Claire

[quote name='Ace'][FONT="Comic Sans MS"]Lovely, witty and full of truth. I love it. And I'm punching myself in the head for even considering responding with a simple "LOL". Though it would actually fit in this instance.[/FONT][/QUOTE] [SIZE="1"]Thanks! I'm not sure I would have felt about that. Lol. Lol. Lol. LOL. ಠ_ಠ I am sort of turning into an anti-LOL activist.[/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"]You got me. I was about to feel pretty bad. I "dated" someone online once. I was 12. I didn't keep it a secret, but now I really wish that I had. [/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"]I wrote this for my creative writing class to replace the awful lyric poem I extracted from one of my songs. I am a lot happier with it and I seriously cannot wait to read this in class tomorrow. I sent you a spark and waited a while, Expecting some flames in return Instead I was greeted and sadly defeated By matches that just wouldn't burn. A couple of letters supposedly saying My words gave you audible laughter But I feel in my heart that your lips did not part And no giggles came tumbling after. I thought that my topic would grow and expand And spawn many more subjects as well Though truly I tried, our discussion just died The moment you said LOL. How sad is this method of speech we all use Where letters once easing our tone Are dropped by the myriad, and replace a period And now simply mean "leave me alone." I'd understand were it a joke I had told But something has gone quite awry So if "lol" or "ok" is all you can say Then I'd rather you just not reply.[/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"]So I hatched twelve Larvitars. The majority of them turned out to be female, which was infuriating. None of them have very good natures, either, but at least I got my Mars out of the whole mess. If anyone wants one I wouldn't mind trading. Here are the names, if it matters: Female: Nabooru, Antigone, Atalanta, Gaia, Megeara, Lupercalia, Hecate, Juturna Male: Italus, Evander, Gemini[/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"]I just mated Tyranitar with a Swampert and rode up and down in Solaceon Town for 10,455 steps just so I could hatch a male Larvitar and name it as I please (yes, it is that important to me) AND IT WAS A GIRL. A GIRL. FML.[/SIZE]

[quote name='Ace'][CENTER][IMG]http://www.adherents.com/lit/comics/img/s/SailorMars.jpg[/IMG][/CENTER] [FONT="Comic Sans MS"]Mars still works.[/FONT][/QUOTE] [SIZE="1"]She looks nothing like a Tyranitar.[/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"]I just noticed that my Tyranitar is a girl. FFUUUUUU I've always been pretty adverse to female pokemon unless they're specific kinds, like Gardevoir. I hate catching female rock/ground types, so it's really fantastic that my Garchomp and Rhyperior are both girls. I think it's mostly because I can't think of any good names for them. (Rhyperior is Athena, which kinda works, and I named Garchomp after a friend as a joke). So I dunno what I'm gonna name Tyranitar now. I felt Mars was a badass name. Maybe Juturna?[/SIZE]

[quote name='Lilt']Thanks to both of you. :animesmil Howver, my Pokewalker died. :animedepr They definitely don't survive the wash a second time. I could order one from Nintendo, but I don't have an easy way to order online. So what do you guys think? Should I just buy SoulSilver and use the Pokewalker from that one? I'm going to try to remove the back and hope that maybe it will dry off and start working. I doubt it though.[/QUOTE] [SIZE="1"]The same thing happened to me. I wonder why it can handle being washed once, but not twice? It's totally not a big deal though. All I lost was a Sudowoodo. So, here's my team right now: Virgil the Arcanine, level 48 (Iron Tail, Flare Blitz, Agility, Crunch) Rio the Feraligatr, level 48 (Waterfall, Ice Fang, Crunch, Screech) Adagio the Slowking, level 48 (Psychic, Ice Beam, Surf, Nasty Plot) Ampere the Ampharos, level 48 (Thunder, Signal Beam, Focus Blast, Charge) Mars the Tyranitar, level 55 (Stone Edge, Earthquake, Ice Punch, Crunch) Michel the Sneasel, level 38 (Faint Attack, Ice Punch, Swords Dance, Brick Break) Sneasel is just taking a long time to get up to speed because I'm actually EV training him. I think I'm almost done, though. I keep naming all my Sneasels French names: Michel, Olivier, and Sebastien, and my Weavile is Noel (male). I also decided to give every Eevee a name that starts with E: Edward, Elliott, Ephraim, Emory, Eliwood, Edgar, and Eli (female).[/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"]I traded my main team from HG to Platinum so I could level them up decently and adjust their moves using the vast resources I have in Pt. I managed to breed a Sneasel with Ice Punch, Swords Dance, and Brick Break, and I'm thinking about trying to EV train it. Right now I'm trying to get the others up to about level 50, though. Hopefully this will be the team that finally beats the Elite Four: Arcanine, Ampharos, Feraligatr, Sneasel, Pupitar (unless I have the patience to grind those extra five levels for Tyranitar) and Slowking.