Regarding the CT Tragedy

There are so many people who are saying that "I give my hearts out to those who have lost their loved ones" blah blah blah... and I guess it's my turn to say that, too.
We're all so horrified and saddened by this heartless tragedy that I never imagined could happen. (Though so many people are saying "my heart goes out"... maybe it's the right term that you're supposed to use? Anyhow, it's actually the first time I've heard that phrase..)
I feel terrible that so many people are resorting to violence to express themselves,  as if they have no other way that people would understand. I feel bad for the man who killed so many people, for the people who were killed, and for the kids who survived.
And this goes along with the theme of depressing books we're reading in school these days--we actually recently read by William Golding (sorry unable to use underline or italics right now). Imean--I feel bad for the kids who had to go to heaven so early in their life, but I also feel bad for the kids who are still alive. They had to go through that hell, just like everyone else in the school--and then survive to have that memory with you for the rest of your life. In that day, their whole lives were changed. Can you imagine--being a seven year old, with yet to learn, cherish, and laugh in this world--can you imagine being seven and seeing your friend bleed to death? Can you imagine realizing that your best friend, whom you were planning to invite to your birthday party--was now a lifeless body among so many others? What kind of impact would that make on their minds? What kind of impact would that make on history? 
It makes me so angry that someone would go as far as to trespass into a school--an ELEMENTARY school--to recklessly shoot and kill. And not only that, ruin a bit of history by denting so many young minds who could have changed the world. Who could have lived a perfectly happy life, with no dark shadows engufing their minds. 
Everything's for a reason, I think, and I don't think that the man went to the elementary school just because he wanted to, or just because his mother (mother, was it?) was a teacher there. There obviously must be some sort of grudge in his past that lead him to acting this way. But whatever it is, I'm becoming more and more disgusted with humanity these days. 
What's with all these shootings? What's with the violence? 

And some people keep changing the subject back to gun control. And yes, I have my opinions on that. But putting gun control aside, what's been making so many people /use/ that gun so much these days as opposed to, say, ten years ago? I grieve for not only the lives that could have been lived, but the lives that could have been lived freely, and the life that could have been happier.

What Awaits.

Darn it I’m road-blind, meaning I’m also hallway-blind, if you know what I mean.

What do I mean?

We went to the high-school orientation yesterday.

Yesterday, a day when I was literally stumbling everywhere, no idea where I was, and just following a fellow road-blindee also known as my mother. I mean, enough with the boring PowerPoint and droning on about our school’s ‘proud statistics’ and whatnot, but this school was probably BUILT TO CONFUSE NINTH GRADERS.

Or road-blind people.

Then again, that means every building is built to confuse (ninth graders, or whatever-it-is, whoever it is that is road-blind) a road-blind person.

But anyhow, I went home after blindly running into walls and lockers and windows, and had to map out everything and virtually go through the school day with fellow road-blindee, and finally figured out, after a struggling ten minutes looking at the map upside down, that the entrance was here and not there. OOOOH so that means that that’s where the parking lot is—I get it! And the entrance is here---OOOOOOHHH… Hey, it’s not that complicated, huh?

…Yeah, well, I realized that the ‘parking lot’ was included in the map.

Hah. Hah. Hah. This is calling for a terrible year.

But I went to the orientation thing and met friends (considerably less—the rest are in, ahemahem, other schools ahemahem), which was good, I guess, because it kind of makes me feel less terrible about going to school. Only, my worries have been brought up more than they were before, because now I realize how terribly lost I am in this high-school world.

How will I even find my LOCKER?

Imean.

REALLY?

I’ll get to school like ten minutes early (it’s the first day, I’ll somehow manage to convince my mother to take me to school…), and then find my locker in seven minutes, and then find a friend within two, and then follow them to class in one.

Hahahaha. Plan set.

 

…No, but seriously, what about the classes where I’m alone? So far only four people I know are in my classes, and some—I have no idea. Which is terrible, because I really, really don’t remember anything from yesterday.

 

aha. aha. ahaha. …ha.

Yeahno. I’m still not mentally prepared for this devastating event.

