kayla_

I think hiccoughs are my souls way of telling me to slow down.
Or maybe just my body being all "hey fuck you"

Sometimes I am really content and that is great and sometimes I wonder what I'm missing.

My family, friends, life.
I don't know.

I wish technology didn't take up so much of my life. I have so much to thank for it but I curse it all the same. I forget what its like to not have the internet. I realize that this September it will be 6 years since I first had a computer/internet at my disposal. That's a pretty long time. During that time I've gone barely 2 weeks without it. How insane is that? I truly am an addict. And like I said I love it and hate it at the same time. What did I do before this? I don't even remember.

Sometimes I feel that I'd rather be writing a journal entry or bsing in the girls group or discovering some new weird site then outside. That depresses me.

A part of me wants to go on a vacation with no tv, no computer, no phones. Just a couple books, fire, good people, outdoors. I don't think I'd be able to handle it....but I'd like to try.

I can't stop hiccoughing.

Everyone has their own way to "get rid" of hiccoughs. And I always tell them to shut up because nothing really works. You've just got to try to relax and let your diaphram calm down.

I wonder what kind of changes I can make in other peoples lives. I've tried little things. At one point I was leaving little post it notes on the bus with nice sayings on them. Some of them just said "Smile" Others said random thoughts I came up with like "What if we lived underwater?" There was no point to this. I never got to see peoples reactions and thats what I really wanted. Most people just threw them out anyway.

It's almost Nathans birthday. I want to get him something amazing and I always feel like I fal short. That is the story of my life, bwahaha.

I was talking to my dad yesterday and I told him how I was telling someone one of his stories. My dad has the ebest stories. They are always so almost unbelievable. He said "As long as you are around to retell my stories, I will live forever" He has a way with words and I don't think he even knows it. I asked him if, for my birthday this year, he would type out all of his favorite stories for me. I would like to keep them for years to come, and when i retell them i always forget important parts. He tells them the best.

Here is one for you:

When my dad was young. 15, 16, something like that. His mom decided to redo his bedroom for his birthday. So this was right around the beginning of july, end of june. They got him a new bed, new dresser, new carpet, painted the walls, the whole 9 yards. So, my dad has this box of fireworks under his bed for the 4th of july, he is planning on taking them out to a big field and setting them off. So the day before he is siting in his bedroom smoking out the window and he hears his mom come home, so he goes to throw his cigarette out the window, and it hits the window pane and rolls back in the room....under the bed....into the box of fireworks.
He panics but doesn't want to get too close, there are roman candles and tons of other huge fireworks under there, he doesn't want to blow his arm off. So he runs out of the room just in time for his room to start fucking exploding. He says the bed must've lifted off the ground a couple times. He said it sounded like a fucking warzone in his bedroom. He opens the door once it subsides and sees that the room is seriously smoke damaged, the curtians are torn, his bed is almost completely destroyed, there is a huge black spot and hole in the carpet under and surrounding his bed....basically the room is fucking trashed.

His mother comes running in the house and sees what just happened and she kicks him out.
That's the day he moves in with his English teacher whom he (as i later find out) has a relationship with. Her AND her daughter.

But thats another story.
My dad was always getting into trouble. I guess thats why he eventually got sent to boarding school, but those too are other stories.

I miss him and his stories. It is a lot harder to tell them via IM or Phone. You miss all the intricacies of the hand gestures. And the smile on his face when he tells them.
He has no sad stories that he is willing to share. They are all happy in their own way and bring back great memories for him. ONe day I hope to have them all wirtten down so i can tell them to my kids and share what an amazingly interesting man their grandfather was.