Problem

So, Johnny Depp moved to Florida at 7, supposedly, and so did some people I knew, at least 2 but I think more.  I know someone else at 9.  I bunch them together, for some reason.  Well, it was a certain area of Florida, the oldest continuing city in the U.S.  The family who moved later aren't very substantial, anymore.  Guess they lost their appetite and their dad.  I knew she used to eat in her room at a young age.  Not very good food.  She had good breakfast.  I mean it was tasty but not to my liking.  I think for me they had fried chicken.  My mom made that a lot, for some reason, I mean got at the grocery store.  I remember someone who moved at 11 and probably more but people who moved schools.  I know someone who moved somewhere else at 15.  No one is doing well, in these places, like people from California.  I have a cousin, but I don't think I can count her because she's related to me.  Also, she's very different.  She's different in the same way as my brother, both about the same age, her a year younger, same month even.  I have the feeling my cousin held onto her mom being from Pennsylvania.  She does seem foreign but is accepted in the family, in that way.  In Orlando, there are more people open about growing up here.  I was surprised to see an old politician from here.  Well, I don't know about people from out-of-the-U.S.  I guess it's just that.  Still, there's something else special about being from a certain place.  There's my brother.  For some reason, it seems worse for him, too.  Maybe it's also his birth year.  You can guess that Latinos are known to preserve their culture, though they seem to infiltrate, the rich ones or the skinny ones with straight hair.

Problem

Didn't I already make a blog post, buried somewhere... anyway, no one responds to this in my life.  I don't know about categorizing things like this.  So, I got mad, locked in my room, because of New Orleans and then Orlando, after Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, felt totally tortured, and e-mailed people nicely.  My dad rattled on that I called them niggers, like it mattered..  I think, 1st, someone stopped, or maybe it was someone else.  Well, I think, then, I got mad at a girl, but she was acting racist.  I know it's improper, and I wanted her to talk to me more.  I don't remember what I said, but I didn't say, "You're a nigger," or, "I'm gonna *beep* you."  I used to write more very, very detailed.

Oh, and no one would admit she was really being racist.  It was very contrived.  You know, they just rattle on about morals and being white, and they're part Native American indian, like Johnny Depp.  I might be.  Wow, but they don't really mean it but will rattle on more.  They're like balloon heads.  I don't think this is the right way to talk about something, but I guess we should have started writing sooner.

I don't know what about Johnny Depp in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory directed by Tim Burton strikes a nerve with you.  You're gonna have to be taken in and realize this is your problem and that I don't approve of this problem, which I see in everyone I meet very strongly.  You'll just have to get out of my life, in this way.  Help!  Someone do something.  The police aren't listening.  They're invading me with messages.

Problem

WHAT'S WRONG?  I'M GONNA *BEEP* YOU ALL AND NEVER LET YOU GET FAMOUS AND HAVE FUN.  TIM BURTON AND JOHNNY DEPP HAVE NORTHERN FRENCH CULTURE, AND I WAS HAVING A GOOD TIME WITH THEM.

Ooh, did I strike a nerve?  Who cares about you?  You're nothing.  You're so sensitive to that.  You're just bad.  Stop acting like I'm too bad.  You're gay.

Problem

So, I was gonna post something to Ellen DeGeneres, but then this happened.  I was gonna reflect on my past.  I had posted a lot on someone's Facebook.  HEY I DON'T FEEL LIKE TYPING.  DID YOU DO THAT ELLEN?  SOMEONE *BEEP* MY DAD.  I DON'T GIVE A CRAP ABOUT THIS.  STOP!  WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM?  YOU A PIECE OF SHIT?

Being Famous

Did you ever think of what it would be like to post online a little sooner and have people all save a place for you?  I was hoping that people, lots of people, would find me, and I'd get lots of views and even comments.  The idea came to me gradually and under great control, though I suppose people could have issues with me.  I do feel helped by other people.

I came across some blogs looking things up and looked up another I didn't put on my list of people.  I understand that I don't know many good blogs and that others have, but I'm not sure how much.  I've seen some blogs that were kinda packed, but I wasn't able to really understand|get into them.  Not much, though, but 1 I remember concretely.  I knew the person, probably didn't contact the person, at least not by her blog.

Dreams

The 2nd 1 I remember well now.  What made it interesting is that I was at a school.  I'm not sure why I dreamed someone was carrying me like a kid, again.  It was a lady.  So, it was like, I think in both dreams, you go behind the scenes of a school and it's like a big maze with chairs and stuff around and it's really dark.  Supposedly, it's dangerous.  I guess it was interesting, I knew I was really buried in my bed, and I thought of another hand that was more with bones jutting out, but like rounded, and it turned out it was my hand.  I touched my lips, and I guess I was more physical than I really am, and it was like when you put your hand on someone's mouth, except I was putting my fingers around my lips and thinking of how it would stimulate you, like to make "me" feel better, in attempts to prevent me from letting out a noise.  Otherwise the lady would have pressed my mouth against just below her shoulders.  I guess I thought that my butt was being pressed.

In the dream before, a lady came and 1st contended to someone older and then came up to me, and when she pressed my crotch it was stimulating, like kinda feminine, like fairy-like, and somewhere else.

I know in the last dream, it was like about graduating and going to these shops, 1 small and later a huge 1 of food, like a Super Wal-Mart, though it wasn't a smorgasbord.  I was with my grandma and little brother.  I told my mom I wanted donuts, I think.  I was with a man and black lady with these like sweet biscuits or whatever with colored cream on them and sprinkles.  Like, a more big wooden display.

