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Hello, dear Salmons. It is I, once again. Yes, I'm alive! I bring you greetings from my new University. I transferred because I felt like I was crushingly alone, really. The town is much nicer, too. Let's backtrack though, because you've missed a lot. Over last spring break I came out to the rest of my family. It literally went better than I had hoped, which is sad, because I actually came out the other end with ONE supportive parent. Dad... Well I'm still on his health insurance, which is good. I doubt I'll be seeing him in the future. I wasn't kicked out of the house, so I guess this is as good as it gets for me. Mom is great. She tries to understand, She's terribly confused by sex, and she's completely loving and supportive. My grandparents, her parents, who we live with, In the summer, were the opposite. Something about being a godly person and living an overcoming life. They might get it eventually. I worked over the summer and all I have to show for it is an apartment here with my best friend. Living is expensive, but this isn't an opinion essay. Working also got me out of the house, or as I call it, the emotional sewer. Mom thinks I can and should repair all the broken ties I've made (they've made and I've let stand). I keep coming back to a single question: Is it even worth it? I've quit runescape, it's nonredeemable, and so long as they continue to have people like me that think "oh it's not so bad" they will continue on this path. More on that later, as always. University is great, I'm only two weeks in so I haven't really met a whole lot of friends, but I'm at least no longer depressed. The feeling of isolation is behind me. I'm now an English Major (ha). I still plan on programming for fun/ profit, but I'll go my own route on that, because I also want to write books, opinions, essays, etc. I planned on this post being like 10x as long, but I feel I've said all I need to. Life is looking up, and plan on seeing me in the forums, and contributing to the site somehow probably. Before I go for now, Thank you for being an awesome community that just happened to be filled with gay guys.

Don't you hate it when you plug in your computer/attack robot/whatever, but then forget to plug the cord into the wall? And then the power strip that also was plugged into the wall had your alarm clock so you also oversleep and miss your bus? And then your attack robot is too low on power to make you bacon? Mornings suck.

Guys I'm back from my temporary Sal's hiatus and I have a life now so don't screw it up for me >.<

Lit up a whole bunch more caves, and I found a rather large ravine. While lighting up that ravine, I found 13 diamonds. :s

Found a zombie mob spawner (:)), lit up some annoying isolated caves, and relocated my base to a new location (the center chunk for the area I'm lighting up). Caves: New overworld image: Also, when I've been customizing my texture pack, in the misc folder, there's a file labeled "tunnel.png". What is it and what does it do? :)

I lit up a bunch of the annoying, isolated little caves that don't connect to anything and also lit up some more caves. Also, here's a picture of that ravine with lava at the bottom.

In the last two days, I have made significant progress, and I found an awesome ravine whose bottom is completely submerged in lava. I'll post a picture of it once I light it up. For comparison: Today: Friday:

So, last night I decided that I should build a mob spawner/grinder system in my SSP world. Thanks to video, I learned why my previous grinders of mine weren't producing much, and would often stop spawning mobs after a while.I found a nice little area in the middle of the ocean which doesn't have as high of a density of caves compared to other areas, so I cheated a little bit and outlined the intended area for where I'm going to put my mob grinder with dirt in MCEdit (I did subtract the dirt used from my dirt chest though). This is an image of the area made in Cartograph. I then mapped it in cave mode for the same area, and this is what I managed to light up today. The green areas signify caves which are lit up, while blue ones aren't. I'm not sure about red areas, maybe it's lava. :D Beyond that, I'm debating whether to use the standard spawning room (30x80x2) or something like mindcr4ft's spawning towers ( ). I'll probably just end up using the standard design because I don't feel like making and placing so many signs. Also, I'm debating whether or not I should host this map on this server so then you guys can come on and maybe help me with lighting up all of these caves. I've made a poll just for that. And yes, I will supply weapons and armor and stuff.

