Confused.

Things got too complicated with HoneyBunny. And now, he's no longer mine. It's been almost two weeks without him... And it's quite empty honestly. That one person who you shared your fondest memories with... is no longer there. I was the one who ended the relationship, but really, you can't just move on. Especially someone like him. From time to time, I stare at him and remember all the good times we've had; I just want to go over there and hug him. But when I talk to him, things are so difficult. I then remember why I broke up with him. I couldn't deal with it, it was too much. We argue all the time and one day, I've had enough. So I took the Single Express and got myself away from him. Unfortunately, HoneyBunny is friends with my friends. So now I haven't even hung out with my friends as much as I used too. I think I started a new slate with a new circle of friends. But it just doesn't really feel the same as before. For some reason, everything is different. I'm much more open again, no longer afraid to get physical with both genders. (I mean hugging and such, not sex.) And now there's much things to think about. Since my trusty bud over here is telling me about all the potential boyfriends that are popping up. Do you think I want to be in a relationship again? Or my mother's middle-age crisis. Or when HoneyBunny is still scolding and warning me about what I'm doing and things I shouldn't do but do anyways. I just want everything to go back to the way it was.

Courtney Stodden.

I know she's old news, but I wonder what has happened to her. To those who don't know who she is, she is a model, actress, and singer/songwriter. She comes from Ocean Shores, Washington. When she was 16, she married Doug Hutchison who just happens to be 51 years old. I'm sorry, I try to see the good that she has... But I can't seem to find any. I don't know where to start with her... But let's start with her age. She claims she's 17, but I haven't seen anyone who has botox injected in their face, dresses very lewd, or has obvious work down on her neck.

That's Courtney on the left. Now if she is 16, why are her hands very aged? You can see the lines of her veins clear as day. Now she can get all the plastic surgery and botox she wants, but you can't erase the aged veins. On the right happens to be her mother. Boy do I feel sorry for her. With a child like that, she has some haters. But what can you do when Courtney's mother is the one to sign the papers so Courtney can marry Doug? Besides the obvious plastic surgery (which Courtney and her family still deny to this day) there is also her behavior.
Good Christian girl Courtney is trying way too hard to become a sex symbol. Seen in the video below, she is always fidgeting when Doug was talking, or that weird part where she basically gets turned on by Doug and looks ready to get down with him right there on that set.

 I DON'T CARE WHAT THAT VIDEO SAYS. That marriage is a stunt. STUNT! But go ahead and watch that video and tell me what you think of her in the comments.

Bad Girls Make Me Angry.

I've always wondered why girls pick on other girls. Just because you make fun of her Double Ds won't make you magically grow two cup sizes in a night. Why do you have to demean other peoples' positives? Well not exactly all things positive... Just things They are jealous of. Example? You're so tall and beautiful and They just happen to be stubby. They don't want you to see that you're model material, in turn, being tall and elegant is being a yeti in Their minds. Or when someone does is weird, but makes that person happy. Are you jealous of the happiness you'll never have? Is you're self-esteem THAT low? Must you take away what makes other people feel somewhat HAPPY? Are you that SELFISH? Taking away happiness from people so you can feel good about YOURSELF? ONLY yourself? Why do you make fun? Why do you bully? Is it... that you're naturally crusty? Or are you on a mood swing?

Are You a Curious Cat?

There's really a lot of crap in life. The difference for everyone is how much there is, and how much is served in each day. Unfortunately, I've had enough crap with some to spare for next week. But I'm not going to talk about that. Who cares what I call my personal life? People judge from the outside and they always will. But they're different people like me out there... The curious cats.

The Curious Cats. We don't know when to stop doing something or when to not do anything. All we know is that something intrigues us and we have to find out what it is. Taking apart things, being nosy in other peoples' lives, and going into dangerous things that can harm us, that's what most of us Curious Cats do. Some know how to stop, and when something might harm us (those smart blokes.) But when you're a NAIVE Curious Cat, things get real dangerous. Why? Because a weak mind and a strong will is a BAD combination. I pity myself for I am the dangerously stupid cat.

