I am morbid. Enough so to make my mother first laugh, then worry about me. A lot. Usually poking me with her toe at some point too. As, for whatever reason, I tend to be morbid while sitting on the floor.

This is why I am morbid:

"Keep your chin up!"
"Why? So that if anyone is trying to kill me my neck is more vulnerable to their lovely knives?"

"What are you up to, dear?"
"Dying. So are you. Wait... We died a little bit more. Oh, closer to death now! Closer, closer!!"

She says I used to be extremely optimistic. Like a little rainbow unicorn on happy pills. Ironic, since I wrote a poem about how unicorns are secretly these epic warriors who will slice your brains apart if you mess with them. When I was a wee lass I would skip around singing about how happy everything was - outside of bathtime. Then I wasn't any sort of happy at all until I had escaped the clutches of the Evil Mom who wanted me to Bathe. - and I would go around encouraging the butts off people. I's go up to random strangers and say "hello" and tell them what a good day it was.

"I'm not sure what happened to you, you weirdo," said The Mother of Niceness. I mean, I'm morbid, but I'm not that bad. I guess she just thinks it would be normal for an eighteen year old go skipping around trailing sparkles. Wait. No. I didn't say that. That would mean I would have to be a Meyer Vampire.

Oh, vampires. A four-year old the other day decided I was a Vampire. It was pretty adorable. Especially when he rolled up his sleeves, gave me this incredibly devilish grin, declared himself a werewolf and let me know he can bring it. And I did. Full-scale Vampire worthy tickle-attack. Then another person came in and he went running behind her squealing "Vampire! Vampire! Check the teeth!"

So, yup. I'm Little Miss Morbid Vampire over here.

Life

I have been trying to write. But lately the only time I can get anything out is during class. That leaves me maybe ten minutes three days a week. Not very productive. I could write more, but seeing as how I am paying to go to college (Okay, my aunt is paying, but money is being paid that could be used elsewhere), paying attention in class is a Smart Idea. Thankfully, English 101 is teaching stuff that I know better than the back of my hand. So while everyone is learning about hyperboles and what exactly a semi-colon is, I am trying not to cry because, once again, Dave is telling me stuff at the Worst Possible Time Possible. 

(Random: Why are there so many ads on YouTube. Guys, I just want to watch a video. Pizza Hut can go shove a pie up its butt.)

Speaking of shoving stuff up where the sun don't shine, this guy in a local gang was pulled over by the cops for speeding. They checked the car for drugs, found nothing. Turns out the driver had a traffic warrant  - whatever that is - so he was brought down to the station. One hundred bags of heroin were found up his butt-hole. 1 - What made the police look up there? 2 - Did he need help doing that? 3 - Don't do drugs. You never know where exactly they come from. Like up a butt. Or, apparently, other... places.

Anyway, that wasn't the point of this. Not that I had a point. I am not a pencil after all. (But I am not a circle, so maybe I do have a point?)

If you are not laughing, go, just go home.

 I walk around without shoes. All the time. So, this just touches a certain part of my heart. Like when a boy at my church overheard someone saying I was barefoot, tugged on her shirt and let her know "Autumn never wears shoes to church. The first time I saw her shoes was last week. That was only because of the snow on the ground."

Puns are great, by the way. This guy I know loves them and made me Pun Battle him one night. Now, I failed at it, but I was laughing so hard, it was worth it. Especially when he began using Star Wars pick up lines on me. I very nearly asked him to marry me. Except not, cause that would be weird. And illegal. Since he's a minor and I'm, well, not. (Do you know how strange that is?? I'm not a minor anymore. *runs and hides*)

One of my characters likes puns. The problem with him is, I actually have to write his stuff. It doesn't just come to me. So I sit there going... um... Puns. Puns puns puns puns punsssssssss. What to doooo? And then abandon writing. Complete laziness on my part.



Back to what I started way at the beginning (before puns and um... the cat)... I can't write much right now. Buuuuuttttt... I found a semi-solution!! Semi because it isn't a solution, but it does still count as working on writing. I will research France in the 1500's. Look up German drinking songs. Find a way to travel to the desert/Antarctica. Figure out a working Timeline. Focus on History class, and thus the Spakes. And, finally, really get to know the characters. Their quirks and speech patterns, what they wear, the music they listen to, quotes they like. Stuff like that. Which should be fun and reallly realllyyyy helpful.

Things I have learned so far:

1. Lukesh is an author. So, not only is this guy super attractive and adorkable, but he writes. *swoons* Too bad he is the father of dear Cleo.

2. Dave's mom does random stuff like sprinkle spices in his hair to let him know he needs a haircut.

3. Jedidiah LOVES Star Wars. So some goth chick called him Jedi.

4. Ray can't stand the smell of horses. Elaine constantly makes him ride just because of that.

And...

5. Sage told her grandmother that she was going to grow up to be a prostitute. (Don't worry. She grew up to destroy the world in stead. In the name of love of course!)

WEll, bye!