[extract][/extract]WE WON!!! And I won best speaker!!!!! Also I was only 4 points away from a perfect score!!!!!!!!!! AND IT WAS MY FIRST DEBATE!!!!! :( :D :D :D :D :D :D The judge said that our team was the best he's seen so far, and he was completely shocked that it was my first debate and that I am a sophomore. The other team has had like... six debates so far this season? My team is replacing the previous affirmative team, because they were on a pretty bad losing streak and we beat them out for the spot. Also, my cousin came out of his operation sometime yesterday. He's been asleep for most of yesterday and this morning, but he woke up a little while ago and we Skype'd with him while he's in the hospital. He's had most of his tubes removed, except for one that kind of goes over the top of his head. He'll get that removed and patched up sometime soon. It's so amazing to think that they've opened up the top of his head and tinkered with his brain. Modern medicine is crazy. Anyways, he cried! Which is great! Because recently he has had difficulty showing emotions, and to see him crying reassured all my doubts. And he is so cute, guys!!!! I have to put a picture of him on here sometime soon. Today was altogether a very good day >.< And thank you to all the guys who wished me luck yesterday! I really appreciate it! :D

I will manage my time better and not get distracted. I will manage my time better and not get distracted. I will manage my time better and not get distracted. I will manage my time better and not get distracted. I will manage my time better and not get distracted. I will manage my time better and not get distracted. I will manage my time better and not get distracted. I will manage my time better and not get distracted. I will manage my time better and not get distracted. I will manage my time better and not get distracted. I will manage my time better and not get distracted. I will manage my time better and not get distracted. I will manage my time better and not get distracted. I will manage my time better and not get distracted. I will manage my time better and not get distracted. I will manage my time better and not get distracted. I will manage my time better and not get distracted. I will manage my time better and not get distracted. I will manage my time better and not get distracted. I will manage my time better and not get distracted. I will manage my time better and not get distracted. I will manage my time better and not get distracted.

This Tuesday, my three-year-old cousin will begin his brain surgery. I honestly don’t know how I should be feeling. I want him to be well. But I’m so worried. The stuff that the doctors have been telling us isn’t that great, but it varies from week to week. That in itself is so worrying. I feel bad for his parents. I can’t imagine the excruciating pain they’ve gone through this past year; and I can’t even begin to scratch the surface of how worried they must be. Tonight he’s going to be entering the hospital. I Skype’d with him for the last time before he’ll go in his surgery; he was bald. They had to shave his head for preparation of the surgery. I guess that’s what really struck home this thing for me. This intangible feeling of the whole charade, that for some reason, this isn’t real and this isn’t happening. But you know what else I saw? He was watching some sing-and-dance show on the TV and he was playing along and dancing to it. And that gives me some hope. Ugh, I’m trying to type out coherent thoughts about this, but it’s just a big muddle of apprehension and hope. I hope that Zee turns out okay.

So far China has been really beautiful and kinda strange. Beijing's been industrialized to the point where I wanted to, I could sorta pretend that it's Richmond, but every once in a while I'll see a billion bikes ride past or a huge flipping tour bus drive by six inches from the one I'm in Then five people will jaywalk across the street and almost get run over and then I'll be like, yeah... Not Canada. I don't know what I expected hotel-wise, probably the room to be flooded with panda semen and the desk clerk to open his mouth and have an endless stream of bedbugs pour out or something, but it's actually a really nice hotel. There's a huge flatscreen tv and of course, there's internet otherwise I wouldn't be posting this. Then there's the swimming pool, gym and buffet every morning. Then again, I didn't really get to take advantage of most of this stuff firsthand, because... The tours are frickin' 14 hours long nonstop and most of it is spent waiting for people who don't ever seem to stop peeing. They don't even give you 10 minutes to check out the souvenir shop or go to McDonalds to grab a drink that won't give you horrible diarrhea. Then they take you to three different places, one of which is guaranteed to be a 1-2 hour long infomercial (aka a tea shop) and the tour guide NEVER STOPS TALKING. NEVER. So if you want to sleep on the bus, good luck. Personally I feel really sorry for the tour guide, who has to stand and talk for 14 hours every single day for seven days a week.