Not only am I the stupid cat, I'm the OPTIMISTIC one. You know what that means? When I break something, I don't stop. I think I can fix it. Which of course, I end up breaking it beyond repair. It also means each stranger is a potential friend. And in a world where people do bad things to other people, and take advantage of ones kindness, it's safe to say that happy-go-lucky stupid cats, throw the "don't talk to strangers rule" out the window. Why? Because you give people a chance. You talk to them, you get to know them. THEN you judge. But. People do do bad things to other people. You CAN'T forget that. But being STUPID, NAIVE, usually HAPPY, and a CURIOUS Cat, why it's like someone made an atomic bomb that's headed to destroy the world.

Give Me Speech. This Is What I Say.

Music.
Musical Entertainment.
I love music. Oh so very much.
I wouldn't say music is my life, however. I wish I could, but I can't seem to use my "talents" to find that "spark." I'm saying that in a way, yes. I am musical. But why? Because I can play instruments? That doesn't really count. In my eyes, it's not important you can PLAY instruments, no. That doesn't really utilize your learning and is a waste of time. But when you PERFORM them with emotion and talent, that is true music. Of course, it helps that most people like your music.

Music is a broad term and I'm getting block trying to cover its vast defination in one entree.
So I decided to focus on one thing for now:

Singing.

I was researching today if singing was a gentetic ability that you were born with. It's pretty stupid, but I was really curious. Why does the ability to sound so lovely come so easy to some than it is to others? I wasn't really thinking strait, but I came up with the conculsion that you're born with the voice you have. The "real" voice you have wouldn't be available until you mature. You can train your voice, and some may have been born with the natrual talent to have a keen ear. But in the end, if your nasally voice is annoying to others, there's not much you can do. That is the voice you were born with. The best you can do is not be tone-deaf.

Some people say they can't sing. Is it because they tried once, but gave up after They came to bully them into extinction? Now having this mentality, I'm thinking, "Unless They were the brave ones who happen to put themselves out there and are the best singer in the universe, who gives a crap what They think?" You do what you love. If you give up on what you love, you can't find happiness in life.

Or do some people say they can't sing because they're scared of what They think? That's pretty bad. You haven't even got in the game and you ruled yourself out. It's like those Barbies in middle school who stand in the corner of the gym during a game. And instead of wanting others to believe those Barbies are cowards (which they are,) they give others the impression that this is "cool." That to not try is cool. That being pretty, but useless is cool. And if you see what they're really trying to do, They demean you. When you take off the makeup, the pretty clothes, and that fake personality on a Barbie, what do you get? A coward. A coward scared of the world and the opinions of people. That's not true for all Barbies, but I don't want to steer off my path.

This is pretty much the reasons I can think of right now, mainly because they both apply to me. The above? That's what I say when no one is looking. It's really sad that I care about what They think so much. I just, in reality don't want to be alone. Because when there's a They, They form a mass and attack when you're alone. That's all They are. They attack in numbers, and never seperate. Because if They did, They would just be individuals with actual opinions. And in this world, "it's soo not cool to be an individual!" America is full of contridictions. This being one of them:

The World seems to support individuality, but when you finally come out of your shell, the World beats down you and tries to connect you to Them. To be like Them. Because the world is ignorant and can't accept anything that brings change.

WOW. I got off topic...

Wow.

After having a dream of eating cake and a cream-filled doughnaut with my best friend, I woke up WITHOUT my shirt. HOW DID THAT HAPPEN? I don't like to sleep naked let alone HALF-NAKED. My shirt was on the floor beside my bed and I was freaked out. Also, I keep waking up at 8:30 and waking up at one hour intervals for no reason and for the previous nights. I don't know what's wrong with me. I mean I've heard of sleep-eating, sleep-walking, and even sleep-SEX. But not SLEEP-STRIPPING. This wasn't the first time though. When I was visiting my parents, I crashed next to my mom wearing a zip-up robe she gave to me. A few minutes later, I woke up to my mom leaning over me. She said, "I'm trying to get your robe." I look over and I'm in my underwear and my robe is on the floor. I asked, "How did that happen??" She said she didn't know. All she knew was that all of a sudden she heard my grabbing for the zipper and then the zip sound. She just told me I basically slept-STRIP. I was weirded out and fasinated at the same time. Just a memory I thought I'd share with you guys...

I Love This Site.

    Click Me For A Better View.