[/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"]I have to write four poems for my creative writing class: one free-verse on some major event in my life, one expressing love without cliche, a sonnet, and a ballad. I have no idea what major events my life has experienced that would be sufficient poetry, but I'm slowly making progress on them. the life poem: [I]Semiautobiography[/I] Somber sighs sully saccharine seconds Slowly separating sense and speculation. Your star-staring silhouette is spry but silent, Sweetly stroking soft suffused skin. You stretch, stop, study the sure subsequent scene. You suppress your sensual scheme. Suppose I’d shun your sentiment? Sweetheart, scarce seconds shouldn’t be squandered Over such silly scares. So you shed your sad skepticism and Swiftly stitch your smile to mine, Strong savory salve sticking and stinging. Spirit songs swell, surprised but superfluously satisfied. So simple a spell, so severe a swoon. Should our stories stop in this secret selfish stupor, I’d certainly surcease secure in serenity. --- the love poem: [I]Finally, It Rains[/I] I’m staring at a distant lock. I’m wondering how to make it talk to me. It seems as if the key got lost, Or swallowed by some void. I’ve got a better store of love than brain, And I don’t feel like waiting is a game. Even the worst of words look prettier in print. But you’re so far away, and I can’t chase you. I always have so much to say, But when I put it on display, I see It would have been much better to Just clench my teeth and sleep. Sometimes I have to tell myself to breathe, Sometimes I cannot face what won’t relieve. But more than anything, I wish you had some faith in me. But you’re so far away, and I can’t chase you. I wish I wasn’t so absurd, But I keep finding magic words around. I cling to them because there’s Nothing else for me to hold. I’ve got a better store of love than brain, Though who can say for sure if I’ll remain? Nothing will stay unless you believe. But you’re so far away, and I can’t chase you. --- I personally like Semiautobiography a lot more than Finally, It Rains. The latter is actually a slightly edited version of the lyrics to one of my songs, because I honestly don't want to write a new love poem right now. I find that song lyrics very rarely turn out to be decent poems without the music, and this isn't much of an exception.[/SIZE]

[quote name='Ace'][FONT="Comic Sans MS"]Basically, I think the balls are just transporters and the Pokémon spend the non-battle time in some type of research facility/wildlife preserve. A pokémon escaping from a ball is caused by it being strong enough to thrash about and break the transportation device. The kids are allowed to use six at a time for battle in return for providing the scientists with research subjects. It also helps them monitor growth, since battle experience is usually induced by battle experience.[/FONT][/QUOTE] [SIZE="1"]That makes more sense than what we currently know about catching pokemon. The pokeballs turn them into red plasma? Okay, this isn't Digimon. I think some group should sue Bill for coming up with the PC storage system since it's actually pretty inhumane. I mean all we know is that you can trap hundreds of living pokemon inside a computer. We have to assume they just sit there. Of course we probably shouldn't question how they can get inside a computer in the first place, since most of them are actually organic beings. Still, with the teleportation idea they could all be transported to some kind of reservation where they still "belong" to the trainer that caught them, but they are free to roam about in the wild like they should be.[/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"]I think it would be interesting if the main group of antagonists were actually some sort of PETA-esque association. It would be people for the ethical treatment of pokemon, but to fight for pokemon rights they would wreak havoc on society by pulling ridiculous stunts in protest, and probably by trying to steal pokemon from the trainers. The only thing is that a group for pokemon rights might actually have a good idea, considering how battling is basically glorified dog fighting. And consider how the majority of pokemon caught by trainers spend their entire lives cooped up inside a pokeball inside a computer. It's not exactly fair, is it?[/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"]I feel like Pokemon has way too much depth to truly count as a children's game. When I was 10 years old, all I cared about was getting level 100 legendaries with no idea how to maximize the efficiency of their move list or stats. Now you've got competitive battling where you absolutely have come up with a good strategy and focus on your teams respective EVs (which I honestly still don't pay any attention to, maybe I just don't have the mind for it). Maybe the average ten year old is smarter than I was, but it seems to me that this is a game you really need to think about to do the best you possibly can in. Of course, that's not to say that it's not for kids. I know tons of them are into Pokemon. What gets me is that most of the younger people playing the new Pokemon games have probably never experienced the original Red/Blue/Yellow. I realized this one day and was pretty flabbergasted that anyone's life could be missing such a vital event.[/SIZE]

