (or Kareline, or Karoline...I'm not too sure) desk here on the third floor. I don't think she'll mind. She's not here right now. But, honestly, "Karaline studies here" is definitely not the most interesting thing written around here. Many slurs about other frats that clearly suck and phone numbers for good times can be found here as well. So many initials and faces and bad words and pictures.

It's actually fairly deserted here in the library, relatively. It's usually packed around this time. It's only like, midnight. But then again, tomorrow is the last day before break. Lots - LOTS - of people went home early. Either their classes tomorrow got canceled (luckies) or they just said fuck it and went home anyway. Skipping the class before Thanksgiving break isn't going to kill their grade. I'd do it too, if I didn't have 10% of my philosophy class due tomorrow. I get to turn in an editorial and do a presentation over it to the class. It sounds a lot worse than it is, really. I wrote about enforcing a stronger dress code here. Easy to write about, but I fully disagree with nearly everything I wrote. The last thing I want is a stricter dress code. That sounds awful. But, I justified trading a good grade for hating myself for a bit. 

So I saw HP7 at midnight, but I want to see it one more time before I write a full blog post about it. It's been a few days and I feel unprepared to write about it properly. And it's been a long time since I've read the book. But initial reaction? I liked it SO much more than the last 5 movies. Favorite of them all, but the first one's still pretty awesome. I was pretty mad at 2 - 6, just because their respective books got so badly slaughtered by the poor cinematography. I just hope they got the 2nd half right too.

spring classes, sleeplessness, zombies, and harry potter

Last night was registration. Technically, it was this morning, I guess.

Registration for spring classes was at 6 AM, and its a mad rush to see how fast you can put in course IDs and hit enter, because with all the other classes having done this already, the choices are pretty slim, and everyone wants the same 7 seats in that one class, whatever it is. Basically, the difference of 3 or 4 seconds can mean getting the class or not. So I wasn't going to risk oversleeping, as I tend to do, so I just didn't sleep at all.

Sounded like a great idea about 24 hours ago. Now that its 2 in the afternoon, I really do regret it. But on the bright side, something awesome happened at about 3:30 last night (this morning?) that gets to be recalled here.

So, Ethan and I went to the library for a change of scenery (and because my computer froze up, so no more Southpark). We went downstairs to the big 24 hour study room with a bunch of computers and whatnot, and we sat down at a few macs.

Oh, what's this? A purple flash drive? Left and abandoned? It could have a virus on it... they tell us not to pick up flash drives that we find and put them in computers because people are jerks and put viruses on them...... but its not my computer! Ah HA.

So I did... out of curiosity to see what was on it more than anything. A single file was saved on UNKNOWN, the drive, called 01.pdf (such specific names, I know)

I knew then and there what had to be done. The story must not be left unfinished!

So the next hour and a half was left to writing the following story, using the 4 sentences on the left side of the picture as a starting point. When I ran out of time, since I had to go hurry back to my room to unfreeze my computer before 6, I saved the story back onto the flash drive just under the picture, and left it there, just as it was.

One little disclaimer... please excuse any blatant errors and/or horribleness.... it WAS 4 in the morning, after all, and I was super jacked up on caffeine. So, without further ado, the impromptu story that came from a delusional mind this morning:

            My father called in the middle of class on Thursday. He left a voicemail, followed by a text which read, “Kirsten’s in Hillcrest Rm 543.”

            In a frenzy I ran to the bathroom to call my best friend’s mother.

            Thirty minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot at Hillcrest and rushed to the fifth floor.

            I had heard the stories on the news, but I never thought it would reach me or my family, much less my baby sister. I hoped to God that this wasn’t another case. It just couldn’t be. The last one on the news was in Pittsburg. I knew the symptoms… my cultures class was reading all about the cases in the Times.

            I hit the 5 in the elevator repeatedly. It felt so slow. While the elevator slowly crawled up the building with 4 horrifically pleasant ‘ding’s, I silently prayed that it wasn’t this awful flu that was spreading so quickly. There haven’t been any survivors in a week of this outbreak, and the doctors and scientists are still baffled at the symptoms. They’ve never seen anything like it.

            I ran down the hall as soon as the doors opened. After accidently bumping a cart and pushing past somebody in a white lab coat, I started looking up at the numbers above the door. 525… 530… 540… here. I stared at the door, then closed my hand around the knob and prayed one last, desperate prayer, then pushed the door open.

            My family was already here. Dad was holding Kirsten’s hand, and everyone else, including my best friend and his mom, looked near tears. I looked down at Kirsten.

            It was worse than I had imagined. It was unmistakably the very same disease that CNN was covering, that the Times was covering, the whole media was covering for the last week.

            She didn’t even look like my sister. She was 9 years old, but she looked like 50. Her skin was a light gray color, her hair matted and discolored like her skin. Her eyes… oh God, it hurt to look into them… were completely lifeless; they were so vacant. There was blood behind her head on the hospital pillow. Her ear… it was bleeding. It looked like something had taken a bite out of it.

            “Dad…”

            He turned and looked at me with a painful expression on his face.

            “Yes, son, she’s got that flu. The doctors say she has a day or two left.”

            He looked over my shoulder. The lab coat guy had hurried back into the room with something that looked like lab equipment out of a science fiction movie and attached it to Kirsten’s arm, inserting a needle into her vein. I couldn’t watch. I had to leave.

