dude, i think you're confused about my person

i need to do some homework. just to let you know. but instead i am here, writing to you, my sole fan. the only reader encouraging my abitious writing career.

i have other readers. well one other: the reader of my essays, professor space cadet. who does everything but encourage my writing. she likes to butcher the hell out of it. to the point where it is her paper, not mine. i wish grades were based on grammar. because then i would be dominating the hell out of interp, carnegie mellon, life. i wish life was based on grammar. i could do that. although i pusposely disregard all sense of good grammar in this blog. but only with the sole purpose of sticking it to the man. heer u go man suk it.

who is the man? thats what i really want to know. who exactly am i sticking it to? you're guess is as good as mine.

rachael's going on a date tonight. i want to go on a date. not with ted. or jarome. or my taken person. (okay well, maybe the last one.) or the other boy who stole my attention. only for me to realize we are soooo not meant for each other.

and i am kind of happy about where attention-stealing boy and i stand. friends. and he tells me about his girls. i'm sure i could tell him about my boys if there were such objects of my affection. (but there aren't).

and now that i have wasted away the six hours that i have been awake. i'm here to tell you: it is okay to think about him. i thought about my ex-person for two years. TWO YEARS. and my middle name is "i-have-no-emotions."

i have fat hands. they look like little kid hands sometimes. well magnified by a thousand. and i wish they could be that innocent.

to ben berry: you have a nice name. and a nice face. you're a sexy man. you were cute back in the day when i had innocent hands. you probably dont remember me. i think we were like 14. but i have some odd reccollection of you and i dont know why.