I Am Sadface

It's kinda funny to be posting here after my month or so long hiatus... I guess it's because I never knew what to say? It's not really that there was nothing to say, because I had tons of opportunities... Every time me and the Hedgehog went to Wal-Mart and we saw a new Kit something, something I'd been planning on doing weekly... My overly ambitious 25 Awesome Legend of Zelda things post, even editing Cathrin's stupid story... I could've talked about how weird it was having the Terror finally treat me normally at Christmas, or how I finally got the courage to talk to the Hedgehog's family...

I could've talked about Ichibancon and how much fun I had, or about how Hunny's been acting selfishly and seems to not take as much interest in her friends anymore and how that's been bothering me. I could've talked about how I first met the Hedgehog, or said something on his birthday. I could've let him know how much I love him on Valentine's Day; I could've let him know I cared for him, and was thinking about him, and how much I hoped his grandfather would get better when he was in the hospital. I could've said something when his grandfather died, about how my heart went out to him, how I've been there, I know how it feels...

I could've mentioned the toxic shock syndrome scare, and how stupid hospitals are, or when my dad went missing and I was scared...

When I started learning to join the Kemetic Orthodoxy I could've posted. I could've joined the Wiccan blog project. I could've talked about how I got interested in Homestuck...

The truth is, the longer I went without posting, the worse I felt about doing it, and about myself. I'm not confident, though I try to be, and I'm not very brave, I guess... Looking at life around me, I put things off for as long as I can, and then I give it up, because I know I won't do it. It's how I've lived here this long and still not gotten a job, I do everything I can to not do what I have to do.

You have to admit, you didn't give me a reason to keep this blog up. No one cared what I wrote about, no one left comments, no one showed interest. I wanted a place to vent my spleen, sure, and this was fine for that, but... only my friends were reading it, and since they appeared in all of my posts basically... I started to get afraid, chicken out. I wanted to say something, and thought of them reading it...

I guess I'm posting this now because I know it'll get read, that the Hedgehog will read it... It's the only way I could ever say this to him. I'm sorry I'm so pathetic and weak, that I can't stand up for myself, and I'm too afraid to go outside; I'm sorry I'm broken and useless... But it hurts so much more because I keep thinking you're ashamed of me. It doesn't help that you don't let me be there for you, that you exclude me from things... Maybe it wouldn't bother me so much if I were stronger, but when you disappear to go spend time with family, I can't help but feel I'm being left  behind because you're ashamed of me. I'm weird and cagey, and I barely speak, and when I do I talk too loud and say things I shouldn't...

But I love you, and I left the house despite trying to talk myself out of it, and I'm saying things I'm saying things I'd never say, even if they are kinda not to your face... The point is, I'm trying, but I need your help; I'm broken, and I won't get fixed on my own. Treating me this way isn't helping. That's... all I have to say...

The Girl-Fiend

So I called my dad to talk to him and instead got the Girl-Fiend… She was nice, polite, sweet… That’s when I remembered that she’s not all bad all the time, she’s only unbearable half the time. You know, when she’s not purposely trying to get under your skin by doing things like… making two boxes of pizza rolls and forcing them on you and your friends, and then later claiming that you ate both of them without her permission and refused to share…

The Review

So Cathrin decided to enter a contest at a place called Author Stand; well, since it was free, I downloaded her short story and read it… It… it had potential, so I left a review. A few days later on her blog, Cathrin mentions the review I left and talks about how I hate her and go out of my way to try to hurt her; she also mentions out fight in February and talks about how I spread lies and when she told the “truth” about me I got mad. Okay, for one: I stopped when she finally told me to. And for two: her “truth” was that I was insane and my dad kicked me out.

Me? Insane? Ms. Spirit-Babies, you set the bar far too high for me to ever cross it. As for my dad kicking me out, I left because his Girl-Fiend clawed up the entire left side of my face in a fight.

Review Frustration

To be honest, frustration is an understatement. Yesterday, well this morning really, I got an e-mail sayging (saying) that my story on authorstand got a review. Naturally(,) I looked thinking it was one of you who had left the comment.(;) I was wrong. I had a very nasty comment, which I wouldn't have minded to(too) much if I didn't know who had left it. You see(,) the girl who left the comment used to be my friend, and the comment she left made me feel like she was attacking me personally(,) rather then(than) the actual story. She has had an issue with me for a while. I had never done anything to her(;) she started spreading lies about me, and when asked I said the truth about her and (no and, just comma) she got even more angry. I don't know what I did to start it(,) but now I feel like it's gone to far.