Our first home football (American Football) was a huge success! Our team won with a field goal with only 7.8 seconds to spare. The halftime show was awesome and I almost puked! Then after the game the band went to Pizza Hut :(

Freshman Orientation tonight :( It's nice to see my friends, but school is less than a week away :(

The girl I asked out said she didn't like me in that way but she still wants to go minigolfing but with a group. She said it wont affect our friendship. I guess all is well that ends well.

My aunt (not my related aunt, but my uncle's wife) asked me to show her my favorite song. I figured she wanted one with a music video, so I showed her "Make It Stop (September's Children" by Rise Against. Many know that Rise Against is my favorite band, and the only particular reason that I chose that song was because it's their latest music video. The song is about being tolerant towards homosexuality and stopping the bullying of LBGT kids. The song is in support of the It Gets Better project and you can probably find it somewhere on the official It Gets Better site. I tell my aunt that as the video starts, and she replies, "Oh you're not a homophobe?" in a surprised manner. "No..." I reply, dreadful of what she would say next. "Well I am." she replied. Oh dear. So she watches the video and is actually enjoying the song. During the final moments of the video, they show three gay teens about to commit suicide, but then each one has a flash of scenes showing their potential future and they choose to continue living. During that scene, the girl in the video sees herself kissing her wife on their wedding day. My aunt makes a disgusted look at that. The video ends, and she says, "I'm sorry but that's just... wrong!" She went on to tell me about how when she was reading the Qur'an, she read about a town called Lot which god decimated because all the man had turned homosexual. She said that god is against homosexuality and thus it is wrong. Sadly, this is actually in the book. You can read about it here. "But some people are born homosexual! Would god send them to hell just because they were born a certain way? If he loves all his creations, why doesn't he love the gay ones?" I plead. "Sorry Momin, but it's written in the book that homosexuality is wrong. I can't agree with homosexuality because it explicitly said so in the Qur'an that homosexuality is wrong," she says. "You know what else the Qur'an says?! It talks about having multiple wives! And it says that once you marry a woman, you're allowed to do whatever you want with her! The book was written in context of society at the time! Things change! Do you seriously think that because you are born a certain way, you should be punished and go to hell?" By this point, I had realized that this argument wasn't going to go anywhere, but I desparately hoped that I could break through to someone. "I don't think scientists have found proof that people are born gay." At this point, she gets up and goes to the kitchen to tend to something she's cooking. A quick Google search and voila! One, two, three, and four sources that support that homosexual traits are passed down through genetics. However, my efforts were futile. Upon showing her all four sites, she goes "Oh come on, Momin, you gotta check the sources! I bet that these were written by... a bunch of gay guys." I didn't pursue the conversation any further after that. On a side note, looking at a Wikipedia article or two I found out that the Muslim world is pretty hazy when it comes to homosexuality. If anyone is interested, here's a quick read. Homophobia is something that really bothers me. In the case that I just experienced, it was based off of religion. I'm sure that people against homosexuality have various reasons for it. But now there's a conflict in my head. I believe that homophobia is inherently wrong. I simply cannot find a solid reason to think that homosexuality should not be accepted in society and that they should not be granted the same rights as heterosexuals. But on the other end, I can't just tell these people to shut up. There's a quote from Voltaire that I remember, "I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it." 1 My aunt's a great person, I love her, and her homophobia is just a part of her beliefs. I strongly disagree with it, but I have to concede to her the right to say it and believe in it. To conclude, this is why I hate debating. Well actually, I love debating. I have fun debating. But the feelings that are usually associated with debating really suck. I mean... what's the point if nobody's gonna possibly change their opinions, or learn from the other side? 1Actually, upon looking up that quote to make sure I got the exact wording right, I found out that the quote is not actually from Voltaire, but from Evelyn Beatrice Hall.

