One other than me updating anything, anway.

The Derp speaks. Who knew?

So now that I have a decent-paying, full-time job, I thought I'd go out and start catching up on aquiring more books for my collection in-between work and writing projects (STILL working on Zeus for FRAK'S sake what's wrong with me?!). And what do I find?

The city's Books-A-Million store--one of my favorite bookstores and the one my mother loves to go to when she comes to visit me--is going out of business. And tomorrow's their last day of sales.

Now I'm too depressed to do much of anything but sleep for the next two days. I'm gonna miss that place. :(

So here we are.

Ten years after one of the most destructive terrorist attacks in modern history.

What's changed? What was learned? Is anything better now than it was that morning?

And do you still remember where you were when you first got the news (assuming you weren't there as an actual witness)? 'Cause I do. I might've typed this before somewhere else, but I'll do it again, dammit.

I'd started my senior year in high school, and I was in the cafeteria at school. Maybe eight minutes 'till eight in the morning, and for some reason the school thought to have a big fifty-two inch screen TV in the back corner, large enough that anyone in the cafeteria could see what was on the screen with no trouble. And I happened to look at the screen, and saw smoke coming out of the first tower to get hit (the second plane hadn't hit the other tower yet). I could barely hear the sound with all the conversation going on, and at the time I'd chalked it up to either a fire that had broken out in one of the upper floor offices, or a terrorist somehow getting a bomb inside 'cause I knew that it had been done before in the early 1990s. When the "five-till" bell rang I went to class, and didn't think much of it.

At least, until my second period English class, when word started to get around through the teachers and some of the students that something serious had happened in New York City, but no one had any specifics. But it wasn't until my third period Physics class at ten A.M.--the one class in my entire school life that I nearly failed and which had only me, a girl that planned to go into the Marines after graduation, and the teacher--that I finally learned what happened. By then, both towers of the WTC had collapsed, the Pentagon had been hit, and the fourth plane had crashed in Pennsylvania (Eastern US Time is one hour ahead of US Central), and we were just starting to get word about a fourth hijacked flight, and the three of us were too shocked to have much of a class. Me and the teach both had the same immediate conclusion as to who was responsible--Islamic extremists, Al-Qaeda at the very least. We also figured the fourth plane's target was somewhere in Washington, D.C., which we believed more strongly when we learned that it crashed somewhere in Pennsylvania during fourth period. I think that was the only time that I was able to swear openly in class and not get chewed on for it (the teach didn't really care to begin with, though XD).

Needless to say, school....didn't happen the rest of the day. We all went to our classes, and while some of the teachers probably did try and make some attempt to teach, none of my teachers did. We just watched the news, enough so that the images of the burning towers collapsing is forever seared into my memory. By day's end nothing was the same anymore. The world was a different, darker place than it had been before.

And it still is, no matter how much or how hard I wish or do otherwise.


"Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in the memory as the wish to forget it." -Michel de Montaigne

Ever have one of those days where just about anything that can go wrong, does--and you get the blame (and attached ass-chewing) for about two-thirds of it at a minimum?

Ever have one such day feel as though it was actually twice as bad? Because if you have, I'd like to know how you dealt with it. At the moment I have this incredibly powerful desire to load up my car with every weapon I own and most of my ammunition, travel close to two hours back to my home county and to a patch of family property in the country, and start blasting the ever living shit out of everything within range. God help my sanity if today comes back to bite me in the ass like I'm hoping to hell it won't...

Why does this world have so much hate and evil...

Not that I've gotten any comments or notes about it (or about anything in particular, for that matter), but I thought I'd just go ahead and try to explain my total lack of activity in the last few months. It's both simple and complicated.

Work.

I don't have nearly as much time to write as I'd like, which is the simple part. But when I DO have the time and sit down to do it, I find that I just don't have the urge or the spark that I need to really hammer something out, and that's the complicated part.

Most of my writing ideas and projects came to me when I was at work in my previous job as a lowly overnight retail worker. I could move around and do different things that engaged my mind, and that kept my creative spark going. My new job (at least, new in the sense that I now do it full-time) doesn't have anything like this.

Instead, most of the time, my job is simply to stand in one place, doing one function, over and over again, thousands and thousands of times per night. It pays better than minimum wage, which was all I was making when I was doing it as a temp agency employee, and along with health benefits and the monetary freedom to finally afford to replace my aging car one day, is probably the best thing to happen to me financially when I consider that I don't have the intelligence to learn some truly in-demand technical skills or knowledge that might pay three times what I'll make as a full-time employee in this factory.