            I sat in the lobby by the elevators down the hall, head down in my hands. Staring at the floor, I listened to the tv in the corner…

            “…turn to Hilary Turner in Waco, Texas, where case 14 has been officially identified.”

“Thanks, Bill. Kirsten Richards, age 9, has been declared the 14^th recipient of this mysterious Flu. Authorities say there is still no news as to how this Flu has traveled across the country so fast, but the symptoms are perfectly consistent in every case. Irritated, vacant eyes, discolored skin, a bite looking injury that is red and irritated, and a comatose-like demeanor, reducing the victims to moaning as their sole form of communication…”

            At the word ‘victim,’ I lost it. I broke down in sobs. How could this happen to Kirsten? She’s just 9 years old. The perfect athlete, the perfect student. She’s just starting out her new season of soccer. They just got back from their first….

            Oh God. They just got back a few days ago from their preseason match in Oklahoma. Who did she meet? Who had the flu? Were the other girls infected? How fast does it spread? Is it airborne?

            So many questions, but no answers at all…

            It was nearing 11 at night when I finally drifted off in the lobby chair, still thinking about all the unanswered questions and possibilities. When I woke the next morning, I couldn’t help but to go check on Kirsten.

            It had gotten worse. The irritation around her ear had spread across her face to her cheek, and her lips and nose had started to scab. Her eyes were bloodshot. Her breathing was shallow and quick, and she was continuously moaning. It sounded painful. With tears in my eyes, I looked up at my father, who just stared back with the same pained expression as before, but with a new sense of exhaustion.

            “The researchers told us about 15 minutes ago… they’ve reduced the time. She has about an hour. She..”

            His words were caught in his throat as he started crying. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him cry before. It was too much to handle, I had to retreat back to the lobby.

            The tv hadn’t changed.

            “…and even so, astounding news has just surfaced in Virginia, where case 1 died just 2 days ago. Sources say that during the funeral of Mr. James Henderson, 43, Mr. Henderson’s body began moving and… wait, we’re getting live coverage from Lisa Chang, the reporter covering the story… Lisa?”

            I perked up. That couldn’t be right. I looked at the tv, but ignored whatever that little five-foot-nothing Ms. Chang was saying. All I could focus on was the hysteria behind her. Mr. Henderson was clearly staggering around in the cemetery, trying to get a hold of the friends and family that had gathered to see him put to rest. What was once James Henderson was now limping toward the camera. In the instant before the feed was lost, the camera captured the holes in Henderson’s flesh, the dead look of his skin, and the blood red eyes.

            As the feed returned to the anchors, those horrible, red eyes were stuck in my mind. They looked… hungry.

            Could this be my sister next? How many people had not been found? Was Henderson really number one?

            Was my sister really only case 14?

            I couldn’t see my sister become that. I had to get out of there, but I couldn’t leave Dad and everyone else. I ran back into 543 and retold the news story in a squished 15 seconds.

            “AndthatswhywehavetoleaveRIGHTNOW,” I finished with a gasp.

            My dad stared at me with a different expression now. It was one of anger, but of astonishment and horror at the same time.

            “You can’t be serious, can you? You want us to leave Kirsten here? Alone? On her deathbed? Drake, you’re welcome to leave, but I’m staying right here with your little sister.”

            “Dad, you don’t understand. She won’t be Kirsten in a day. She’ll be…. Something else…”

            “Drake. Don’t be ridiculous. This is your sister.”

            “No, Dad, you don’t understand. We have to leave now.”

            With no more words, my father dismissed my hysterics and turned back to Kirsten, taking her gray, decaying hand in his and brushing her hair with his hand. The lock of hair he rubbed came out without a fight. He stared at it for a moment before turning back to me.

            “She’s only going to be with us for another half hour. Surely you can wait with me and be with her when she…. When she…” He broke off in a sob once again.

            It became very apparent I wasn’t swaying anyone’s opinion here. The remaining bodies in the room silently stared at the conversation that had taken place and were decidedly staying with Kirsten. I sighed, turned, and left.

            Having nowhere else to go, I went back to my apartment just off campus. My roommate left a note on the door that he was visiting a sick relative in Dallas and should be back in a day or two. I ate lunch, turned on the tv, and sat. I had to get my mind off of this. Spike TV should have done the trick, except all the stations had the same thing on. Seriously? 24/7 coverage on every channel of the Flu. There was no escaping it. Victims 2, 3, and 4 had followed Henderson. But the story had grown. The newly animated corpses were eating people. Tearing them open and eating them. Apparently some got away with only a scratch or a bite, and still others were getting away without any harm.

            Edwin Thompson was interviewed about his mother, Case 3. Thompson had been bitten and was showing the cameras.

            “She done got me on my arm, just here. Look, see? Took a right big chunk outta my arm. Hurts like a bitch, it does. I just dunno why she gone and done this. She and me always get in fights, but not like this… it ain’t like her.”

            But I wasn’t particularly interested in Mr. Thompson’s musings on his mother. I was focused on that bite the camera was centering in on. I knew that bite. That looked just like the bite on my sister. On all the other 13 victims. He was next, I was sure of it. That’s how it spreads. It all makes sense… except one thing.

            Who bit Kirsten? What… zombie? Are they zombies?... is lumbering around Oklahoma at some peewee soccer game biting 9 year old girls? Who else is out there spreading this… thing?

