I had a dream that I blew up a balloon inside a giant atrium, and if I held onto the neck of the balloon, I could fly. I could go lower too, by letting some of the air out. It was fun.

Eh. According to this web survey, I have a seven inch long mental penis. >_< They should have a boob survey for girls. BOOOBBBIESS! Ahem. Sorry. A second time, I filled in what I thought would be the right answers, just for the halibut, and it said I had a three inch penis.

Apparently, I'm going to watch the Leonids in my backyard. Couldn't find a better place for it. I had a week to arrange; you'd think I could have come up with something by now. Nobody's interested anyways. I hope they turn out good; I don't know why I'm so obsessed- maybe it's just that I'm taking a risk going, "Everybody, wake at four in the morning in the dead of pre-winter and come to my place and watch the Leonids" so if they don't show well it'd suck.

GAWD. My parents just gave me a lecture on not having good manners or whatever. I would take it like a man... woman... thing... if it were justified, but I don't take well to lectures out of the blue, supposedly provoked my me not introducing Alex to my dad. Um. A boy drops by for 15 seconds to pick up a book and I ought to introduce him to my parents?? There's like a paragraph of dialogue necessary for that exchange; "Hi, Alex. Here's Richelieu. Cool, see you tomorrow. Have a nice day." Somehow, I don't see where I can work in, "this is my dad" into that little shpiel. MY BAD. Is it not having manners to not do something completely uncalled for? Like, my mom always makes me bring presents to Alex's parties. Which mostly consist of generic crap she bought for male friends should I need to give presents to them. That's ruder than not bringing anything at all; it makes me seem gratuitous, makes everyone else feel awkward, and makes Alex feel awkward because he has to thank me and crap and act all nice when he wasn't expecting anything other than a casual session where everyone gets together at his place.

They claim rather sarcastically in America that I don't need manners in the first place, which I suppose is supposed to shame me into having manners, but if that's how they define manners, I'm glad I don't have them. Manners genuine displays of affection and refinement, not the mechanical motions of trying to be affectionate and refined. Manners are a temporary restraint from spite towards someone else in respect to his humanity. You'd think I could trust my own judgment on what actions are appropriate when and where, but I guess I have to endure my parents beating the opposite actions into my head whenever I act on my own judgment, while claiming to promote teaching me how to use my own judgment in the first place.

You'd think that if they decided to propose something totally repulsive to me that they'd at least do it consistently. "You should be more cheerful and charming to others", "You should stop being so frivolous and take your responsibilities more seriously".

To thine own self be true.

BTW, my mother thinks Nick B is a "well-mannered young man of good breeding." Stand proud. ^__^

Yay, my Blogback engine works now! BTW, go here. It's a picture of Cardinal Richelieu. Miss Wedgwood, he's not that hot. I'm linking to the site, because I feel guilty for just linking to the pictures of Mariemaia Khushrenada earlier, and not giving the sites credit. I'm such a looter. And I just remembered how to link to sites today, instead of leaving you Philistines to cut and paste.

I don't think CV Wedgwood is a necro. Being a necro requires humping, or a desire to hump, dead bodies. Which she doesn't. I don't think anyone with a name like CV Wedgwood has humped anything in years. Besides Richelieu is positively tame. You should see Mary Renault's descriptions of Alexander the Great. I thought it would be funny if CV Wedgwood were one of those hot secretary types in porn films. But she's not. This is a site for Dame Cicely Veronica Wedgwood. Now I feel bad about making fun of her. And now Alex has called me. He lost his Richelieu. Which means I must finish mine in the next like hour so that I can lend it to him so that he can finish it. Madness. I had better start.

The Bivalve's name is Darien. I think. At his insistance, from now on, I shall call him Dob.

Why am I up so late? It's because I'm out to prove a point. Go here and here. And here. Remind you of a certain bivalve guy on Halloween we know? I'm asking this not to be "I Told You So", (well, I am), but because I don't know the Bivalve Guy's name. It's pretty sad. But this was why I was laughing at him so hard on Halloween, when you guys were all staring at me funny for laughing at him so hard. Because he looks like this seven year old anime girl.

She has a very profound quote which I stumbled upon again when I was looking for her picture to "I Told You So" you guys. Here it is:

"History is an endless waltz, so to speak. The triple measure of war, peace, and revolution goes on and on."

Pretty good for a seven year old galactic dictator. This summer, when I had read the quote for the first time, I had thought it profound, but I didn't think much of it. Now it means a lot more to me. It's a bit sad how I get all my quotes from anime or RPGs. Like.
"Justice is not the only right in this world."

Ayn Rand would disagree. But anyhow. I feel I ought to be quoting some eminent ancient philosopher on my spare time, instead of spouting Final Fantasy quotes, but I relate to these more. Well, whatever floats the boat for my generation.

I have discovered a new type of nerd. Male or female, I suppose. Down With The Man Cynical Angst Nerd. It's pretty self explanatory. ALEX. Balsa wood. On a totally unrelated note, I will be upset if I don't see the Leonids on Sunday and have to wait another 33 years for a decent meteor shower just because my parents are like, "It's too cold! It's too early!" If it's too cold and too early, don't go with me. Yes, Alex, I write long blogs. Blogback is not working for me either, Jen, despite me inserting the code in. I'm drawing a "Persistance of Memory" (The melting clock painting by Dali) parody of the Flaming Fork motif. Nick S makes me sad. Something about circumstances. I'm reading his blog, and he's talking about a totally different clique of people. Blogs tend to draw people together, so it's odd that when you read someone's blog it's like you know them so well, but then in real life it's like, "Hi. Bye. Have a nice life." With blogs, I think sometime's it's people's misfortune to be born in the wrong family or on the wrong side of the world. I don't know if humans are inherently good or evil (good, IMHO), but I know that they're inherently capable of being friends, if only we'd let them.

My "Real Medici" rap is not going well. I can't think of anything that rhymes with Medici, or most words in 15th century Italian anyways. It's so unhelpful to find out today that it's pronounce MEDici. It complicates things further. I think I'm appreciating "free style rhyme" a lot more. I don't think this rap will ever see the light of day. It's not a bad rap. Well, it *is* a bad rap. The worst thing is though, it's just not funny.

Ms Martin is being contradictory. Again. She wants us to be more enthusiastic in class. But when we are, she's like, You're offensive and distracting. Jeebus. NOTE: IF YOU HAVE NO PEOPLE SKILLS, DON'T BECOME A TEACHER!! I think we're as good enough to her as can be expected. It's not like we throw spitballs in the room or insult her. We're just dispassionately academic. Which must drive her nuts. Sort of like how Andrew drives me nuts. She tells us to do things; we do it. We don't do it joyfully. Whoop de DOO. I don't know what she wants. If she wants us to be enthusiastic, which, IMHO, is not one of the rights demanded by her position of authority (as opposed to basic respect and courtsey) she ought to make it feel like we can say what we'd like without arbitrarily yelling at us. If she wants us to talk, she shouldn't expect everything we say to be Head Up My Ass Profound.