Things Aren't Always So Easy...

So it's been a few days and they're still staying with us, which isn't so bad because they don't really have personalities that rub you raw or anything, but... There are a few problems. Like the fact that we're down to the last roll of toilet paper, or that we bought more than enough food but somehow there are only five days worth of it left... See what I'm saying? Not to mention that tea doesn't last even a day around here anymore, where before it at least lasted a couple... And the dishes, sweet jegus, the dishes...

It's kinda frustrating, especially with this lack of jobage over here. I sent in applications, but without a phone, I can't really know if anyone called, because the Hedgehog can't always answer his, and if they wanted me to come in for an interview, then he couldn't run home to tell me... *sigh*

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.

Accidental Stalkers

So one night me and the Hedgehog left the apartment right behind this other couple; it was cold, so we were all in hoodies with the hoods up. They were on the other side of the parking lot by the time we left, so they were far enough away that I didn’t think anything and laughing or joking with the Hedgehog.

Apparently this was my first mistake.

As we walked, I noticed the guy ahead of us nudge his girl and look back at us, as if pointing out our presence; I laughed about this at the time because, well… Did they really think we were stalking them? We just happened to be walking down the same road, they were way ahead of us, and despite the fact we were in a hurry, we weren’t terribly close to them despite walking slightly faster; they were still a whole parking lot length away.

Well, by the time we reached East Coast Wings, it was confirmed: they thought we were muggers. Suddenly both of them veered off and went into the restaurant, and as we passed by I looked over to watch the both of them walking back out. For a while they walked behind us, but apparently we freaked them out still, because they darted across the road… at the same time we needed to cross the road…

Geeze Lady, Stalk Much?

I swear, the Hedgehog’s boss is a stalker… While we were out having my birthday lunch at this really awesome Mexican place with amazing food, which was only happening because he had to go in at 5’o clock despite having asked for that day off in advance, the phone rang… and rang… and rang… Finally I snapped at him and told him to answer it. Guess what? It was his boss lady… and she wanted him to come in an hour early. Oh, it gets worse, too… She said if he hadn’t answered the phone, she would’ve sent someone over to the apartment to get him.

No one would've been home, anyway...

Chapter One: Positive (Part 1 of 2)

 This is the first chapter of the book, apparently the name of the book is In The Presence of Hope... I really wish I were in the presence of hope right now, but I have to say, after you read this, you'll feel like you're In The Absence of Hope, which is apparently the sequel to this book.

I was standing in my high school theater’s bathroom. I had picked this bathroom because I knew no one would be in here in the middle of my lunch, while the one off the lunchroom would be filled with many, many other girls and that would not be good for today; not for this. (Of course it's empty, technically it's the bathroom that's supposed to be used only by the people in the theater. How did you get in? Did the teacher let you in? Also, if a few more words were added in and this was split up, it would sound a lot better...) I was staring at the clock on my cell phone. Two minutes had passed, one more and I would look(, or;) but I was so scared to look,(. or;) what if it said what I thought it would? (This whole next part should really be another paragraph...) I was a straight A student, and not just straight A but a 4.0 student. (... Hun, a straight A student is a 4.0 GPA student, there isn't a difference. Also, this sentence so doesn't fit...) 11:05, three minutes had passed,(.) Slowly (Technically correct if it were a new sentence.) I looked away from my phone and at the test that I had placed on the bathroom sink,(; or .) I stared, what it was saying was not registering in my head, yet it was so very easy to read. (... Pregnancy tests are easy to read...? Also, she could've used a : here.) Pregnant. Clear as day. But (While according to grammar rules, starting a sentence like this is incorrect, when writing you should always write so it feels natural and easy to read, and when in first person like this is, you write in the character's voice... so I'll let this one slide.) I couldn’t be pregnant, I was not (Remember the writing in the character's voice thing? A conjunction would have done that and made it feel right, instead the 'was not' makes it feel stiff.) even sixteen yet (Fifteen year olds can't get pregnant?), and we had always been so very careful. (I feel like the following should be another paragraph too...) We had always used a condom and I was on birth control (, and) I had not missed a day,(. or ;) I was to (too) paranoid for that; (Second time she uses a semicolon and a period would work better. Also, to make this sound more... true, I guess you could say, an explanation of how she got pregnant while on birth control having never missed a day and with a condom every time would help. Like, "I was worried because it had broken and now I was two weeks late." You know... something. Sperm doesn't just magically wiggle out through the latex.) I’d had to be certain that this wouldn’t happen, (. or;) I was only fifteen and how could I be a straight A student with a baby? (Single mom's in college pull it off, and with supportive parents it's not as hard as you'd think; but at that age when you're that immature and just not ready, it can be almost impossible if you don't step up and shape up.) How could I get into veterinary school? (... Eventually? There's things called GED and online classes.)

