Wow, This Thing Still Exists?

I just rediscovered this thing. So I might post in it sporadically. First I think I'll post what I wrote today. Then I might post stuff I wrote in my journal over the past couple months. CHRONOLOGY FTW. Anyway this post came from Facebook, which came from a Notepad document.

Well, I'm putting two posts in one for this. I've been inspired by blogs and decided I really should just write stuff for the hell of it sometimes. So forgive me if it doesn't make sense at first. I just have to share my pointless ramblings with the world sometimes. Maybe it'll help me be a better writer or some crap like that. If you want something quick and amusing, read the part about my walk. If you want my usual ADHD craziness (does anyone really want that?), read the first part as well. Also, I think people tag people in notes just so they'll read them, but I think that's rude. People don't want to read something unless it's about them or they're in it. I would never do anything so inconsiderate. Hi, Taylor, Erin, Sarah, and Alex!
Anyway, now to begin my note, which began as an attempt to just write something in Notepad.

Hello, Notepad Document.
I don't know why, but whenever I come across something awesome, I feel the need to open you up and make a file with you. I don't know why I don't use something like Word or OpenOffice. I guess it is because you are just so much more accessible and friendly, and as someone with a mastery of the English language, I don't need superfluous things like SpellCheck (see what I did there? Who else would use the word 'superfluous'?). Sure, I have to press Enter more often than the average person would because the Notepad window is tiny and I dislike horizontal scroll bars. Sure, I have to stick to one font, which I am more often than not too lazy to change, and so it usually looks like a computer wrote it. And sure, I can't put any pictures in here to break up the insurmountable wall of text. But you are always right there, Notepad--I can open you whenever I need to type up something quickly, which is usually.

Now that I am done writing to Notepad, I will start actually talking.
Why is it that we say we are typing something up, but we say we write something down? Are all these directional details really necessary? I suppose it's because we look down at paper, and up at a screen, but what if I were to write while laying on my back and holding the paper above me? Or lay on a couch and put my laptop on the floor and type while stretching my arms down to reach the keys?
Don't try that last thing. It hurts after a couple minutes.

Anyway. My mind changes subjects quicker than something very quick (see, I got bored before I could come up with an amusing analogy), so I'm going to talk about something else. I am sitting here on my couch, feeling at once restless and eager to go somewhere, and reluctant to leave the comfort of my home, because it is really hot out there and I hate sweating. I have not had any sort of physical activity in the past 3 days. I tell myself it is because my muscles still hurt from pushing children on swingsets and merry-go-rounds and swinging for hours at the park on Sunday (I am not making this up; also, hi, Gwen, Eva, and Dorothy!), but eventually that becomes a weak excuse. Even if I do have an enormous, hideous bruise on my thigh that I am sure came from the merry-go-round hitting me at some point. I would like to walk down to where my old Elementary school (I'm not sure why I capitalized elementary, but oh well) used to be and see if their old playground is still there.

I forgot how much I loved swinging. Swinging is freaking amazing. For a split second, at the apex of your journey, it feels like you are flying, weightless (which is rather pleasant for someone who always feels too weighty). And then, with a playful 'bump,' you are brought back to your mobile seat, and the delightful process begins all over again. I mean, sure, your hands smell unpleasantly like metal after you are finished, your arms hurt like hell because you forgot how much strain it puts on them at the elbow, and people are looking at you funny because there should definitely not be an 18-year-old girl swinging at an abandoned playground and laughing like an 8-year-old, but swinging is great. It makes you feel like nothing matters but having fun. And everyone longs for that feeling at some point, right?

Anyway, I'd love to go and investigate whether or not there are swings within walking distance, but whenever I leave my house for a walk, I always feel obligated to bring my dog. She doesn't get joy from a lot of other things, after all. I can do cool human things like reading and playing video games and watching movies and writing pointless things about swinging, but my dog is just stuck laying next to me with her head hanging off the couch, making a dissatisfied noise every so often. I wonder if dogs get bored? Or if they think, "I wonder why my master hasn't gotten dressed today?" No, that's just silly.

