Automotives.

It is a beautiful day.

It is a brilliant day.

Also, at the end of my horoscope this morning it said this: "And do take special care with anything involving automotives today."

You bet I laughed forever.

And then I became very, very afraid for myself and buckled my seatbelt with extreme care.

Of course, I did take special care with anything involving automotives today. Except for once, when the UPS man arrived at school and left his lovely, doorless, brown truck unattended. Then, Meghan and I proceeded to watch him suspiciously as he walked by with a load of boxes balanced precariously upon a dolly, then sprint toward his lovely, doorless, brown truck and hop in the front seat and take a picture. We thought ourselves to be unendingly funny.

Recycle.

All my love, Addy.

This is what a feminist looks like.

FEMINISM IS THE RADICAL NOTION THAT WOMEN ARE PEOPLE, TOO.

I'm sick as death.

And I love how supportive some people are of my health. I informed Sarah of this and she replied with, "You look terrible."

I asked her to come to my funeral.

"You bet! I'll be there. Eating twinkies and drinking frapps. With extra whip cream and whole milk."

You rock, Sare. Thanks.

I've always said not to regret anything. But this is my deepest regret.

I don't remember his name, but rather I remember the way he looked, and the things he wore on those days that feel so long ago. He was taller than me, I think, with dark hair and dark eyes, and, looking back, he wasn't an unattractive boy, but actually quite the opposite. His clothes were inexpensive and his wardrobe limited, and I remember knowing (for some reason) that he was being raised by a single mother; a fatherless, hispanic boy of barely eight or nine. I remember that he had to go to a special classroom for special tutoring while the rest of us stayed in a normal classroom, learning normal things. I distinctly remember going to the bathroom one day while he was walking back from tutoring and he looked into my bluish-greenish eyes with his deep brown ones, wearing a red pokemon t-shirt, and smiled, saying, "Hello, Addy. How are you?" I broke his gaze. I walked faster. I remember feeling so terrible for the way I acted for several days, and avoided him even more, going out of my way to not have to look him in the eye, sit by him, or share crayons with him. I made a choice one night, lying in my bed, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling, that I would be kinder to him, be his friend, look him in the eye, sit next to him, share my crayons with him... I hoped he would forgive me for the way I acted all that time. The next day at school, he was absent. And he never came back.

On Being Joyful

I promise to laugh a little louder.

I promise to smile a little wider; and with that wider smile, wear brighter lipstick.

I promise to have cake fights with Roah and then eat that cake.

I promise to say hello to strangers.

I promise to say hello to people who I hate (which is harder than saying hello to strangers).

I promise to say hello to people who I hate in a nice way and not a mean, sarcastic way.

I promise to live my life a little crazier.

I promise to stop complaining about being sad, and lonely, and single, because I am not.

I promise to be a little happier.

I promise that even though I said wasn't single in that last line: I am.

(P.S. I wish this was be. That'd be cool.)