The above is a "wordle" of my blog when you first enter it. I wish I could show you the whole picture, but the resolution gets worse everytime I zoom in. A wordle is a word cloud which shows, well, words. But the bigger the word, the more times you used that word. I thought this is a really cool program because you can print it. To me, that gives a lot of possiblities. You could use it to wrap a gift, frame it as a decor for your walls, or print in a larger size at a printing store and use that as a wall mural! I also use this program to see which words I use the most. It's pretty helpful to me. I want to make sure I use important words first and not annoying words like, " Like or curse words" because that's not the person I am. You should check it out and create your own wordles :)

http://www.wordle.net/

Sperm Bank?

I remember a best friend I use to have a few months ago. She'll be know as GPop to you. GPop and I were very intune with each other, but one of GPop's "friends" told her lies about me and so our friendship tumbled. We rose from those ashes after GPop was no longer brainwashed and I told her the truth. Nevermind that story though, I wanted to talk about something else.
Being best friends, GPop and I always debated about girly things. Such as pads v.s. tampons, powder eyeshadow v.s. cream and if we wanted to stay a virgin the rest of our lives. Weird I know, but I couldn't stop thinking about it during breakfast. Losing her v-card terrified GPop and she was really agaisnt it. I however, said "We're going to loose it at one point of our lives. How are you going to make childern?" Then GPop thought of the perfect solution:

A sperm bank.

I know it isn't really sex, just a strangers' sperm injected into you. It's really weird seeing those three words finally out of my head. It's like getting a custom made baby. A baby that was planned instead of a surprise baby conceived at a drunken party. I also heard those procedures cost money. Does that mean your baby is worth that much? Or is it the sperm? Man, for it to only take one sperm cell to make a baby, that is a little heavy price in my book. Not that I'm interested. I found it weird to not bond with your guy first and decide as a couple this is what you really want. Instead of choosing sperm from a stranger just based on his description and probably a picture.

But trying to see the positive, I think it might be a good choice for some women. For example, a woman who can't find her "soul mate" but really wishes to have a baby of her own. A lonely woman who wants her baby to be the best her baby can be. And that's all I can think of right now. I think it's best if the woman who is considering to go to a sperm bank be single and I know all of you probably already know that... Because it'd be weird to be the father of a baby that isn't necessarily yours. But I'm second guessing myself again. What about the fathers of adopted kids? They all love their childern as if they're their own. (Unlike my mom who says she doesn't think she can.) So I guess it isn't weird. Maybe sperm banks could be useful for couples where the male is infertile and they both wish to have a baby together.

I have no idea what I just wrote considering my thinking [in my opinion] is immature. This is about as deep I can go without contridicting myself (which I probably already did.) In the end, GPop wants to stay a virgin until she dies (hopefully she won't die unless of old age,) and I see that one day when I'm ready for a child, I will loose my v-card. But to the love of my life not drunk at a party (because I HATE the taste of alcohol.)

Venting.

I know this isn't Twitter and I shouldn't act like it is. I've just been working and it's nice earning money. I'm getting use to labor. But the thing I'm never use to is fighting with HoneyBunny. I hate it and I either end up crying or furious. One person thinks it's not their fault, neither does the other person. Can't we just skip the hurt and love again? No. Depending on the problem, some things I can't let slide. I have to make my point and make sure HoneyBunny understands it. Then we'll try to fix it. Afterall, you want to fix something that's broken. When a broken piece isn't tended it shatters the porcilain that represents my relationship. I don't want that to happen. But so far, I'm not seeing the light. I see the eyelashes in my sight from narrowing them. But in the end, I will see that this china is something I want to save.

Don't Call Me a Woman.

I read a post by Matter under Mind called "Am I a Man Then?" It got me thinking to when we are deemed a Man and a Woman. Honestly, I don't think I'll ever be called a Woman, and I don't think I like being called a Woman. It sounds very mature and maybe I myself feel as I do not deserve the title to be a Woman. Because I am immature (that's what people think) and no one ever thinks I could be serious. I am a female so I am Woman in a way, but I don't feel I want that to my title. If people call me Woman, I don't want Them to hold an unrealistic standard for me. I break those. Because I'm not just a Woman. I'm "Solaris." Whenever I am called a Lady or Woman, I feel that person is calling me something I'm not.

Darn It!

I was fired from my jobs. One at one farm, another at the other farm. At least I'll get good sleep and my back will stop hurting. Although I won't make anymore money. Oh well, I'll just try to ask my parents again.

I Hate Spiders. I Love Money.