Anyway (I have a propensity for beginning paragraphs with "Anyway"), my point is that I don't walk my dog past my neighborhood, which is the equivalent of 3 miles if you walk all of it (and I usually do). But it is really freaking hot out today, and the last time I took my dog walking when it was this hot, she and I were both overheated and miserable and terribly thirsty by the time we returned (only one of us was panting with her tongue hanging out though. Guess which one. Hint: It was my dog). So I don't want to overheat her. Because it is really heartbreaking when your dog is panting as hard as her Gentle Leader head-collar is allowing her to, her tongue flapping desperately at the side of her mouth, sounding like a small, hyperventilating person, with heat-absorbing black fur on her back--and you just keep right on walking, thinking hopefully to yourself, "Well, if I'm okay, she's okay, right? I mean, dogs have endured worse than this before. If I'm not dehydrated by now, she probably isn't either, right?" By the way, did you know dogs sweat through their paw-pads? It's true. Also, they pant to circulate air through their airways, cooling the lungs and expelling hot air. Yes, I really did know all that. I'm kind of a know-it-all when it comes to animals, especially domesticated ones. Did you know horses can't throw up?

Well, now that I've given you a lovely image of a vomiting pony, I think I'll change the subject. I really do want to get up and go for a walk. It'd be good for my dog and for me (especially me, whose goal it is to lose 30 pounds over the summer. Then I'll weigh as much as I did before I went to college). But I really hate being overheated and sweaty, almost as much as I hate being fat. So I am in a difficult position here. I suppose the first step in actually doing something is to get dressed like you are actually going to do something. Maybe then the rest will just come to you.

HOW TO WALK YOUR DOG WHEN IT IS 88 DEGREES OUTSIDE
-Get dressed in tank top and knee-length pants. Realize that tank top does not cover sports bra straps. Fret a little, then stop caring.

-Put on ankle-length socks that may or may not belong to another member of the family.

-Let dog out and tell her to go potty. Reward her when she goes pee, even though you really wanted her to go number two so you don't have to clean it up on the walk.

-Put hair back in ridiculously high ponytail. Attempt to put hair in bun, then realize it looks ridiculous and you never really could pull off a proper bun. Keep the ridiculously high ponytail. Pull bangs back in clips, even though it makes your forehead look enormous.

-Remember how much you wanted water last time you went for a walk at this temperature. Decide to bring a pack of some sort with water, a water dish for the dog, and treats (for the dog, not you). Search around frantically for a fanny pack or lightweight backpack. Fail to find anything suitable. Find a heavier, but still small pack, which is unfortunately red and heat-absorb-y black. Sigh and decide that's as good as you're going to find. Pack your items, including a frozen water bottle from the freezer.

-Put on the dog's head collar, which she hates and which she always acts all mopey about once it's on. Feel a little bad, as always, but reward her with a treat for not complaining verbally.

-Remember how you had to go to the bathroom throughout the whole walk last time, and decide to drop the dog's leash right in front of the door to go to the bathroom. Leave the dog standing in front of the door in her head collar and leash, wondering what the hell you're doing.

-Hear your dad's voice on the answering machine as you step out of the bathroom. Rush to pick up. Leave the dog still standing by the door as you tell him everything's fine and you were just going to go for a walk.

-Finally rejoin the dog. Praise her for standing there without complaining. She looks confused.

-Realize that straps of pack cover up sports bra straps. Feel a little better about wearing it.

-Step outside. Get hit with wall of heat. Step bravely into it.

-Realize within the first minute that the ankle-length socks are definitely not yours and are extremely uncomfortable.

-Sneeze. Realize you did not take your allergy medication.

-Run back to the house and change socks. Let dog come upstairs with you so she's not standing bewildered by the door again. Decide to put hair in bun, even if it looks ridiculous.

-Leave once again.

-Walk for a while. Realize that there's no way you're doing three miles in this heat. Wish you could pant like your dog instead of doing gross things like sweating.

-Pull dog along as she wipes her muzzle on the ground in an unsuccessful attempt to remove head collar.

-Curse yourself for deciding to bring a stupid pack, which seems to suck in heat like a black hole for heat. Or a heat vacuum. Realize you are too hot to think of a good analogy.

-Feel resistance on leash and look back to discover that dog is pooping in someone's front yard. Realize with dismay that you brought all necessities except a plastic bag. Wonder if homeowner has a dog. Hope desperately that poop will be blamed on homeowner's dog. If homeowner has no dog, hope desperately that poop will be blamed on world's largest rabbit.

-Keep walking. Sneeze again. Realize that you had an opportunity to take allergy meds when you changed socks and didn't. Curse your bad memory.