I don't remember the trek with my friends and peers.  I know we had to walk around places, a maze, in the back, and we found where we came from, thought it was like a little bobsled road but for cars.  Like, we ran into it and had to use it to get to the path.  It was white and kinda like sweet like candy.  The maze was rather long and laborious to cross and not all easily laid out.

I guess the most interesting part was the person holding me.  So, the 1st person was really just a person, but it was like Ellen DeGeneres.  I'm sure thinking of her a lot in my sleep for like a few minutes at a time.  The 2nd person was Aunt 2 with my grandma.  30

So, you get the picture, when I was in the maze with a person carrying me, I guess it interests me in life.. I don't know if it's because my mom is shorter.  I mean, I think everyone is interested.  I guess they just are too busy and don't really get like that sorta feeling of wanting people to be sorry for them or feeling sorry or something like that.  I went out to 711 last night, and the girl at the register, since my nails weren't painted, scanned that "I was" shy, like here we're all kinda in a group, different than other places, which is interesting, not like any 1 other place.  I mean, it's Florida.  Then, she slammed a loud noise at my change.  I had to shift gears.  I guess I'm being spotted and felt for in this area.  It just feels like that's the way things go.  It's hard to understand that, posting online all the time, like.

So, about being carried in a dark room, I guess it was circumstantial.  It was kinda dangerous.  I think, I was supposedly like "little" or "small," feeling how I am, though.  So, it's like you're in this place that's like feasible technically but like has issues and you're being like protected in a kinda strict way but also like being touched and I guess you have to come to accept it.  I know that exercising in your life helps.  I'm guessing that doing arts also helps.  Posting online gives you cyber***.  I'm not sure I quite knock on that.  I'm not sure how most people feel, but I know, here in Orlando, we feel  or I feel kinda like I'm a tube with gel floating in it.  Before, I used to maybe feel my bones.  I'd feel the muscle growing on my forearms.  Like, I'd feel it a little and want to feel it more.  I guess I learned from different women I knew how to feel.  In college, I don't remember as many of those kinds of women.  At Arts school in New Orleans, we had this teacher who looked kinda both smart and attractive and not too thin.  I thought she woke up and took jazz each morning, didn't think too much what it was like to do at home but probably was thinking about aspects of it I'm not remembering now.  She had this resounding voice.  She had fluffy, like wavy and kinda more course light, more reddish yellowish brown hair.  Well, you get the picture.  She had a more fluffy face.  I think she spoke to me once, and I got everything right.  I guess we were in a group, and she said not to be shy.  I don't think people at this place were touching people.  It was a summer session, and me and another girl I played a piano duet with got the highest award.  I also went on Saturdays and was the oldest.  This was my last year.  There were no awards.  She was supposed to come to the college I was at, a prestigious school for music that is not quite as alluring now, I think my 3rd year, when I left and wasn't even in music.  She was a composer and went up to maybe Canada to "just compose," which makes sense, in a group.  I was about to be a Composition major and tried to get in Voice.  I was unaccepted and came back as a Music Education major and didn't audition for Voice and was kicked out of Voice for being shy, for some reason, at the end of the year, as well as out of Music Education.  I started a class since another was taken and then switched to 2 Honors level 2 classes.

Problem

So, on Twitter, I messaged someone, said they were mean and asked why anyone would care what they said.  Then, I asked if Ellen thought I was white and said jk.  Then, she e-mailed back upset.

Dream

I was at college going around, and my dad told me what to do.  I wanted to go in a house, and there were these cute cats.  I think, the 1st time I got in, and someone helped me and it lated awhile.  I had written a dream down about a guy from the theater where I used to live getting hurt, the one I wrote about in Twitter.  It was the same thing almost.  He was big.

Then, I remember being involved with my mom.  Well, I was going around and decided, my dad saying okay, to just worry about getting food, to find a McDonald's and asked if I liked it rather and I said yea the chicken sandwich, grilled, and went down the stairs.  Instead, I was at the top floor of a dorm with a really high ceiling.  The rooms were open.  My mom was at a desk in the center with her course book.  I was at UNO.  I was looking at course.  1 I remember was Acting.  It was more interesting than 1 where you present things.  There were words, little descriptions, why I liked it, a clean white catalog, almost the size of a magazine.  There were pictures of kids, including some nice tan 1s who didn't really look like you'd want to be them, unappealing.  1 reminded me of her name, "energy," never thought fo that.  So, supposedly, 1 girl from drama a year older there was the daughter of a witch and never knew her mom.  I thought up north that she did something and looked like a waitress, like she was tortured in a made up way that wasn't graphic.  I thought it was part of the experiment.  So, my math teacher from the other school was like related to her in some way, and I saw a baby in like a cradle crying, a boy, I think in her dorm.  I told them flashing by a little later I didn't know my aunt.  So, I saw on her side, which was like 3 stories high, and clean, like in an institution where we get better and have real adventures, high up, notes to me and around the corner on the other side.  So, what now, I forget.  I guess it was too late, I fell asleep, and then it was even past 12, 12:40, to eat.  I must have went in my dorm, lay down and looked up and realized I was at UNO.  Oh yes, then, she came in and smashed my guitar, a violin, harp, the TV, which was my mom's, though it just left like a film broken over it, so I said nothing.  She said Ellen told her to do it, and I got up madly with 2 pillars, as though someone would hurt me.  I said, "Where is she?  Bring her in!"  It was like she would appear.  I realized it was dangerous for me to sleep so said, "Want me to promise not to hurt her?"  Then, I was like oh yea we don't know I won't, like in my sleep.  Well, my harp sounds different, and an Irish harpist with a French last name just had a baby.  People were going by from 2 of my high schools wondering where I should go, public or Catholic.  I was already mad at someone and didn't know who, I think a lady who was big probably.  I was gonna say more but forgot.