You can follow this link and scroll down the(to) the review section to see the review. You can see it with out(without) being a member(;) you only need to be a member to read, rate, and review it.

Thanks for listening
~Cathrin

 And just so you don't have to go looking for it, here's my "nasty" comment; oh, by the way, the mods of authorstand have to approve your review before it goes up. Know what that means? They wouldn't post it up if they didn't think it was a good review.

Obviously Written By A Twelve Year Old (... What? I had no other way to explain that the style was simplistic...)

 

     

This was... terrible, to be honest. It showed some potential, perhaps, if it had been written by another author. I mean, a kingdom where only women are allowed to rule and the people are apparently telepathic and can, form (from... What? I can edit myself...) what I inferred from something read, teleport anywhere in the world? Yet none of that is explored at all. In all five pages the only thing that happens is that a twelve year old boy worries he might not be able to be king. That's it. Nothing else. There are run on sentences, awkward grammar, and a complete lack of plot... If it wasn't free I'd say it's not worth it all.

Also, I'm completely confused as to what time period this takes place in. There's still a monarchy with absolute power reigning, but there's talk about American presidents?

There was a lot of hidden potential in this story, it just... it needs to have a better writer to bring it out.

Cerberus

I Am Traffic Cone!

I dare you to hit me. I. AM. TRAFFIC CONE!

Today me and the Hedgehog decided we would walk all the way to Wal-Mart because he was bored and I had stayed up all night and needed physical exercise to make it 'till bedtime; it's something we do pretty often, but don't think  much of. Well, it was raining, and this definitely made a difference.

Thing is, it wasn't raining that hard when we left, so I only wore a hoodie and took along my obnoxious orange poncho in my pouch; halfway there the heavens opened up and so much rain issued forth I was soaked before the poncho went on; for the rest of the day my attitude changed: I hate being wet, particularly cold and wet. When we walked down the side of the road, I silently defied every single car to run me over, thinking to myself, "Bitch better recognize. I AM traffic cone!"

Every time they successfully made it past me, while I was still glaring defiantly at their vehicles, I would smirk to myself and think, "Pfft, that's what I thought... bitch." This isn't the first time a decidedly ghetto temper has made it's way into my actions; and no, before you go thinking I mean ghetto like black person, think to yourself about every person you've ever seen come from a tough neighborhood, no matter their race. There's a certain accent and manner you acquire... I had that manner, the attitude, and the accent; and it happens a lot when I get mad.

And She Does It AGAIN Ladies And Gentlemen! Part One In An Epic Series On How To Write A Book!

Alright, when you sit down to write a book, there are a lot of things you have to have in mind when you begin, a lot of things other than just a basic grasp of the English language; you need to have a feel for your audience, lure them in with a catch hook.. The following is how NOT to write a book.

"Blogging: A school project that blossomed into something more"

(Ah, so I see we're already off to a great start! That is so not a title that leads me to believe that the entire following post will be based off of something you had to do in class; I so didn't get confused when the About Me popped up.)

So this is the first "post" that I wrote for the book I started a couple days ago that is titled "Blogging: A school project that blossomed into something more" (for now at least). I'm not really set on how I'm going to do the date and time thing yet, and I'm not sure if I want to have the title be above or below the date/time, but eventually I'll figure it out. This is basically all I have of the book so far and it is about a page in length. (A fake blog is a book...? You do know most publishers won't take anything that's been published on the internet, right...?)

August 25th 2012 6:15pm (Pffft, silly Kit! You should've known this wasn't her just blogging from the get-go! It's in the future!)

About Me; Part One? Maybe? (I don't know?)

Life is funny thing; you think that one thing will happen(, and for added bonus of flowing better, add an and) then something totally different happens. Like today, (The comma works sort of, but you could easily go with a ; here, or a : As in the following is an example of something that happens you didn't expect.) I was assigned to do this blog all year long for my English class. I’m not sure what all there is to write about,(; because you're beginning a new thought) I am the quiet person who doesn’t really insert herself (Since you're talking about neutral gendered people who don't like to talk in an effort to describe yourself, use themselves. Say it aloud. Herself sounds funny...) in conversations, I (like to) keep things to myself. This is probably one of my down falls as none of my relationships have lasted very long.

Anyway, my teacher wants us to go over our pasts for at least a while in these blogs.(Combine these two sentences, they don't need to be separated.) But first I think that what I need to do is introduce myself. I am Leah, (This could sound a lot better if it was just changed to "My name is", and it would look and flow better.) Leah Myrna O'Reilly-Matthews, (and) I am (conjunctions are your best friends, people) nineteen years old and (Remove that and as it's unneeded, give yourself a ;) I am in my second year of college, (No comma, and) my major is still in the air (End the sentence there.) I have (Get rid of that part and changed it to, There are) so many things that I would like to do its (that) picking what I want to do forever that (Remove the that) is the hard part.