Creatively, it's killing me. It's extremely boring, mind-numbing, and could be done by a grade-school dropout with fast hands and arms. Because I'm focused on doing a singular act all night long countless times, my brain is forced into finding a way to break the process down so simply and economically that it barely requires any active thought beyond "pick it up, move it, put it back down". Having to distill my nightly job duties into such elementary terms and processes has carried itself over to my creative side of my mind and pretty much turned it into slush. I sit down to write, and I find that my job has made it much more difficult to find the creative focus that I used to tap into so readily. I look at many of the things I've typed out recently, compared them to things I've written in the past, and the differences are so stark and staggering that I can't tell that I was the writer of my past stuff. Everything I type reads the same (which I note was a problem even in my earlier writings), and is about as bland as anything I've read elsewhere by people who barely know how to bang their keyboard keys in a semi-legible manner. Nothing really seems like it can reach out and ensare the reader's senses. It seems (to me) to read as though it was written with little or no soul behind it, and I don't think that's far from the truth.

So...no. My lack of writing has little to do with procrastination. I haven't given up on anything. It's simply much more difficult to do than it used to be, and I can't help but wonder if I've found the definition of irony--that I've found the financial stability I've sought for nearly two years by killing the very creative processes and out-of-the-box thinking that let me express the ideas and thoughts that go on in my brain.

How I wish I could have made a living off my creative side. A shame that no one wants to let you these days.

Employment is no longer with a temp agency--but the factory at which I've been slaving away at for the last six months on their behalf. A DECENT wage, at last. :D

I go in for orientation in about three hours. Trying to concentrate on various projects in the meantime and failing miserably, but at least I now have the financial means to start taking care of long-term health issues like my eyes and ears. W00T!

Employment situation stabilized, so I could afford to splurge on a new PC--after selling off another gun (to my dad, four hundred bucks). New machine's specs (not bragging, just informational):

Pentium Core i7 processor, 3.40GHz. Never had a multi-core processor before. :D
8GB RAM
1.5 TB hard drive (yes, TERA-byte)
A 1GB AMD Radeon 6700 (I prefer Nvidias, myself, will probably rip out the one on my dead machine)

No, it was not cheap, but on the plus side it has everything I ask for in a system and won't need to be upgraded for quite a while, if I ever bother with it.

First order of business: Re-install WoW and Warcraft III/Frozen Throne expansion
Second order of business: FINISH ZEUS ONE YEAR AND GOING WHAT THE--


-PTC

Typing this from my PS3. My computer of five years and eight months just suffered what I assume to be a fatal HDD or BIOS error. I got two Blue Screens of Death ten minutes apart from each other, and after the first failure the machine went into a constant restart-shutdown cycle as it tried to boot up. After the second failure it ceased working altogether. In short, my Memorial holiday weekend plans got fucked over--instead of trying to finish my current project and relax I'm scrambling to either replace the hard drive or finding a way to get money together for a cheap laptop.

I'm getting tired. Tired of living in rented spaces, of barely making enough money to survive, of not being able to get out of this fucking poverty hole via my lacking intelligence and lack of money to afford some decent education that might get me the job skills to break this depressing cycle. I wish I could re-do the last ten years of my life. As it is, I don't know if I'll survive the next ten. American Dream my ass.

Something funny happened this afternoon....or disturbing, depending on how you look at it.

My dad and I went shooting earlier in the morning (did MUCH better this time around), ate lunch at a buffet bar in the city, and came back to the house. And while he's opening the trunk door of his Geotracker and getting the mail, I notice something odd about the front door.

Specifically, the fact that it wasn't shut and locked, but slightly ajar, as if someone had gone in and left it open a tad so no one would notice it right away. The most common advice the police will give you about what to do (because saying anything else will get them sued if it goes to hell) is to leave the immediate area and call 911. So what's my immediate, no-thought-process response?

Draw that holstered .45 I'd been wearing on my belt for most of the day and search the place. Takes less than ten seconds because it's such a small rent house, and it turns out nothing was missing. I just didn't close the door and lock it behind me that morning like I thought I had. Live and learn.