I found a new job! I was so excited and ready! I took the long drive at around three in the morning to go to another farm. I didn't mind anymore that mornings are agaisnt me, I just didn't want to make a bad impression. I go to the farm and they told me to pick some berries. Like really? What is it with farmers and their berries?? Squatting to get a better work perspective, I look through the bush and saw:

A spider.

Then I saw his friend.

If you didn't know, I have a HUGE fear of spiders. Even the baby ones are evil. This spider was mean and moved so fast! I squealed and jumped from the bush. I thunk outloud:

You want money. You want money. Do this for money. If you want money you have to work hard. If you don't work hard you don't get money.

Taking a breath I went to the bush again. Picking some strawberries, crushing spiders with my bare hands, and catching webs all over my hair and body, I chanted outloud my thoughts:

Work is money. Work faster. Fast work is fast money.

It was possibly the worst shift of my life.

I Really Think I'm Cursed.

This morning, I went to a berry field hoping to make some extra money.

AT FOUR THIRTY IN THE MORNING.

I got dressed and went took the hour drive right away. I arrived at the field, but no one was there. For sure, this was right, I waited... Then six finally comes around and this farmer in his truck said the pickers are at the field across the block. Tired, I drove over there and took my tools to get ready. Walking to a strawberry row, the guys' farmer said "We don't need anymore pickers! Go back and wait! We'll be done in half an hour!" Mad at how he said that, I drop my tools go back to my car.

6:30 AM.

Yay~ I'm excited.

7:00 AM.

It's dark.

7:30 AM.

I'm scared.

The farmer finally comes back. I was so angry. I'm sort of angry thinking about it right now. He says, "The pickers are at another field right now. They'll be done in a couple of hours."

8:00 AM

I'm cold.

8:30 AM

I'm hungry.

9:00 AM

I'm bored.

9:30 AM

The farmer's brother comes back, and tells me, "I don't even know if we're doing this field today!"

What. The. Heck. You told me to be here! I am here! I hate him! He's an insensitive jerk!

10:00 AM

I hate you, jerk.

10:30 AM

Finally.

The tools are set up and I go get my picking basket.

"WAIT!"

I look back and I see the farmer.

"Are you new?"

"Yes," I replied, "You told me to be here."

"I don't remember," he says "I'm really sorry; I'm going to have to send you home...."

He keeps talking, but I go put my tools back and walk away. I couldn't believe it! I felt... rejected. You told me to be there. I was. I took the time to wake up at:

FOUR IN THE MORNING.

DO YOU KNOW I DIDN'T HAVE A GOOD SLEEP FOR THE PAST TWO **** DAYS?!

They gave me the run-around. I felt so stupid and naive. I could've driven home. I could've. You didn't need to ask me to be there if you were going to say no. You didn't. I hope your balls fall off. Or worse. You get a diesase from the berries you rub on your nasty nipples. That wouldn't have happened if you let me pick the berries!!!! **** YOU!!

Why My Eye?

I had a wonderful unfortuante event last night at dinner.
Dallyo had just cooked some bbq'd and left it layed out on the table. Trying to test my will, I soon broke. I let my nose twitch in delight, and my fingers creep toward the food. I took some nice ribs and and visciously chowed down on it. I bit the meat and left it to hang in my mouth, letting my tounge soak up the sauce. I then wanted to be like the vikings I've heard about and took my hand to rip a piece off. Instead of the clean chop I intended, the sauce made my fingers slipp and the ribs slapped me in the face. Sauce everywhere and a chunk of meat in my left eye. I freaked out and made my way to the kitchen sink. Having meat in your eye and the sauce burning it with tasty stickiness, I tripped onto the counter corner right onto my unmentionables. Mind you, being a girl it didn't hurt that much. But that was sharp!! I think I have a bruise now... Anyways, I flushed my eye out and made enemies with the ribs.

Of all the things that flew into my eyes, I'd say the worst was a giant bug and the sauce. Why?

Giant Bug- Flew into my eye on a hot day.  About a third of my pinky finger. It took some time to take out, reminding you, it unlatched its wings into an unknown part of my eye. The flushing took some time because I felt the thing crawling around inside my eye. Gross, but my eye wasn't infected.

Sauce- Burned really bad and hard to clean. I found a bit of pepper in it this morning rubbing my eyes. I'd rather have the bug in it again.