The reason for my ("I have" would be a better way to start the sentence.) two last names is because when I was sixteen I was adopted, (No comma.) by an amazing couple named Laura and Pamela (... Okay, the first chapter of her other book isn't up yet, but I'd like to say... She seems to be on a "I have two mommys" kick. Nothing wrong with it, but I just can't help but see the theme...) ,(;) when they adopted me they wanted to change my last name to their last name, Matthews, but I wanted to keep my last name (because) it was one of the only things I had (left) of my parents. I say one of because I do have a photo album of me and my parents,(;) I used to have more things, that (but instead of that) I lost slowly (reverse these two and put a those) though all of the foster homes that I had (have) been though. The thing I remember most that I lost was a locket that my parents had given me the day of the accident.(;) But the locket wasn’t really lost(,) it was stolen,(;) but that is not something I am going to talk to the world about(,) not today at least.

The accident is how I became an orphan. (Really? With an ominous title like The Accident, I thought it was just the day you wet yourself at school.) My parents(,) Myrna (... Your mom gave you her first name as your middle name...?) and Drummond O’Reilly(,) were Irish (Awesome, thanks, make me regret being Irish...) immigrants, (remove the comma...) who moved over(here instead of over, because over means they moved slowly from Ireland to America over several years...) several years before I was born. So when my parents’ BMW was crushed between one of those Toyota heavy-duty trucks and an eighteen-wheeler (... Yeah...? So when it was crushed, then what happened? Ideally this should be changed to remove the "so when", and then this sentence combined with the next.). The back bumper of the eighteen-wheeler went through the front windshield of their car and they died instantly(,) or at least that is what I was told. I didn’t have any other family, not in the states at least(,) so I was placed into foster care (Wait... what? You always go to your closest family member, no matter where they live, and if something happened and you didn't it's because they didn't want you and gave up the rights. If they wanted you they would've gotten custody.) (End the sentence and make this a new one.) and since I was four and people don’t want to adopt a child that old. (... And since you you were four, what...? Also, are you nuts?! Not adopting a four year old because that's "too old"? Four year olds are ripe for adopting: they're past the terrible twos, fully into their cuteness, and you don't have to wake up all hours of the night changing their diapers.)

(Take the last sentence of that last paragraph and stick it to this one... Though it still doesn't make a lick of sense...) I bounced around from foster home to foster home tell (until) I was fifteen, when Laura and Pamela became my foster parents(,) and then adopted me. I had (have) been though a lot in foster care, (No comma.) and I am very happy with who my parents are now. I’ll talk more about the foster care thing some other day (I can't wait for this! She's going to make me fact check everything!), right now I have homework to do and my roommate hates it when I stay up past midnight with the lights on as(when) she has classes early in the morning. (... So you just don't care if you keep her awake?)

~Leah O’Reilly-Matthews

After you write something you should read it aloud to yourself to find out if you wrote anything awkward; also, be careful of tense changes. Would you tell someone, "Yeah, I had been through a lot." or "Yeah, I've been through a lot." ?

She Makes It Too Easy...

In the midst of editing her work, I saw she had posted something up, and in the first paragraph there was just so much to work with... It... I just... I can't help myself, okay? I'm a sick person! Honestly, though, I'm doing this to teach you how to write... and to vent my spleen over her lies. From now on, after the next post, I'm all business... Business and sarcasm.

A Little About Me

I figured that if you guys are going to be following me on here you might as well know me a little bit. I am going to focus this mostly on what has to do with my writing and some of the things that influence it; if you want to know more then just ask me, I'd be glad to answer.

In elementary school I was not very good at English, (You still aren't!) I was horrible in fact,(. or ;) I hated reading and I hated writing. Now obviously I have come a long way from (since would work better) then(,) but English was never my best subject all the way through school, (. or ;) math and science were always my best subjects. In fourth grade I actually had an F in English in (on) my final report card, but I had gotten something from that (those?) grades (grade? in) English, (:) a new found liking for writing. (There's something not right about the phrase "new found liking for writing"...) So in fourth grade I learned that I could actually like writing, and in fifth grade I learned that I could like reading also. (You read it all here, she didn't like reading but tried to write first.) In sixth grade I actually started to read books and write stories. (Someone famous once said: a reader does not make a writer.) I started writing so that I wouldn't forget what was going through my head (, and) that formed many hours of fun games, (;) and because of this the Immortal series was created.