But what surprised more than my absentmindedness about house security was that it never really occurred to me consciously to go looking for a potential burglar with a .45 in hand--it just kinda happened, and I didn't even notice until I was in the five-foot long hallway. Some of it could be attributed to my personality--I've never been a real big fan of the government's advice to "sit and wait" for their help--even the best, most efficient response is still a minimum of three to five minutes away, and a lot can happen in just ONE minute. As much as I can, I try to look after myself. But at the time, I wasn't thinking about the possibility that I'd fucked up by not locking the door like I should have, and that I just outright went in like that kinda unsettles me a bit when I consider all the possible "what ifs". Sometimes, you can learn something about yourself that you didn't even know was there. Whether you like it or not is another story.

At least none of the neighbors even noticed what I was doing. :\

Tonight, every country that has had innocents harmed by this man's intentions and the organization that carries out his evil wishes finally has what most of my countrymen have wanted ever since 9/11:

Osama bin Laden is FUCKING DEAD.

His organization still thrives, with new leadership, and continues its insidious work to destroy everything and everyone it hates in the name of religion. But at the very least, this motherfucker won't be around to see how it turns out. He be DEAD. Even the fact that I didn't get any work tonight can't dull my jubilant mood.

Rock on, free world!

Make absolutely certain you make enough noise and talk loud enough on your goddamned cellphone in the house all day to keep me from getting any sleep at all, and do this while knowing that I sleep at different hours than you do. I guarantee you'll land on my bad side for at least the rest of the week, if not longer.

THE END

You know that old StarCraft trick with the Protoss, where you pop pylons and photon cannons right outside the other guy's base and tear into him? This is how you totally screw it up.

....okay, not really, it's just me (i.e., Crazy Person #218). Me and the top three things at this point in time that are really, REALLY annoying the ever living fuck out of me and might make me feel a LITTLE better if I just scream/type it out somewhere. Feel free to ignore this pointless journal. Trust me, you'll probably be a lot safer that way.


3) Unemployment. It's like the world is telling me to hurry up and starve to death, I can't get so much as five words from employers and businesses with job openings, and I've been at it for a year. Why are they posting job openings if they're not willing to fill them?

2) Overused catch phrases/words. "Quirky" is right up there, I've lost track of how many times I've seen this one word used to describe something when the author can't figure out what he really wants to write, gets lazy, and just writes "quirky" so he can get on with his article. "Ya know/yanno?" ties with it simply because the phrase itself makes no sense. It's the only one-word question I know of that does not actually ask a question. It's just a phrase that people seem to throw into their speech, and the way it's used gives me the impression that everyone expects me to know exactly what they're talking about, but aren't quite sure that I do and thus question my very intelligence. It's insulting. To me, anyway. I've taken to being a smartass with that question (or an asshole, people's opinions seem to vary on the subject): "Not really." "Know what? I didn't hear an actual question in there." "What does that even MEAN?" "Didn't you just tell me what you wanted me to know?"

But at the moment, neither of these can top my dad. In fact, if I had a dollar for every "witty" catch phrase my dad uses each day, every day, Irritant number three would not even exist because I would be FUCKING RICH. I even have a mental list of all of his phrases that he repeats for the same situations and events EVERY DAY. It's like repetitiveness is in his blood. I will NOT repeat/re-type what he proclaims in loud voices. It's vulgar, crass, and I honestly do not understand people who think toilet humor is the funniest thing on planet Earth. Nor do I want to. I can actually understand why my mom divorced him. Does that make me evil? :(

1) Barking dogs. Let me get this out in the open before people start calling me an animal hater--I don't mind dogs. I like them. Just not nearly as much as I like cats. I particularly like dogs that are quiet at night and that behave, whose owners are not ignorant jackasses and understand what being a good owner entails. I do NOT like dogs that just bark endlessly at everything and nothing for hours on end. Nor do I like the owners that allow their dogs to behave like this and just tune it out. It's bad enough when they bark for two-thirds of the night from the other side of the street,.

