Oh Movable Type! Oh Greymatter! When I see thee, I wonder why the hell I am still using Diaryland! With standards compliant templates, comments systems, categories (like a READING LIST) and oh so much more, (Oh yes, and Movable Type would let me upload my diary entries from here into my new diary!!!!!! and not to mention the abillity to SKIN MY SITE! I would LOVE to have a skinnable layout!) it doesn't make sense for me to still be using Diaryland. I am not saying Diaryland is bad, and Movable Type isn't always better for everyone, but for my standards, for what I like in a blog, for what I need, Movable Type (or even Greymatter) is the much more logical choice.
I start making analogies! Internet Explorer : Mozilla :: Diaryland : MovableType YES! I will venture to say that! Now I would tell everyone to start switching over to Mozilla (or even Opera...I almost got Opera and not Mozilla) from IE in a heartbeat, but I wouldn't necessarily tell everyone to switch from Diaryland to Movabletype or Greymatter. But to me the analogy makes senses. Also, technically, Diaryland and Movabletype and Greymatter aren't the same thing.
And then I remember, I have no website on which to use those. *cries* I must remedy this!
Ok thats enough technical jargon, although I tried not to be too technical. I don't want to confuse everyone.
So don't we all love to be awakened by a ringing cell phone and then the incessant beeping notifying one of a new voicemail message? There I am, just barely awake, and having to endure the little ring insisting to come check my voicemail. I have a message. I must want to hear it. So I roll out of bed and stumble over and grope about the room to find it. It got left on the couch. Stupid brother. I call my voicemail and punch in my password and listen to my voicemail.
I hear some muffled talking and LOUD, OBSCENE rap music in the background. This continues for a couple moments and I cannot make out what is being said or what is going on. Finally, apparently, someone holds their phone up to the speakers the music is coming out of, and I have to endure 2 minutes of some trashy rap song. I was just thinking, "Wtf"...because I couldn't make out what the song was, I couldn't make out anything. I didn't know if people were trying to freak me out, or didn't know that they called, or if its some inside joke they have with the person they were trying to call. In any case, it was annoying. The message ended and I deleted it. Later, after I ate breakfast, I found I had another voicemail message from this same person. I listened, and from speaking slurs and choice of language, I would put my money on it being an african american guy in his late teens/early twenties. He said "Wazzup my n****h" and then blah blah about wanting to reach someone named Randy, "call me back", repeated his phone number twice, and then closed it by saying "talk with you later my n****h".
I was practically on the floor laughing. I was just thinking Dude, you have so got the wrong number. We have told this guy that he has the wrong number before, but he doesn't seem to get it. I DO NOT want to call this guy back and set him straight. Just not something I want to deal with. I feel uncomfortable doing it. I would feel far better if my dad will do it for me. I have the number in my list of recently recieved phone call history, so I can grab the number off there and talk to my dad about it.
I should go look up that area code. I wonder if its local.
Anyway, that is seriously annoying. I get so many wrong numbers. I am more than half tempted to see if I can get my phone number changed, although I guess that wouldn't do much. I'd probably still have problems with wrong numbers. I mean people cancel their phone numbers, and they are almost immediately reassigned to someone else so if not everyone knew about the change or decided to call a person up after 5 years of not speaking, they'd end up getting the wrong person, but they have the right number. Argh. Blech.
Or at least, thats how it is around here.
Oh yes, the horror the horror... Last night, I was calmly sitting chatting with a good friend. The chat had barely begun and I had run to borrow some chapstick from my mom or my sister because mine is gone. I couldn't go into my parent's room, and when I got into my sister's, I found her and my siblings dressed up as Native Americans, and painting their faces with lipstick. When I walked in, they all flipped out horribly. I just stood stunned and skeptical. Hardly phased by their strange behavior, I rummaged through my sister's drawers but decided I didn't want to borrow anything from her. I questioned my siblings a little, but they didn't say much, so I ran back downstairs to my chat.
Not a full five minutes later, the children came creeping down the basement stairs. I saw them coming, and as they reached the bottom they ran towards me screeching. I wasn't quite sure what they were doing or what they were trying to do, so I just sat in my chair, dumbfounded, as they ran to begin tying me up. They bound my feet with a scarf, my knees with a belt, they tied me to the back of my chair with a scarf, and they tied up my hands with a scarf. I struggled some, but it was 3 against 1 (my fourth sister was taking a bath and thus did not participate in this ugly scheme) and I knew that even if I did escape, I had nowhere to go. I could run, I could even hide, but what good would that to me? To run and hide all evening? So I let them tie me up to see what they were going to do. I protested that I was in the middle of a conversation. What were they doing? Couldn't they untie my hands and let me sit, tied to my chair, and chat? They said no, and my sister ran back upstairs and reappeared a few moments later brandishing three cheap lipsticks. One bright red, one bright green, and one bright blue. I gazed at their faces in horror and realized that they were going to draw on my face. Great.
