School, Giant Pancakes, and Rants

  Well this has been an interesting few weeks, if I do say so myself. Hectic weeks, good weeks, I have no idea weeks....
    That's how it goes.

Just kidding. I am feeling very very lazy right now, and I do not know how I am supposed to even write anything right now. I keep missing the keys I want to push and nothing is going the way I want it to.

I am going to do a happy dance. You all know how I have been really stressing out about my Government class, and complaining quite frequently about how I fail at Government and how it is too hard and how I can't do it because I'm too stupid.... Well TAKE THAT, Government class! I have a B in your class and I not only aced the last test, but the two assignments before then, too! Yeah! Woo! Other than that, school is going pretty great. I did, however, get in trouble in ICT1, for being too "graphic and gruesome" with my journals right when I get to class. Let me explain.

Not all of the journals she complained about were graphic or gruesome, just weird. Still. What a whiner. Just because I am one of the few people in your class who can actually write with no problem about absolutely ANY journal prompt you give me.... Nope. Just kidding, go right ahead and complain after you tell us that creativity is what you're looking for. Apparently she is scared to look at my journals now, which means that i could always just get an automatic 100% on her journals. Win!

I am planning on giving you guys the last few journals that I did, so that you can read them. So here they are:

October 4, 2012
My dog jumped up and started barking, then...
I turned around quickly, trying to find the source of the barking. There was a horrible tap against the door. It happened repeatedly, becoming slowly louder and stronger. There was someone, or something out there. I walked slowly towards the door, and the big windows beside it. Heavily curtained, I couldn’t make out any shapes behind it. The tapping became hitting, this quick, frantic noise. Shapes began to move outside the window. I peeked through the curtains; panic rose in me as I saw many deformed shapes in the street outside. They moved at a quick, horrific pace. Their bodies were obviously human at some point in time, but now only barely resembled the human form. Flesh was stripped from bone, but they didn’t bleed. They just kept going, partially running, partially walking around. I looked towards the door.

One of my friends was pressed up against my locked door, beating against it, looking in panic towards the street. Finally, one of the... shapes or whatever they actually were looked towards my house. Upon seeing my friend, it started to lope towards her. She saw it, beat against the door a few more times, turned, screamed at the top of her lungs. It was a terrible, high pitched, blood curdling, goosebump giving scream. She took off, which was the obvious mistake. The shape ran after her, and caught her arm, pulling her down to the ground. It sat on her stomach as she kicked her legs and flung her arms about frantically, trying to get rid of it. It swatted at her hands a few times, and as I watched through the window, it hit her, fingers pointed, right at her chest. It’s hand sunk right through her as though she was made of jello. She became still, blood pouring from her chest. Her legs twitched once. The shape leaned towards the trail of blood, and slowly started to suck it up into itself. Once it had dried her up, it stood up and took her by the arm, bringing her up with it. Both of them standing now, she turned her head back and forth, moving her arms and legs slowly. Then, they both looked towards where I was standing, horrified, in front of the window, the curtains thrown aside.

October 9, 2012
It was quiet, too quiet. That could only mean that...
     Something was completely and utterly wrong. Or right, whichever. It honestly depended on how you wanted to see it. If it is completely silent, it could mean that something bad could be close to happening, or it could also mean that something utterly horrible was about to happen. Either way, something was or wasn’t going to happen. But at the same time, what does that mean? What if the complete silence was something good, but was horrible to someone who is so used to noise? Would that make sense at all?
      Or was it so far beyond sense that making sense didn’t make sense? Maybe making sense wasn’t sensible, but was far beyond that? What if making sense was the one thing that didn’t make sense? Then, in that case, would making sense not making sense make sense? Or would that simply be a problem that nobody could resolve? I guess my question is, is there any sense to making sense in the case of making sense? Because if we all try to make sense of everything, I do believe that there would be chaos everywhere.



October 11, 2012
He was afraid, but he called upon all his courage as...
He aimed, focusing his every thought upon the arrow he had strung on the bow in his hands. He was determined to make the shot, to take down his one last remaining enemy in this woodland. His enemy was standing down at the base of a tree, poised and ready to move. His enemy had dark brown, shaggy hair. As his enemy looked around, he saw the glint of the dim light reflecting off of the deep sunken black eyes. 
        He tensed up and watched as his enemy stretched itself upright, showing the shadow of the man it used to be. Now a horrible looking and acting beast, it had hair all over it’s head, down it’s neck, chest, and arms, and it’s feet were hairy too. It snorted and shook it’s head before holding still, throwing it’s head back and letting out a high pitched whine, before holding still again and listening. He didn’t dare move. Finally, he caught the eyes of the creature, and upon seeing the pain in it’s eyes, he loosed the arrow.