I picked up the test and through (threw) it in the trashcan. I was sure it was wrong, that the test had somehow been defective; but then that was why I had gotten this test, the expensive early response digital test pregnancy test, (Test test test, did I mention it was a test? I used the digital test pregnancy test to test my test! Sorry... Also, : or ;) I had not wanted a wrong answer. (Most pregnancy tests have a 3% margin of error, and several things can cause false positives and false negatives. In fact, having an embryo that's already on its way out of your body can trigger a false positive. It's correct because technically there's an embryo, it's false because you won't be pregnant in a day; also, since the thought flow ends here, this could be the end of this paragraph.) I turned away and walked back to the lunchroom(,) grabbing my things (The way this sentence reads now, she grabbed her things while walking, not grabbed her things, then walked away... Also, it could be interpreted as the lunchroom is grabbing her things.), (;) it had to be wrong, it just had to be. (While I know what was wrong, you should always say if it isn't in the sentence already.) I was walking slowly, slower then I normally did(, or ;) but it just seemed so unreal. (The pregnant thing, or the walking slowly thing?) Was I really pregnant? (Thanks for clearing that up.) My hand went to my lower stomach, (;) could there really be a baby in there? And how on earth was I going to tell Dougal? (Okay, this name makes me laugh, but when she gets to descriptions a few more paragraphs down, it makes sense: Dougal in an anglicized version of a Gaelic name meaning black stranger.)

“Anarsa!” (I looked it up: anarsa is a Hindu pastry most commonly made of powdered rice soaked in water for three days.) I looked to my right and saw Dougal looking at me from where he was sitting with a couple of his friends who didn’t mind sitting with the two of us. (So glad he has friends who tolerate you.) I walked over to him realizing that I had walked passed (past, in this case; if she'd said she had passed their table while walking, it would be different.) our table. “Are you okay? You were gone for a long time,” he said quietly to me as I sat back down next to him and looked at what was left on my lunch tray.

(Not actually a part of this story...)

“I’m okay, just out of it today,” I responded as I picked up the chocolate pudding that was sitting happily on my plate. ( I liked this sentence so much, I drew a picture!) I smiled at him as I plunged my spoon into my pudding (Cute pudding, nooo!You were my friend! Seriously though, with the way she wrote it was happy, and then "smiled at him"... Was she smiling at the pudding before she murdered him? And plunged... plunged is such a violent verb for pudding eating...), (.) Dougal was the most important person to me, (:) he was my best friend(,) and if that pregnancy test had been right, then he was also the father of my baby. “I was just up late last night studying.” I said as I put the pudding in my mouth. (New paragraph!) Instantly I regretted eating it (I'd regret eating that happy pudding, too...). I jumped up and was at the nearest trashcan barfing my guts out (Don't know what's wrong with this sentence? She didn't jump up and run to the nearest trashcan, she jumped up and the nearest trashcan was already there.). All of my doubts about really being pregnant were squashed in that moment. I never threw up unless I was very, very sick(,) and sick I was not. (It could have been the pudding, most people throw up right away if something tastes bad... or screams in pain as you shove spoons into their brains and eat them...) The nausea that I had been having the past few weeks had finally boiled over. The nausea(,) plus the fact that I was three weeks late(,) was the whole reason I had taken the pregnancy test. (It takes a full week normally before an egg is considered implanted and you're officially pregnant, looking at this she could only be pregnant two weeks at most, and while morning sickness has been reported as early as three weeks, it normally starts around four or six weeks or sometimes not at all.)