[quote name='chibi-master']Don't. There's too many out there as it is. Don't add to it... I'm very annoyed. I was playing LG last night and did some thinking. I can buy all these different stones at the Celadon Department store. I can't do that in Goldenrod. I have yet to find any type of evolution stone. I hope this changes with the next game...[/QUOTE] [size=1]I doubt it. In the original games you could get a ton of awesome stuff from the department store, but they removed the elemental stones and a lot of the fun TMs in the next few games. I don't remember if it was RBY or GSC but you used to be able to get all the elemental punches there, too. They probably took it out because it was too easy to get them or something. (However in Platinum I probably have at least 6 of each kind of stone, just from spending so much time underground. I need to trade some over to HG).[/size]

[quote name='Gavin'][SIZE=1]Oh dear God that hair (on the male), and the fact he appears to have his pants tucked into his boots. Surely it wouldn't be that difficult to actually give players the option of what their player would look like ? Like proper customisation.[/SIZE][/QUOTE] [SIZE="1"]I'm all for a custom character option, but I don't know how possible it would be when it came to the full image of your character like in battle or on the trainer card. Maybe there's an easy way to allow for it. That would be pretty cool though. Maybe it would be something like [U][URL="http://img.420chan.org/f/src/Pokemon_trainer_dress_up_.swf"]this[/URL][/U].[/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"]Circa Survive's newest single, "Get Out." I love it so much already and their album hasn't even come out yet. I'm super excited because I'm going through another Circa Survive phase.[/SIZE] [youtube]CNwQ2UeV3ec[/youtube]

[SIZE="1"]My rival is Artiom. I went through a phase recently where I'd name all my rivals Kiev, so this time I decided to switch it up a little with a different Russian name. My character name is usually always Tegan, though. (At least it is in Platinum. In Pearl I named her Sara to be funny. Like Tegan and Sara). Also, the Pokewalker can indeed handle a trip through the washing machine...but only once. RIP Sudowoodo.[/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"]Go to the freezer section in your local grocery store and buy Morningstar Original Chicken Patties. They are totally vegetarian, but terrifyingly convincing. I've had to scrutinize the box to be absolutely certain they weren't made of real meat. Then get some Pillsbury biscuits. Go home and put the biscuits in the oven, warm up a chicken patty in the microwave. Make a sandwich. Or maybe you'd like a meatball sub? Hopefully you can find Veggie Patch Meatless Meatballs. Warm them up in a bowl with some tomato sauce while you toast a hoagie roll with some mozzarella in your oven. Put the meatballs on the sub, sprinkle more cheese on top, and let it melt. Maybe you can find fake mozzarella and make it a vegan sandwich (I haven't tried this yet, but I will very soon). These things are all I've been eating lately. They are divine, let me tell you. I'm so pleased that there are such amazing imitation meat products out there; in the past three years I haven't missed the real thing at all. So, what do you eat? (P.S. - doesn't have to be vegetarian)[/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"]The best way to force yourself to write anything is to plan it out with a pencil and paper. Once you've got some momentum, you can switch to a computer and finish the whole thing. It really helps if your topic is something you know about, so that finding the words isn't difficult. If you don't have that kind of prompt, then writing down ideas by hand is even more helpful. This is how I've been doing all of my papers in college, both essays and works for my creative writing class. I think the longest essays I've written so far were five pages double spaced, which was over the minimum page requirement. The first time I felt pretty confident about my topic, but the second time was a big surprise. With short stories, it's more difficult to keep the pages to the minimum. I always go over, even ignoring the 12 pt double spaced formatting and shrinking everything. Right now I'm worried about a paper due Friday at midnight. I'm sure I can handle the topic, but the whole assignment is kind of vague and I'm not sure how easy it will be to manage four pages.