I usually love Ramadan, but I think that this year it's a different case. Ramadan is an Islamic holiday/tradition where for one month (thirty days), you can only eat from sunset to sunrise. What this means is that once it is sunrise, you cannot eat or drink anything until it is sunset. You do this every day for thirty days. It's really tough, but I enjoy doing it. It's a nice exercise in willpower, and it also gives me some perspective into how people living in poverty and hunger feel (but I know that they have it much worse). But there's also a religious spin to it, and that's tough for me, being an atheist. Usually I just ignore it and partake in it for the other reasons stated above. I really do enjoy doing it. However, this year, it's the religious aspect that's being forced upon me. See, my father knows that I don't believe in god, but my mom's side of the family are fairly religious Muslims. Here in England, I'm staying with my uncle, my mother, my grandfather, my grandpa, and my uncle's wife. It's like a super tag-team of religion. The only person in my family that knows I'm an atheist is my dad, and he's in America. It's not too hard to create an image. I have all the right answers to all the right questions. After all, I was (and am still) raised under Islam. But now there's a certain... detachedness from all of it. I feel more like I'm playing a part in a play than actually partaking and having a genuine passion for all the religious stuff that is attached to Ramadan. But how am I supposed to get this across to my family? More importantly, why would I want to? My grandpa and my grandma have nothing else to bank off of besides their religion! For example, my grandma cares so much about her children and her grandchildren. But there are a lot. She has six kids, and each of them have around two kids themselves, bar my uncle. Most of them have left Pakistan and are now living in various places accross the world. We live in America, one of my aunts lives in Australia, my uncle and my other aunt live in England, and my third aunt is also going to England soon. In a year or two, she'll only have her youngest son and his family left living with her. (In Pakistani culture, it's normal for people to live with their parents even beyond university.) Now let's draw back to my baby cousin, who has a cyst in his brain and many developmental issues, and regular seizures. My grandma lives halfway across the world from him. She can't give money, because it's not her money to give; it's her son's money. So what does she do? She prays. She tells me to pray for him, she tells everyone to pray for him. There's something very touching about that. But what kind of a person would I be to say, "You know Islam, one of the most important things in your life? Yeah, I think none if it is true." And how devastating would it be to my grandparents if I did that. At the point in life that they've reached, they care for nothing more than to ensure safety and happiness for their kids and grandkids. What if I confessed that I was atheist? Then they would be deeply troubled and worried about me. Maybe they might even think that I'd go to hell for not believing in god (but we'll get back to that later). I've never been one to let others dictate my beliefs, but I think for situations like this, it's more for their benefit than it is for mine. My uncle makes me pray. He's very dilligent when it comes to praying. As some may know, in Islam there are five prayers a day. You don't have to do all of them, but you're encouraged to do whichever ones you can. The most important one is the Asr (mid-day) prayer. During Ramadan, it's also encouraged to do Fajr (sunrise) and Maghrib (sunset), since the times for those two prayers mark the beginning and end of your fast. My uncle is making us do all three of those prayers, although not in the sense of, "You HAVE to go pray, right now." But more in the sense of him asking if we've done our prayers, and then I'll go do it, in a desire to uphold my image. The first two days, I was a wreck. I hadn't prayed in maybe two or three years. I just whispered stuff and made it sound like I was reciting a verse, and then bowed up and down at the correct times. Occasionally, we pray in groups, and that's the hardest for me; for some strange reason, I can never stop laughing. It may sound crazy, but whenever I pray, I always think of all the funny stuff that could go wrong while praying, and then I can't help myself. I chuckle softly and try to hold it in, but at times it's noticeable. I don't think my uncle or my sister mind though, they usually just dismiss it as my usual jokester self. After two or three days, I started remembering all the verses. I had learned them all when I was very young, so it makes sense that they weren't easy to forget. That's pretty convenient for me! During the whole prayer, I feel nothing. I don't feel like I'm doing something pure, and above myself. I don't feel a closeness to god, or myself. I don't feel what everyone else feels. But after the prayer, there is a part where we actually pray. Think of an Islamic prayer like this. Two thirds of it is actually reciting verses from the Qur'an, and during the last one-third, you pray for things you want. During that part, I feel something. It's not any religious sentiment that I feel, or a false holiness. It's very hard for me to describe. During the entire prayer, I feel as if I'm just throwing verses into thin air. None of it is real, none if it is genuine. When