But the most maddening thing of all is that some of these dogs park themselves in someone else's driveway for half a night, where I can CLEARLY see them, bark for four straight hours, and not ONE person in that house will come out to deal with the animal in THEIR OWN DRIVEWAY (I don't deal with it for them because it's not my property, and walking onto someone's property at two in the morning is a good way to get yourself shot). It's like everyone has taken the "head in the sand" approach to problem solving and expects the next person over to take care of it for them, and when everyone does this the problem never gets solved and only gets worse. In my experience, misbehaving dogs only stop the behavior once they find out that it gets them in trouble they don't want, or worse. I've tried popping them in the ass with an old BB gun, but its range is only about ten yards and won't even reach the street in front of the house, and they seem to know it by never being where I can hit them. I'm TRYING to be considerate with the neighbors dogs, when I remember that one just runs back and forth across the small yard of his master's house, barking and growling at everyone he sees no matter how close or far away they are but never even takes one step off his territory to do something about it. Two others are kept on chains tied to a fence behind their master's house, and they actually try to run at me until the chain pulls them to a stop, and they just rear up on their hind legs and keep barking and growling at me. It's animals like these that make me glad I never step out the front door without at least a 17-round 9mm on my person, and I'm fortunate that these dogs are actually complete, total cowards once they're more than six inches away from their territory. The cliche phrase "All bark, no bite" actually applies to just about every dog within fifty yards of my current position. I just wish they didn't bark so DAMN MUCH.


If you've read this thing all the way down to here....you must be extremely bored, and maybe wishing you'd heeded my warning. But I do feel slightly better....I guess it worked! W00t!

I have a nasty habit of checking for fresh news each morning when I wake up before beginning whatever plan I had set for the day (most often, lately, there IS no plan). This is usually the limit of my knowledge of events outside the world, as I've just grown too damn tired of the fact that the only thing I seem to find is bad news and don't even watch it anymore. I won't even get started on national news media outlets.

So this morning, when I wake up, I make my short rounds through cyberspace for new happenings on Earth, and I find....THIS.

My father also mentioned something similar happening to a few hundred fish in a lake in Ohio, though I haven't found anything on it yet. Even so, the dead birds don't give me a lot of hope that 2011 will be any better than 2010.

And the year JUST FUCKING STARTED. My partially paranoid state of mind is telling me to find some form of employment, somewhere, SOON, and start stocking up on ammunition, non-perishable food, and small amounts of fuel and water in preparation for impending Very Bad Things that may come my way.

Maybe there's a rational explanation that will be somewhat more believable than the idea of a "high atmosphere hail", most birds don't fly that high (including the species they found littering their streets). But I'm already of the opinion that this year may turn out to be a rather wretched one for me.

So now I'm going back to counting up my munitions stores so I can make a list of what I might need to add to it...and TRY to finish my Zeus project in the near future. Why does life hate me so? :(

UPDATE 9:17 # Correction. No dead fish in Ohio. Dad's spotty (and frequently-forgetful memory) made him quote Ohio for a few hours before he corrected himself.

No, I would have to find out there's close to a hundred thousand dead drum fish in the Arkansas River across a twenty-mile stretch. And ONLY drum fish.

And some of the explanations for the bird deaths are, quite frankly, starting to get a bit ludicrous. Fireworks explosions? Lightning? The only birds that I'm aware of that move and fly at night are owls--most birds SLEEP at night instead of flying. And in the US we have this holiday called Independence Day, July 4th, when cities and towns all over the nation set off millions and millions of dollars worth of fireworks in celebration, and we don't see or hear stories of such large numbers of birds being found dead the next day because of the "stress" of it. I can understand small numbers of a couple hundred, but between one to five thousand?

VERY bad start to the new year.....

Or more precisely, the LACK of it. At least around here.

It seems there are very few people of decent skill these days that can actually fix what you ask them to fix. Two examples from recent experience:

My dad's car started having some engine trouble recently, stuttering on the road as if it was losing power somewhere. He takes it to a repair shop in town he's always taken his car to, and leaves it with them. He calls in on it the next afternoon, and they're like "Yeah, we got it fixed, come on down!", so off we go in my POS '91 Cavalier (which STILL runs decently despite everyone's doubts). They tell us it was a clogged vacuum line that just needed to be cleaned out. Cost - around $110 dollars. Figured that was the end.

