Mid-Pubescent Crisis

     Tomorrow will be the start of the month of November. To writers who have major problems with finishing novels, like me, it is also known as NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). Basically, I have to reach 50, 000 words by the end of November. Which means, I'll have to write about... 1700 words a DAY. HOLY...

     The worst part? I don't even know what to write about! I originally wanted to write a story called "The Lonely Hearts Club" which would have been really cool. But now, I'm chickening out! You know what I need? I need Homer Simpson to come up to me and give me that chicken speech he gave Bart during the movie. You know. The one that goes:

     "I hereby declare you chicken for life! Every morning, you'll wake up to 'Good morning, CHICKEN!' At your wedding, I'll sing, 'BOK BOK B-BOK...'" And, well, you get the idea.

     UGH! I was so excited about it months ago, but now! It's NOT funny.

     I'm gonna' die...

It's All in the Abused Jacket Pocket

     Tonight, my cousin and her friends and I got started on some early trick-or-treating. Honestly, I didn't think we'd get anything because Halloween is tomorrow. So I didn't really bring any of those pumpkin container things, or plastic. Nothing. But it was cold, and I was wearing pajamas, so I wore my black jacket.

     Surprisingly, by then end of the night, my pockets were full and stretched out. AHAHAHAAHAHA! Child abuse... My jacket is less than a year old. I bet it dislikes me now... Oh well, it's still young. It probably won't remember. AHAHAHAAHAHAHA...

Pancakes

     After an emotionally draining day at school - dealing with the one I love, the people I hate, and the people I just don't give a damn about - at least I can go home and be confident in the fact that if I stir my pancake mix enough all the lumps will go away and the consistency will be just perfect. It's such a comfort. 

     Why can't life just be like one big bowl of pancake mix, where I can adjust the consistency just like I do at home? Well, life kind of is like a big bowl of pancake mix. But it's the kind of lazily mixed pancake mix that has lumps everywhere. Inconsistent.

         

Racist

I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT THE BIG DEAL IS.

     Don't people understand what the words "personal," and "preferrence" mean? What a person likes is none of anyone's business to judge.

     So what if I prefer white to dark? What about Chess? Haven't they noticed that white always goes first? They don't call that game racist.

     But, no. When one says, "I like white ones better," they automatically assume the worst and label you "racist." Or, for the not-so-well-versed ones, "colorist". Whatever. 

     Besides, it's just chocolate.