it comes to the part where we pray, it's genuine, and I don't have to recall anything from memory. I pray for long, happy, and successful lives for my family. I pray for my cousin to get better. I pray for happiness for myself. I suppose it's kind of therapeutic. I take all the insecurities in life, and throw them into some undefineable space. I get hopeful, and that hope stays with me. There is no god for me. It's not that I flip through the Qur'an calling BS on things, but it's more that I can no longer convince myself into believing those things. I would be being dishonest with myself. But when I pray, I realize that there is a god for other people, and I get a tiny glimpse of what it feels like. It feels pretty great, but it's not going to persuade me to go back to religion. I've observed that one of the really grey areas in Islam (and I guess, throughout other major religions too!) is what is actually in the holy book. My mom is edging me to do some reading of the Qur'ran, and by edging I mean forcing me to. It's pretty funny, actually. Most other Muslim kids I know have read through the Qur'an at least once or twice by the time they are 12, and they learn Arabic just to read it. I'm 15, I have an English translation (because I'm not learning Arabic just for one stinking book) and I'm about four chapters into it, reading for my first time. There's the typical, "There is only one God (Allah) and he is great," stuff which I just read through without a passing thought. Then there's a lot of stuff about resisting the temptations of the Devil; most of what is what you'd expect from a reliious text. I don't really involve myself into reading. Usually I just glaze over the words, registering only a few in my head for thoughts. I remember reading about an old Jewish village going against the word of god and being struck down for it. I remember reading some stuff about people being allowed multiple wives, so long that they were fair and equal with each of them and that they did not pick favorites. I don't like the idea of multiple wives, but I imagine that the concept was prevalent throughout society at the time. So I guess having the Qur'an endorse multiple wives is reasonable, because the book lays down rules and guidances for doing so. There's one thing that really bothers me, what the book says about "non-believers." It uses the word "non-believer" throughout. It's used in multiple contexts. Sometimes, it's someone who obstructs the practice of Islam. Sometimes, it's someone who purposely stops the spread of Islam. Sometimes, it's someone who just doesn't believe in Islam. All of the times, the following verse is something like, "And they will burn in the fires of Hell, where the punishment is unbearable. Because God is just and fair, but strict in his punishments." Of course, my recital isn't verbatim. But I remember it well because verses like that show up all over the place. I object to that very strongly. Why should someone be sent to hell for having individual beliefs? The book says that the text within it is true, that it is the final word of god, and that everyone should believe and follow it. However, there are three or four books saying the same exact thing. Why would someone, when presented with an alternate book of religion than his own, choose that just because it says that it's the word of god? His book probably says the same exact thing! And, just because of that, god would send that person to hell? But that's not my main objection. What I said above is simply what I think is a... fallacy with saying something as resolute and final as, "believe me or go to hell." Why are people being punished for having their own beliefs? For their own perspectives? What really strikes me is that a couple of years ago, I used to worship this god. Based on the changes I've gone through in the past couple of years, would he send me to hell too? Would I be punished, should I be punished, just for not being unable to swallow up an entire religion and believe it without looking twice? Reading stuff like that in the Qur'an, it feels like I've been wronged. It feels like my religious days are spitting at me in my face. But please, don't let my own observations and ramblings let you form any prejudices about Islam. There is a very good chance that I have simply misread, or misinterpreted, and that I am dead wrong. Believe me, when it comes to stuff like this, I am an idiot. So, why is this title called Atheist Rehab? I think it's because ever since becoming an atheist, I've never been around such devout members of any religion for extended periods of time. It reminds me that people are caring, smart, and loving, with or without a god. And it also helps me stave away any stereotypical atheist mindsets. Religion is not a delusion, I think it can be very beautiful, and just as I would request that people respect my beliefs for not believing in a god, that religion should also be respected on the same level as other types of personal beliefs. Back to my opening sentence, about not enjoying Ramadan this year. I am still enjoying it, but after reflecting a bit with this blog entry, I'll compare it to being forced to eat a sour pill. I'm not going to enjoy it, but in the end, some new knowledge, perspectives, and insights will be good for me. :) I just noticed that Phoenix Rider is viewing this. A Phoenix Rider size entry being viewed by Phoenix Rider. The circle is complete. Maybe one day I can work my way up to a Phoenix-Rider-on-Easter size entry.

