It's a MisMatch day.

Ahaha, I'm so random. I never can think of something substantial and qualitative to write on here. My brain always supplies random tidbits of useless facts and information to me, which never add up to a good post. So what the heck, why fight it anymore. Here's the random inner workings of my head at this point:



I think I always start my blog posts with an intro sentence (or two) and then a colon.

I've counted, and every day since I've worked at Home Depot, some old man has said something wonderful about the color of my hair. Every day.

I haven't had a real crush since seventh grade, and now I think I have two, maybe four.

Geez, I'm lazy.

I'm terribly afraid of having to grow up, but I'm even more afraid of the fact that I will one day have to make something delightful and new every night for dinner.

When people ask about the biggest trial in their/my life, I glance around at everyone's paper and look to see that they've written things like "being judgemental," and "being kinder to my siblings," or "being true to myself." I laugh, as all I have written is "cleaning my room."

I wish I was a black male. For football reasons, mostly.

Sometimes I love lines of irony and satire. Sometimes I don't. Most times I am jealous someone else thought of those lines first.

Not a day goes by that I don't wish for a new car. Or at least someone to hit and total mine without any injuries to anyone involved so that I can collect insurance and buy myself a wonderful new one.

Read a book in my free time? What's "free time?"

As I have planned out my mid-life crisis, I will buy out a scrapbook store when I come to this time.

There's so many things I'd do differently if I could do high school again. "Live with no regrets," I know, but there are exceptions to every rule.

I blush. Even when I'm not embarassed. I don't get embarassed. But I blushed three days ago at work when a man with long sideburns and no hair on top began to sing to me in his best opera voice "Sunshine on a Cloudy Day."

Sometimes I look in the mirror and have a weird "this is me?" reflecting moment. I think, God sent me in this body, and this is really who I am, and what I look like. *Shudder* It just happened again, and it never ceases to freak me out.

I imagine myself in marriage with someone large in stature and a wide receiver. Shallow?

I still, to this day, love anything and everything about dolphins. Sometimes in my dreams, I pretend that I am a mermaid, to frolic with these lovely creatures.

Every time I read/hear about whales or ocean life dying, my heart skips a beat and cries. I simply cannot bear to read about the massive oil spill in the news, as I'm fairly certain my heart would completely stop.

I lovest to speakest in Shakespearean tongue; I hate reading and interpreting that stupid stuff.

My philosophy about candy and unhealthy snacks is "Eat it all now, because then you won't have any to casually snack on later and won't consistently gain weight." If only the scale would follow along with this genius plan.

I'm such a germophobe. I have no idea how I'm going to get married, because I simply can't imagine living with someone else who doesn't wash their hands 37 times per day.

I hate the color pink. But sometimes I like it.

Sometimes I wonder what really goes on in the government... there's just gotta be something they're not telling us. Think about it, it only makes sense.

I wish every day had 14x the number of hours it now holds so that I could volunteer and give of myself that much more. I also wish I had limitless money; not to spend lavishly on myself, but to buy every 'unfortunate' child across the world the Christmas they deserve, every year.

I wish I could give blood every day. When people say they can't donate because they hate needles, it makes me want to poke those needles into their eyes. But only because I am sad for the people that will suffer, due to lack of blood in supply.

I'd like to meet a drunk man once in my life. Just so that I'd know how to pick them out of "everyday life." Every time I pass the "Report Drunk Drivers" sign on the freeway, I wonder if anyone has ever thought I was drunk at the wheel, as I find myself mindlessly swerving in my lane sometimes.

Every morning I wonder in agony why I stay up so late and then vow to go to bed on time that night. I've broken this vow every single day of my high school career.

Tonight is no different.


Good night.