Paranormality is *my* normality! Normalness is SOOOOOOOO overrated.

Hello loyal bloggies! A few nights ago I was reasearching sleepwalking (I'm a good little student, aren't I?) Apparently sleepwalking is coused by stress as is half my problems, like my pestulant congregation of bone-chilling, haunting night terrors. I used to sit bolt upright, sweating and screaming like a beheaded horseman was riding his horse in my room. Now instead of waking I have incredibly vivid nightmares and wander around my room- I lock my doors and windows, thowing my nail clippers and anything sharp out of the room. Yet, still I ended up with a wide, deep cut in my leg. I don't know what caused it! I can only assume it was my fingernails. I'll DEFINATLY cut them tonight. I also have another cut on my arm- small.
This is bumming me out. That could be because I'm watching Hamlet.
Hey! A website lerned me how to read palms.
There are four major lines: The heart line, the head line, the life line, and the fate line. The heart line is the one closest to the fingers, the head line below it. The life line is closest to your thumb, and the fate line shoots straight through the head and heart line. The heart line, shockingly, depicts your love life. Your head line portrays the smartness of everything. The life line tells you how you are physically, as opposed to the emotional heart line. The fate line tells you how much of your life is controlled by fate- from everything to al lot, like me, to almost not at all. The shape of your hand says a lot about you.
Earth - broad, square palms and fingers, thick or coarse skin, and ruddy color; length of the palm equals length of fingers
Air - square or rectangular palms with long fingers and sometimes protruding knuckles, low-set thumbs, and dry skin; length of the palm less than length of fingers
Water - long, sometimes oval-shaped palm, with long, flexible, conical fingers; length of the palm equals length of fingers but is less than width across the widest part of the palm (ME!)
Fire - square or rectangular palm, flushed or pink skin, and shorter fingers; length of the palm greater than length of fingers

I'll never be like you want me to. I'm not like that. You, of all people, should know that, dad.

This post is a tribute to my dad. If you haven't seen the title, you might say, oh, that's so sweet!
Really, don't. It's not.
I don't mean to complain or whine. It's just that this is the only way I can really get this off my chest.
His girlfriend. I have a HUGE problem with her. It seems as if the only way he's happy is if he lets his daughter down. I thought he'd see her for what se really is instead of the mask she puts on, hiding her from him. I've always been able to tell what people are like- I get this chill-like thing running down my spine when I don't trust them and they don't deserve to have the trust of anyone. If they're genuinely good people, I feel warm and fuzzy. That's like my mom's new boyfriend, Joel. He rocks. But my mom's ex Tommy I felt an automatic instinctual warning telling me not to trust him.
Guess what? I was right. He read my mom's email! It sounds really minor, but me and mom think he's done a lot more than that. Same thing with her other ex Moose- he was okay, but I still felt a little wary around him. I thought then that it was just because he and my mom were sharing a bedroom, if you know what I mean. He left her and stomped on her heart.
Now, with my dad's girlfriend, I feel that chill whenever I look into her cold brown eyes. I'm getting a chill just thinking about her freezing eyes, even out here on my porch in the unseasonably nice weather! She's trying to change who I am. She offered to redo my dad's room which has very recently become mine, and she came back from Target (Target! I'm a Hot Topic chick-not Target!) with a pink beanbag chair, a pink fuzzy blanket, a pink shag rug (This isn't the 70s, bitch!) and a whole bunch of crap I haven't touched since I hauled them into my room. That's not me. Me is black wallpaper, drawn curtains, black rugs, black, red and purple are my favorite colors. I've ALWAYS hated pink. I've never been a frilly, girlie girl. I've lied to myself, told myself I was just like all the other kids. Bottom line is, I'm not. I'm ME, not Brenda or Ray or Nick or Mallory or anyone else- I'm me. (no offence to anyone on the list, of course, except possibly Brenda) I'm Goth flute/guitar/bass/drums/piano/singer player with a crush on her best guy friend, pale sapphire blue eyes, curly blond hair and some emoness that's almost gone now who sleepwalks and has nightmares/terrors. She wants me to be her. I'm not. I'll never be like how she wants me to be. We're polar opposites and that's just how it is. In our house there's only a few ways things go- The Sloan and Dad way, and the Grace and Josh way. I'm the odd woman out- I've always been. Normally I'll slap on a fake smile and do whatever they want me to, but after they go to sleep, I wrap my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around my legs, letting myself cry out all the frustration, anger and sadness. When I was younger I did cut-once. I felt so upset, so angry at no one but myself. The scar still lies on the inside of my wrist, a constant reminder of who I was and why I was that way... why I have to hide my face. She tries to tell me to speak up. I can't. I'm physically incapable of doing so. I just can't. She down her nose a me as I yank sweater sleeves over that deep scar. The mark of my life- how alive I was once, and how I'm begining to learn to live again. I'll never be the goofy kid I once was-she died the day everyone forgot I was alive.
That's all for today. I'm crying so hard that I can hardly see the computer screen. It's like, writing this, opening that scar again.

Sleepwalking? I don't know. Maybe. Whatever, it's still weird.