NOPE! The problem comes back a day later. We both decided "Fuck those brainless fools" for all future car troubles, and my dad goes to see a friend who runs a car repair service near a great catfish restaurant. Upon visiting this friend's repair service he comes to find out that the vacuum line actually needs to be REPLACED, not cleaned, and that the previous mechanics had not really done anything with it that would've helped. Upon trying to get the thing properly serviced, they stop mid-way when they find out that instead of a metal housing holding it in place on one end, there's a PLASTIC housing, and they stop because they seem to believe that when they take it off they're going to break it and want to order a brand new housing to replace. So he's now out around $300-400 dollars to get one problem fixed ($110 of it coming from a repair service of dubious quality and honesty). He plans to take the old vacuum hose as Exhibit A as part of a word-of-mouth campaign against the first repair shop, and I don't blame him. I wouldn't be nearly as forgiving.

Example number two: I had two of my pistols taken to a local gunsmith (the only one we could even find across three counties). One was a GLOCK 23 that we were afraid had a bad extractor on it that was causing it to stovepipe at least two to three times across three magazines every time we went out to shoot it (turns out it might be shooter's error and may soon be traded off towards a replacement pistol). The other was a used Taurus 1911 that is probably the second most accurate pistol I have. Works great, didn't have any issues with the Taurus-built magazine out of a hundred and fifty rounds of hard ball and hollowpoints that I fired the day I got it. I even loaded the magazine with both hard ball and hollowpoint rounds and fired it off as quickly as I could pull the trigger, and it STILL worked flawlessly.

The only problem I've ever had with the gun, though, has been with the ambidextrous safety. It was loose to start with, and firing the gun didn't help it as the right-side safety literally flew off as I fired off my last magazine for the day. We've had fits with both it and the left-side safety since, and thought we might've finally had our prayers answered when we dropped it with the local gunsmith to have it fixed. We just got back from there a little over two hours ago, and they said they got the Taurus fixed and found no problems with the GLOCK. Cost - around eighty dollars to have both pistols examined and serviced. Not bad, we thought.

Our prayers were not answered. We get home, and one of the first things I do is a function check test on the Taurus, which was apparently a lot more than this "gunsmith" did in making sure the repairs were done right. Cycling the slide, working the slide release, etc....and the left-side safety popped right off. It was a four-hand job just trying to fit it back on, got my ring finger on my left hand sliced up by a knife we were using to press the safety plunger in so we could beat the safety back into the frame with the plastic end of a small brass hammer. This was supposed to be my dad's Christmas present to me--a safely-functional .45 ACP pistol--and we can't even find a competent repair service for ANYTHING around here. And I'm a little bummed out, because that Brazilian-made 1911 was more accurate than any of my other semi-automatic pistols and kept on working even when that safety flew off the frame when I started blasting off that last mag.

And so I'm left to wonder--are there ANY decent repair services left in the world? Or do I just have the misfortune to live in a place where most of them are incompetent thieves?

Fun fact of the day for December 7, 2010, for the two souls that might actually read this:

The 1970 American/Japanese film, Tora! Tora! Tora!, cost an estimated $25 million dollars to produce a re-enactment of the Battle of Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941--more money than the Japanese government spent to actually carry out the attack. Funky, no?

Here in the US of A, the "traditional" holiday season of Christmas is in full swing. I say traditional with the parentheses because it seems like Corporate America is trying to bring it into our collective faces a little earlier every year. For instance, this year, barely a week into November I saw Christmas decorations being slapped onto the outside of a few banks, as well as the big stone sign for the city mall. I see this, and I'm thinking, "You idiots have barely started your Thanksgiving advertising BS!". What used to be a religious holiday of the Christian faith has been partially subverted by an evil and soulless section of our society, and I weep a little inside despite not subscribing to any one particular faith.

So I make up for it with something like....

THIS.

....which is itself a small part of the "commercialization" of the Christmas season, so I lose points for being a bit hypocritical. But at least it's heavy metal. :D

Rock on!

Somewhat stolen from  thronezwei and done primarily to spread the word of rock and heavy metal.

....and it helps jump-start my creative spark.


Dareyl "Kilowatt" West - Rainmaker, by Iron Maiden. If I ever finish Zeus by the end of the year, this choice will become a bit more clear

Jamie "Jane Doe" Saryiah - Die For Metal, by Manowar. Just so no one is confused as to what she thinks of other music genres (country, rap/hip-hop, etc.)

Erin "Painkiller" Sarah - Painkiller, by Judas Priest. Was listening to this when I was typing out her spec sheet, thought I'd give at least ONE char a nickname from a heavy metal song.