When I was in seventh grade I spent most of my time in classes reading or writing, (. or;) I (would) read through my math class while getting A's on the test(should be plural, also ,) and I would try to read through science but my teacher would yell at me for it. Ironically (This isn't ironic, it's sad; oh, and ,) the only class that I didn't read or write in that year was English,(. or;) well that's not entirely true, (;) we did do this one thing where we wrote stories and then had them bound and looking all nice. The name of that "book" (Even she admits it's not a book.) was Immortal (... My Immortal...? Are you Tara Gilisbie?!), and I would love to one day go back and turn it into a real novel and put it where it belongs in the Immortal series. The Immortal series is what made me fall in love with writing(.) and (Get rid of the and, and start a sentence!) I do have some "novels" (Your Twilight fanfiction doesn't count.) finished(,) but I honestly have to go back and rewrite them as I totally over road (overrode) my characters as I wrote them and they really bear no resemblance to what really happened. (What really happened? In the story? In your life? Are your stories real accounts from alternate dimensions? Considering all of your characters are you, overriding them is the least of your worries.)

In seventh grade, (no comma needed) we also had a writing test, just like we did in fourth grade, both of which I ended up failing(;) but honestly(;  or :) how do you write an essay on what character from a book you would want in a mural? (Easily. Pick a character from a book you like, now write about why it would be awesome to see them painted on the side of a building. Then again, I guess we all can't get fours on all of our writing tests, E.O.G.'s, and E.O.C.'s... Hey, if she can brag, so can I!) I did end up passing the on (one) in tenth grade, and honestly when I look back at my writing from seventh to tenth grade it's unrecognizable. (Hilariously, she has improved greatly.) Though people in class with me in seventh grade were astonished that I had failed the writing test as(,) after all, I did do nothing but write all day long. (Just because you write doesn't mean you have a grasp on the English language.) I assume it made them feel better about themselves. (I'm sure finally seeing that someone who never pays attention and writes nonsense did make them feel better about themselves: they understand English and you don't. I know you make me feel better about myself. I thought I was a horrible adult until I saw this...)

In ninth grade I was in honors English, though I didn't stick with honors English’s (English, honey.), not because I didn't want to be in honors(,) but because I was a very lazy person. I still am as a matter of fact, and I just didn't feel like doing the extra work, (;) so I decided that I would just keep doing my honors sciences (Science) instead of both. My senior year of high school I took AP biology (College Level) (. or ;) I loved it (,) but I was too lazy to get a (an) A (. or ;) though I could have if I had done the homework.

Here is where it’s a little bit less about my writing and a little bit more about my life. (That last paragraph was nothing about your writing...  You were just trying to brag about how smart you are. Don't worry though, I did a little too... Oh! Wait, here's more: I got an award for highest math average in a school year despite math being my worst subject!) In case you have not read the little about me over there on the right, (Don't worry, that is literally the next post...)I am eighteen years old, a wife, and a mother. (You have to have kids to be a mother.) This means that my senior year ended six months ago in June (Being married designates where you end school?), the last day of school was the day before my second daughter turned one (... I hate to sound cruel, but even if you really had miscarried: she wouldn't have turned one, it would be the one year anniversary of the day she died. If she'd been born at all, it wouldn't have been that day.), and the day after was the graduation. Oh, did I forget to mention that I got pregnant three times while I was in high school? (Yes, you totally did!) Sorry about that. (No you're not.) Anyway, I have four children (No you don't.) , three biological and one who was from one on (of) my husband’s previous relationships. Devon James Kushman is my stepson, (When you marry someone, the miscarried children of their previous relationships don't become your children.) Feodora Laurent Kushman is my eldest daughter, Serenity Grace Kushman is my second daughter, and Sterling  Snow Kushman is my only biological son, but he is defiantly no more important to me then Devon (There is so much wrongness going on up there that I don't know where to begin...). Here is another thing that I haven’t mentioned here yet, but it is in the thing on the right. Every one of my children is in heaven, even my stepson Devon. Devon was lost to miscarriage October 27th 2004, Feodora was lost to miscarriage October 31st 2008, Serenity was stillborn (born dead) on June 10th 2010, and Sterling was lost to miscarriage January 6th 2011. 

