More stuff goes here:


Or else!

You tell that fucker that if he doesn't answer me immediately, I'm going to hit him so hard that he'll wake up and ask what day it is. And we'll say Thursday...a year from now. Only I probably won't actually do that, because I think it's pretty obvious that they'd send you to jail for hitting someone so hard that you put them into a coma. I think. Maybe I'll just kick him in the thigh hard enough to leave a bruise. Yeah. You better answer me, asshole!

I'm so threatening, I know. Whatever.

These things happen

When my sister and I are together alone (it makes sense), we have the strangest conversations ever. Here's today's:

Taylor: I think I'm gonna tell my kids that chocolate is drugs so that they'll be afraid to eat it. And then when their friends give it to them they'll give it to me and I'll eat the fuck out of it.

Sister: Yeah, and then when they're 14...their friends will give it to them, and they'll try it and get a sugar high.

Taylor: Yeah! Like after we have a fight he'll be like, "FUCK MY MOM!" And he'll totally try and rebel by eating it.

Sister: Then he'll be like, "What is this supposed to do to you? I can't...sit...STILL!"

Taylor: And then he'll come home and tell me he has no friends left because of his reaction to chocolate...I think this is the best plan EVER!

We're normal.


Let me say things that aren't that interesting real quick.

I've basically had the most random few days.

I don't remember which day it was, but I basically spent a day just hanging out with my sister and Kendra. Took my sister to get a haircut while Kendra and I scoped out surrounding stores. We decided to check out PetCo, and obviously we had to freak ourselves out. Right? How can you not? There are SNAKES in there and even though there was a sheet of glass between me and this thing I was still afraid it was going to eat me, and so why shouldn't I get in its face? Don't mess with my logic.

We pretty much took pictures of all of the things that scared the crap out of us because we're fucking weird and it for some reason entertained us. My Facebook status for the day? "At PetCo with Kendra and Megan, taking pictures of creatures that give us the heebie-jeebies and talking to fish. Lmao!" Yeah, we talked to the fish, what of it? Also, Kendra watched a bunch of very tiny mice run around on their little wheel and they were all trying to run at the same time and every once in a while one of them would get stuck on there and would just lay flat and hang on for dear life. And she laughed. Hysterically. It was kind of hilarious.

I think I hated this guy most of all.

Anyway, on Friday I had Butter pick me up and we were going to go hang out with a friend but no one could get a hold of him. So instead he called up Boyfriend's sister and met up with her. Boyfriend said he didn't want to hang out that night, he ended up saying he wanted to last-minute. Butter had been drinking so he let me drive his car and it was awesome. Because I'm used to driving the Mammoth, that's why. Driving that little car felt kind of weird, and now my dad is making fun of me. Something about me refusing to drive the van less than a year ago and loving it now. Shut up, Dad.

Mm, Saturday was fun for a while, but things got a little complicated and full of drama. I'll cut some of the story off out of respect for B-boy, but I'm a little frustrated with him. I was sober driver that night so I got to drive his car home from Ivanhoe and it's in that car that I had a phone thrown at my face and people trying to jump out of the car at 55mph, and I just might punch him next time I see him. I was too angry to punch him that night, so I just went to sleep. Ha. Anyway.

I applied for a bunch of jobs today and still plan to check out a few more places, so I hope I get something soon. I told my dad that I'm searching for a job and he asked me if I was planning to leave. Ha. I think he forgets that I'm 20. Not planning to leave tomorrow or anything, but work with me, Pops.

I think I'm done with this. It wasn't as interesting as it could have been, but you know, I just felt the need to write it down. Whatever.

Happy Valentines Day, assholes.

Valentines Day is funny, but I can't decide if it's funny-ha-ha, or just funny-sad. It's the one day of the year where everyone has to act like they actually like each other; married men have to remember to spend money on their wives or suffer a woman's wrath, children have to buy little pieces of foiled-covered cardboard and give them out to a bunch of other 8-year-olds who they don't even like, and teenagers get to bitch that they're single again - as if they don't have the rest of their lives to fall in love (it's really not that much of a tragedy, high-schoolers).

Furthermore, while I was walking home today the flower shop was absolutely swarming with men trying to pick the right flowers for their significant others. Here's the thing: stop with the flowers! It's like, "Here's a token of my love. Only you have to make sure to keep them in water and to properly care for them, even though they're going to die in a week either way." Yeah, work for my love, but don't expect it to last. That's so romantic. (Also, I just don't appreciate almost being run over by a bunch of dudes trying to buy flowers at 1:30 in the afternoon. You should have had this shit figured out before your wife woke up. Someone was obviously in some hot water, mm?)