            It’s been 3 days now. I haven’t left my apartment. My family hasn’t called. I don’t know what’s going on. The tv stations stopped working about a day ago. The last thing that they reported was an exponential growth in the victim count, and all of the first 12 victims had died and… come back. There were no more interviews. Every state in America had a few hospitalized people with bites. The scientists are all dead or running. Everyone’s given up hope of finding the cure, if there is such a thing. People are turning on each other. Fathers shooting bitten children, teens killing their bitten parents and grandparents, even schools that turned into hellholes when someone showed up bitten. Hospitals were bloodbaths.

            That’s all the news could say before they were dead too. The phones don’t work. The power is still on, but I don’t know for how long.

            I’ve still got running water, but the food is running thin. Had I known that America was going to be infested with zombies, I would have stocked up properly, instead of running on a barely stocked pantry like all college kids. I ate my roommate’s food; he never came back. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t trust the outdoors – I had no idea what was out there. All of Baylor could be fucking zombies by now. I needed to get next door to see if they had any food. I couldn’t last on poptarts much longer… mostly because they were almost gone.

            A few more hours went by. I didn’t know how long it would take to find food, and I truly feared running out. I went to the window and snuck a quick peek out through the blinds. It seemed still. My confidence grew slightly and I decided it was safe enough to try Kassie’s apartment next door; girls always thought ahead and had food. I unlocked the door slowly, holding my breath, and glanced out the crack. Still nothing. I opened it just enough to slide out, still scanning the parking lot and the horizon to be absolutely sure I wasn’t about to become zombie food.

            Nothing. I let out a sigh. I walked slowly, still alert, to Kassie’s and tried to look in through the opaque window in the door. I didn’t see anything moving, but I went ahead and knocked quietly. The only answer was a few seconds of nothing, so I knocked a little louder. It was so quiet; I could swear the knocking was as loud as a fighter jet. With still no answer, I took a deep breath and knocked even louder, nervously looking around with growing fear. With still no answer, I decided to try the door. It was open. Thank God, Kassie, for your lack of security. I walked to the kitchen and started going through the pantry. Stocked and ready. Smiling to myself, I loaded some Ramen and Easy Mac into a bag. I was starting on the refried beans when I heard a door from down the short hallway.

            I froze. Step, dragggg. Step, draggggg. A leg wasn’t working. Then there was a moan that was completely inhuman. Could I make it to the door? I had to try. I pushed another 2 cans of whatever into the bag and started toward the door. She was there faster than I was. She came out of the hallway and suddenly stood between me and the door. I took a millisecond to really look at what Kassie had become. She reminded me disgustingly of Kirsten. The light gray skin, with decaying bits and pieces. Her mouth just a red, irritated hole that was continuously chewing and opening and closing. Bloodshot eyes under disgusting matted hair, barely holding on to her scalp. Her clothes were dirty… bloody from the new holes in her skin. It made me sad to the point of crying, but the fear returned in half a second.

            She breathed heavily, like getting down the hall was the most difficult thing she – it? – had ever done. It stared me down, like a starving lion stares at a gazelle. I stared back like a deer in headlights.

            She started at me with that awful limp. I reacted with impulse. I took a can from the bag and threw it at her. It hit her in the face, tearing off part of her forehead. She barely even noticed it, despite her white skull showing through.

So that's the story. If that wasn't quite good enough for you, I think you should read Harry Potter 7 before midnight, just to be sure you know EXACTLY what they mess up, from the scenery to the dialogue to the BASIC FUCKING PLOT. Yes, I'm going at midnight, as any Potter fan should, but I certainly don't have high hopes, based on the last movie. There's just so much that they can't do, because they don't have the background because they left it out in the first 6 movies! So much stuff they just can't do. Seriously, they can start redeeming themselves by giving Dumbledore a proper damn funeral, but they'll probably start off with some stupid action scene that wasn't even in the book.

Like burning down the Weasley's house. Again. I mean, seriously. Who's idea was that? If I were Jo, I would be absolutely insulted that the movie makers didn't think my action scenes were good enough, so much so that they had to go make up their own just to go with their stupid made up plot line. Twilight was simple. It actually WAS about stupid teenage drama and why girls need boyfriends, and the people making the movie knew that and kept the same emphasis when they made the movie. You know what I mean? The people making the Harry Potter movies have completely missed the point. They're trying to make it about teenage love and overly simplistic good vs evil, instead of the way Rowling wrote it, where Harry Potter is about friendship, courage, confronting fears, destiny, finding inner strength, and doing what is right, and so many other things. All along the way, there are an abundance of priceless, humorous moments that the movies have long since forgotten. How do you go through the series without knowing what SPEW is?

