I had a strange dream involving school, a strange scavenger hunt, an old friend, and mind-altering drugs..

So, I woke up this morning and went back to sleep, and I had this really odd dream:

 

I kinda forgot how it started, but I remember going into my town’s high school and for some reason I had to go down a certain hallway (the interior looked nothing like the actual school, and I don’t even go to this school). I met up with a group of people my age, among them an old friend (a girl [I'ma guy]) who I’d been thinking about lately (haven’t seen her in a while). So we were all on the same team for some reason for a scavenger hunt that had to do with books we were reading for a class (don’t remember all of them; one was Cheaper By the Dozen); a montage occurred to the tune of the song “You Make Me” by “Weird Al” Yankovic (O_o).  It was in some weird library with humungous connected shelves, a desk with a huge encyclopedia and a normal-sized globe, a classroom-where the class was being held, some glass elevators that functioned in a way similar to the video game Elevator, and I believe I saw a Goomba from the Mario video games.

Time was running out (yes, there was a time limit), so I jumped off of the top of one of the shelves to where my where my group was. It was in a kinda crowded space, so I aimed and jumped, landing spawled across my friend’s lap.  I smiled nervously and moved. The teacher (who was my religion teacher O_o) was grading us on how what we found (which could be anything) tied in with our books (each person, even on the same team, had 5 different books). One person mentioned to him that he’d had this assignment in 7th grade, and another kid agreed. Then my teacher went into some weird psycho lecture and then destroyed the word “7th” by putting it on a medium-sized electric train and making it go on a track, in a place we could not see (WTF??).

A bell rang, and my friend and I talked a little before leaving the room. The entire time during that class, I’d tried to get close to her, as if I were attracted to her. As we were walking the halls (which somehow looked like the hallway of the school I go to suddenly), she offered me a Pixie Stick (the candy; y’know–colored sugar in a straw the same color?). It was open and the straw was wrapped in some yellowish, old, almost Egyptian-looking cloth, but I took it, saying, “Sure; how bad can it be?”  (For the record, it was a blue Pixie Stick.)

So I ate some, and I started feeling happier, so I ate some more, as my friend was talking. Soon, we went separate ways (to our lockers; she doesn’t even go to my school, though O_o), and everyone was smiling at me in the hallway, and saying hey and stuff as if I were the coolest kid in school. I threw out a lolipop (I don’t even know how I ended up with one) and then quickly retrieved it from the trash. Things seemed happy, bright, and sunny, and I was happy, as if in some sort of trance.  I had a feeling of euphoria, it seemed.  My teacher suddenly appeared in the classroom by my locker, though, and said “It’s all your fault, you know.” IDK why.  Also, saying something like that is very out-of-character for him, as he’s as kind as Jesus and as loving as God. 

Then, I saw out a window (and this is a strange part) there were two little girls, looked about seven or eight, in scantily clad swimwear, one with her butt sticking out my way (she was wearing what looked like a very short skirt and tight, thong-like panties, both of which were aquamarine), and for some reason I was drawn there, as if I were in some perverted trance, my eyes focused on the little girl’s butt.  I pulled myself away somehow and went towards my locker when I realized–I was in what seemed like a drug-induced altered state of mind.

I figured that the Pixie Stick wasn’t really candy, but instead a mind-altering drug like LSD or something. I was at my locker, but the numbers on the lock weren’t there! It looked more like the volume dial on a car radio or something. Things seemed sunny and bright, still, but I was scared, even in my euphoria.  I somehow got my locker open and woke up in the middle of wondering how I would know what books to get…

I’m freaked out.  I’m not a drug-user.  I’m not a pervert.  I’m not feeling guilty about anything (with the “It’s all your fault” part).  So does anyone have any idea what this could be about?  If anyone has an idea, you can post a comment here, or you can (if you have a Yahoo! account) answer it here (http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index;_ylt=Anxj84dCA5.eoSvNnX.hYzXsy6IX;_ylv=3?qid=20080525211005AA0BWvv) as I posted this on Yahoo! Answers as well.

