one that

• doesn’t crash every time i do anything
• doesn’t take twenty minutes to load facebook
• can save files in .doc formats without fucking everything up.
• can print successfully
• doesn’t take three hours to load the zune software
• has a working media center
• makes me coffee
• and toast

that is SO 7th-grade-adolescent-angst-poetry style.

it’s really weird to think about. he had a massive heart attack. there were three ambulances, two squad cars, and a firetruck.

the family takes care of a boy, he’s either nineteen or twenty by now, but for as long as i can remember he’s been, to put it simply, a vegetable. i never knew the specifics, just that he a) was abused as a child and b) had some sort of brain disease where his brain rotted away and all that is left is the brain stem, which maintains his bodily functions such as breathing, digesting. etc. but when he has a seizure the normal response is three to four medic vehicles. that’s why six were there last night.

my dad came in at 12:30am and told me they had lost him, the father of the household.
at 12:43 i heard a car pull up and a door slam and then screaming and crying. the man’s daughter had just gotten home after a night of partying.

i’ve known them since they moved in when i was about four. that girl used to be my best friend. we split apart when she started going to high school (she’s two years older than me). she got pregnant at 16 and had her baby at 17. we haven’t really talked since she was probably 14. the father of her baby isn’t involved.
neither is she, for that matter. her mom takes care of her child.

but i was thinking: the mother works for the community, holding some sort of public relations job, she adopted four children, she has had numerous foster children, and she’s been pretty much a saint. she’s also extremely christian.
her biological son was crazy, and they have a restraining order against him. she takes care of a vegetable (at one point she fostered one too). she’s taken care of several unruly, ungrateful foster kids. her oldest adopted son is a former drug dealer. her daughter had a baby at 17. she doesn’t take care of it. her husband died at age 60 of a heart attack.
why do bad things happen to good people? what the hell kind of world do we live in? what kind of god would let that happen to such an incredibly good person?
i wonder if she doubts her faith at all.
she didn’t deserve it. neither did the man that died.

this is the most imperfect world.

what the hell am i doing right?

Je ne parle pas bien le français. Je suis en français 1 à l’école. Je suis assez bien en classe mais c’est français 1…

J’ai appris une chose:

Je m’appelle Anna. J’ai seize ans. Je déteste l’ecole, et très déteste classe du français! Ma professeur du français est penible. Mon professeur de l’histoire est très gros mais très cool. Mon professeur de l’anglais est intelligent mais étrange. Ma professeur des mathimathiques est vieux. Elle n’a pas seins. Ha! Ma professeur pour classe du photo est super gentille mais elle est triste. :( Je deteste ma professeur du physique. Elle est une chienne.
Mon frère est paresseux. Il aime dormir et manger. Il aime à la fumée marijuana. Il travaille à la piscine pour argent pour marijuana. J’adore mon frere…de temps en temps.

little-words:

i’m not going to blame everything on my dad. i’m going to blame it on genetics. it was in his DNA, and he put it in mine, and now i’m the addict. family of addicts.

i don’t want to think about the things i hate.
i’d much rather absorb the world, as the entirety of it breathes in and out, absorbing me as well. i want to succumb to that ecstasy and be swallowed up within those particles of pleasure.

but then i would be like my dad. and that, i swore i’d never be.
at least now i know why he does it.