Okay, I'm done. For now. I'm sure I'll repeat this rant tomorrow, after the movie is done attempting - and failing - to be a proper representation of the first half of the final book in JK Rowling's amazing contribution to popular culture and literature.

meh. i dont even have the effort it takes to write a post right now. i havent felt this completely unmotivated in awhile.

insert a good 15 minutes of trying to figure out something to say.



nope. i really can't think of anything. nothing worth saying anyway.

no, wait, thought of something. 

being a freshman sucks when it comes to sign up for classes. seniority had its perks in high school, and that doesnt change here. the classes i wanted to sign up for are already closed.

imagine seeing this and suddenly realizing with a sinking feeling that the schedule you spent a good 3 hours figuring out isn't going to work at all.

whatever. i guess i knew i wasn't going to be able to avoid the 8 am forever. i just wish it could have been my own choice. and i just checked...its down to 12 spots. i might not even get into the class at all. being a freshman is stupid.

why am I so down tonight? I don't have any reason to be. Not a single good reason. I just feel like nothing is right. Of course, that's not true at all. I'm going to an awesome university, I have an awesome family, a few awesome friends, an amazing girlfriend, I'm making straight A's. Those aren't the things getting to me. I'm in that kind of mood where I mess up on fucking pacman and I feel like I'm a failure at life. The little things are getting to me. I bite my nails... can't help it. But my right pointer got chewed on too much today and now it hurts like a bitch. I have a headache that won't go away and I don't know why it's here. It's not an addiction headache. It feels like a sinus headache, but I can breathe. Well, mostly. More than usual, we'll say. I haven't been staring at a computer screen or tv for hours today, so its not that. Whatever. The finger takes precedence, especially while I type this.

I just don't understand why some days are like this. It was supposed to be a good day. It was puppy day. The Waco Humane Society brought puppies onto campus and we got to play with them... which I did. Instead of studying for the test today, which I never did get around to studying for, so I guess we'll see how that goes.

I feel the freshman 15 happening more and more every day, which I thought wouldn't be an issue, especially with my awesome metabolism, and usually it's not an issue, but my mind puts it on the list of problems just to make it seem longer. I'm so dramatic. I hate my mind sometimes. When I start realizing all the small things that are wrong, it finds other things that really don't matter just so I can make that list infinitely long. The shower next to my room doesn't get hot, so I have to walk down the hall to the other one. Not a big deal? You'd think not, right? Whatever.

I don't feel very productive right now. What I mean is, I'm not very productive right now, and I don't feel like fixing it. I need to be productive right now more than I've needed to be for weeks, and when it comes time, I just don't wanna. I don't feel like it at all. I have to get this schedule thing together for Thursday morning, I have to study for another test tomorrow... those are the two biggies. Just two, and its really not that hard to do either. But I've managed to put both off and just do things like play (and suck at) ms. pacman and galaga. Not even video games from the right decade. I'm so lame.

Maybe I'll do something crazy like work out, just to keep avoiding working. Maybe then I'll at least feel productive on some level. Again, it's whatever.

Apathy is starting to hit now that the semester is nearing its end. Why am I trying? To make good grades? Why am I making good grades? To get a degree? So? So I can get some good, high paying job? Is that supposed to make my life better? What comes after that? Why did I buy into this whole college thing? Is all this really worth it? Did I just make a whole paragraph out of questions?

The loud kid in my hall just yelled out 'vagina' really loudly. It's nearly midnight. Was that really necessary? This is what I live with. To add to it, the kids across the hall just completely cranked their new stereo system that they're so proud of. It has 2 subs I think. They like rap, but they've been known to rock out to Miley or t swift.

I'm so glad I didn't get through to the next round of CL tryouts. If I actually had made it through the interview process, I might have had to live here another year.

I can't think of anything else to talk about right now. Nothing seems worthy of discussion. Nothing really seems important right now. Not homework, not the schedule, not sleep, not food, not life.

sigh. oh life.

Geology.

I actually went to geology today. I couldn't pay attention though. I knew this going into it, because I had homework to do for my next class (that I'm actually in right now as I write this). But there was a catch. I couldn't even concentrate on the thing distracting me from the teacher rambling on about different kinds of volcanoes and the hazards they present. There was this girl in front of me writing a letter in pink sharpie. She had perfect fingernails, an iPhone in a white cover, and Starbucks. This is the kind of person sitting in front of me in Rocks for Jocks. Not your normal Generic Baylor Girl, but she was in spirit, I assure you. Anyway, I happened to read the first sentence, and I was hooked. This was a teenage drama on paper. It was so entertaining that I decided to copy it down. I started after she already had half a page or so, so I missed the last bit of the page while I was furiously copying, since she turned the page. Same thing happened between 2nd and 3rd pages and at the end when she flipped back to the front to tear out the loving bit of literature. For your entertainment (and her horror, should she ever find this somehow), I've copied my transcribing below. Enjoy.

Tiffany,

You lied. I know you were talking to Chris last night. I’m not completely uninteligent [sic]. I know yall have been talking for a while which means you’ve been lying for a while. I’m hurt. I’m so so hurt. Have I not proven myself loyal to you? Why would you lie to my face over and over? Best friends don’t do that. Obviously it’s because you don’t want to tell me. And for that I’m sorry. I’m sorry you feel like you can’t tell me, Tiffy the reason I don’t want you to date him is because you deserve better. I’m not sure if you think I’m jealous or what. I’m sorry if you I’ve acted that way, but Tiff its not that I want you to be single, its that I want you to be in a relationship with someone amazing. I’ve been single forever. It sucks. I wouldn’t wish single on anyone. Sure, I’m not going to lie I do get jealous that guys fall at your feet all the time and I know that’s something…

[lost about a third of a page]