And so, what the hell? If you're going to bother telling someone you love them, tell them on a day that you're not obligated. Stop pretending that 'love is in the air.' In reality, everyone hates everyone, and yet we're all pretending that we love each other because February 14th said we had to. Here's the deal: I won't believe anyone who says they love me until tomorrow. Even then we're getting a little iffy. Maybe just don't tell me you love me until March.

And uh, yeah. There's a quick rant for you. I have class tonight and I really need to get my homework wrapped up before then, so I'll update this later.

Au revoir.


I'm better!

So I seem to be over my sickness, save for some coughing. It was only really terrible for maybe three days, and then a day that I wasn't bed-ridden, but which did consist of intense sneezing. I feel a zillion times better, but now everyone else in town seems to have it. I spent last night with Boyfriend, his roommates, and Kendra, because I was feeling better.

Taken today. :)

Boyfriend's roommate is sick now and completely blames me. She has every right to because I went over there on the day that I was the worst, but ha ha, I feel so bad about it. I keep telling her it's boy's fault, because he's the one who talked me into going over after I said I was sick. They won't let me get away with that excuse, though. This morning she told me not to talk to her, not even to look at her, because she's still mad at me. She says this is all my fault, and keeps reminding me of such. My bad, Chels!

I feel like I haven't done anything all week, and wtf, when did it end? Now I have to bust my ass to get homework done even faster. I do not approve of this.

Anyway, just updating on the status of my health, because the few posts as of late have been about my illness and the fact that I wasn't posting. How interesting, right?? Not that this is any better...whoops. Maybe just ignore this one altogether.

More later.


I know this person who thinks that they're just the best thing since sliced bread...because they blog. "I'm not a writer. I suck at writing. That's why I'm a blogger." And I'm like, wait, what? You can't you decided to blog? And you're the fuckin' cheese because you decided to blog? When you can't write? I'd be proud, too...?

But seriously, this person never shuts up about it. It's like, yawn, "Tehe, sorry. I was up all night blogging. Have you read my blog? Oh, sorry about that, I seem to have dropped my blog. Have you read it? My blog? I blog. I'm a blogger."

I've thought about asking what a blog even is just because it would be hilarious...for a split second. Until they decided to actually explain, because my sarcasm is usually wasted. And then I'd have to listen, and my listening is not often wasted because I'm bad at ignoring.

It's a curse.


Sick, update, uninteresting.

Every time I laugh, I cough. And every time I start coughing I just can't quit. I'm thinking reading hilarious blog posts probably shouldn't be an option for today, but man, I can't stop. Oh, well.

I have class at six tonight and I have, once again, completely neglected my homework. I really need someone to come over here and smack me every time I start to get off track. I've been a real slacker lately, especially now that I'm sick. Sigh. I'll probably walk in again tonight with nothing done.

I know that I'm supposed to have things to say if I'm even bothering to post, but I honestly just don't. I still feel like crap, although I'm working my way better. I've actually improved a bit since last night thanks to some ridiculous miracle medicine, but I'm still suffering the decline of this. I haven't been this sick in a while, and the medication seems to be fucking up my thinking process. It makes me so freaking tired.

Have a good day, and I promise to post more when my brain's functioning in full again.


I feel like shit.

Basically, I've been sicker than a dog for about two days. I feel like a zombie all the time, even when I take medicine. Probably especially when I do, because then I'm actually capable of moving around even though I still feel like shit, and I don't know, it makes sense to me.

I motherfucking hate being sick because I get body aches, and nausea, and migraines, and I'm a big ol' baby. The nightmares are the worst. It's the only time I get them and they're so intense and I'm so groggy that I wake up thinking they're real.

Anyway, Boyfriend took care of me last night. I told him I didn't want to come over and ruin his night with my miserableness, but he said I couldn't ruin his night and then spent the whole time making sure I was okay. He got me water, and offered to make me food even though I was too sick to eat it, and cuddled me and got me blankets, and just did whatever the hell I needed. What a sweetheart.

My brain isn't working right and I've got class tonight, and I'm just going to stop typing now. More when I'm not pumped full of cold medicine.


So here's a post and shit.

I totally started to want to write something, but I'm so tired that I lost it in an instant. Last night was terrific - all of my closest and favorite friends were in one house together, which is wonderful considering that until last night a few of them didn't even know each other. I loved it.