Okay, as you can probably tell from the title, everything is not right in paradise. Nick might like me =D but yesterday I woke up and there was a small nick on my wrist. I didn't think much of it, because it obviously didn't bleed much if at all, so all it did was sting a little. And with my brother being who he is and me being as clumsy as I usually am, I've had way worse pain, not to mention the mental pain caused by me sometimes, and the constand drama always happening in my life- I'm getting so off topic! Whatever. That's what *my* blog is about. And I can say whatever the hell I want! So, anyway, the weird thing is that this morning I woke up and there was another nick in the same place, the same size, exept it was on my other wrist. It's freaky! Maybe... no, it couldn't be my bed, I was at my mom's two nights ago and I was at my dad's last night... the only explanation I can come up with is that something is very very wrong in my life and only my subconsiousness has recognized it, while my consiousness doesn't see it. Either that or it's really terrible and it was in my consiosness but my mind has blocked it because it was extremely painful... now that I say that, I can't remember anything that happened when I was walking home. I don't know what it is, and until I can look it up on wrongdiagnosis.com I'm drawing the conclusion that I'm sleep walking... or is it sleepwalking? The first one looks better. So, anyway, my conclusion is that I "get up" around two in the morning when everyone is asleep, even Josh- and walk into the bathroom where, shockingly, there are razors. And, still asleep, I just put a small mark on my wrist. Not enough for people to notice when I wave to them, but enough to sting when I wake up and so I can see it. Tonight, I'm locking the doors to my room and get anything sharp out! I have been rather stressed latley, but I thought that was just from all the tests and stuff. Is it really something worse? I don't think it's either of my parents' signifiacnt others, but Sloan really pisses me off sometimes. Joel is totally cool, though. He's a gentleman, like Nick when we're in Science class together in our assigned seats right next t0 each other. I ran into some AWESOME karma this week! Damn. Whatever. Okay, Tuesday night... what happened during the day? The inauguration- I'm pretty damn sure it has nothing to do with Obama. Oh, that was also the day I found out Nick liked me and the day I read the part of Dracula where Jonathan (the idiot) climbs up into Dracula's room, pries open the coffin, and sees him lying there, simply engorged with blood. It sounded a lot more horrible when Bram Stoker wrote it- trust me! So I don't know what the hell it is, whether it's one of the above or something else entirely, but it's freaking scary! Oh, have I mentioned that my dad's house is haunted? That's why his cat was so bitchy and I can't sleep and sometimes I hear the voice of someone sadder than me flowing through my ears. But Polly- that's her name, it's carved into the wall of the basement- isn't like The Poltergeist or something, she's like the ghosts in Beetleguice (I'm sure I spelled that wrong) and at times I'll feel something cold on my cheek. I know she's there. And if I sound childish for beleiving in ghosts, too bad. I do, and I have proof. Whnever I leave something on my desk- music, papers, whatever- I'll go get something to eat or something and I'll come back and they'll be gone! I'll scrounge around on the floor, totally confused, step on an earring, which I did, and that hurt like HELL, and I'll look back on my desk and there's whatever I was missing, just where I put it before I left! It's freaky! And it doesn't help that I'm ghostly pale myself (for the most part, unless someone says something that makes me blush, which isn't hard. Just mention Nick and my heart will speed up and I'll probably blush) and I sort of have that ghostly aura. Pale sapphire eyes, long eyelashes, sholder-length blonde hair falling in front of my eyes, kinda promeninent cheekbones, and the boniest chest a girl could possibly have. (I just mean my ribs. My *cough* chest is average-sized, I guess. Maybe a little bigger.)

Yeah. Like I said earlier, my blog is all about the random!

All you'd ever need is love... and a Ferrari... and...and...and...

This is one of the happiest days of my sucky life! Aaron finally asked Nick how he felt, and guess what he said? Oh my God, he said that he really did like me! OH MY GOD!!! I feel as light as a little butterfly, flying like butter in the breeze...

RACHAEL AND NICK 4EVA!

That's all. I have to e-mail someone. Sorry for how short this is.

One more thing:PRESIDENT OBAMA!!!!!!!!

When you live forever...

It would suck to live forever. I mean, like, you'd never die but everyone you love does. You'd have to watch, helpless, as your lover/best friend is sprawled out in front of you, shaking as his/her last breath runs through their veins. And then if it was your lover, you would feel the icy hands of pain stab your heart, stabbing it with its iron dagger of self-hatred... whatever, I'm bumming myself out. As I'm writing this, that 70's show is on in the background. I think I relate most to Donna- in love with a guy who she's had a crush on since forever, single parent with a strange outlook of life, and is a young outspoken feminist, and hopefully my longtime friendship with a certain friend will evolve into a really amazing relationship. I like hanging out with guys, too. I'd say Nick is Eric because he does sometimes try to impress me, the blonde next door. And his mom is totally cool, but his dad is waaaay cooler than Red. And he is a little nerdy... but then again, I And our little clique is held together by him... someday we will be together. If I have anything to do with it. Well- ooooooh my god, I think it's actually snowing outside!!!!!

Anyway, I was going to say, I hate it when best friends fight. It totally sucks because you two are so simalar, the only think you could possibly be fighting about is a guy, like me and one of my best friends. She has a crush on my ex boyfriend who totally broke my heart so she agreed with me after she met him that he's a total jerk. So she set her sights on Nick. I got so mad... so now she won't talk to me and I refuse to speak to her. So, best friends shouldn't fight over guys. It's totally dumb! If you're fighting over something important, that's different, but over a guy? Seriously! Your friends are more important than guys- who else would tell you he's a total looser for dumping you, that he doesn't know what he's missing, and there are just certain things you tell your friends and not your boyfriend. There are a LOT of things that ou don't want to tell him and that his hopless innocence would have a hard time grasping.

Of corse, when the guy is your friend (me) than it is a little different... and you two are a perfect match for each other... this is me! I'm FINAALLY livin my dream!