[/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"]For my creative writing class, I had to come up with a six page (double spaced) short story told by an unreliable narrator. The story I wanted to tell was a little too long for the limit, so I'm not as happy with this as I would like. I'm satisfied, at least, even if it's still a little over six pages.[/SIZE] [CENTER][B]STOP THE CAR[/B][/CENTER] “Don’t be afraid.” Charlie was lying down on one of the railroad tracks, hands behind his head in a pose of utmost relaxation. The sun had just gone down so I could barely make out his features in the dark, but I’m sure he was grinning. I stood on the rails of the separate second track, hands in the pockets of my jacket. “I don’t want to get run over by a train,” I said. “Do you hear one coming?” I listened to the crickets singing around my bare feet and the god-awful static of the cicadas in the trees surrounding the twin tracks. Somewhere under nature’s racket there was the impossibly low rumble of certain death scraping over wood and steel at a hundred miles an hour. I said “Yes.” Charlie was beside me then, and he pushed me to the ground. “Take your seatbelt off for once.” The ties pressed hard into my spine, vibrating slightly and itching at my skin through my shirt. Charlie was back on his tracks in the same comfortable position as before, as if he’d never left that spot. It was strange how calm he was when all of my muscles were taut and poised to spring at the right moment. He wasn’t terrified at the prospect of being millimeters away from death. It’s why he brought me to the railroad tracks. The earth shook so violently I thought it would break in half, bouncing me against the sharp rails and ignoring my staccato gasps. The train was fast approaching, chomping away the tracks. It let out a bloodthirsty shriek, as loud as if I had a pair of tubas attached to both of my ears. It was a mythical monster and we were the human sacrifices. I heard Charlie’s voice, but not his words. My mind struggled to make sense of the sounds buried under the monster’s chugging footsteps. “I wonder which one of us is about to die?” With another howl from the belly of the monster, my legs awoke and propelled me away from the tracks with a single forceful push, and I rolled from the painful metal through soft wet grass. The wind rose suddenly, thrusting my hair in every direction around my head. I dug my fingers into the dirt to stop my spinning body and snapped my head up to see the train barreling down the tracks Charlie had been on. Before I could scream, the monster’s tail sped past and disappeared. Charlie was sitting casually on the other side of the tracks, body fully intact and spotless. When the train moved further away and grew quieter, I could hear him laughing. I buried my face in the grass in relief. My heart would have been screaming if it had a mouth, pulsing at a breakneck tempo. Adrenaline was dissolving fast now and I felt exhausted. When I glanced up again there was a silver flask in my face. Charlie’s feet made no sound when they touched the ground. He was squatting in front of me with a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth, offering me a drink. “Thought I was a goner,” he said. His voice was level and sarcastic. I pushed the flask away, stood up quickly, and began walking in the other direction. Charlie laughed again and ran after me. "Not thirsty?” “What the hell did we have to do that for?” I shouted, still walking briskly. Charlie moved in front of me and stopped me with his hand on my chest. The red flare of his cigarette tip was all I could see. “Why are you angry? You’re alive. You’re unscathed. You’re safe,” he said. I brushed his hand off of me and said “I’m going home.” He let me walk again, but he stayed by my side. “I just wanted you to know how exciting life could be.” “I don’t want to be excited.” “Then at least have a cigarette,” he said, producing one for me. “It’ll calm you down.” I’d never smoked before, but I grabbed the butt and let him light it. When I inhaled the carcinogens rushed down my throat and burned inside my lungs, and I automatically coughed. The cigarette fell from my lips, and Charlie bent over to pick it up. He put it in the other corner of his mouth, looking like a walrus with both tusks on fire. My heart was more or less beating normally and the absence of adrenaline in my bloodstream made me want to fall over and go to sleep on the ground. Then I was at my house, as if we’d only been in my backyard. Charlie waved goodbye and left me alone in my driveway, running down the road and disappearing behind a tree. I coughed again as soon as I opened the front door. “Jonah?” my mom called from another room. “Is that you?” “Yeah,” I said, trudging towards