I just about had the scariest dream of my entire life. So in the dream I was playing Fallout New Vegas; it was in a hotel room of some sorts in a fairly busy city. We were going to be checking out of the hotel that morning. So then we were in the lobby and everything was packed and we were ready to check out. Then I woke up. I'm not finished because then I went to sleep again. Back in the dream, the same dream, I was back in the hotel room for some reason and i was like flirting with 2 girls but they were like girls i had never met. And the creepy thing is that your brain cannot make up people out of the blue. People in my dreams are always people I know in real life or they are based of them. Next, the girls were gone and my mom was going to take a shower so she went in and I went into a hallway. There were a lot of windows and our floor was kinda high up (maybe 10 stories up?). As I was looking down over the street i unzipped my pants and started to... um.... :D Well, when I finished I looked up put of the window and there was a rather large man with white skin, a red handlebar mustache and I can't remember what his hair looked like. Oh, yeah, he was wearing a weird plaid hat. I was very startled because he was creepy and I thought he may have been watching me do ...stuff. He said his name was something i cant remember and then he asked if I wanted to play. I yelled for my mother but I couldn't utter anything more than a small moan (I think I couldn't talk because i was trying to say this out loud in the real world) He came in through the window and chased me down the hall. Then I appeared in my house. It wasn't my actual house, it looked very different but the location was the same. The creepy man was there too. He told me that he wanted to live with me and I told him that if he went to New York City, I'd be there with a house for us both. He said something about him wanting a house with a view of Times Square. I told him yes but then he still chased me around the house. I told him I would play in the basement so he went down there. The staircase to the basement was a strange spiral staircase. When he got to the bottom, I started to drop furniture on him but I always missed. He yelled, "Why are you doing this to me?!." Then I woke up.\