Carrie "Rainbow" Masters - Trip, by Hammerbox. I whipped Carrie up in about twenty minutes on the fly, mostly with this in my earphones. For whatever reason, when I hear this song now, I can almost imagine this thirteen-point-five foot long milotic singing it on a karaoke stage with Carrie Akre's voice.

Jeral "Charcoal" Astor - The Ultimate Fling, by Poets of the Fall. In truth, I'm not really sure what heavy metal song would actually fit this character right now. But when I was writing out the third part of Achilles, I wrote the vast majority of it listening to this song, and I think it helped turn it into one of my better fight pieces. So for now this will work.

Super Mario officially turned twenty-five today.

Have you busted up any goombas in solemn remembrance today?

NIC (Network Interface Card for non-tech people) on my PC died in my sleep sometime last night....come to think of it, that's when most of the parts on this thing choose to commit suicide or die of old age. Cursed, maybe?

That's TWO major parts I've had to replace in as many months, the first being a video card. I'm half-wondering if the CPU or RAM sticks will keel over next.....

Fortunately, PS3's come with web browsers and you can hook USB keyboards to 'em, so I can still get around the net if I want. Just can't download anything like stories and such. This is more or less a notice for the two or three souls that care that I won't be quite as accessible for a short while, but I hope I have this thing fixed again by tomorrow afternoon.


EDIT: Problem solved, new NIC in place. Waiting for next part to fail now.... .O

Yet another message primarily for the two or three souls that might care to know. ;)

I have returned from my short vacation. The fourteen-hour journey back was a far more interesting--and slightly terrifying--deal than the five-hour jaunt there, but we did make it back. Might explain more later....right now, I just want to relax in a PROPERLY air conditioned home.

This is primarily for the two or three people that might care and that converse with me on a semi-regular basis, but I will be out of town for a few days. I'll be back around Wednesday night. I out!

Made a major mistake about twenty minutes ago.

I noticed this big, brown spider in the corner of my room. Looked like a brown recluse, which is poisonous and not something you just go and irritate. Since I hate bugs in general the first thought to come to me was "KILL IT KILL IT KILL IT", but since it was in the corner where I couldn't stomp the crap out of it, I just went and got this bug spray we keep for ants and gnats (the latter of which I've been killing by the dozens per day for the last week), and soaked the creepy little bastard in the stuff. Thought it would kill him.

I go get a shower, come back, and he's frickin' GONE. As in Marty McFly 88-miles-an-hour-into-the-past gone. And now as I'm trying to slog through a massive writer's block, I can only cringe in fear as I realize that my bed's only about five and a half feet away from that corner, and all I might have done is piss this spider off.

So we come to Life Lesson #1--make absolutely, positively, 100% sure you've killed something before you walk off, especially if it's capable of seeking payback in your sleep later.

Saw a short PCA meme idea from  jazzfoxrules and thought I'd give it a go just to see what my mind would come up with. Short but entertaining. Give it a shot!



"You've not lived until you've..."


Jamie: "...launched yourself across the street and into your neighbor's yard without using wings!"

Jeral: "...lived in one place long enough to think of calling it home."

Dareyl: "...charged your best friend's fur with enough electricity to power a TV for ten minutes."

Erin: "...found a way to scratch that one little spot on your back that you've never been able to reach."

Carrie: "...swam for three miles underwater without coming back up."

Just as  tallen was trapped, so too was I. The fact that I saw it coming and still tripped it shows just how short-sighted (or bored) I am. Going into a minefield in the near future? Throw me out first so you'll know where you can definitely take your FIRST step safely!

Not expecting many answers to this, if I get any. Just something to pass the time. :)

---

Answer me with the following statements:

~What if?~
● I died:
● I kissed you:
● I fell:
● I lived next door to you:
● I showed up at your house unexpectedly:
● I stole something:
● I was murdered:
● I cried:
● I asked you to marry me:
● I was hospitalized:

~Would you~
● Trust me enough to sleep in the same bed as me?:
● Keep a secret if i told you one?:
● Hold my hand?:
● Study with me?:
● Cook for me?:
● Love me?:
● Date me?:
● Have sex with me?:

~More ~

● When and how did we meet?:
● Describe me in three words:
● What was your first impression of me?:
● What do you think of me now?:
● What reminds you of me?:
● Could you see us together forever?:
● Whens the last time you saw me?:
● Are you gonna re-post this to see what I say about you?