…standards for myself and therefore have very high standards for you. Waiting sucks, but its worth it because I firmly believe God has someone for me, someone who is perfect for me in every way and encourages me to be a better person and a better Christian. I don’t know exactly what’s going on with you and Chris, but if yall are already staying I love you again then it has to be serious. If he really is changing and really is getting right with God then wait, it hasn’t been enough time. Tiffany, I sat there last night frozen in my bed. I thought I was going to be sick when I realized you were talking to him. IT hurts that you don’t listen to me or anyone else about this. I’m being honest here, it feels like no matter what I say you pick him over me every time. I do not support any relationship you have with him. I support your relationship with Jesus Christ. I’m sorry you can’t tell me you can’t trust me, that its going to take a long time for me to get over this. I know you’re not a confrontational person, but go, talk. Don’t worry about what I want you to say and tell me how you feel, about Chris, me, everything. We have a lot to talk about, but if you value our friendship like I do then we can get through this. I just need you to be honest …

[lost a few sentences]

…hurt me before. I’m hurt that I haven’t been the friend you need.  I have never lied to you, never deceived you, I know I’m not always great at this but I’ve always been there for you. You said you don’t want Chris ruining our friendship. Well I would be lying if I said he’s not. I don’t know…

[lost a sentence. She signed with her initials.]

I think this is the best day of Geology so far. I learned so much. 

How to Train Your Dragon is STILL epic.

So tonight was spent watching How to Train Your Dragon.... again. I had almost forgot how absolutely amazing it was. I love that movie. Every character, every scene... the sound track, the animation, the relationships, the expressions... all of it. 

If you're an animal person, at all, you'll understand. This movie perfectly represents the relationship people have with animals. Dogs, cats, horses, whatever. Just animals in general. No, not your fish. Or your rat. Those don't count. Real animals. Animals that curl up and sleep with you in your bed even though they don't have to. Animals that get excited when you wake up and run up and down and around and then step on you by accident because they're so excited. Animals that can give you that "are you really as stupid as you look" glare. Some animals can just communicate with people. I have cats. Or at least, I do back home. My cat and I have a special relationship. We get each other. I know what she wants, and she actually listens to me. She doesn't give the rest of the family that courtesy. She'll follow me around. Most cats - if you're a cat person you'll understand -  just don't do that. It's definitely not normal. She sleeps with me. She sleeps on my lap if I sit in a chair. She still sleeps in my bed sometimes when she misses me. (She's a cat... she sleeps a lot. Get over it.)

Do I think animals can love? Yes. Affection is one of the basic emotions of any animal. (And by 'animal', again, your fish don't count, and your hamsters are out too.) They remember people. They have loyalty. They care about some people more than others. And yes, I think my cat loves me. Not in some weird boy - cat bestiality way, but in a best friends or family way. Even if she were human, I'd never date her. She can be a real bitch sometimes. 

ANYWAY. How to Train Your Dragon is awesome. It made me miss my cat though. I think I'll watch Toy Story 3 next. I've only seen that one twice, as opposed to HTTYD, which is working on 12 or 13. 

I can't wait for the sequel. It's DreamWorks. You know it'll happen.

better

"I've got to admit it's getting better 
A little better all the time"
                               The Beatles

Life is cooling down. I got through my CL interview okay. I bought my Harry Potter ticket.  I started my spring schedule process. I have more friends at school. I bought the things on my shopping list. The days between now and seeing Anna are always shrinking. Stress hasn't gone away, and I'm still kinda feeling like that 4 on a scale of 1 - 10, AND Baylor lost by a frankly embarrassing amount, but, I'll admit. It's better. It's more like a 4.5 or so.

"It's a good change. That's a good change!"
                               Prince John, Robin Hood Men in Tights

(Sorry for the 3 posts in a row. The just didn't seem to fit together so well, so I split them up)

For Emily.

This one comes from this post

Q: What is your favorite season and why?
A: Fall. Best weather, hands down. My allergies can suck it up.

Q: What is one 4-letter word that describes you?
A: uhhh...

Q: What is your favorite fortune from a fortune cookie?
A: "Keep your eyes open, and take advantage of the unexpected" because one, it was in my pocket from today, two, it's the only one I know right now because I have it in front of me, and three, it's such a blatant innuendo. 

Q: What is the worst movie you've ever seen?
A: I have a whole blog post for this, but recently, Tales From the Hood. Look it up. It's not even worth the time to describe it.

Q: What's you're addiction?
A: Caffeine. Mmmmmm.

Q: Are you a ninja?
A: Pirate

Q: Vampires or werewolves?
A: Wizards.

Q: Do you believe in magic?
A: nahh. It'd be nice though.

Q: Favorite Sesame Street character and why?
A: ooh...uh, I dunno. this one's a toughy. lets go with the count, just for this video.

Q: Rate your awesomeness on a scale from 1 to 10
A: depends on my mood for the day. right now I'm feeling like a 4.

Same and different

Isn't it funny how people change so much, yet stay the same?

These pictures range from 4th grade through senior year of high school, and I look just a bit different in each of them... heh. Okay, maybe more than a bit. They're generally chronological, but blogspot hates pictures, apparently, or else I'm simply retarded... see other post... but either way, they're pretty close to chronological. And it's pretty clear that I've changed. (don't judge the pirate one. It was Halloween last year... yeah. I just liked it.) 