Although this entry is kind of a self plug, there's also a bit more than that. Around this time last year, I wrote my first serious short story. It was a sleepless night. I was sitting downstairs on the couch, at about 5AM. I explicitly remember what I was doing. I was on Tumblr, messing around, trying to create a music blog. I remember that the aim of the blog was for me to review new albums that fell under my musical taste. At the time, I had never reviewed anything. I abandoned the blog after a day of trying to figure out Tumblr's god awful settings. But while attempting to write my first review, I was hit by a pang of existential crisis. It was very short lived, about an hour at most. I remember feeling so frustrated, because I could end up writing ten thousand reviews and maybe nobody would have read them outside of a few friends who I'd have showed the blog to. Out of that existential crisis came a little story called The Escape. A page long story, written in about ten minutes. I threw it on the Library, my first noteworthy addition to the repitoire of great literature on there. About two hours later, I went on and saw that none other than Master Neverdead, the Story Mat legend himself, had replied to my topic. He loved it. Master Neverdead, the dude who supposedly writes better than anybody on Sals, and who people beg to get a review from, loved my story! A story I had written in ten minutes, with no pre-planning! Needless to say, I was stoked. The Escape still had errors, and I went back and revised it. Still, long after people had stopped replying to my topic and giving reviews, I felt very proud. But I didn't write more. I couldn't write more! Ideas skirted the edge of my brain, but vanished into the ether. Sometimes, I chanced upon an idea. The idea would sound friggin' amazing. Like, "oh my god why have I never thought of this before it is so good," amazing. These ideas would always pop up while I was at school, or on the bus, or out somewhere. Then, when I got home, and started typing out whatever had festered in my head; it would always conjure the same result: "God this is shizzlety!" I'm a good writer. I'm fairly confident in that. I really enjoy putting my thoughts into words. Heck, that's why I love Sals so much. I can write so much about things that I'm interested in, and nobody is gonna say anything about it. It's not like school where I have to fight for the attention of the class during a discussion, or when I'm browsing Facebook and I just want to enter an argument between two randoms and shove in my opinion. Nope, on Sals, I type what I have to say, and it's there for people to read. And everybody can do that, which is what's so great about it. Making posts about topics comes naturally to me. I mean, why wouldn't it? It's just me putting my thoughts into prose. Writing stories is a whole 'nother deal. You have to weave your thoughts into varying sentence structures, speckle them with an array of word choice, and portray them in ways that don't fuddle the brain. You are forced to capture people's attention. Then, ten months after The Escape, I got on my laptop and started typing. To explain the setting: I was fudgeing pissed off. I had been chasing a girl for a little while and was frustrated about something she did. I was thinking things that didn't even come across as words. Just raw thoughts and images that were coherent to me, but wouldn't be to anyone else. So I started typing, and -bam!-, enter Jones. This one was a bit longer, about three (paper) pages. Jones and I are different characters. He's temperamental, quick to judge, paranoid, and a tad bit crazy. I am none of those things (or so I perceive). But I took all those emotions I was feeling, the entire situation I was in, and turned it into a person. Well, not a person, a story. A person who defines a story. Jones was a literary manifestation what I was feeling. Jones was different for me. After I wrote The Escape, I had a feeling of, "Damn, that's really good." When I had finished Jones, it was more of a feeling of relaxation. I had just pushed a burden off of myself. The story of Jones and the thing that I was experiencing at the moment are so entirely unrelated, but they're the same exact thing. I had literally crafted a story out of what I was feeling. It didn't exactly feel good, it just felt... it was like, "this story is here. I have written it. There." Now please understand, I'm not trying to buff myself up, and make myself seem like a really good writer. No, no, let me get to the point. I want to write. I want to write well. Both of the stories I've written have been me just taking the environment around me and turning it into a short story. Is that the sign of a good writer? I want to be the kind of writer who plucks an idea out of thin air and fleshes it out into an epic. That sounds like something I'd enjoy. I still love both my stories though. They're my creations, and they've received positive responses from most of the people I've shown them to. Hopefully, I'll write bigger and better stuff in the future.

