Dear all...

Well I haven't really been using my blog lately, and last I checked, my last post was on Rosh Hashanah. Recently, my mind has become clogged with psychological grime and I saw this dormant blog as a nice outlet for my thoughts. I'm not really much of a diary type, since my handwriting is abhorrent and I just plain feel stupid having to confide my thoughts to some notebook that I'll probably lose. At least on an online blog, other people can have an insight into your thoughts and comment and stuff. Way better than stupid gay MySpace, which I hate with a flaming passion. Fuck, don't even get me started on MySpace.

This post is kinda my introductory post, just to get things flowing. I'll probably be posting much more frequently, so you can count on me! I swear!

It's so amazing how one's interests can change so suddenly. I mean, after two years of being obsessed with the Beatles, I am mildly shocked that my new thing is now Resident Evil.

It all started when I was about six years old. My older brother Eugene - six and a half years my senior - was playing Resident Evil 2 on his PlayStation One. At the time, I thought it was the scariest game EVER! Seriously, sometimes I would have to sleep on the floor of my parents' bedroom for WEEKS at a time, fearing that a zombie was lurking in the dark. I know, I know - how can pixelated zombies be THAT frightening? I was SIX, okay! Shut the fuck up!

So Resident Evil has always been part of my life, whether I liked it or not. I remember one time on Halloween about 5 years ago, my best friend Natalie came over and we were telling scary stories in the dark. Guess what my scary story was about? Raccoon City, that's right. Of course, at the time I only understood the gist of the story, not really noticing the intricacies of the plot until just recently. I rekindled my interest in RE on one Saturday afternoon, when I was sitting on my computer surfing Wikipedia (which I regularly do) and delving into the little nooks and crannies, such as the different types of monsters in the games, all the viruses, and all the plot twists and turns. It was a very enlightening day, a nostalgic day.

I think thats really a big chunk of why I like RE so much - it was part of my childhood, and as I mature, I look back on those simpler times, the times when I didn't have to worry so damn much about school, reputation, stupid high school drama, college, or self-image. Everything was just so...nice. I can't really put it into words, but I'm sure most of you know what I mean. According to Wikipedia, childhood is regarded as the best time of your life. And I totally agree.

Right now I am about to go to bed, and as always I have some unfinished homework strewn across my desk, but my English teacher isn't really strict about late work just as long as we turn it in a week after its due. This is where the procrastination part comes in. When I get home, I just don't feel that orgasmic urge to do homework that so many of my fellow peers seem to have. But of course, I'm not really like my fellow peers. I'm part of what's called the "HP group", an "elite" group of neurotic misfits who have been in all advanced classes since junior high started. It's kind of hard for me to explain what all of these people are like personality-wise, but when I read the Wikipedia article on "Giftedness", I was shocked to see how accurately it described me and the HP. One of the traits that make up an HP fag is procrastination and perfectionism, which basically sums up my entire essence. I mean, I was FLOORED to see how true that article was...I am so glad to know that there is a name for this bizarre "condition" that I have.

And another thing, don't be offended when I use the word "fag" often, because rarely do I ever use it to mean someone that's actually homosexual. "Fag" to me just means a person, a bloke, a sap. Not a really negative connotation, but if I mean it as an insult you sure as hell will know.

Yeah...that's the "clique" I'm a part of, if it can so be called. Over the years though, there have been major rifts and shifts within this cohesive group, but we nonetheless share an unspoken sense of camraderie, even if we don't the know the person that well. Case in point: Carson Jordan, a kid I have known since first grade, was part of the HP. He was a quiet, humorous fellow who was well-liked by his classmates. I always imagined that I would be graduating with him, along with the other HP. Whenever I envisioned my class, he was always just, there. But then on December 14th, 2006, the strangest, most tragic thing transpired. Carson, age 14, committed suicide by shooting himself with a shotgun. When I first heard of it, I thought it was some nasty rumor - y'all know how vicious rumors can be these days - but then I asked one of his best friends and he confirmed it.

I was numb, numb with shock. It was impossible - the fact that he would never sit next to me in math was just IMPOSSIBLE - it just can't happen. But the reality of it eventually sunk in, whether I liked it or not. He was gone.

Before, I always considered suicide as the coward's way out, as the last resort for some emo faggot who couldn't deal with his emotions. But its real, people. Its real. Its a real problem, and even though it might be selfish to suddenly leave your friends and family to grieve, some people just have problems that the rest of us can't understand. Like Carson. Even though I'll never know what he felt or how he dealt with himself, I'll respect his decision. Not something I would do, but nonetheless, I still respect him. I firmly believe that he is in Heaven right now, not in Hell as so many other people believe.

It's nearing my bed time of ten o'clock, so I must depart on a particularly sad note -- but I'll be back tomorrow with more musings and bitchings.

~ michelle