(None of this is true, except maybe about Devon... You will see why in the next post, but let me explain. Feodora, if she existed, would've barely been a few weeks along, close enough she would've thought she had a late period. Considering she never had sex because her now husband was several states away and she claimed spirit pregnancy, it was simply impossible. The same goes for Serenity, she was never pregnant. There was a girl at school who was six months along, so she claimed she was too to get attention, she also said she wore a belt to push the baby in so there would be no bump. She never went to the doctor, in fact, this February when I tried to shatter her delusion I pointed out that that far along it would have been a stillborn with a body and would've needed a doctor. Nice to see she listens to me, though I'm sad to see it's only to reinforce her own delusions. Lastly, Sterling: she was barely three weeks pregnant, and considering it takes a week for implantation, it was probably a late period she blew out of proportion.)

Serenity is what inspired the Hope series, and the Hope series will be the first thing I try to get out there. Well(,) maybe I’ll try to get a short story out there before hand (beforehand, also: ,) but you understand what I’m saying.

Thanks for listening to me talk! Feel free to ask questions!

~Cathrin

Grammar rules to follow: make sure the word you're using is the word you want to use and that you also use proper punctuation.

Internet rules to follow: never lie on the internet where people who know the truth can find you.

I Am A Horrible, Cruel, Mean, Twisted, Evil, Passive Aggressive, Vindictive Person (but I just can't stop!)

I stand at the apex of war...

I am a horrible, cruel, mean, twisted, evil, passive aggressive, vindictive person... but there really isn't much I can do to help myself; you see, once upon a time I had a temper just like my mom, and then one day... she was gone. When I realized I could never take back my regrets and the things I'd said, I decided I would just never have regrets over things I'd said ever again... except now I have regrets over things I don't say. This isn't about that, though: this post is about my love of looking for things that make me angry so I can sit and feel insanely alive as my adrenaline courses through my blood. I am, needless to say, a terrible person...

There are things that must be said.

 Especially I am terrible when it comes to the subject of a certain young woman named Cathrin... I won't even try to hide her name, she's seeking out attention all over the internet, so it won't matter if I hide it, you'll still find her... eventually. See, we used to be friends in high school, she was younger than me and a lot more immature even back then, but we got along fine... only she had, problems...

I still worry about her...

Like she was completely obsessed with a boy she'd met at 13 or 14 named Chris over the internet. He was 18 when she met him, and her parents had already had him arrested once for cybering with her over the internet. How obsessed was obsessed? She'd write fanfiction, horrible mini-novels, all with the same plotline: underage girl meets older boy, gets pregnant, loses baby.

I'm talking physically ill...

Oh, and I do mean bad fanfiction... She wrote a Twilight spin off called What She Didn't Know. It was from the point of view of a male vampire who was obviously based on Chris. He met an underage girl over the internet and got arrested, then tricked his family into moving to her town so he could sneak into her room at night and have sex with her. The name of one chapter was basically But What She Didn't Know Was That When A Vampire And A Human Have Sex And The Woman Gets Pregnant The Baby Grows Really Fast And When It's Born She Dies. It was probably the worst thing I had ever read, but I did because at the time, we were friends, and I fairly liked her... also, I clearly didn't understand what delusions are and how it would've been smarter to do something about it before it ruined her life...

"I'm pregnant with his spirit baby."

And why did she do this? Why did she write stories about 18 year olds getting under aged girls pregnant against the wishes of their parents only for her to write in a miscarriage? Because despite having never met him in person and the fact he lived several states away, she used to tell us, quite blatantly, that he had sex with her in her sleep and she was pregnant from his spirit. When, normally a few weeks later, she wasn't showing any signs of actually being pregnant, she'd give up and claim miscarriage. Of course, she never told her parents and never went to the doctor, so you can see how this made her stories untrustworthy... especially when she'd claim a miscarriage then a week later say she was two weeks pregnant... Oh, and the spirit babies thing, too..

Still mad she used them, though...

A few years later she was on Facebook and she had managed to convince an entire community of women who really had lost children that this had all happened; oh, and she managed to manipulate her parents into letting her meet him in person, and now she's married to him... When I tried to tell these women this, a lot of them believed me because they had seen the holes in her stories and how obsessed she was, but a lot didn't because, well, it's the internet and they don't know me from jack, and they couldn't believe that anyone would do such a thing. When Cathrin told me stop after slandering me for almost a week, I let it go... I felt awful that her delusions were accidentally being reinforced, but I let it go; there was nothing I could do anymore anyway.

Am I really seeing what I think I'm seeing?

During NaNoWriMo, though, I saw her name on the site, and I read her book summary... and my petty nature had me silently competing with her in an effort to write better quality faster than she could. It got me through the book quickly, and it let me vent some anger, and all was well... until I saw she made a page on FB promoting herself as an author... and then I saw she made a blog... where she had put up the first three chapters of her book... She's completely convinced she's a writer now; I consider myself a writer, and even I know I'm probably never going to get a book deal: when your average book is more than 500 pages, you tend to have problems getting published.