October 15, 2012
I was counting my candy when...
        I decided to eat a piece. It was just a small bit of chocolate. I ate the one, then moved on to another. I ate and ate, piece after piece, chocolate after chocolate. I couldn’t stop myself, I just kept on eating. I loved the taste of the decadent, creamy, smooth and rich flavors of the different kinds of chocolate. Smooth caramel melted on my tongue, rich peanut butter mixed with bitterly sweet dark chocolate. I could not stop.
        And as I ate, I grew. My stomach expanded, my legs became thick. I grew bigger and bigger, taller, wider, longer. I burst out of my clothes, continuing to expand until I was as big as the house. Then I became buoyant, floating a bit off the ground, which seemed impossible due to my enormous size. I floated, out the wall of the house, and up into the air. I felt my face become hot, and I felt hollow inside. My knees came up to my chest, me unwilling them to. They stuck together, and I felt a sticky substance gluing my legs together and to my chest. I became lighter, less dense, but a rock was in my stomach. I had become a hot air balloon.


October 17, 2012
They claimed the house was haunted, but it looked okay to me, so....
        I walked right inside, unhindered by my friends who were previously outside with me. Not a single one wanted to go inside. They were easily frightened, which made no sense. I knew the rumors, I knew the stories. I didn’t believe any of them fully, but I did believe them partially. I guess I just didn’t know what to believe properly. As I was inside, I noticed a staircase. I walked towards it, intending on going up the stairs. I took a step. It was silent, but as I slowly started to make my way up the stairs, they began to groan with my every step. I was a light, small person, but the stairs were old.
      Suddenly, a creak came from behind me on the stairs. I turned slowly, keeping my head down, not wanting to look. There was nothing behind me, save for a trail of graying flesh and what looked like a mixture of mucus and blood. I followed it, to where it led back up the stairs. I saw a foot, a gruesome, horrid foot. I could see the bone through the ghastly gray skin, and it was coated in the same mucus-and-blood mixture I had seen on the staircase. I looked up, only to see a face that looked as terrible as the foot had, staring me right in my eyes, unblinking with it’s one good eye. A blood-curdling shriek erupted into the air, and I realized that it was me who had produced the sound.    

    The front door at the base of the staircase burst open, and one of my friends ran into the house, and with a yell, I knew it was my best guy friend named Samson. He charged up the staircase, the stairs groaning in protest, and the next thing I knew, the zombie-like thing in front of me was in pieces.
It was then that I was puzzled. Samson hadn’t been with my other friends outside of the house.           Where had he come from, and what was he doing here? When I asked him, he just gave me a look that clearly said he was a bit mad at me for being here. But he did explain that he knew about the zombie-like creatures. He had seen me from down the street, walk into this haunted place, that wasn’t really haunted at all because there were no ghosts here, just the zombie-things. He had heard my scream, and had come running. As I looked at him now, I realized that he held a set of machetes, one in each hand. When he saw me looking at them, he slid them into a strap on his back. He looked at me, with a relieved look on his face, and then spoke again.
     “When I heard you yell, I thought something horrible had already happened to you. I’m really glad that...” That is when I screamed again. The stair broke underneath me, and one of my legs was now stuck between the slats in the staircase. I felt a cold, clammy, bonelike hand grab my leg, and sharp pain ran through it in small areas, repeatedly. It was then that I realized that I was being bitten. I yelled again, panicked now because of the stories that we didn’t know were true or not, of being turned into one of these gruesome beings by being bitten. Samson looked at me in horror, and then jumped past me and down the stairs, crashing into something at the bottom. He yelled like a madman, and I heard splatters everywhere, something wet and sticky hit my lower leg where it was stuck. Finally it went quiet, for only a moment. I saw Samson again, in front of me. He put his arms underneath mine, and helped me out of the stair.

