Half an hour ago I was so awfully hot in my apartment and now I have goosebumps. Gosh. My body is exemplifying my apparent fascination for never being satisfied.
I'm beginning to realize that people tend to read a lot more into things I say (or write in the case of this blog) than I intend. Either I'm exceptionally more spiteful or more naive than I think I am. I can't really decide which.
ACTUALLY, I think I just have an odd sense of humor . . . I remember when David first spoke to me he commented on my sarcastic . . . ness. This is how our first facebook conversation went:
David: I got your message.
Me: No way! Really?
David: Ah. Sarcasm. I love it.
That's pretty much word for word.
Anyway. I wasn't angry in my last blog entry, but one of the comments made it seem like I came off that way . . . Let me clarify.
Yes, truthfulness is relative.
I am not feeling remorse. I was attempting to use satire as a way to make readers laugh. I am holding absolutely no anger. I don't think I need to forgive anyone because . . . Um, I was never mad? Or, ah, felt they did anything wrong? I can't forgive nothing. In case you're going to say "yes, you can!" I will respond . . . OKAY! I FORGIVE YOU!
Sure . . . To continue:
The chocolate I wanted had absolutely no relation to all the jazz about truthfulness. I just wanted chocolate. Not as a way to stifle sadness or anger, it was simply a detached thought.
I WISH people wouldn't leave anonymous comments! Because I don't know if it's just the same readers coming back or what! I might start deleting nameless comments!!
Naw. that's an empty threat. I like comments too much. Even if they don't make sense and needed to be proofread.
That was a joke.
I'm sure there must be something in the scriptures about saying stuff plainly. But that's beside the point. As my mama said, that's what my dad's culture is like--bluntly honest. Is it right? Ah, not really. Guess it depends on who you ask. is culture a good excuse for ANYTHING? No way, Jose.
Just wanted to reiterate. Some people will understand the joke to which I'm alluding to and laugh. Some people will understand and be vividly offended. Which you are says a lot about what kind of character you've built up!
Some people won't understand. Period. What does that say about you? I won't even touch that.
That was another joke. Don't be offended.
I think some people should stop reading this blog. It tends to make them angry which kills brain cells and makes them stupider. If you keep reading, by the time you're 47 and 1/2 your head will be completely hollow.
I have no hard feelings.
If the person who left that comment is actually some stranger from Indiana, I apologize. Email me your address and I'll send you a gift basket.
No I won't.
Ahem, to continue . . .
As our good friend whose name starts with a "D" always says . . . NOBODY IN THIS GENERATION CARES ABOUT PRIVACY! That's why you have a facebook account. Because you secretly want people up in your grill.
Hey, I use FB too.
My last entry wasn't directed at anyone. It was about the world in general.
I'd protect my family to the death. Gr.
Hey, cool thing! My sister (Catia) is taking fencing lessons. Isn't that totally hardcore?
Maybe that's not the right word . . . but cool, huh?
Um, so anyway, to conclude . . .
Well. I should sleep. Gosh, it's cold! I have this weird thing where none of my body can be hanging off the bed and feel the air . . . I freak out. I have to be all bundled up. When I was a kid, I believed something evil and invisible lurked in my room, but it could only have power over me to EAT ME when the lights were off.
Kidding, just kill me. Not eat me.
Anyway, I knew that the Lord would never make my death by evil darkness completely inevitable and He would always have ultimate power, so I convinced myself that after I turned off the lights I had ten seconds to run, jump in my bed, and completely cocoon myself in blankets before IT could touch me. I'd literally count to ten out loud. And sleep with the blanket over my head. After the ten seconds were up, I'd "command" the evil-ness to go away in the Lord's name. My parents always taught me that the Devil couldn't stay if Christ was present.
Oh, who am I kidding? I'm STILL a kid. I still have my teddy bears.
So . . . where was I going with that . . .
Oh! So I'm on the couch. Meh.