... I'm a terrible person...

She butchered the English language though and did so little fact checking on her source material that a paragraph in I felt like, well... like taking her hopes and dreams and grinding them into a paste beneath my heel and rubbing her face in it. It was just too good to pass up... So, instead of letting my rage and anger take over me... I'm instead going to play the role of editor to these three chapters. Follow along if you dare, if you don't... Well then, you can return to your regularly scheduled programming and ignore those posts.

Hallway Children

 We were expecting the Alien to come by today, so this morning when someone knocked lightly on the door, me and the Hedgehog assumed it was him. Yawning, I sat up as the Hedgehog looked out our peephole.

Instantly his face changed, and he turned and came back, laying back down, informing me that we needed to be quiet now. Confused,  I got up and went to the door myself, peering out into the hallway.

I recognized that girl.  She was one of the hallway children who bothered me a lot. Yesterday she’d been bothering me about a phone… Aside from that one time I let the neighbors have a cup of sugar, we’ve never  shown any  willingness to give them things, so it seems really weird that they always ask us for stuff. Constantly. Groaning, I let out a sigh and went to the bathroom.

But the knocking never stopped. Every other moment there was another, soft, but very insistent knocking from our door. It was constant, never ending… This girl wasn’t giving up, she was determined someone was opening that door. Something came over me: my mind started whirling, my heart started pounding, and I knew if I didn’t get back soon and take care of the problem, the Hedgehog might lose his own temper.

So when I came out of the bathroom, I opened the door, looked her in the eye, and said, “The Hedgehog doesn’t get  home till after midnight and we don’t go to bed till after four, so if you don’t want us knocking incessantly at your door at 4am, could you please stop?”

She stared at me, silent, bewildered, until finally... “Can I borrow the phone?”

Eyebrow twitch. “No.” And I shut the door.

After I settled myself back in next to the Hedgehog to go to sleep, he informed me, “I wouldn’t have been so nice.” I smiled though. Maybe not, but I still felt kinda badass.

Thanksgiving

So I couldn't come up with a way to get out of going with the Hedgehog to his mom's house today. Mostly it was because he was so damned supportive and told me to stop freaking out. See, one of the benefits of this blog is that, as a socially awkward person who's terrified of confrontation, I can put my thoughts up here that I could never say aloud, because writing on the internet doesn't scare me as much.

Because on the internet, I feel like a boss.

This means the Hedgehog saw my last post, laughed at the thought of me trying to sneak off, told me I was ridiculous, and we had a normal conversation about how I should handle Thanksgiving today.

I felt like someone going into battle...

So I spent the whole day laughing with his step-sisters, both of which are either just going into high school or already are, but both of them are hilarious and awesome so it doesn't matter, and I pretty much felt like I actually fit in for once, aside from some awkwardness. See, I met them before and they make me feel comfortable, so I'm just fine with them.

... Whaddaya know...? This isn't so bad...! Whooo!

When it came time to come home, however, both the Hedgehog's mom and the Terror's mom offered to drive us. At the same time. In the same car. I thought this would be the confrontation I'd been expecting...

Oh gods...

Except it never happened...



Surprisingly, this makes me feel worse.

But they're driving the Hedgehog to work, so I'm almost positive it's happening there... or worse, they'll drive back and talk to me... alone... without the Hedgehog... oh gods...
Edit: It's been 45 minutes, so they're not coming back.

Still terrified.

In fact, the only thing I do know at this point, is that there's a 99% chance I won't be watching the Terror ever again...


... She's my Chick Pea...

Edit: Okay, so they didn't talk to the Hedgehog either... but even he agreed it was suspicious and he'd been a little weirded out when they didn't talk to us on the way home.

Worst 50th Post Ever

... You know how I'm an easily terrified person? My mind sits and thinks about how things can go wrong so I'm always prepared, but sometimes something happens that even I haven't thought of; maybe it's something so good my brain thinks it's a trick, or maybe it's something so bad that all of my instincts scream at me to run before something worse happens.

This has happened to me a lot in the past, but only in the years after I lost my mom. After I lost her, I changed. I couldn't take confrontation, couldn't handle change... Believe it or not, I didn't get terrified at every little thing that might go wrong. I've run a lot. Get in a fight with my dad? Run. Get in a fight with a friend? Run, then make excuses not to talk to them. Get in a fight with my dad's Girl-Fiend? Get forced into a fight with her, then run.

Tonight's no different, either.