the stairs. “Don’t go upstairs without taking your medicine. I just picked it up from the pharmacy.” I put my hand on the banister and groaned quietly. “I don’t want to.” She somehow heard me and appeared in the doorway next to the stairs. “Do you want to get better or not?” I followed her into the kitchen and swallowed two white tablets with no water to satisfy her. The taste of sulfur powdered the back of my tongue. I climbed the stairs as quickly as possible, turned into my room, and collapsed on the bed. I didn’t need to change out of my dirty jeans to feel comfortable enough to pass out, and soon I was hearing things that I was sure were only in my head. Someone was calling my name. They wanted to give me something, but I didn’t want it. They changed the subject. They wondered how much a plane ticket to New York would cost. I didn’t know, either. My thoughts birthed themselves without any effort on my part as I quickly slipped into unconsciousness. It was Saturday when I woke up, sunlight streaming on to my body from the window beside my bed. There was nothing very interesting in my room, just the same bookshelf and progressive rock band posters I see every single morning. I felt refreshed, and trapped. I wanted to go on an adventure. I changed into a clean white t-shirt and jeans and slid down the stairs. My father sat at the dining room table reading a newspaper and didn’t notice me. I went to the kitchen, where my mother stood staring off into space with a cup of coffee, and grabbed the phone. “Who are you calling?” she asked. “Charlie,” I said. The earpiece rang several times without interruption. Charlie usually answered after the first one. Maybe he was asleep. I hung up. “Did you take your medicine?” my mother asked. “I just woke up.” “Then take it now.” I hesitated. I didn’t feel sick, and the pills tasted like rotten eggs. They seemed pointless. “Jonah,” my mother nagged. “Take your medicine, Jonah,” my father said sternly. He didn’t even look away from the newspaper. It wasn’t any of his business. I did what they wanted so they would leave me alone. I wanted to get out of the house, but there was nothing to do alone. Charlie would have an idea, and I didn’t care if he wanted to skinny dip in the retention pond down the street. I just wanted to have fun. I felt dangerous. I sat on the couch in the living room and absently flipped through the channels on TV. I just needed time to pass quickly so I could try Charlie again. After about an hour of mind-numbing cake decorating challenges, I went back to the phone. It rang and rang, and he still did not pick up. I waited even longer, tried again, and received the same result. The digital tone was so insulting. Why wouldn’t he pick up the phone? I stared at a wall until the day packed its suitcase and boarded a train. It couldn’t have been more wasted if it had been drinking. Charlie never picked up the phone once. Sunday came quickly, but nothing changed. I was still dying to leave my house, I still had nothing to do, and Charlie was still missing. I let the day slip through my fingers. By Monday I started wondering if I’d made him angry somehow. He hadn’t seemed irritated after the train fiasco the other night, but sometimes he was difficult to read. Charlie obviously wasn’t a normal teenage boy, even though he went to some private Catholic school on the other side of town. That was probably why he was so weird. Charlie basically lived to die. I don’t really remember how we met but we’ve known each other for a pretty long time, and he always wanted to do these dangerous activities like lie down on train tracks until a train showed up. He had an affinity for stargazing underneath the local power station and smoking Marlboro Reds. For all I knew, he could have gotten himself blown up or something. School dragged on, as school is wont to do. The whole day I couldn’t think about anything other than Charlie. I called him when I got home, after I finished my calculus homework, and before and after dinner, and he never answered. Every time I went in the kitchen to use the phone, my parents badgered me to take my pills. The only sickness I had was being sick of taking medicine. Tuesday and Wednesday were the same, but when my mom reminded me of my pills Wednesday evening, I tossed them down the garbage disposal instead. Thursday I saw my shrink. Dr. Smith’s office could have been a set from a movie. There was a cream colored couch for me to lie on and spout personal nonsense. Her desk was made of strong dark wood and was covered in seemingly important papers and scientific trinkets. She had one of those swinging ball contraptions, which I made the focal point of my vision every time I had an appointment with her. On her walls were posters of Albert Einstein quotes and a portrait of Freud. He’s just the guy I wanted watching my therapy sessions. “Let’s talk about your friend, Charlie,” she said, sitting in