an assortment of random events

so this kid requested to be my friend on facebook and I, being the simultaneously wary and trusting person that I am, looked at his profile, saw that he likes kings of convenience and decided that was as good a reason as any to agree. then, I later saw that he was having this contest with his friends to see who could get the most friends on facebook. lame! I guess I'm still a naive little facebook newbie who holds by her die-hard rule that no one deserves the title of friend until I've at least had an intelligible conversation with them. hence the reason I rejected will budge's friend request about fifty times until I spoke to him for a couple minutes and didn't have an excuse anymore. what kind of a reflection is it of my personal life that I nursed the slightly flattering belief that somebody was interested in me, if only in passing, on facebook for god's sake? and it wasn't even true. I feel slightly defiant and ashamed.

I really want to be writing, but I feel like I don't have any life experiences that would qualify me, and the ones that I have qualify me to write about things I don't want to. well, since I just finished reading harry potters six and seven in french, and my fingers were suddenly itching to write something, I stooped to a baseness I am ashamed of. I wrote a harry potter fanfic. it's short, not even 700 words, and I think I got it all out of my system cause I can't think of anything else I would write, fanfic wise. anyway, I would post it, but I'm slightly embarrassed. probably blushing at my juvenility at this very moment. so, not this time. but maybe I'll share some of my other work soon. still blushing.

I'm lucky enough to have a remedy to emotional distress that never fails me. reading oscar wilde's the importance of being earnest out loud. and lately tom stoppard's rosencrantz and guildenstern are dead has been doing the trick too. of course, that makes loads of sense. reading nonsensical cyclical lines about fear, fate, existentialism, and death, wouldn't that make you not depressed? I don't know if I've ever made sense in my life. I am still convinced that if ever given a real chance, I could be a great stage actress.

someone told me about a month ago that I am very dichotomous about what I do and do not enjoy. I have fully embraced this word as a magnificent christina descriptor. it is true. I always make it very clear about what I consider foolish, ridiculous, and unacceptable. I have the perpetual habit of stating my opinion as truth, or rather as the only opinion that anyone with any measure of sense would ever possibly consider adopting. my truth opinion of the day: gas stations should always be open. in fact, every store in the united states should always be open. this is the world haven of immediate self-gratification. how can we achieve this most worthy of goals if I cannot buy strawberries when I want to?? this only applies to the states, though. anywhere else, especially picturesque europe is the haven of calm and foresight where one would rather walk than drive through montmartre and I would always have food because people make a lovely ritual out of buying it fresh every morning. 

my mother leaves in little more than a week. then at least my life will be a lot less boring. more hectic, more annoying, but less boring.