An Old Mysterious Blog.

SOOO THIS BLOG USED TO BE TITLED HMMM, AND I WROTE IT ON 7/19/09. I JUST FOUND IT SAVED AS A DRAFT ON 12/22/09 AND I HAVE NO IDEA WHY I NEVER POSTED IT.

so here you go for your reading pleasure: and old mysterious blog.

So basically i am sitting here at my computer. I'm dickin around on facebook, myspace, my email, itunes and i am instant messaging people. And all of a sudden i acquired this inspiration to write this amazing epic incredible story about the past few days because they have just seemed to be incredibly incredible. But as soon as i opened the blog spot web page, every ounce of intelligence and story comprehension was swept away. So now i am sitting here scratching my head wondering what to do now. I can probably create some magical story that will entertain you in some way shape or form if i just keep babbling, so i guess that is whats going to happen.



Anyways at this exact moment itunes on my computer is playing music on shuffle. And you see sometimes when music plays on shuffle, some really outrageous random music from the deep depths of my ipod that i did not really know existed plays. But sometimes, i don't really notice these weird songs playing because im not actually listening i am just thinking and doing my own thing. At this very moment though there is a song playing and i cant really think of a good way to describe it other than singing it directly to you.

"may la shem du booty bootty hoony hooony bata kata heeenieee.. YA YA bata lata koonie sha bata la hana doonie hoonie hoonie hoonie bata kata la heeeenniieee YA YA. hundi ba la hana sha na. la sakie hana sa la mana hani doonie haaaanie hannie YA YA." etc etc.

So pretty much i have no idea where this song came from or why it was playing. The interesting part though is that i only noticed it was playing after it was more than half way finished playing. And the even more interesting part is that i actually kept listening to it until it finished. Who knows why. This is an everyday occurrence in my life though and it always amazes me what music i download those times i go on music rampages in the middle of the night.



Speaking of the middle of the night, i learned recently that i mumble and babble, almost talk, while i am asleep. Ive heard that i snore, but now it turns out my subconscious mind and i try to communicate during nightfall. Now this is actually pretty freaky to me, because there are so many just incomprehensible things that i think about everyday and every moment, that there is no controlling what obscene things my mind is trying to convey to the world. There are endless possibilities of all the things i might say and really i am not sure if the worlds ready for it.



Also, i heard that carl stumbled upon this blog. i think carl is funny. so this is a shout out for carl. hi carl.

The beginning of an unfinished pointless short story.

Once upon a time in a land not so far away, just down the street actually, there was a boy named Kale. In the small town of Snapple, Ohio, Kale lived in one of the oldest and creepiest houses in town. With its sunken foundation from the surrounding swamps, it was by far the epitome of fear in Snapple. The house was surrounded by a spiked rusted fence, with a rickety gate which no longer stayed shut by itself. Every door and window within the house was rickety and practically ready to fall right off its hinges. Most of the windows glass panes were broken, but had been replaced by wooden boards. The floor boards within the house were barley nailed tightly enough to be stable, creating a dangerous playing field. Although the floor did provide an excellent and infinite abundance of secret hiding places, the pieces often broke and created splinters.



Although everyone in town looked down upon the house and Kale's family with fear, Kale did not seem to be phased. In fact, he quite enjoyed his old mysterious house, as it provided him with adventures and fueled his imagination. Over the years nine year old Kale had developed a very active creative mind due to lack of friendships his house prevented him from having.



Kale's parents both belonged to an organization set out to improve the worlds carbon dioxide output, and simultaneously oxygen intake. Their mission was to plant new trees everywhere around the world, and to educate the planet about the importance of forests, rain forests, and jungles. They constantly traveled and held conventions while meeting and befriending millions of humanitarians. Because of their intense philanthropic jobs and extensive traveling regimen, Kale spent most of his time reading the postcards his parents sent him. Although they loved him very much, they spent there time away from home, which is why Grandpa Earl was head of the household. You see, Grandpa Earl was not one to reckoned with. He was a crazy old hoot, with just an active and crazy imagination as Kale, if not more. The two of them though, Kale and Grandpa Earl, they were best friends. Because Grandpa Earl was crazy, he never realized Kale was supposed to go to school, and Kale just never bothered to tell him. So basically all day they chilled out and thought up impossible adventures. Sometimes, they even conducted experiments and constructed inventions! Back in the day Grandpa Earl was self taught engineer and aspiring inventor, where his outrageous personality helped to fuel his designs. They made all types of contraptions, varying from no hands dog bathing tub, to a robot barber.

Futurama

okay. so i decided if i am going to be a published author one day i am gonna have to start writing and practicing. this blog used to be dedicated to traumatic moments and the tales and tragedies that went along with them, but that is now going to change. there was a huge overload of traumas that occurred towards the end of the school year which ultimately was just too much for my small mind to comprehend. my fingers and the keyboard could not keep up with the occurrences flowing out of my head, hence, there are no entries for like a fricken year. anyways, i guess i should tell you, who ever is reading this exactly why i am on a quest to becoming a published author.

"clears throat"

i colette, have no specific attachment to writing or any internal desire to write, type, or read. i do not enjoy books, english, or essays with any certain passion. i do however have a very keen tongue when it comes to telling stories out loud. i always seem to find myself day by day telling an old story, telling a new story, or creating a random story off the top of my head. i am not sure why this happens, who exactly ends up listening, or anything of the sort, but i still end up doing it anyways.

so the other day i was on a trip, and i came upon a very intriguing sight in which i stopped dead in my tracks. it was a psychic, a fortune teller, palm reading, tarot card, crystal ball kind of lady. now being myself of course i had to stop and take a look at what this lady was all about. so i did. i stepped into her office, or small mystical area if you prefer, filled with magical props and and aromas. obviously, i was under the spell of the psychic, because i then managed to pull a crisp ten dolla dolla bill out of my right pocket and hand it to her. how could i stop myself though, i mean after all she "knew i was coming." when i was ready i showed her my palms, and she glared deeply at them, or into them, whichever. immediately she began relying information to me about myself and my life. some things i knew and some i did not, but either way i believed it all, everything she had to say. the part about the seasons, a team, the next two years, the medical field, and of course, becoming a published author. i am destined to write books and poetry, and one day become published, and noted as an author. so basically i am pretty pumped about this, and now have motivation to write these wonderful posts.

i believe the psychic, and am great full i have been guided in the right direction the full fill my destiny. even if destiny cost me ten dollars.