her black leather throne with her legs crossed. “What’s he been up to?” “I don’t know,” I said. “I haven’t seen him since Friday.” “Why?” she asked. “He won’t answer my calls.” “That’s very strange,” she mused, scribbling on her clipboard. “Did something happen between you two?” I pondered for a moment. Dr. Smith promised she’d never reveal anything I told her to my parents, and I trusted her for the most part. “Well,” I began, “on Friday we went and played on the railroad tracks, and he almost got hit by the train, but we were both okay. Then he gave me a cigarette, but I only tried it for a second and I didn’t like it. I don’t know, everything seemed normal. I don’t know if it’s my fault or not.” “Have you been taking your pills?” she asked. “Yeah.” She didn’t need to know that I quit taking the pills last night. “Good,” she said. It was almost time to leave. “I’m going to refill your prescription.” She tore something off her clipboard and passed it to me. “I don’t think you need to,” I said, glancing at her illegible, crooked cursive. “I’m not really sick anymore.” She stood and walked me to the door. “We’ll see. I’ll see you next week, Jonah. Let me know then if you’ve heard from Charlie yet.” In the lobby I tried to hide the prescription from my father, but he saw it and took it from me. We took it to the pharmacy on the way home. “It’s for your own good, Jones,” my father said as he drove. “You know your mom and I only want you to be healthy.” I told him “I don’t understand how I’m unhealthy.” “Just take your medicine, please, and do it with a smile.” That night I stood in the kitchen, weighing the options. I could take my pills like a good boy and go to bed, or I could call Charlie. I dialed the number as fast as I could. It rang once. “Hey, I’m coming over,” Charlie answered. I smiled, relieved that he wasn’t dead, but before I could respond he had hung up. The doorbell went off as soon as I put the receiver back. How did he get here so fast? I hadn’t called his cell phone, because he didn’t have one. I ran to open the door and he brusquely let himself in, dashing up the stairs. I ran after him and found him pacing in my room with a scowl where his mischievous grin should have been. “Where have you been?” I asked. He stopped pacing and glared at me, pointing an accusing finger. “Where have you been?” “What?” I was taken aback. “You wouldn’t answer the phone. I’ve been calling you since Saturday morning.” “Oh,” he said, his eyes softening. They shifted from green to brown in the light. “I just went out of town for a few days. Had business elsewhere. I can’t tie your shoes all the time.” I watched his mouth as he spoke. His teeth were disgustingly straight and white, and the way his lips moved with them as he formed words was somehow fascinating. “Come with me,” he said. He took me downstairs and out of my house and through the woods across the street. I followed the sound of his voice, singing softly, because I could barely see his black jacket in the dark. Then he stopped and we collided. “What’s the biggest fire you’ve ever seen?” he asked suddenly. “I don’t know. Campfire size.” I heard a snap and smelled smoke, and fire appeared in his fingers. I thought he was going to light a cigarette. Instead, the tiny flame flew out of his grip and spontaneously swelled in size. The blaze illuminated the area in a flash, and I could see a devilish smirk on Charlie’s face. I stared into the fire and saw what had caused the sudden explosion. Someone’s house. I screamed, expletives streaming out of my mouth like gasoline. I wanted to run, but my feet were anchored to the ground by my confusion. Charlie just lit someone’s house on fire. Charlie just committed arson before my very eyes. “Relax,” he laughed. “No one’s home.” Without thinking, I reared back and sent my fist flying towards his head. The whoosh of empty air made me stumble forward. He laughed again. “What’s with the violence? Isn’t it beautiful?” “No!” I shouted, finally tearing my feet up from the dirt. I wanted to take another swing at him, but my legs knew it was more important to get to a phone and call the fire department. They took me all the way back to my house, leaving Charlie to watch his crime burn brightly. I made it to the kitchen without breathing. The phone cord had been cut. Charlie was already there, looking in my fridge. He grabbed the water pitcher and waved it at me jokingly. “Need this?” “Why did you do that?!” I exclaimed. I didn’t know if I was referring to the arson or to the phone. Both required an answer. "Do what?" "Don't do that!" "Do what?" I wanted to grab his ears and rip them out of his head. "Stop it!" “Lighten up,” he said. He made himself laugh. “I could help you with that. I’ve got plenty of matches.” Charlie couldn’t help me with anything, I realized. He was unhealthy. He was a disease. My bottle of pills was sitting on the counter. I reached for them. “What are you