I still need about ten years of books, pencils, papers, and computers (computer is an essential). Maybe after ten years I’ll be mentally prepared. (Maybe less mentally prepared.)

But not now. Not tomorrow, and not the day after that.

 

Darnit well this thing called ‘reality’ is like “WELL WHO CARES SCHOOL STARTS AND THAT’S IT.”

D::::: Darnitdarnitdarnitdarnitdarnitdarnit.

Oh, well.

I hope high school doesn’t bite.

 

(Yes it does probably.)

The Closest I’ve Gotten to an Adventure

So—here is an account of the closest I’ve gotten to an adventure. And it’s all thanks to me, my mom, and my anger problems.

One day, my mom and I were in a fight (wow that sounds violent)—Imean, I got mad and she got mad and we had to go into the caps lock level of hollering in each other’s faces—waitno. I didn’t exactly holler. I just sort of raised my voice a little bit, and it was right before she had to take my brother to a piano lesson.

This was on… Wednesday?

Anyhow, she was standing at the door, and she spat something mean and bullyful and make-fun-ofsful and super mean thing to me, something very un-mother like, because usually mothers don’t make fun of you or anything, they just give you a full diatribe and reprimand on how you should improve (insert flaw in personality/complexion/intelligence here). So, there I was, my mother already in the car and driving away, me, fuming, sitting on the floor and ready to burst any minute,

and I came up with an amazing idea.

Why hadn’t I thought of this before?

It was the smartest thing I had ever come up with. It was brilliant—flawless.

I would run away!

At the moment, I felt a surge of triumph and contempt toward my mother, thinking ‘Hah, you can’t stop me now!’ Because I’d leave, and she’d be devastated, and she will regret doing such horrible things to me. She would say, “Oh, I should have been nicer to _, I should have understood her more, Oh, Please, Why did I do this?” And she would be sad forever. It was the best way.

Then I stared at my jacket, which was casually flung over bottom stair (that leads to upstairs) that I had put there after school that day, thinking, “In a few minutes, I will have picked that up and it would be all the way across the street along with me.”

Then, a feeling of anxiety began to bubble up from my stomach.

I didn’t feel like I was up to it.

But then I thought, “Well, you always say you’re going to do something, and you never do it.”

So I dared my self. I triple dared myself. I double decker doctor pepper super duper dared myself to take that jacket, put it on, shove my boots on, and run out the door.

Then I thought about it, and I decided that running away was overrated, and it wasn’t ‘the thing’ anymore, and that I’d just walk around the neighborhood. And then I’d walk in just as Mom would walk in (she only drops him off and comes right back), and she’d ask what happened, and I’d say that I wanted to run away, then she’d feel bad—not the same amount of impact as running away, but still some, at least.

So in a mush of anger, triumph, confusion, and anxiety, I stomped over to the coat, snatched it up, put it on, put on my scarf, put on gloves, shoved my boots on, and then looked at the door.

Then I started observing it.

Then I sidetracked and looked out the window, peered out, and someone had just come home from work, it seemed, their car door was open and they were leaning in to get something from the back seat.

So I waited.

I can’t go out now, because then they’d spot me, and I’d run out, and they’d yell ‘WHATCHA DOING, LITTLE GIRL?’ and then I’d have nothing to say but ‘I was running away from home’, but since the person saw me in unsuccessful attempts in doing so, I’d never be able to run away, meaning that every time they see me and I see them in the morning or afternoon, they’d always remember the ‘deranged child who tried to run away at around seven o clock.’

So I waited. Then I just sort of peered out the door, looking down the sidewalk into the parking lot (we live in a townhouse), watching the person TAKE THEIR TIME in doing whatever they were doing. And when they finally left, I felt fear filling my lungs, heart, mind, everything. I looked into the parking lot that was growing ever so darker, and then I thought to myself, “I bet you’re just going to do this and waste some time and then Mom would come in and see you all dressed up at the front door and be like ‘WHAT THE CAULIFLOWERS WERE YOU DOING?” and I’d have nothing to say, and every time Mom would see me in the morning or afternoon, she’d remember the ‘deranged child who tried to run away at around seven o clock.’