Inappropiate. But We're All Mature Here. Hopefully.

Blogging and keeping updates as if people ACTUALLY cared what goes on in my life, I decide I don't give a crap. I am going to be a blog whore because I want to.

Still not able to go to sleep, I remember this conversation I had with this girl. She'll be know as Whore to you guys.

The story is this:
She called me a name, I stated the truth.
She got my number, and she worded me off.
She wasn't worth my time, and I hung up right away.

Whore: yeah. hang the fuck up bitch. trust me. I know a hell ppl from (Confidential). that will beat your pathtic little big ass. so if i was you i'd shut the fuck up.

Me: what da fuck do u think ur doin calling me a lil whore? and u got the time to tlk to me? Wow. ur such an amazing person. U haven't evn talked to me and u b calling me this? Thats not very nice. I honestly dont care if i get beat up. U have no idea of the fucking shit my life has been thru. If u get so offended if i throw some words, y dont you stop? use a lil common sense. Ud think ud learn some alrdy.

Whore: bitch. ur budder. ur ass is ugly! anit nobody want some from you. Mayb you should stop being a lil bitch. And come say this too my face? Huh. It would be smart. cuz you needa be put in check. u crusty ass mutah fucka! you need to shut ur mouth before i come back to (Confidential) and beat ur ass!

Me: uh, maybe you should get a mirror cuz u think ur grimy coarse hair is all that? Watever. and get some rite now? Havent u learned any self respect? Wait, u haven't. N u would actually tk the time to visit a loner grl like me? I feel so special!

Whore: Shut up. Im sexy as hell. Ive dated every guy at (Confidential). ur ugly! and my bf is over here rite now. so shut up. Im hella bomb! Everything about me is bomb! and ur just a loner, and an ugly nerd. Who is gonna get her ass beat!

Me: yea. Bomb as in, leaves everything destroyed and withered after u been there. Man what have u done to those guys? I know one thing: They don't lk worn, withered, annoying, oogly, used grls lk you. And what does ur bf have to do with anything? If he didn't like u, hed move on. Again. Common sense. Weve been over this.

Whore: im not ugly like you. Every guy wants to date me. Maybe u should wear alot of mk up to cover that ugly ass face of urs! no guy wants an ugly ass whore like you. Ur just another nerd. who needs to be put in check!

Me: wait, u think i am a fk hoe? no matter how ugly i get, i would nvr pretend to b a fucked up, worn out, crazy ass bitch lk u. Wait! u lk being a hoe dont you? somethings wrong in ur head thats y u date so many guys to give ur mind gratification that u r somewhat what guys want. Let me bring u back to reality. Guys may like skanks, but in the end, they cnt come home to a worn saggy blue waffle lk urs. I accept im not pretty. U think i dont know that? I am a nerd after all. and if i get in check what the hell is that going to do? wow! u beat up a nerd! thats so intimidating! and pathetic! This i should expect in bitches like u, but i actually thought you had a lil bit of self respect. U know, just a tiny bit. But apprently u dont! Ur actually lower than filth! Now, I have to move on with my life. Why dont you go get one?

Whore: Your dumb as hell. You dont got shit to say.

Me: Cuz the shit aint worth my time! Glad we had this talk :)

Whore: Ur a bitch. A nasty ass ugly bitch. You needa go get laid.

At this point, I moved on with my life. I realize she had something to say for EVERY remark I made and wasn't going to stop bickering like a child! Don't worry :) She's all talk but no walk. I know my defense was weak, but the truth is she's a whore. Very promiscuous and lewd. By the way, how is a bum big yet small at the same time? I'm actually complimented she checks me out there. Swear words weren't my style either, but I shouldn't have excuses. I'm not going to lie, I was scared. But if she ws going to fight me, I wouldn't defend myself. I'd call on my cell phone, and act like this was casual. Something like:

"Hi mom."
"Hey baby!"
"How are you doing?"
"Fine, you?"
"Oh I'm getting beat up, but don't worry. I'm not fighting back so I'm not in trouble."
"Okay remember not to get in trouble. It might damage your credibility for college, and go to the teacher right now."
"Okay, bye mommy."
"Bye baby, have a good day at school."

And then I'd just walk away from the fight to report it.

Really?

Two mornings in the row, my slumber has been interrupted. Making me VERY irritated.
The first was innoccent. Shame on Them.
The second, close coincidence. Shame on me.
You'd think I learned something about cell phones and sleep. And I thought I did.

