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Keep Your Foci

I was so overjoyed when I turned on the news this morning. Obama is supporting gay marriage. He certainly has my vote, if only I were eighteen! I just really, really hope that he gets reelected since Mitt Romney won't budge on his stand against gay marriage. I probably shouldn't be basing my opinions of political candidates solely on their view of gays, but eh. I don't really care about anything else relating to government. Everybody's always all, "Oh that's bad, you should be interested in your government so you can be educated and not ignorant." Well I'm not.

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Rise to Vote, Sir.

Guess where I was Saturday night? Brittany's house. Yes sir. She invited me over for a little bonfire to celebrate her eighteenth birthday. I didn't get to stay nearly as long as I wanted, but it was still awesome. I met her parents, who seem nice enough, and her baby sister, who is adorable even though I'm not a fan of babies. Just a handful of people were there, it wasn't a huge thing, which made me less nervous. I stayed as late as I possibly could which meant getting back to my dad's almost two hours late, but I don't care.

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Oh No, Don Ho!

I reached an important milestone in my life after school yesterday: my very first car accident! Basically another girl didn't see me coming because of a third car stopped to turn and she turned right in front of me. I couldn't stop in time and rammed into her back passenger door. Everybody was fine, but she's tiny and sensitive, so she was shaken up a bit. Luckily we sorta kinda know each other, so at least it wasn't some douchebag or an angry old man. Her car definitely took a lot more damage than mine. I just have some paint smears, a dent in my front bumper, and a crack in my headlight.

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My first college visit.

I just got back from a trip to a liberal arts college here in Illinois. It was pouring rain half the time I was there, but it stopped eventually. The campus was modest in size. There was an intriguing historic vibe to it (one of the buildings is the site of the Lincoln-Douglas debates and houses several Lincoln-related artifacts). The campus is obscured by lush trees, lending me that sense of comfortable isolation. Paths of concrete and cobblestone mingled in a charming fusion of history and present.

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Meet My Bull

I remember when I used to get so offended or shocked whenever I would point out a random guy to a friend and ask her if she'd ever date him and her response would be somewhere along the lines of "Ew! No! He's so ugly!" Because I used to have this silly idea that love refuses to discriminate on the basis of appearance. When in reality, you can't really maintain a relationship with someone you're not physically attracted to.

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It's, like, a metaphor or something.

My friend told me she thinks all girls with short hair are lesbians. Or that all lesbians have short hair. One of the two. Tragic thing is, she was being serious. She's one of my few friends who is under the impression that I'm bisexual, so she had no idea what she was saying. I can only laugh her stupidity off. It's just so utterly idiotic that it's not even worth getting worked up over.

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Today was an atrocious day.

It was. Today was an insult to Mondays, which are horrible to begin with. I barely got to speak to Brittany, she canceled our plans from yesterday because she was "too busy," and her fucking fan club swarmed her during journalism and she didn't even acknowledge my existence, something I haven't experienced in awhile.

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Be Loud Back

Wuthering Heights is a horrible book. I got to page 100 and quit, and I rarely quit a book, especially if it's assigned for English like this one was. We took a quiz over it today and I wrote her a note: "Yeah...haven't really read the book, in case you couldn't tell. Whoopsie." I hope she doesn't take that as a smart-ass comment and get mad at me for it. I was just being honest. But yeah, classicism isn't my style. All I see in this book is a bunch of rich people exchanging spouses and doing fucked up shit in the name of "love." At least I can read a summary of the book on the internet.

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Spin Your Locks

It's been two months, I think, since my mom and I had that conversation about my sexuality. And hey, whaddya know, nothing's been said ever since. The only time I brought it up after that was when I told her I came out to a couple of my close friends and her response was, "Be careful who you tell." Thing is, she grew up in a rural Illinois high school with only a hundred students. There was one lesbian in her class who was constantly tormented, even threatened physically. I think that's stuck in her mind. When she looks at me, she sees that girl.

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Well, It's a Martian.

I had plans with Brittany tonight, but she got out of work late and my curfew is at eleven, so we'd only have an hour to hang out. She invited me to her house and everything. I freaked out, did and redid my hair several times, and changed my outfit once or twice all for nothing. I know it's stupid to get so worked up over something as simple as that, but that's me for you. It's okay though. We may hang out tomorrow if I get back from Springfield early enough, or maybe perhaps Sunday. The tiniest part of me is somewhat relieved because the idea of meeting her family was making me nervous.

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Sketchy Strawberries

Yesterday was my birthday. Being 17, I can now legally watch R-rated movies. My grandma's birthday gifts were rather creative among all the money I received--she gave me a pass for three free golf lessons and three X-Men comics. I didn't even know that she knew I liked comics. I've been wanting to learn how to golf for awhile now, so I really do appreciate the free lessons. And I've considered starting a little comic book collection. I think I'll start hunting for Iron Man, Spiderman, X-Men, Hellboy, Batman, Wonder Woman, and Ghost Rider comics. The rest don't really interest me.

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I give you full permission to skim this journal.

Spring break has been so very dull. The only thing worth mentioning, really, is the job interview I had yesterday. If I get this job I'll definitely be quitting the one I have now. The managers are rude as hell and they don't know how to run a business. This new place seems much nicer. Less greasy too. I'm hoping for a phone call soon. If I get hired I'll be a cook. Makin' pasta and other Italian foods.

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Still not inspired enough for a title.

If Rick Santorum wins the election, I'm moving to Canada. If Mitt Romney wins the election, I'm moving to Canada. Really I'm just hoping Obama will get re-elected. Four years of zero progress is better than four years of Santorum's radical campaign against homosexuality or Mitt Romney's partiality to the rich. God damn, what is this? A high school election? I guess our country will be forever doomed to be run by idiots. We've been the laughingstock of the world for so long. And I completely understand why.

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Meh. Titles are for the inspired.

Yesterday I came close to tears during Health class. A former meth addict came in and spoke to us. Y'know, it's one thing to see pictures of addicts on billboards or hear horror stories from anti-drug campaigns...it's another thing entirely to see an addict in person, to listen to their story without the flashy badges and the cliched "Just Say No" slogans. I mean, when we have assemblies and listen to cops and other nobodies rant about the dangers of drugs, it's so...impersonal.

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Things About Nothing.

Somebody ask me a question. About anything. Virtually anything, and I'll answer it as honestly as I possibly can. Really. Just do it. C'mon.

I've been thinking about how selfish I really am. Some of the friends that I talk to...if they're going through a hard time, I frankly don't care. For example, my friend Anna always bitches about how mean her boyfriend is, and I honestly don't give a fuck. She is not worthy of the fucks I could possibly give. Most people, I've realized, are not.

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