October 19, 2012
It was so windy. It...
        Blew the sticks and small rocks from the kicked up gravel right back into my face. My face was freezing; it felt stiff when I moved it. I did not have so much time left to stay outside. I could see the impending storm, could hear the wind slowly picking up, even harder than it already was blowing. A huge gust blew through the small valley. And as I felt the cold air hit my whole body, I felt tiny delicately frozen snowflakes hit my skin where it showed through on my neck, face, and hands. Something hit my face with a sharp smack. I put one hand up to my cheek, to cover the mark, and looked down. There was a decently medium sized rock on the ground by my foot. I had to get inside. 
        I turned, pulling my hand from my face, and only seeing a faint tint of crimson on my pale skin before I ran towards the house from whence I came. I dashed towards the house, disregarding the path that was a ways to my left. I jumped over the small, natural obstacles in my way, leaping agiley over the small boulders and the browned and fallen trees. I could feel the storm at my back as I reached the front door. I wrenched on the handle, throwing myself inside the dark interior of the front room. The wind blew through the door, bringing a growing mass of snowflakes with it. I stood upright from my crouched position on the floor from where I landed after jumping inside, and shoved the door with my whole weight, forcing it to shut despite the wind. I locked it swiftly, and then ran to all the other doors and windows, making sure they were all locked as well.
         I could see the snow piling up outside the windows and doors, a full out blizzard taking place outside. I sunk into a couch near the window, and sitting back, I looked around at my solitary abode. It was then that I noticed the red spots scattered on the carpet. Feeling something warm and sticky on my neck and arm. Holding my arm up, I realized that my face must have finally thawed enough for the blood from the cut to flow freely. I ambled my way up the stairs, and walking into the bathroom, I turned on the water, letting the warmth rinse the blood from my skin. The door shifted, ever so slightly, and I looked up, into the mirror. I first saw the flash of red from my face, and then the eyes. The black and white, horrific eyes of the one thing I feared the most, standing directly behind me from behind the door.

 

And the most recent one that got me a weird look from her... (I don't have problems, I swear it)

  

October 23, 2012
The mysterious object started floating in the air and...
I flicked the lights on so that I could see what was there. A scream choked itself in my throat. There was a knife with nothing holding it, floating in the air. A long, thin, crude, bloody knife. It floated there, rotating so I could see every macabre angle of the weapon. I made no noise, holding my breath so I wouldn’t be tempted to scream. I looked around, trying to find a source, almost hoping to see someone else in the room, controlling the knife. There was nobody else there. It was just me, the seemingly possessed knife, and the pool of blood that was slowly forming underneath its floating rotations.
Suddenly it stopped rotating. I flicked my eyes up to focus on it solely, still holding my breath, but breathing out ever so slowly through my nose as to not make any noise. I was not quite sure why I needed to keep quiet, only that I knew it was a good idea. Suddenly my cat came through the door behind me, coming full speed into the room. It ran right to the puddle of blood on the floor, laid down in it, and became utterly still. I watched as her breathing stopped entirely, and it was then that I realized she was dead. I heard fingernails against the wall by my side, and I turned, to see another puddle of blood on the ground, with my youngest sibling, my little sister scratching her way across the wall to it. With one hand still on the wall, she slid down it into the puddle on the floor, and also became still. Slowly the rest of my family and friends appeared in the room, each one having their own horrible deep crimson colored puddle on the ground or furniture that they would sink into.
I was left alone, just me and the knife. Suddenly it was in my hand, and I felt pure hatred pouring out from me. I screamed.

 

 

 

 

Alright, I admit it, they are pretty messed up sometimes. I just.. get bored. Her class is really really easy for me to do. Lame sauce. But yes, that is how school goes for me nowadays.

 

Work. I suppose you noticed that part of the title of this post is "giant pancakes", which, in all reality, was a very humorous story for me. I was closing last week with Lesley, and if the dough gets really room temperaturey and doughey and stickey and bad grammarey, we put it through the oven, no toppings, just dough, and throw it out (after closing). Well, I made a comment about how it looks like a giant pancake in the pan once it goes through the oven, and long story really condensed and short, I believe that we agreed that it would be fun to make enormous pancakes in the oven at work, using the pizza pans. HILARIOUS, I think. 

 

With the rest of work, I'm really mad at the two newest girls that Lesley decided to hire. Again, long story short...

 

WHY WOULD YOU TAKE THE JOB OFFER IF YOU ARE NOT WILLING TO DO ANYTHING TO WORK OR LISTEN TO PEOPLE WHEN THEY ASK YOU TO HELP OR DO THINGS?!?!?!??!

 

Makes me mad. Love you guys! -Caitehttp://www.facebook.com/