Nobody cares

I’ve been having the worst day of my life. Everyone’s coming down on me. I got paint all over my uniform. I had to deal with the BLEEPs in my art class. I had to finish an assignment before my class started, run like Sonic the Hedgehhog to the library to print it from my laptop, pushing through and possibly sending to the hospital everyone in my way, wait about a minute for everything to load up to print it, WAIT AGAIN for it to print, run at Mach 5 to get my stuff, run at Mach 1,317 to get to the room I needed to get to (WHICH WAS AT OPPOSITE END OF THE BLEEPING BUILDING), and on the way there I twisted my ankle, by the way. Then I had to make up some shoddy excuse to get out of being disciplined, take an open-notes quiz that I didn’t have all the answers to, deal with the kid next to me who always puts me down, and I have to keep dealing with an Ed Edd n Eddy episode that I’m downloading bein canceled every few minutes (“The internet connection was reset”). Compound that with my everyday traumas (dealing with an overbearing annoying horrid wretched no-good very bad sister, getting up at 5:30 AM everyday, just people everywhere, my addiction to soda, getting no respect from anyone [and I try to show respect to everyone]), and I’ve got one heck of a day to try to forget when I’m sixty-four.

And you know what? NOBODY CARES. No one asks, “Are you alright?” No one says “You need to rest, you seem stressed.” Nobody even comes as close to saying, “Yo, b****, what’s your ****ing problem?” No one. And you know what? No one ever does or ever will. People are always so wrapped up in their own lives, they seem to think that they’re the only ones that matter, that everyone else could just go jump off a mountain headfirst naked in sub-zero weather with an angry mob of rabid weasels waiting at the bottom to chew their faces off and then get beaten and mauled by the Cambodian Mafia. It’s really quite sad and terrifying.

In other news, I’m growing up in a generation of morons, idiots, buffoons, quarter-wits, and self-centered a-holes. Frankly, if these people are s’posed to be our future leaders, I fear for us all…

10 Things Ways That You Can Tell That You’re Trapped in High School Musical – Part 1

Reason No. 10:
Everyone in your school is a cliche.

Okay, admit it– if you’ve seen High School Musical, the first thing you’ll notice is how much of a cliche everyone is. There’s the jocks (Troy and the basketball team), the intellectuals (Gabriella and, um, those dorks that kidnapped her), the drama queen (Sharpay), the idiot (um…her brother), the emos and goths, the skaters… the list goes on. There’s bound to be at least one of these groups in your school. Chances are, you may even fit one. (/_\)
Trust me– walk into any high school and you’ll see people separated into these cliques. Or at least, that’s what the movies tell us.

If you’re still not convinced, stick around – there’s more installments of this EXHILLARATING list coming… when I feel like continuing.

You know you’re crazy when you start a blog like this…

For years, I refused to do it.

I always said to myself, “NO.  Why would I want to?!??”

But eventually, I decided this—- yes.

What am I talking about, you ask?  Why am I saying this?  Who the heck am I?  Where’s Canada?

 Well, in order, I’m talking about starting a blog.  I used to say to myself, “NO!!! Why does the world need to know my business?”  But recently, I’ve decided that I’m not gonna squander my knack for sarcasm, my nilhilism, and my randomness for myself– I’m gonna share it with the world.  I doubt this blog will ever really become popular, but I’m guessing that SOME people will see it.  For those of you who don’t, who the bleep cares?  You’re missing out on some very high-quality stupidity here, but it’s not my problem.

Me?  I could be some 40-year-old in his mom’s basement.  I could be a seven-year-old girl scout trying to sell cookies.  I could even be a bored 15-year-old sitting in school with nothing to do.  Whoever I am, that’s for me to know and you proably never to find out.

And I don’t live in Canada, but I live south of it, in the U.S.  Yes, the U.S.  As in the country where there are more lamebrains per square mile than the number of obsessed Miley Cyrus/Jonas Borthers fans per middle school.  And believe me– that’s more than anyone can count.  Except maybe someone who holds the world record for counting, but that’s a story for another day.

Normally, I’d prob’ly be all like “Ok well this is my 1st blog and im liek a n00b @ this so…kthxbye”.  But this time… waitasec– THAT’S NOT HOW I’D BE!!!!

 Just one thing you should know about me, I think I have multiple personality disorder.  (No I don’t.)