And yet, while I look different from my 4th grade self, wrapped up on the back of Travis Baker, at a park across the street from my elementary school for a "we passed TAKS" party, or something like that, you can clearly tell it's me. Things stay constant, even through the differences. It works internally too. We mature, we grow, we experience things that change us, but that person we were in 1st grade never really went away. Life just... altered it. My 2nd grade teacher wrote me a letter in a class journal once. It tells me how funny I am, how unique I am, and how I'm different, and how it's all for the better, and she tells me never to change it. Well, those who know me can definitely attest to that one. I'm certainly different than everyone else, and some people take that the wrong way, but I'm still that person, even through my 'maturing'. (I'm wearing a santa hat in what is either mid-fall or spring sometime; I can't remember when that picture was taken.) And just look at my hair. Different, I think so. Not between pictures, but I mean, different from normal. Whatever that is.

Never lose that. Never forget who you were, because you're still that person. You can use all the excuses you want.... I grew out of that, look at how stupid I was back then, things are just different now.... but deep down you know you're still that person, and it's not a bad thing.


Change, but don't change.

memory.

So its getting cold. I guess it was bound to happen, going into November and all, but this is Texas: it happened overnight and caught us all off guard. People always act surprised, like they think it never gets cold here after just surviving the horribly hot, oppressing summer... it's even funnier at college now, with freshmen from places like California and Florida. They're really in for it.

But okay, there was a point to this. It got cold, so I pulled out my suede jacket that I love so much... it has a million pockets. I like pockets. Especially these, where you could put a live animal of some kind in and no one would know until you pulled it back out. These pockets work like Hagrid's. I won't be pulling a birthday cake out anytime soon, but I could definitely fit a book or two.

So I pulled out my jacket, and what do I find? Burt's Bees! Only the most awesome chap stick of all time. I guess technically it's 'lip balm', but I call it chap stick... so... uh... get over it? I guess it makes sense, since I need chap stick in the cold and I need my jacket in the cold.... I know I didn't do it on purpose, but it was really convenient.

Isn't it so weird that smell can associate so closely to memories? That one little smell can launch a day of nostalgia? It's the craziest thing. You don't think of your sense of smell as important as say, sight, but it's always there and it reminds me of things the most often. So anyway, Burt's Bees and it's delicious peppermint scent blasted me through time. The first thing I thought of was Tim's car. He always had the stuff, and his car frequently smelled like it. But specifically, there was this little thing called high school graduation. Tim and I drove together, we go inside with our one key (that's seriously all they let us have... no ipod, no pens or paper, not even a wallet) and sit through our massive 4 hour graduation ceremony, come back out, quickly turn on the air conditioning, since it was June and it was insanely hot outside, and Tim promptly sees his wax lip balm and opens it. Well, in his nice clothes and everything, this tube of melted, liquid wax pours all over him and immediately dries. And if that alone wasn't bad enough, it was an opaque, cloudy white color that he spilled all over his pants. Just think about it, and if you still don't get it, never mind.

So that was the first thing I thought of when I opened up a tube of chap stick yesterday. There were about a dozen other memories that happened in the span of 2 seconds, but I have to go get dressed for an interview! Wish me luck (by the time you read this, I'll definitely be done already.... so you don't really have to I guess... yeah.)

...a continuation.

Well, to prove my point just a bit further, instead of going to that homework, I decided it was time for a new picture. I liked the picture I had up there, but I felt like all of you were being lied to, since I definitely don't look like I used to. So I hunted down a decent facebook picture and cropped it down to size, and ta-da: a new picture. Thought you should know.

And don't judge. If I wanna use blue font, I'm gonna use blue. Who's gonna stop me?

ah, the familiar feeling

Tonight I have actual homework, not just studying for some test. It's bookwork. The above mentioned 'familiar feeling' is that of procrastination. It and I are sworn enemies, but I can't seem to get away from it. I dunno just how you know me, or how much of my blog you've read, or, quite honestly, what I've said in my blog at all, so let me state this simple fact:

 I win at procrastination. 

Let there be no confusion with this. I am King Prokrastinator. Why do you think I have time for this blog? Or StumbleUpon, or facebook, or the internet in general, or most other things I do? Because I put off things until the last minute, and it worked just fine for me in high school. I promised I wouldn't keep it up in college, but that's obviously not happening. I thought I could change. I was wrong.

I'm so distracted right now. There's stuff going on in my room, my brain isn't in this post at all. I usually write these after everyone goes to bed, but I need something to do besides my homework. Something to try and distract me from my overwhelming to-do list. From all the crap right now (Anna, I definitely just typed 'carp'). But instead, of course, its all the stuff that's now distracting me from my distraction, and the result is this crappy post. So sorry you have to suffer with me. 

Let's see. What's number one on my mind right now? Buying Harry Potter tickets. This isn't optional. I have to be at that premier, at midnight. Dressed up. None of that happens if I can't get tickets, so it can't really wait..... I'm such a dork when it comes to Harry Potter. I love the books so much. I hate the movies, but simply because of the nature of turning books into movies.... all the people (my roommate, for example) that haven't read the books, but have seen the movies and are all like "omg Harry Potter is so good!" and all I can do is sigh, because they just have no idea what they're missing, and it's frustrating, because I can't convince them there's something better than the shit they throw on a theater screen, full of teen drama and 'action', and completely without the important parts of the books. If I were JK Rowling, I'd be so pissed. I might sue. The movies..... they just don't get it. 

Sorry for that rant.... but I guess it's expected, with the title of the blog and all.... anyway. 

