Wee-Wee (as in "dingaling") is the Word of the Day.
So. I got prescribed to birth control today.
Reason: to regulate my periods and lessen my cramps.
Cool stuff:
-MAKES MY BOOBiES GROW! <3 T_T i WiLL PREVAiL.
-Periods only last for 3-4 days.
-Flow is lighter.
-Lessens the pain of cramps.
-Regulates periods.
-Clears up acne.
-Is birth control. Duh.
Not-So-Cool Stuff:
-Symptoms may include nausea (a feeling akin to "morning sickness"), weight gain, and mood swings.
-Cannot smoke while on the pill. (not a problem for me).
-If you skip a day and/or don't take it at the same time every day, it gets all messed up.
-I'm not very responsable.
we'll see how this works out.
I'm attempting to create my own manga (if you want a definition, too bad). I know it's never going to happen because 1) I do not have the attention span to make one 2) I wouldn't add important detail, like shading and folds 3) I can only draw girls, and guys just look.....iffy 4) I know about 3 positions in which to draw my characters. Le sigh. And I have a really good story, too. I will keep perservering and drawing during class until the day I die! *honor. pride. allison.*
I might quit my job at the library. Not because of my boss, but because of the people. As most of you know, there is a homeless shelter next to the library, therefore homeless people tend to be regular customers. Most of these people are balding, dress in the same clothes each day, are obese from drinking, and/or have mental defects. I could probably name you 4 bums who are in the library almost every time I work there. There is the man who sits in the same chair every time and listens to his walkman and reads. He then proceeds to fall asleep, and his hair is completely white, but he couldn't be older than 44. There is the man who always talks to himself, dressed in a navy blue ski hat and dirty grey clothes. He holds conversations with himself as he browses through the books. There is the man who has a huge beer gut, a bulbous nose, and a mean face, but turns out to be the sweetest of them all. Then there is a man who has been mentally and physically deformed from excessive drinking. He seems to always have a sinus problem, and he mumbles to himself, reads alone, and yells when he speaks (he also has a speech impediment.) He fills up his ratty backpack with books to take to the shelter. Every day, they're all there, from the beginning of my shift to the end.
This feeling inside of me wells up everytime I see one of them, or everytime one of them hits on me. You may think that's funny, but I don't. Imagine living the rest of your life in a shelter, with only books to keep you company. I just want to cry when I see them. It's not like they have anywhere else to go, any place where they're wanted. If they disappeared, even the shelter wouldn't mind. Frees up more room, what little they had would be moved out and a new tenant would move in. They would be erased and forgotten within 24 hours. Maybe I can't handle the importance of my job, a job that brings some people the only happiness they have. I see others come in, with their young-old faces, just sitting in a chair, not talking, their body language and haggard faces saying all that needs to be said. It touches me, it touches me that I'm probably watching what they are going to do every day until they die. Their lives are done for, game over, there's nothing left for them. Except books.
I've really wanted to get that out of my system for some time, though I don't think this feeling will ever go away. It's doing bad things, dredging up bad memories. It's making me appreciate my life and all the opportunities I have to change. Just the other day, one of them came over to me, a middle-aged African-American, and said "I just wanted to tell you that you're a very beautiful girl." Why does that statement make me want to cry?
Ricky, hold me.
Reason: to regulate my periods and lessen my cramps.
Cool stuff:
-MAKES MY BOOBiES GROW! <3 T_T i WiLL PREVAiL.
-Periods only last for 3-4 days.
-Flow is lighter.
-Lessens the pain of cramps.
-Regulates periods.
-Clears up acne.
-Is birth control. Duh.
Not-So-Cool Stuff:
-Symptoms may include nausea (a feeling akin to "morning sickness"), weight gain, and mood swings.
-Cannot smoke while on the pill. (not a problem for me).
-If you skip a day and/or don't take it at the same time every day, it gets all messed up.
-I'm not very responsable.
we'll see how this works out.
I'm attempting to create my own manga (if you want a definition, too bad). I know it's never going to happen because 1) I do not have the attention span to make one 2) I wouldn't add important detail, like shading and folds 3) I can only draw girls, and guys just look.....iffy 4) I know about 3 positions in which to draw my characters. Le sigh. And I have a really good story, too. I will keep perservering and drawing during class until the day I die! *honor. pride. allison.*
I might quit my job at the library. Not because of my boss, but because of the people. As most of you know, there is a homeless shelter next to the library, therefore homeless people tend to be regular customers. Most of these people are balding, dress in the same clothes each day, are obese from drinking, and/or have mental defects. I could probably name you 4 bums who are in the library almost every time I work there. There is the man who sits in the same chair every time and listens to his walkman and reads. He then proceeds to fall asleep, and his hair is completely white, but he couldn't be older than 44. There is the man who always talks to himself, dressed in a navy blue ski hat and dirty grey clothes. He holds conversations with himself as he browses through the books. There is the man who has a huge beer gut, a bulbous nose, and a mean face, but turns out to be the sweetest of them all. Then there is a man who has been mentally and physically deformed from excessive drinking. He seems to always have a sinus problem, and he mumbles to himself, reads alone, and yells when he speaks (he also has a speech impediment.) He fills up his ratty backpack with books to take to the shelter. Every day, they're all there, from the beginning of my shift to the end.
This feeling inside of me wells up everytime I see one of them, or everytime one of them hits on me. You may think that's funny, but I don't. Imagine living the rest of your life in a shelter, with only books to keep you company. I just want to cry when I see them. It's not like they have anywhere else to go, any place where they're wanted. If they disappeared, even the shelter wouldn't mind. Frees up more room, what little they had would be moved out and a new tenant would move in. They would be erased and forgotten within 24 hours. Maybe I can't handle the importance of my job, a job that brings some people the only happiness they have. I see others come in, with their young-old faces, just sitting in a chair, not talking, their body language and haggard faces saying all that needs to be said. It touches me, it touches me that I'm probably watching what they are going to do every day until they die. Their lives are done for, game over, there's nothing left for them. Except books.
I've really wanted to get that out of my system for some time, though I don't think this feeling will ever go away. It's doing bad things, dredging up bad memories. It's making me appreciate my life and all the opportunities I have to change. Just the other day, one of them came over to me, a middle-aged African-American, and said "I just wanted to tell you that you're a very beautiful girl." Why does that statement make me want to cry?
Ricky, hold me.