I looked away from the trashcan to find that Dougal was standing beside me(,) his face filled with worry. How was I going to tell him that I was pregnant? He was not ready to be a father yet and I certainly was not ready to be a mother. “I’m okay,” I whispered and leaned against him(,) burying my face in his chest and closing my eyes.

“I don’t believe you.” Dougal said quietly to me “come on, let’s get you to the nurse so that you can go home and get better.” He wrapped an arm around me and we started walking to the nurse. I wanted to tell him that I should stay here and go to class, that it was just morning sickness(,) but I just could not. I could not tell him that I was pregnant. My mind ran through my options,(; or .) I could have the baby and Dougal and I could raise it; but what if Dougal left me? What if two years from now he were to meet someone better than me? What would I do then? I would not be able to do this on my own, I would not be able to have a job and go to school and raise a baby. (All of this makes a lot of sense... until you learn that she has two very highly supportive moms... Would they really abandon her to do that all on her own?) So maybe I would be better of (off) giving the baby up or maybe getting an abortion. I had always been pro-choice but I had never thought that it was the right option for me. But maybe abortion would be the right option for me; I had never thought I would ever get pregnant in high school(,) let alone in my sophomore year. How on earth was I going to be a 4.0 student if I had a baby? I would have to completely change the plan that I had for my life, becoming a vet would be completely out of the question, school might not even be in the question. (The wording here is awkward...)

I was pretty sure I was much to (too) selfish to give the baby up for adoption. (You don't want anyone else to have the baby, but you're willing to think about abortion? Because that makes so much sense: if I can't have the baby, no one can.) And then there was Dougal (; or . or , or... I don't know, the wording is too awkward after this, the and throws it off.) and (This and has no place being here.) I knew that he would not be okay with adoption, he would rather raise the baby himself without me then to give the baby to someone else. (Wow, what's wrong with adoption? You're teenagers and you don't think you can do it on your own, but adoption is less of an option than abortion?) If I got an abortion then no one would ever have to know that I was pregnant, (. or ;) no one. I could just say I had caught some stomach flu and no one would second guess me.(;) Dougal would never have to know about the baby. But if I were to get an abortion then I could never tell Dougal, he would leave me in a heartbeat if he knew, (;) he hated abortion, hated everything about abortion. If he could erase abortion from the entire planet, he would. (Many people feel the same way.) He would never forgive me for killing his child, (; also, I fee like a because could be used here) that is how he’d always seen it, (:) as the murder of a helpless child. I had never thought of it that way, even after we had talked about our views on it.(;) But I do not want to keep that kind of a secret from him, I have never been good at keeping secrets from him and keeping something like getting an abortion would just be too much for me to keep from him.(Keep keep keep...)

The knocking on the nurse’s door brought me out of my internal ramblings, and I looked up at Dougal. (Before I start to edit this part, a word to all future writers: if you post your stories on the internet I will find you and relentlessly edit them. Just joking, but seriously now; when you write a story, always put little bits of descriptions throughout, not all at once. It flows better and means you won't have blocks of meaningless prose devoted to descriptions.) He was a few years older than me. (How old? If she'd connected this sentence and the next, it would've felt better.) He was a senior and had just turned eighteen yesterday. (And we aren't celebrating his birthday, why?) His eyes were brown, his hair was a dark brown(,) and he was about six feet and six inches tall; he was(,) to say simply(,) tall(,) dark and handsome.(Pfft, cliche alert! Also, as I said earlier, the name Dougal means black stranger. Way to pick a name!) I (,) on the other hand(,) had dark blond hair and green eyes(,) and was only about five feet and five inches tall (By the way, in the real world she's close to 6' and he's shorter and reminds us (my siblings and I) of a middle-aged policeman). Everyone said we made a cute couple(,) though I always felt like a dwarf in his presence(;) and when we first met he had intimidated me,(.) it had taken a while for me to realize that he was one of, if not the(,) sweetest guy(s) I had met. (New paragraph!) The door opened and I was again ripped from my internal ramblings. (She spends too much time in her head.) “Yes?” she asked looking between the two of us.