doing?” Charlie said, suddenly angry. “Don’t take those. You don’t need them.” I tore the lid off and poured the rest of the pills into my palm. I didn’t care how many there were. I swallowed all of them. “What’s the point?” Charlie said. “I’m your only friend.” “So what?” I replied, grimacing at the powdery yellow taste of each word. “I don’t need a friend if all I can get is an arsonist.” His fist smashed into my nose and blood poured out of my head. It splattered on the floor in the shapes of constellations. “You’re a nobody,” he said. His knee slammed into my chest and knocked me over. He doubled over, cackling, his flawless teeth stretching out of his gums. I pressed my face against the cabinet, where blood dripped down in perfect parallel lines. The cabinets were bleeding, too. Where were my parents? They said they cared about me. How could they let this guy paint the kitchen with me? I could hear a shriek through the walls, rising and falling in octaves. Light burst through the front door, then dashed out, then came back again. Charlie glanced away from me, fear flickering across his face for the first time. He swore out loud and disappeared outside, leaving me bleeding out on my kitchen floor. There was a crude smiley face traced in the red puddle, the bloody residue on my own finger. My head felt like a balloon, and everything seemed to be underwater. My parents popped into the house in a state of shock. They screamed through mechanical fans, their voices jagged and robotic. “Oh my god!" "Jonah!" "What the hell happened?" I laughed quietly. My voice sounded like a beehive. “I took all my pills.” [center][size=1]the end[/size][/center]

[SIZE="1"]I haven't read a book for pleasure in nearly a year. I'm taking a literature course and so far we've read Vladimir Nabokov's [U]Lolita[/U], Dorothy Allison's [U]Bastard Out of Carolina[/U], Ralph Ellison's [U]Invisible Man[/U], and Toni Morrison's [U]The Bluest Eye[/U]. I couldn't force myself to read [U]Lolita[/U] or [U]Invisible Man[/U], but I really enjoyed [U]Bastard[/U]. I read [U]The Bluest Eye[/U] in a matter of hours, but more because I desperately needed to than because I was interested in it. I just don't like reading very much. The last fun book I read was [U]A Wolf At the Table[/U] by Augusten Burroughs. I need to get his new book.[/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"]Elliott Smith, but not to hang out. I want to see him play music. [youtube]wfDLGgOlnYs[/youtube] Too beautiful. [/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"]Pre-K: You can't depend on other people to tie your shoes your whole life. Kindergarten: When given the choice of playing with blocks or learning to read, always pick learning to read. Also, you are incapable of taking naps. Sorry. First grade: Sometimes people are mean and nasty for no discernible reason. Second: You are "sick." You can go home. Third: Pokemon is the best invention known to man. Fourth: Just because you look like a boy doesn't mean you are one. Fifth: Ten is apparently too old to wear a costume to school. Sixth: You can in fact be late to third period even though your second period class was in the exact same room. Seventh: Not everyone is going to enjoy your brand of humor. Eighth: Friends are the most important thing to have. Ninth: You will survive. Tenth: To make ice cream, put rock salt and ice in a large plastic bag, then cream and sugar in a small one. Put the small bag in the large bag. Shake vigorously. Enjoy. Eleventh: People change, and so do you. It's a good thing. Twelfth: Learn from your mistakes. First year of college: **** anything that doesn't make you happy.[/SIZE]

[SIZE="1"]I've actually taken a break from HG (since all I can do right now is level up my team until they're ready for the Elite Four, and I don't feel like doing that at all). I'm replaying Blue version for probably the eight hundredth time. Funny how I've got a novel to read and five papers to write.[/SIZE]

[quote name='RedJ'][COLOR="Red"]His Muk is what annoyed me the most. Everything else was easily dealt with (this likely due to me having a Houndoom that I totally didn't trade over as a level 1 Houndour from my Platinum when I first got them game >_>; ). Gunk Shot kept KOing my Pokemon in one hit, likely due to them being a bit under-leveled, and then he has that ability to recover a bit of HP each turn. The only way I managed to beat that thing was by having Lapras eventually freeze it.[/COLOR][/QUOTE] [SIZE="1"]God, seriously. If I hadn't had so much trouble with that thing I might have beaten him. Feraligatr froze it immediately with Ice Fang, but it defrosted just as fast. Then it kept minimizing or poisoning my pokemon so I couldn't hit him at all and still took damage. I don't think Gunk Shot ever took my pokemon down in one hit. It would probably help a lot if my Slowpoke wasn't 6 levels below the Muk. I need to evolve him to Slowking.[/SIZE]