-Walk until your dog stops in her tracks and refuses to go any further. Look back at her. Ask her, "Do you want to go back?" Feel somewhat relieved when she turns around without a word and begins to walk back.

-Realize how pale your arms are. Wonder if the sun is making your hair even more blond.

-Briefly stop as dog pees unnecessarily in someone else's front yard.

-Finally return home. Take off dog's head collar and watch as she wipes her muzzle all over the carpet in an attempt to get the fur to lay the proper way again. Open up pack and pour some of the melted water into dog's dish, and drink some yourself from bottle as dog laps noisily, speckling the floor with flecks of water.

-Douse beet-red face with cold water from sink.

-Plop down on couch and listen to dog panting wildly from floor.

-Become curious about fan spinning lazily above you and pull cord, discovering that it can go faster. Be very satisfied with your discovery.

-Promise yourself you'll try walking again later when it's cooler out.

-Sit down with laptop, dog laying beside you, her nose twitching with the scents drifting in from the open windows.

-Feel content.

Oh and by the way, people I tagged, I love you and I miss you. <3

Anyway, then I wrote this:

I am going to attempt to write down all the random things I
think this afternoon.

You know what I hate? People who write "your" when they mean
"you're," or, more rarely, vice-versa. I mean, it's not that
difficult to grasp. You're has an apostrophe in it because it's
a contraction. It's joining two words by removing a letter, which
would be 'a' in this case. Is that really that difficult? When
you say "Your stupid," I think, "My stupid WHAT?" And when you
say, "You're dog," I think, "No, I am not. I am girl."
It frustrates me to NO END!! PLEASE, people! For the sake of the tenuous thread
that is my sanity, PLEASE use "you're" and "your" correctly!!
You will make me cry!!
I mean, I see ADULTS get this wrong! Adults I KNOW! I feel so
embarrassed for them! I mean, really, that's the kind of mistake
an elementary school student makes! And it makes me feel awkward--
should I say anything, or would that just make it even more
embarrassing?
PLEASE! STOP THE TORTURE!!
Someone has finished the New York Extra Sharp Cheddar Cheese.
It is my favorite, and you can tell it is awesome because it has
a very long name. I really want some cheese.
I am eating my 5th freezy-pop. I sure am glad they're only 20
calories.
It's unfair that I get the munchies so often. I'm not even a
drug addict.
I love taking forever to eat string cheese. It makes me feel like
I'm eating a lot but it's not unhealthy, and that I'm being good
by eating my food slowly. Also, it's really fun.
As I sit here finishing my tub of frozen cool-whip, I think about
how much it bothers me that I can't be consistent with anything.
I start things all the time and never finish them. There are
unfinished drawings, abandoned forums and blogs, and even
sentences that I leave
I wish I had to wait to be fed like a dog. The monotony of the
same meal over and over might even make me lose my appetite
sometimes. Maybe I shouldn't eat unless someone brings me
something. But I don't think my mom would approve of that setup.
I'm not sure why my dog feels the need to sit and slurp at her
most secret regions. Although with my dog they're not that secret.
Seriously, this dog will lay on your lap, or right next to you,
or on the floor, and just slurp and slorp away. (Am I grossing you
out yet? Yes? Good, because it's gross.) And then, when I look
at her and say, "Could you please not do that? I'm trying to
complain about things to a nonexistent audience!" she just
looks at me with her startled-deer look, her ears flattened
against her head, making her look very much like the Whippet that
is definitely in her heritage somewhere, as if to say, "I'm
not sure why you are acting this way. I find it to be just a little
unreasonable." And so I say, "Well, you're the one sitting there
and slurping at yourself." And she gets up and goes beside the
couch, where I can't see her, and sighs, making that little groan
noise she makes so often. I swear she understands sometimes.
And then I realize that this is the same dog who runs away
terrified if you expel air through your lips to make a "phhbbt!"
noise.
My cat is strangely incapable of meowing right now. I let her in,
and she is making all these sad little strangled "aah-rrr" noises
that sort of resemble her usual meows, but not really. She sounds
like she needs to clear her throat or drink some water or something.
Naturally, I felt bad for her, so I fed her. My cat is a glutton.
She wanted to be fed at 2 o'clock last night. It was warm out,
so I just put her outside. She's a cat: if she's really hungry,
she can just kill something. And she does, most of the time.
Usually when we don't want her to.

And I am too lazy to alter it from Notepad formation. Hooray!