What else is on my mind? You all know I'm a huge football fan, and especially for Baylor Football this year, because we're doing the best we have done in a very, very long time. We beat Texas for the first time since 1997. We have a star quarterback and star receiver combination that's on fire. We made it to a legitimate discussion on ESPN. We're a real football team, for the first time in my life, literally. The last time they were this good was before I was born. So, what's so stressful about this, you ask? To hold our lead, we have to beat OSU this weekend, which won't be a piece of cake. Watching this just made me more stressed out, but also proud to be a Baylor student. It's definitely a double edged sword. We've done so well, and I'm happy, but why stop here? We got this, I think, but it's gonna be a stressful one. 


On top of these things, I have my spring registration stuff to get together... that's basically just a long process of making a class schedule for next semester, which isn't simple. Complicated, long process. Perfect, right?


Can't forget the CL application process. I submitted the application, and the interview is this Friday. It's only, you know, a couple thousand dollars' worth (per semester) of a job I'm interviewing for. No biggie or anything. What if I do well? Is it over? Am I in? Got the job? NO. More interviewing after that! SO much to look forward to.


And for band, the freshmen have to put together a skit for Band Follies.... don't worry about it too much, but the important thing is that the trumpets have this tradition of winning Best Skit, and we're under quite a bit of pressure from the upperclassmen to do really well... on MONDAY. I'm so glad they give us so much time.


Then there's all kinds of homework and assignments and reading and studying and school. School, school, school, school. And then some more school. Par... no. no party. just school. Ahhhh.


Anyway, in traditional 'rambling' style, I've completely forgotten the point I was going for, but in the interest of authenticity, I'll leave it that way and not go read what I just wrote. I have to go do homework. Or make a schedule. Or something.

Just to make my last post seem less crazy...

So, I must have sounded a bit nuts in the last post, but to continue with my little 'what if', Twilight Zone ideas, I have some other situations that would suck to be true.

Let me try to make more sense of that... If I really were mentally deficient and no one was telling me, it would suck. But even then, I could take the 'ignorance is bliss' approach and just keep going through life. I have another situation - not that I actually fear the truth of this one, but I still find it a possibility - that is worse than being stupid and not knowing it.

What if everything is fake? A total figment of my imagination. Like I just spent years of my life in a dream, or a coma... maybe its only been hours in real life, but here in my dream, I'm in college and I have awesome friends and a daily routine, and really I'm still 5 years old. That's the Inception approach, but maybe I've really been in a horrible car accident in real life, so in my coma, I created this world so I could walk and think again, and chose to go to the best years of life - college? Memory is a funny thing. There's no proof any of it happened. Think of what you did this morning. Last week. Last year. How do you know, for sure, that any of it really happened? If I really went into a coma, I could have started this college life thing at any time, and all the memories that came before that are just fabricated in my mind, and they flow seamlessly into the consciousness of my coma world. How could I make sure those memories happened? Well, I'd ask someone else, because surely, if they have the memory too, I couldn't be making it up. But you forget. In this world, you are all figments of my imagination, and will of course attest to the fact that those happened, because I'm still trying to fool myself. Isn't that a weird idea, to think that something in my mind is controlling everyone and everything; every interaction I have and every problem I face? In this scenario, no one exists if I'm not in contact with them. If I'm not sensing them visually, or through a computer screen, or hearing them down my hall making so much noise right now. You know it to be a fact that that's not true, as you aren't always in contact with me, and you know for a fact you exist, but how can I know that? You can't tell me, because of course my mind would want me to think that.

And what happens when I wake up? What year is it? Is English a real language? Who is my family? Will any of my relationships carry through? Will there be any constant at all? What age am I? And if, say, coffee makers, or cars, or sandals, or beds, or anything we all take for granted didn't exist, I could be a millionaire in a day. Can you imagine waking up and getting the chance to create scotch tape or television? To be the person that creates the internet? Or maybe I'll wake up and be amazed at the technology, and realize I was a retard stuck in a coma, with the stupidest, most primitive ideas. Psh. Firearms. Physical 'bullets' that you force into people? What a stupid idea! Look what we have...

Anyway, that's my Twilight Zone idea of the day.

fears.

I know people have fears. Lots of people have irrational fears, like of the dark, or of water.... I personally fear ants. There's a decent reason though. It was the summer after 8th grade, and I was at church. We were making a video. In this video was a scene of epic battle, where many people died (don't worry, no church people were intentionally harmed during the making of the video. Just me). I was one scripted to die, so I did. Now, I'm allergic to grass, so when I lay in certain kinds of grass, I get hives and it itches and I hate it. When I laid in this grass, my arms itched. This was normal. Then one arm itched a lot more than the other. Then more than a lot. Then it really hurt. I broke character to glance at my arm, hoping the camera didn't see this dead guy suddenly look at his arm. What I saw was not my arm. It was a wall of ants. If you don't live in Texas, you may not understand the implications of "fire ants". These things aren't just normal ants. They attack you. They bite. They leave this thing that's like a pimple, but it hurts and itches, and the more you scratch it, the more it hurts. That sucks, right? Well now imagine many hundred of those little bitches between your knuckles and your elbow. My left arm was about twice the size of my other arm, due to the swelling and puffiness. So. That's one of my perfectly rational irrational fears.