So I double doctor pepper super duper dared myself to take that door, swing it open, then take the screen door, swing it open, then run outside.

So I did.

I swung the door open (not as dramatically as it may sound or as you may think), and then ran out the door (more like, creeped out the door). Down the sidewalk, run, run, run, away from home, away from home—end of sidewalk. Then I stood there, staring at the end of the sidewalk and the beginning of the parking lot.

And I saw a car coming in the parking lot, and I thought to myself ‘OHDEARLORDPLEASEFORGIVEMEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE’ and I ran in at 100 miles per hour, past the screen door and door and into the house.

Then after about three minutes, I realized that the car was not in fact, my mother’s, and I opened the door a little bit, and I realized that the person was gone.

Whew.

Then I stared at the parking lot, and then double doctor pepper super duper dared myself to step INTO THE PARKING LOT.

 

OH GEEZUS LOUISEUS I JUST DARED MYSELF DO TO SOMETHING POTENTIALLY FATAL AND DANGEROUS.

But I swung the door open (quietly, because if I did it loudly, it would arouse attention from my father who would, most likely, be half asleep and doing computer work in the basement) and ran out the door and ran to the parking lot, stared at a person who just happened to open their door to walk outside, and then sped right back into the house.

I felt like an idiot, but at the same time, felt a surge of triumph (very similar with when I came up with the idea), thinking to myself, “I did it! I did it! Now, all I have to do is walk all the way behind the house and near the woods, walk all the way around, to the play ground, then walk around and come back home. It would be an absolutely rebellious adventure! I would take my phone as light and as an emergency, in case I got kidnapped or wounded by a nearby lurking wolf, and I would go through all that darkness and then COME BACK HOME! WITH A NEW SELF AND NEW TRIUMPH AND AN ADVENTURE TO TELL!

So I took my phone (after looking for it), then marched out the door. I then realized that to my right, my neighbor was talking to whomever it was at the door for like hours, and to my left, this man was leaving his house and going to his car and going back and on and on and on.

This would require maximum stealth, because in order to get behind my house and travel that far, I’d have to pass either of them.

So I took my phone, ran to the sidewalk, and suddenly decided that I’d save this for another day, so I ran back inside, except I didn’t feel like opening the door to get back inside. It was a waste, all that time of going from house to sidewalk to house to parking lot to house to…

so I sat, right in front of the door, outside of the door, looking out onto the street. There were two bushes to the side of the door, so I could be easily concealed from my two neighbors who refused to stay inside the house.

I felt so rebellious, triumphant, and HIDDEN. I felt like I could sit here all day, because I had done something I had never done before, and next time, I might even wake up in the middle of the night and go on an adventure—maybe I’d even tell my friends to come, too—my neighbor friends, if they agreed.

Yes!

Raid for Information

Oh. My. Godsh.
I just remembered--the human can only learn a lot until they're twenty years old. It's true. After you're twenty, you can't learn anything too new. Maybe you might learn small facts, but you won't be able to quickly develop some skill after you're twenty. From 0 yrs to 20 yrs is when your brain develops the most.
I am going crazy. I need to eat up all the information possible--in seven years! SEVEN YEARS TO GET ALL OF THE WORLD'S INFORMATION IN MY BRAIN. I need to start.
NOW.
So, I must go to the library and get books on psychology, then get some books on physics, some textbooks in geometry, Calculus, and Algebra II, then get some books on the Theory of Evolution, the science of somethings, this and that fact, learn about architecture and software design and engineering, learn how to do html coding, learn five other languages, study product designing, master the translation of Korean, do this, that, that, that, that,that,that,THATTHATHATHATHATHATHAT.
...Hey, that looks like I wrote "HAT" rather than "THAT." Hmph.
Whatever.

But I'm really freaking out scared.
I need to know LOTS OF THINGS before I lose my ability to learn quickly. O:
After all, you can't teach an old dog new tricks. O:


...WAIT! That means I can't learn all that new technology made after I turn twenty--I'll be like those old people who can't find the start button! D:
(Not trying to insult old people--old people are awesome.)