See, apparently the Terror (oh gods, should I be calling her that...?) had a bruise. I saw it today, she showed it to me. I figured it came from either when she made me pick her up and carry her away from the door while she was kicking and screaming, or from when her dad had to haul her up last night. Either way, it was getting blamed on me... Remember my fear of the Hedgehog's family hating me? Thinking me a horrible person? Yeah, well it happened, apparently... They are mad at me...

And every single fiber of my being is screaming at me to run, trying to come up with plans so I can avoid confrontation all together. Even horrible stuff I would never do my brain is thinking of. Everything from "fake sick so you have to stay home on Thanksgiving and not talk to them" to "get up after the Hedgehog goes to sleep and walk away, we'll figure it out from there."

... What kind of horrible person am I if I'm thinking of running off in the middle of the night without saying goodbye to my Hedgehog? Or even that I love him? What kind of twisted, selfish, cruel-hearted person would do that?

I'm terrified the answer is me...

I Need A Job

Forewarning: I am angry. That is all.

I had been planning on writing this post out when I could think clearly about the events of the 11th when I had to watch both the Spawn and the Terror, and in fact was going to put it up today. After all, I had calmed down significantly since then and could think objectively about the whole day... Last Friday I was supposed to be paid. Now, if you read this blog, you might think I've been paid a couple of times since the first post on this blog... Well, I haven't. Today was only the second time I've ever been paid since I started watching the Terror.


The first time I got paid $85. Today? I got $80. I did the math on that... I'm still pretty much getting paid $8.50 a day to watch her kid.

Alright, deep breath Kit, don't get mad... just tell everyone what you planned...

On the 11th I had to watch both of the kids at the same time, and as you may know, the Spawn seems to think it's his job to terrorize the Terror and get her behavior going a thousand times worse. He was okay first thing in the morning because he was focused on his game, but... he beat it, and not 30 minutes after my post, he came out of his room and helped to cause near non-stop chaos for the rest of the day.

On top of their usual behavior of dashing up and down the hall and jumping on the couch, the talk of buttholes continued... non-stop... through every conversation... no matter what they were playing. Sometimes they changed it up and talked about dooky. I got them to stop for all of 15 minutes when I made up a game where they could only use five words to talk, all really weird words, like "ceiling fan"... That occupied them until the Terror kept on talking about poop and butts... I couldn't make it stop.

Before I move on, I will tell you the good things that happened: we all had a good laugh over the questions for the FAQ and my answers, and I had a couple of nice game conversations with the Spawn... There was even a kind of touching moment when I explained that when I was yelling at them to stop, I was yelling at both of them, not just him. They were both doing things that were wrong, and he should tell me when she was bothering him, so I could take care of it...

... You know, as opposed to getting a hard pillow and slamming it across her face while screaming at her.

That was pretty much the only good things that happened. The rest of the day was spent trying to make them play nice with each other, trying to get the Terror to stop trying to shove her finger up his butt, to leave him alone when he wanted to go back to play his game, to get him to share with her...

They had pillow fights and wrestled and stacked pillows on each other and jumped off of the couches onto each other, and for the most part... I let them. So long as they weren't screaming or arguing, I let them be and play with each other.

I could remember being six and playing with my older brother. My older brother terrorized me. We were both in Judo, so he called it "practice" and my aunt let him pound my head repeatedly into the floor or ground while they watched. Also, he was in football, and would use me as a target to practice tackling.

While the Terror and the Spawn pretty much screamed and hollered non-stop and made me wanna strangle something, they pretty much were having fun. Aside from taking an iPhone or iPod (don't own one and can't tell the difference nowadays...) and recording him talking and not sharing, and above incident where she was bothering him and he wailed on her, and all the times she tried to shove her finger up his butt, they played pretty well with each other.

Of course, that doesn't mean they didn't drive me nuts with the constant chaos, and the Spawn played his usual game of ignoring my authority and laughing at me when I tried to get them to stop, or getting way too offended and storming off... But talking with the Hedgehog cleared all that up later. You have to feel sorry for a kid who thinks everything's his fault.

So looking back on it, it wasn't as bad as it could've been... even though they made fun of me and hit me in the head with a pillow when my back was turned, said I had a "monster face" and that I was fat.

But my point is... would you deal with all of this for $8.50 a day?

And would you really pay the person who watches your precious child from 8am to 8pm some nights for 3 or 4 days a week so little...?

An Anger Too Great for Words...

... If you've read the last couple of blog posts, you might wonder exactly why it is I haven't mentioned anything really about Google canceling my ads and taking away the near $200 I was going to get paid that me and the Hedgehog needed for survival this week since his money is going to the new LoZ game...

... This is because I am possessed by an anger too great for words...