You see, the first time I had set my phone on normal. Thinking I had outsmart Them, I had set my phone on vibrate the second time.

Boy was I wrong.

I still woke up. (Not surprising when the world is out to get you, is it?) This time, it wasn't as bad. But of course being paranoid, I thought the vibrations were a freaky Earth phenomenon. I was able to pick up, only finding out it's my sick aunt (known as SShopper to you.) I know she was scared because she thought her sickness had worsen, but please:

DON'T CALL ME AT FOUR IN THE MORNING.

Since then, I woke up and haven't been able to sleep. Did I mention I went to sleep around three? I feel sick from my war yesterday and I just felt a rise in my blood pressure.

Gosh, I hate mornings.

The Battle of Red Lobster.

Yesterday, I went out to celebrate a belated birthday at Red Lobster. I don't think I'm doing there anymore... I ordered the fifteen dollar deal for four courses (cheap, I know, but I didn't want to go in the first place.) After the first entree (clam chowder, lemonade, and their bread) I was STUFFED. I didn't realize that from the diet, I would have a smaller stomach NOT able to hold the amout of food I was use to. With three more entrees to go, I decided I wasn't going to let food defeat me that easily. I unbuttoned my pants and devoured my Caesar salad. With three biscuts, chowder, and two refills, I don't think I was able to make it through my third plate (Shrimp and Garlic Alfredo.)

I was right.

After two bites of that monster-sized plate, I laid back on my chair, belly protruding as if I was pregnet. Feeling severly sick, I walked around. That helped so much. Then I remembered I wasn't finished with this war; I had one battle left. The fourth plate, brownie a la mode.

Poor brownie didn't stand a chance. He was very tasty.

Driving home, I didn't feel very good. I don't like looking pregnet. I realize I won the war agaisnt that viscious army, but the reward is a weight gain. Great.

To be honest, the food wasn't great. Olive Garden has better alfredo and buffets have better chowder. I've also tasted better salad, but the dessert was too die for.

My Ears' International Fix.

This song, "Last Night Good Night" by the VOCALOID singer, Hatsune Miku is one of those songs I listen to over and over again. I love the beat, melody, haramony... basically everything else besides the vocals. No offense, but I have no idea what she's saying as it's in Japanese. All I understand is Last night... Good night... Last night... Good night... and some more Japanese. But you know, maybe I'll learn some Japanese :) This song makes me realize that I love my life. That I love the people in it, and everything is just peachy all around. If my heart had a theme song, this would be it.

My Perfect Morning.

Great.
What a perfect start to this Friday. After going to sleep and finding out my boyfriend's perfect petname (HoneyBunny) I go to sleep only to be interrupted by my drool hours later. All over my blankets it goes. What. The. Heck. It was disgusting! After slobbering over my covers, I'm able to go back to sleep. But oh no. More things have to disturb me. I wake up AGAIN to the very loud ringer on my phone. Startled and disoriented I try to end the call, only to drop my phone in the process. Surrendering, I place a pillow over my head trying to sleep through that annoyying LOUD ringer.

No One Is Going to Notice This.

Sigh~
After checking out the other bloggers, I realize what an amature I am. Their blogs are so beautiful! I'm just another blogger in the midst. No way to be found. No way to be read. I myself, got lost trying to navigate through this page! So imagine someone finding me. I notice the "real" bloggers have pictures and I don't. Maybe I can get by on my writing skills? Hm... I got it! Take this as a "online journal." My place where I can spill my thoughts or my secrets and not have the emotional impact of peoples' reaction. A place where I can let loose and hang low... I like the sound of that :)

Introduction.

Hi.
I'm "Solaris."
I made this blog for many reasons. Not important reasons, but they're still... reasons. Mainly the blog was created because I was well, bored. I also thought a blog was a way to "vent" or "express strong feelings."And not going to lie, I love to write. But writing is so slow when I actually have to scribble my words onto a piece of paper. I thought blogging about what I thought and go through was a good way of saving the planet. However, the more I'm thinking about it, the energy my computer is spending writing this has to be worse than some lead and a sliced of tree, right? Oh nevermind, I confuse myself too much... Yeah sorry about that... Welcome to my blog and thanks for reading. I hope you stick around for the useless junk I have to write :)