“Anarsa just got sick in the lunchroom,” Dougal said before I could move my thoughts from him and the pregnancy to explain why Dougal thought I should be seeing the nurse.

She sighed and looked at me “did you really?” she asked raising an eyebrow and (And not needed, could've just ended that sentence...) I nodded “do I need to get a janitor to clean it up? Or is there already one doing it?

“No, I made it to a trashcan.” I said quietly. I had never gone home sick before, well at least not since I’d started high school (. or;) I would tough it out and be (Stay would sound better) at school so that I wouldn’t miss anything and wouldn’t get behind. But since I wasn’t ready to explain to Dougal or the nurse why it wasn’t something to worry about(,) I was just going to (have to) accept that I was going (coming would sound better) home from school today and getting some rest,(; or .) which honestly sounded really good as I was very tired from my very late study session the night before and the shock of getting the positive pregnancy test seemed to have taken the last of the energy that I had out of me. (Are you tired from the study session and the shock, or were you already tired and then the test shocked the rest of your energy away? Punctuation, hon, even I don't know which one makes more sense here.)

“Alright,” the nurse said and walked back into her office(,) leaving the door open for Dougal and I to follow her in. Dougal(,) being the gentleman that he was(,) pulled out the chair in front of her for me. “What is your mother’s number?” she asked me(,) picking up the phone and hitting nine and (and not needed, another comma would've worked...) waiting for me to relay the number to her.

“960-480-1458” (Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa... Never, ever, ever, give out your real number on the internet. While I don't know if this is hers or not, or belongs to someone she knows, I know this is her area code...) I answered(,) and she dialed (Dialed what? Always put this, even if it seems obvious...) then handed the phone to me as it started ringing. This was one time I did wish that the nurse would talk to my mom and not me, I did not want to lie to her(,) but I wasn’t ready to tell Dougal(,) let along my mother(,) and I felt that Dougal really should know about the baby first. (How quickly she goes from "might be pregnant" to calling it "the baby".)

“Hello?” My mother said. (Well, asked... but most writers do things like this...)

“Hey mom, it’s me, (.) I’m in the nurses office because I got sick,”

“Oh Rissa, I’ll be there in half an hour,” she said using her personal nickname for me. (What? No "Oh, sweetie, are you alright?" Where's the dialog and the realistic characters?)

“Okay; thanks mom.” I said quietly.

“I love you Rissa.”

“I love you too mom, bye.”

“Bye.” she said and hung up.

I handed the phone back to the nurse. “She said she’ll be here in about half an hour.” The nurse nodded and said something that I was paying no attention too (to. Also, nice way to skip out having to flesh out your story and characters). I knew my mother would assume that it was just a stomach flu(,) but I wasn’t sure what she would do when it didn’t go away in the next couple days. (I don't know about you, but stomach bugs sometimes have lasting effects for weeks... Bloated belly, food not sitting well...) Dougal gently took my hand and we left headed back to the cafeteria for my things,(.) As we passed the theater my mind went back to the pregnancy test and I suddenly really wanted to have that test with me. (... There are so many things wrong with that... You want to carry around something you peed on? If I didn't know she hadn't done this in the real world, I'd say no one would be this nuts.) “Honey,” I said as I stopped walking. “I’m going to go to the bathroom in here,” I said pointing to the theater door, “Could you get my stuff and meet me back here, I’ll probably be a while.” (?)