But no big. They could paint up my face all they wanted. They did and I struggled to be let go. They wouldn't have any of that. They said that next, they were going to take a picture of me to send to the person I had been chatting to. Well, alright, fine. I guess I will let them do that, because they promised to let me go when they were done. So I almost escaped twice while they were trying to collect the camera and get the picture, but I was immediatly pounced on and slammed back in my chair and tied up again. Although the second time, I managed to loose ALL my bonds, and was completely free, when they grabbed my beloved glass LOTR goblets and began threatening to break them and ruin them if I didn't sit back down. Struggling against that and having my goblets broken would not be worth it. So I sat back in my chair and they tied me up again.
By this time, they had the picture uploaded and sent. So I should have been done. I should have been free. But no. My sister was disporting my microphone. Next, we were going to start an audio chat. I told them that first, the person they were trying to start it with wouldn't accept, and second, that I wouldn't say anything. Then they picked up the goblets. I stopped protesting that second. As long as they had my beloved goblets there to dangle and threaten harm to, I would be a regular nervous chatter box for the microphone. But the first matter still couldn't be solved. I was glad of that, but they weren't. So they were going to hold me until an audio conversation was done.
I started protesting loudly at this. Struggling a little against my bonds and yelling and arguing. My father heard this from upstairs and he instructed them to let me loose. As my brother began to untie me, I started barking orders at the children to right what they had done wrong. They sheepishly accepted my orders and I was soon chatting again with a clean face.
Those children. I was so ticked. A couple profanities almost slipped out in their hearing. But I was careful and the only problems I had were a few "crap"s (I know,its only crap, but its a crude word and my parents don't ever want to hear us use it) and a couple "oh god"s...I don't think they noticed though.
I would plot my revenge, but perhaps I need to be a responsible, mature young girl and refrain from lashing back. That might just cause them to lash back again and then where would we be? I then remember when my sister poured strawberry milk in my hair. I never got her back for that, although she did that in retailiation to when I poured orange soda on her. How childish. I know.
Then I should grow out of this. I should rise above it. I should sit down with my sister and brother (the youngest was just their pawn) and discuss with them why they shouldn't have done that and why it was too far and too cruel. I should then forgive them, which I haven't yet, and let this heal over. I think that is the better way to handle things. In that case, there shouldn't be a second instance, and there will be no war. I know if I decide to deal out revenge, they will want to get me back, and then I shall get back at them, and then back and forth. Never ending. And what if their pranks get worse?
I guess it isn't as fun though. But still. *sigh* Oh the burden of being mature and responsible... I am the eldest. I should set a proper example. I will. No revenge.
Before I went to sleep last night, I started to think about how many best internet friends I have gone through in the course of a year and a couple months. The small rapid succession of people who were my number ones, whom I could talk to for hours on end and several times a day, people I looked forward to seeing and talking to, people who invaded my dreams. And I still talk to most of these people, but they have each faded out and been replaced as number one. Now really, I am only on my 4th. So I haven't been through that many, but then again, I never really got close to any of these people. Maybe that's why it never lasted? They were all empty conversations, although fun ones. Some did go really deep, but only briefly, and both of us got hurt, and he ran and retreated. We have never talked the same since.
Once, one time, I would like to change that. To see if I can keep a friend close, and best, for longer than 3 months.
Ok, here is my little revelation that came a bit late.All the other friendships got to the point of "go deeper, or get stuck" and all got stuck I suppose. The one that went deeper, scared him (actually it scared me pretty badly too...I won't say what went on exactly, it wasn't anything romantic, it was something else and it was hard. He was unwilling, although I wasn't). Once I want to go deeper. At least once...
I guess this has been on my mind because I fear that the current is running dangerously close to its "go deeper or get stuck" point...dangerously close...I am not sure if I want to get stuck and fall away again...
My dream like state is returning. I am exhausted again but I am sure I have a lot of housework to do. I will also be wanting to lie around on my floor and think a lot of things through. I am feeling a tad troubled now. We shall see what comes of everything I have begun to set in motion.