Kso, I made a topic about Daft Punk helmets. I think I will save that for in a few years when I'm taller. Idk what to be for halloween this year. Ideas??? (I will work on the dafk punk costume throughout the next few years)

Sometimes I go into an odd depression. I get depressed because I can't get my Emotions out in any way. People can never understand what I am truly thinking. I need a way to get my emotions out in some way. I'm not good at writing, I'm not good at art, I can't write music. My brain hurts from stress. Can anyone help me? I feel trapped in my head. A cluster of emotions that I cannot comprehend swell in my brain. I need some way to understand what I am feelign and express it to others.

Period 1 - Spanish 3 Academic Period 2 - Statistical Analyses and Problems Period 3 - Honors Pre-Calculus Period 4 - Honors Biology Period 5 - Humanities English Period 6 - Gym Period 7 - Humanities US History Period 8 (first half of year) - Songwriting Period 8 (second half of year) - Photo Imaging This is exciting. I've already gone and done the whole thing where I post my schedule on Facebook and see who I have classes with ahead of time, so I already know that I won't be without friends in my classes. >.< I am pretty... satisfied with my schedule, other than eighth period. I chose Songwriting because my interest in music piqued a lot by the end of freshman year. I had just finished off the school year, and I decided that I wanted to be a musician. Now... I'm not so sure. So either way, it appears that I'm stuck with Songwriting. I'm really afraid of that class. In it, we write songs and then we have to perform them in front of everyone else. There are two people who teach that class. One of them is the same person who taught my Beginner Electric Guitar class last year, who is one of my favorite teachers ever. The other is the same person who taught my Music Production class last year, who is one of the worst teachers that I've ever dealt with. The class and my feelings towards it are pretty much going to be decided by which teacher I get, and it doesn't say which teacher I got on my schedule. Photo Imaging is a throwaway class. Originally, I was going to take Creative Writing, but then I learned from friends who had already taken the class that the teacher who teaches that course (there's only one teacher for it) is one of the biggest goosedowns in the school and should be avoided at all costs. Seems like a dodged bullet. So now there's two options I have for that slot. I can either take Photo Imaging (which is a simple class on photography and Photoshop) and get the credit for it, or I can replace it with a half-year study hall. The study hall won't earn me any credits, but it might help me deal with the burden of work that I'll be getting between Biology, Pre-Calc, Humanities, and the rest of my classes. This is where I would like advice from some people on Sals. Should I take the Photo Imaging class, or take a study hall? As for my academic classes... boy are they daunting. I have heard many nightmarish things regarding Biology, and I doubt that Pre-Calculus is much better. I'm not afraid of the Humanities classes, though. Humanities English 9 and History were my favorite classes last year, and they cater to my academic... style? much better than their Honors counterparts. It's shaping up to be a pretty exciting school year. Luckily, I still have a couple weeks of safe haven. School doesn't start until September sixth, so I can still squander my life away until then. Let's hope that the year goes well!

I found this while looking through my folders after backing up some of my stuff, I thought it was kind of funny. :( >.<

Quite a mortifying experience, of Arianna-esque humor. So today, I was sitting in the living room with me and my grandpa. My aunt and uncle were out at work, my sister was reading on the balcony, and my mom was at the market. I was focus on my laptop, browsing the internets, the usual. My grandpa was watching TV. All day, he watches various Pakistani channels, and I never quite understand what they're saying, so I just don't pay attention. Then, the drone of people talking is replaced by really strange and loud elevator music. I saw my grandpa put the remote down, and then I look up to the TV screen. What do I see? Porn. My grandfather was sitting right next to me, and he puts on porn! I focused back to my laptop, in hopes that he would change the channel. He didn't. I looked at him. He had a somber expression on his face, and he was just nodding his head. Some poor girl was being railed on the TV screen. I picked up my laptop, put on my best Poker Face, and walked out of the room. I then held base in my uncle's bedroom. A couple of minutes later, my sister walks in. "Do you know what Grandpa's been watching...?" she asks. "...yeah." So I get the phone to call my mom, ("Mom, Grandpa's watching porn!") but of course, the piece of paper that has my mom's number written on it is in the living room. With great fear, I go back into the living room. The door is open and then as soon as I walk in, he changes the channel. Inside I'm thinking, "What...? You put it on WHILE I was sitting there. No point in trying to hide it now." So I'm looking for the piece of paper, and then my grandpa just changes it back to the porn. I go back to my uncle's bedroom, forever scarred.

I am in a place called... Bornemouth? The day has had a series of unfortunate events so far. For starters , I didn't even want to go, but my uncle forced me to. We went to London because my uncle needed to do some stuff at the embassy. So we got there like two minutes before it closed , and it was too late for whatever my uncle needed to do. Meanwhile, my mom and my uncles wife were shopping on Oxford Street so it took us another two hours To fetch them. The drive to Bornemouth took almost three hours because it took forever to get out of London. In Bornemouth my uncle went to see someone about buying q used car. He liked the car and bought it. We all started heading back , me and my aunt in the other car, and uncle mom and sister in the new one. But first we stopto get food. We find a nice looking and nice smelling pizza place so we decide to eat from there. The pizza redefined crappy. It claimed to be a "traditional pizzeria " but the pizza was so strange and weird. Instead of the good tasting tomato sauce greasy cheese thin crust Italian pizza I was exPecting, we got some thick crust thick cheese crap and the tomato sauce tasted like some strange Indian curry. But food is food, so we started eatin in the car. Then,when we all finish and get ready to leave, the new car won't start. Apparently , it's battery is dead ! So here I am, it's 1:19AM. We've been waitin For the insurance people for over an hour now. Everybody's asleep besides me. Sorry for weird spelling and punctuation , on my uncles ducking iPhone.