“Sure,” Dougal said and gave me a hug before he went to get my things from the lunchroom. I turned and went back into the theater bathroom and looked in the trashcan,(;) the test was there on top of all the other trash, just as I had left it. I picked it back up and looked at it. (Ew... holding something she peed on...) Pregnant. (Fact: sometimes if a pregnancy test sits for a while, it gives false readings, the same goes for if it's checked too early!) Was what the little digital readout said to me (She needed to combine that pregnant with this sentence for it to read better.), but seeing it again now didn’t make it sink in any more or (make it) any more believable then the first time. My hand went slowly to my stomach and I looked in the mirror. What would I look like nine months from now if I decided to keep the baby and not get an abortion? Would I be like some women who never really got big or would I be like the women who look like they were having triplets when they were only having one; or somewhere in-between? 

“Anarsa,” Dougal’s voice said through the door, “You okay in there?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said(,) putting the test in my pants pocket (Her pee is now in her pocket...) and opening the door,(.) I smiled weakly at him and he just encased me in his arms. “I’m fine Dougal,” I said quietly.

He looked down at me as I looked up at him “I know you better then that, I know you are tired, and sick, and I know that something is not fine (Alright would work better...) with you. You can talk to me An, you know you can.”

“I know, I’ll talk to you about it some other time,(;) are you coming with me to wait for my mom?” (And skip class since they were at lunch when all this happened and she's going to be sitting around for thirty minutes?) I asked(,) changing the subject as I knew that I would just start telling him all about the baby if I didn’t(;) and I didn’t want him to know yet, not when I didn’t know what I was going to do.

“Yes, of course I am.” He said to me, giving me a tight squeeze. We walked back to the lunchroom and then out onto the benches in front of the school. “Just remember to talk to me when you are ready, I hate when there is something that’s bothering you.”

I smiled slightly at him and rested my head on his chest. He was always so very sweet. He really did care about me and that was something that I really did love about him. (Really?) I was glad that he was the father of my baby, (As opposed to...? And seriously, by calling it a baby at this stage, you're making it impossible for adoption or abortion to be options.) I was sure that he would be a great dad, that is, if I kept the baby. And if I was going to get an abortion(,) the sooner I got one the better it would be(,) for me at least,(; also, but) it would still destroy my relationship with Dougal and I really did not want to do that. I wanted us to be together forever(,) as lame as that sounds(, and it does sound lame, and sappy) and if I did keep the baby I knew he would step up, or at least I was pretty sure he would. (You can never be sure of men... And new paragraph!) I closed my eyes as I rested my head against Dougal, (;) abortion was my best option(,) but how would I really be able to do it? (Seriously... Abortion is better than adoption?!) I couldn’t drive, and I couldn’t have my mother take me. (You don't know about buses? You don't have friends you could trick into dropping you off near the building?) She would never go for that.(You might be surprised, most moms would be opposed to their little girls having to raise children, she might just, oh, I don't know: suggest adoption.) Dougal would never take me, not with his views on abortion, so how would I even be able to get the abortion? Maybe Adoption was better(,) but then I would have to tell everyone, and I would let my mother down so much.(Of course you would, having sex at the age of fifteen with an eighteen year old. That's illegal you know.)

The exciting conclusion to chapter one... at some later date!

Grammar rules to live by: too many to get into, all I can really say is punctuation, capitalization, an understanding of the English language, and a bonus rule called Fact Check.

Also, past and passed. You use passed when you're moving, but don't have a verb describing how you were moving, such as "I had passed the table" and you use past when you have a verb, "I walked past the table."

Also, a rule for aspiring writers: When writing in first person, always write as the character that things are being seen from; in fact, most of the time when writing from 3rd person you should pick a character in that scene whose views are painting the imagery.

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." ?

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...