There's another one that I cant justify though. Don't laugh at me, but the worry of mine that's eating at me right now is that I might be mentally retarded. Or autistic. Or just mental somehow. Seriously, now before you start with the "oh kyle, you're not stupid. Look at what you've accomplished! and start listing all the awesome crap I've done, do you seriously think I've just forgotten it? No, I know what all I've done. I did well on AP exams. Not perfect, by a long shot, but stupid kids don't get 5's on calculus exams and 4's on nearly every other one they take (darn you 3 on physics). Stupid kids don't get Eagle Scout awards. Or win science fair things. Or have friends. Or go to college and make A's. Or have girlfriends. Or so many other things that I can and have done. I'm not stupid. I know that. But there's something wrong. Maybe not IQ wise, but maybe just mental speed problems or social problems or something like that.

Really. I think there seriously is. I don't hear things that normal people hear. I'm that person that you have to tell things to like 3 or 4 times. Then other times, I hear things and they don't process for several seconds. I'm that person that laughs last at a joke.

I talk really loudly. I mix up words when I go from thoughts to speech. I read slowly. I can't spell. I'm ADD. I guess the ADD is self-diagnosed, but still. I am, and everyone that knows me knows I am. I think to some degree I'm dyslexic, too. I have a theory on dyslexia though: I think everyone's dyslexic, but at some point it becomes a problem, and those are the people we call dyslexic. Anyway, I think I'm under the line, but still more so than normal people.

I don't think I'm funny, though I have a good comment here or there. I also make out of place wayward comments. Maybe that's just a weird sense of humor, but I'm starting to take a different take on it.

If you saw Shutter Island or something like it, that's kinda where this is coming from. Not from the movie, but more like the thought process I'm using. Have you ever thought everyone is laughing at you behind your back, and you didn't have any idea or suspicion until you suddenly did? Well, my fear is that everyone around me has this understanding that they should treat me normal, and therefore patronize me and don't tell me. Do you think retarded people know they're being treated extra nice all the time? No one's going to go up to someone with severe downs syndrome and be like, hey, you know you're really mentally slow, right? Because, really, everyone thinks it's so rude and out of place to tell a retarded kid that he's retarded. Seriously, even I know that's wrong. But like the guy in Shutter Island, is anything people do around you real? Is everyone in on it? What if everyone around me is just trying to make me feel normal, but really they all know something I don't? Like, even my parents kept it from me and talk to all the doctors behind my back.

I'm trying not to sound crazy, but it's not working. I guess if it were true, someone would have slipped up by now. Maybe they did. Maybe they called me retarded and I thought they were just using it as a name calling word kinda thing. I'm really not trying to sound crazy, but this is a legitimate fear of mine. It only gets worse when I start making stupid mistakes and I catch people talking about me behind my back. I start feeling like everything I do is being watched. Everything I say is being judged. And meanwhile everyone is pretending like nothing is wrong to my face.

Worst part? Nothing you can say will help. You can assure me as much as you want that I'm not mental, that I'm just like everyone else, but the idea won't go away. Maybe you're just saying that to make me feel better. Just like in Shutter Island, one minute I'll get it, but I'll go back, and there's just nothing you can do. I hope I'm not crazy just for thinking this, but that may be it too.

The halloween post.

Hey everyone. It's the first day of November, which means many things. One, and maybe most importantly, its only 23 days until Thanksgiving break, when I get to go home and see Anna :D

Lesser accomplishments of this new month, though still important: it's only one more holiday until Christmas, which is always good, and it's the beginning of No Shave November, which gets more fun every year, for obvious reasons.

Usually I would get to say AND I have a whole bag of candy nowww!!!!, but this year I can't. It's the first year I didn't go trick or treating. (my little brother did. He's a senior in high school and he went as a mormon. funniest thing I heard yesterday.) I don't know how I feel about that fact. I mean, it's not like I wanted to, but it's still not easy to let go. I guess it's just the whole 'growing up sucks' story going through my head again. I don't want to admit to myself that I'm growing up, but at the same time, I know I'd rather be at a party or be watching a scary movie with some friends than going door to door getting mostly cheap, gross candy and just a little good stuff. Especially here in Waco. I don't even want to imagine what passes for consumable here.

So, instead of trick or treating, a small group of us watched a really bad scary movie in my room, called Satan's Little Helper or something like that...I think I'm already blocking it out...and it was seriously just awful. One of those scary movies that's an accidental comedy. I don't know how you make a movie like that, go watch the premier, and say, hey, we did pretty good! what an awesome movie!

After that awesome awfulness, we went to the basement of Kokernot (one of the dorms on campus), because it was way past visiting hours in my dorm (we were risking it for a good hour I think... but we wanted to finish that bad movie), and Kokernot basement doesn't have an end to their visiting hours, plus they have couches and a pretty decently sized tv. So at this point, its 11:30 or so, and we start watching The Orphan, a much better movie, but still mediocre in the big scheme of movies, as 'scary' movies always are.

I guess I don't get scary movies. Paranormal activity? Didn't phase me. I laughed through the whole thing. Any other ghost movie? Nothing. But I guess there's gotta be a realistic scary movie out there that isn't bad. Something that's directed well with good actors that could actually happen. Is that too much to ask for? Is it that people really would rather see some shit like Prom Night or Paranormal Activity 2? Whatever. Any suggestions?

So that was my Halloween. No trick or treating, no party, no drinks, no scaring little kids (unless you count Nour)... just a couple scary movies with some friends. And I'm okay with that.