Anyway, a lot's happened lately, and I think I forgot to mention that Daniel asked me out on the 30th. The process went something along the lines of us kissing, him calling me 'babe' and me questioning it. Then, later, Kendra had told me that she thought it was a very bad idea because of the fact that I have obviously been harboring feelings for him, and that I was most likely going to wake up feeling regretful and jaded. I expressed this concern to which he replied, "Would you be my girlfriend?" I obviously said yes.

I think the point of explaining was that I was going to mention that Boyfriend is going to spend time with his nephews tonight (aka the most adorable children on the planet) and that I will probably spend time with Boyfriend. I'm not sure whether these things will inter-lap or not, but either way works for me.  For now, I need to shower and meet Kendra at Borders.

Maybe comment here and tell me something interesting. Or go over to my nifty little page there at the top and give me ideas for things to post when I have writer's block. Have an awesome day.


I never said goodbye.

What I remember the most is sitting on my bed with my head in my hands, tears pouring down my face. I'd been through as much as the average teenager had, but unlike some, I wasn't unfamiliar to death; still, this hurt more than usual. I had seen my grandfather, with a serene face, in a shining black casket and I had seen my nine-month-old nephew's body in a much-too-small white one, his legs still bowed from never having learned to walk. I'd had friends go, family both young and old, some near-strangers. Still, each time it felt like disaster had struck; not one of them left me without a feeling of despair. I learned young that, though life is the longest and most constant thing that any of us will ever experience, the saying “life is short” is the truest of clich├ęs. Life doesn't last forever—others come, they most often go before we have the time to prepare, always before we've said the proper goodbyes.

This hit me harder than anything I had ever experienced; it absolutely paralyzed me. My best friend in the entire world, someone with whom I had been the butt of numerous jokes, was out of my life forever. I didn't even have the time to blink. He had always called me when he felt down, but something changed; I never got to find out what that was and no one will ever be able to tell me. He didn't leave a note. He didn't leave behind any explanation whatsoever, not in any form: he didn't take the time to email me, to leave me a last stupid voice-mail, to at least give me some secret code in his behavior. He didn't change his personality in surrender, some indication of his decision. He didn't show signs that left me in fear, anything that could have given me the hint to pay more attention. He gave me nothing after so long of cluing me in to (what I thought) was every emotion, every hardship that was thrown his way.

Now I am forever left in the dark, as if he were my sun; at the time he may not have been the exact center of my universe, rather an off-centered, obscured satellite, but he was always present. One disaster, however, has completely changed my focus, and now its one of the most constant things on my mind. I'll never feel whole without some explanation, any insight into what he was thinking in those last few moments. What triggered his decision? What was bad enough for him to ruin a family and numerous friendships, to give up on life in the most harrowing of ways? What exactly brought him to tie a noose around his neck in the gloom of his own garage? I'll never know, because he has completely blackened my chance at understanding forever; he has, at the very least, dimmed my world.


And last one.

These are from my creative writing journal, if you were wondering.

Your bodies fit together like you were designed that way, like yin and yang. You felt like two halves of a whole. Your uniting was the solution to a puzzle you were never sure you'd be able to finish. You expected it to sit on your kitchen table forever, mocking you, reminding you of your defeat. You imagined the dog had swallowed the final piece.

But eventually you will adopt different outlooks on life. You'll stumble into a new setting or state of mind and ultimately discover what it is you were looking for, even if you had forgotten you were ever looking - Spring Cleaning, maybe, revealing what it is that was missing. You'll be able to finish what you started and feel the warmth of having done so.

And maybe it won't last forever - that's okay. Puzzles weren't made to. They need to be repackaged and put away, because sometimes you really could use the table space, at least until you find that one that's so impressive that you actually want to go to the trouble of gluing and framing it, of keeping it around for good.

What you'll gain from the initial attempts are worth the trouble, and you should never stop trying.


The good times, because they'll keep you going.

The bad times, because they'll make you stronger. They'll help you to appreciate the good when it's handed to you, rather than overlooking it and understanding later what you neglected to realize in the moment. That's a drag.

Little imperfections, because they characterize the people you love. Those close to you are defined, beautifully defined, by their imperfections, and what may annoy you at times will be the things you remember when you've lost them. When you realize that these things weren't as irritating as you believed, that they made that person who they were. Quirks matter.

Remember that even though things aren't always going to be in perfect order, there will always be something to look forward to; you just can't see it right now. After all, we can't all be psychic.

Nothing makes sense.

I saw you last night.