You see, in order to activate an adsense account with Google, you go through a lot. First they have to approve your blog, then confirm your e-mail address, then confirm your phone number by calling it, then you have to give them your ssn, then they send you a pin in the mail to confirm your real address which you input into their site... It's a long process.

I had just received my pin and was getting online to confirm it so I could have them send me my check when I discovered that Google had disabled my account due to "invalid clicks". Just so we're clear: do not click my ads because you love me, I am in no way encouraging you to do it. I knew immediately who it was... I shall call him... the Alien.

You see, the Alien is a well-meaning but strange fellow, and he thought he could help me get money by spamming my blog and ads, clicking all of them rapidly as often as possible... For Google this is an extremely strict no-no. They don't care who does it, they don't care that some companies pay people to click on their ads all day, all they care is that it happened on my blog... and they took all my money and gave it to the companies, the same companies who sometimes cheat the system by spamming ads...
(... Heh... shoutout...)

CLICK ALL THE ADS!?

 But for me, it was the Alien. He spammed my blog with clicks, Google saw this and took back the money he made me, and I told him to stop and thought it was the end of it... but it wasn't for Google, oh no... I was a threat to them, so they shut me down.

And when I see the Alien, he's dead... he owes me $200...

... Won't even see it coming...

... Longest Day Ever...

... About the fifteenth time you have to explain to a small child that it's lunch time and the supper her mom is having you make won't be ready to eat until supper time, which is after you leave to go home because she won't stop asking when she's supposed to have dinner... You realize there's little else that could be done to you...

... And yet still you wonder why you did to deserve this... and how you wound up with the job of explaining every ten minutes what dinnertime is and why she can't have it for lunch...

Mind you this is after a day of her saying she's hungry, complaining she wants dinner instead, not settling for lunch, picking up the noodles and dropping them on the floor for Noodles, complaining she wants more drink when you just filled it, saying she's not hungry anymore... waiting ten minutes and saying she's hungry again...

Inability to Learn + Complacency = Repeat Incident

 Something strange has been happening for the past week...

The Terror has been good...

... Not just good, either... but amazing...

She's started to learn her numbers to the point where I don't have to talk down to her in that annoying  voice I hate using when she asks me a billion questions about the time. In fact, she's gotten so good that all I have to do is point at the clock and she can tell me what the time is. Of course, she still doesn't  have the finer points of time down yet, but she knows that four comes after 1 and that she has to wait... She still doesn't understand what an hour is, but things have been better...

The Terror has finally begun to understand letters, too. She can finally sing her ABC's without getting really confused, and just yesterday she managed to read off the name of a popular kids show about two inventing cartoon brothers while I was flipping through the guide trying to find her the cartoons she was demanding. It amazed me so much I almost danced.

In fact, the Terror has been learning a lot of things lately, and has been amazingly adorable and not very Terror-like... It took an hour of struggling, but I taught her how to draw a triangle... Yes,  it was one of those things that broke my heart a little and made me wanna kill something, because spending an hour going, "Nooooo. Straaaaight lines, not cuurrrved..." just does that to you.

We even learned how to play pretend last week! She was so good, staying in the yard and playing with her dragons and unicorns as she played princess. She didn't chase after Noodles when he ran out of the yard, she was real good and stayed in the yard, running in every so often to announce, "I found another dragon!"

She was so cute I started calling her my little Chick Pea.

As the Hedgehog has blatantly told me, however, the Terror often has these moments... and they are short, as she quickly relapses into usual Terror behavior. I learned this the hard way, because yesterday I let her play in the yard again. I opened the door and the blinds and watched her playing, but right away I began to notice there was something a little different. She was running in and out constantly complaining about Noodles, and the more I told her to leave him alone and play, the more she complained.

Finally I went outside to tell her when he went to run off with a neighborhood dog to just let them play, it was alright.

The moment I came back inside, I looked out the window and saw an all too familiar scene...

So I ran back out and yelled without thinking, managing to get the Terror back into the yard... but then she started to do that thing that the Terror does that drives me nuts. She froze, didn't move... just stood there with her head bowed, face like that of someone who only speaks English now in a country where no one did. She looked confused, worried... so I told her to come inside...

 The Terror just stood there, blank stare on her face, looking at the ground without moving... I tried a few more times, and the finally, frustrated, yelled that either she came in or I went to get her, and she wasn't going to like it if I did. Another moment of standing there, staring with this confused face at nothing, and I finally went to go get her...

And that's when she took off running like a bat out of hell.

Oh yeah, I caught the Terror and I gave her ten minutes of timeout, but still... Why don't I learn?