I would call it, "READ ME PLEASE"

Or is that too subtle?

I want to write a column for my school's newspaper. It would pretty much be stories that I write on this here blog anyways, but more finalized and pretty and doesn't involve run on sentences that go on and on until you run out of breath as you try to reach the end of the sentence but if never seems to come.

*big gasp for air*

I'm a creative writing major and that's more journalism, but hay nobody has to know. (if you tell I will lick everything you eat, but without your knowledge...test me. I dare ya!)

It has come to my attention that sometimes my writing only makes sense in my head. I hope I'm not forcing things, although some people (CoughAnniecoughcough) tells me that sometimes it sounds forced. Also I hope you understand me when I talk in ways that people don't normally talk. Understand talking times means you need read Jeannie words in words that you read. (that was an example...I'm not crazy)

I didn't mean to call Annie out. She was giving me constructive criticism that I asked for. It's only fair. Don't hate her my lovable fans. Don't. Okay? Just don't. You don't even know her! HOW DARE YOU.

Have I ever told you about any of my dreams? I've blogged about things that have been preeeety strange. I'll just give you a quick rundown of them, in case I haven't already. And if I have, enjoy reading about them again!

The thing that inhabits my dreams the most are Zombies. Like I'm the last person on earth surviving on my wit and abilities to kill the already dead. I don't know why or for what reason that is at all. Maybe I was traumatized as a child? Like I walked in on two Zombies having sex or something.
*pause*
Why did I go there...sometimes man, sometimes

I also once had a dream that my name was Cup-for-pants. The reason? People, people. Do I ever know the reason?

No.

Disembodied voice! Look, I don't know what it is you have against me, but chill would ya? Can't even get any support on my own blog. Geez!

"I just had a wonderful baby girl. She's perfect. Blue eyes, bald head with a splendid peach fuzz."
"That's fantastic! Congratulations! How old is she?"
"Just a few days. I can already imagine her future. It's going to be everything and more."
"Wow. I've never seen someone so happy. What did you name this angel?"
"Cup-for-pants."
"I'm sorr...I'm sorry what did you name her?"
"Cup-for-pants. A beautiful name, for a beautiful girl."
"Cup-for-pants?"
"Yup."
"But wai..."
"She's perfect."
"Her name is Cup-for-pa..."
"Shhhhhh! She's sleeping."
"*looks around to make sure reality is still reality, leaves room out of confusion*"


One time, I went to eat some soup. In my dream of course, who eats soup in real life?
So I went to eat some soup.
I dipped the spoon in to get a big spoonful, because it smelt so good.
I pulled the spoon from the broth and a wet, damp, sopping, moist pile of hair was resting nicely in the spoon, awaiting my approval in the form of eating it.
HAIR.

I have a dream every night. I remember them most nights, and sometimes I don't. But when I do, I kind fear for my sanity. I should start keeping a dream journal.

For awhile Miley Cyrus and I were best friends. For many many, almost too many dreams Miley Cyrus and I were best friends. She was second to Zombies in being in my dreams the most. Not anymore though, and I feel sad.

So. Very. Sad.

I feel like a lost a real friend.
So the rest of you stay, because I can't bare to lose any more.

*cries into body pillow*