Welcome, to all of those insane enough to walk this blog!

As you might have noticed, this here blog is one big archive of the ramblings of an insane author. So insane, in fact, that I wouldn't be surprised if you went mad just reading said blog...Good luck ;)


I lied. This is not, in fact, a "directory" as the title above might suggest...This is merely a warning of what you might find on this blog. I believe I have already warned you of the insane ramblings archived in this blog, but I must say, if you are not prepared for the tomfooleries that can be found here, you might just want to close this tab, shut your computer down, and walk away slowly in order to keep your OWN sanity in check. Fair warning >;)

Saturday, February 12, 2011

I've been inked!

Alright, so I know it's a bit redundant to blog two days in a row, but hey...It's not my fault awesome things keep happening to me...For this awesome thing, I must tell you two other things first.
One: I might have mentioned this in the past here on this blog, but too bad. I'm going to tell you again. When I was little, I had to have my immunization shots three times. The first time was the normal shots that every youngster gets. The second time was because my Mum's idiot mother had my records and didn't tell us, and my doctor made me get them again because I wasn't on record. The third time was because my idiot doctor lost the records, and again, I endured yet another butt-load of shots just to prove that I had them. This is the reason that I absolutely hate needles. I literally could not move my arms after the third round, and I was in cheer at the time, so that totally sucked. So let me reiterate: I HATE NEEDLES.

Now to the "other thing" number Two: My 2010 New Year's Resolution was to finish my novel. As of December that same year, I did just that. This year, 2011, my New Year's Resolution was to get published. I have also accomplished that (at the bottom of this post I'll put a plug in for ya, Captain). I have a wonderful friend on Facebook who is helping publish me on Amazon, he even got the art department to do a cover for my novel now. This is simply awesome. Another stipulation to my New Year's Resolution, was that if I happened to get published, I was to get a tattoo.

Now we're getting somewhere, eh?

I've been wanting a tattoo for a while. I wanted a single feather, on my left arm, to symbolize my novel. My novel is one of the most important things to me besides my loved ones, and the feather is a way to imprint that on my body forever, so I would never forget, not even for a second. Last night I conquered my fear of needles, I checked another thing off my Bucket-List, and I did it. I got the tattoo I wanted, and I could not be happier about it. It's bloody brilliant. I took a picture of it this morning, so everyone could see how great it looked, so check it out!

It's positioned on my left arm, just as I had wanted, right below the crook of my elbow. If you want to see more, check out my Facebook Profile.

Alright, so I know there are some controversies concerning tattoos. Some people think that marking your body permanently like that is stupid, that some day you will not feel the same way you did about it when you first got it, and then you would regret it. I don't believe that. I believe that when you care about something so much so that you do want that permanently marked on your body, you will never forget that, and it will always be with you. Upon hearing of my tattoo, a wise friend of mine (holla at the Captain!) said to, "remember that what's inside is really important, too...not just the outside". I completely agree. Who you are is not what you look like. However, I had to add to that, to show that what I did to the outside of my body was for the inside as well. So I replied, "of course! But the outside is a reflection of the inside, like in the case of the tattoo, it was an outward projection of what I was feeling on the inside..." And I completely believe that as well. When someone feels a certain emotion so strongly that they have to project it outwardly so that they --and everyone else-- can see it, that is a strong force indeed. And I have now vowed to live my life to the fullest. I'm gonna ride roller-coasters (may take some warming up to, but it will happen!). I'm gonna sport my ink. I'm gonna say what I want, do what I want, and live for today and tomorrow (very wise words from the Sandman...Hey, Apple!). Life is too short, people! Have fun with it! You know, that three-letter word that starts with F? 'Cause you know what, I'm not dead yet. So why start acting like it?

Blog ya later, Miss Eccentric.

The Captain's Plug:
You will find the publishing company who helped me at Nightfire Publishing. I won't use the Captain's name here, because I don't want a bunch of people to bug him, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind y'all checking out his site. The people there at Nightfire are simply awesome, so if you need help with your publishing needs, please pay them a visit.

Friday, February 11, 2011

The Curse of the Ghostrider

Okay, so anyone who knows me knows that I am like, the biggest chicken when it comes to heights. Therefore, it goes to show that I would also be terrified of roller-coasters. When going to Knott's Berry Farm the biggest thing I'll go on is the Jaguar, and that thing is like, the most tame ride there. Except for the stuff in the kiddie-area, of course. You see, this fear all started when I was about eight years old, and my family talked me into going on the Ghostrider, the big, rickety, wooden dinosaur that those stupid theme-park people have dubbed an "amusement ride". In my family's defense, they had ridden it before and had said that it wasn't that bad. And in a normal circumstance, I believe them to be right. It certainly isn't the worst ride there, and there are a lot of younger children that love the ride. I was not one of them.
We must have waited in line for an hour, I swear. It was a hot Summer afternoon. We got up to the cars finally, and we had decided that I was just barely tall enough to ride. My Mum and I slipped into the car together, because riding with my mom was the most logical decision in order to make me feel more comfortable. Next we had to put our seat-belts on. Now, one thing you must know about Ghostrider seat-belts, is that there is one regular belt for each person, like in a motor vehicle, and then there's a bar that locks down on your lap. One more thing you must know about the Ghostrider seat-belts, is that when I was eight-years-old, that was not the case. When I was eight, there was one single belt restraint that went over both passenger's laps, and it didn't really tighten up that much. So as my Mum and I sat and tried to tighten it enough for me so that it actually touched me, we started to doubt our decision to get on that damn ride. We both knew I wasn't secure, and my Mum, being the responsible, loving parent she is actually tried to inform the Knott's idiots of this restraint error. Unfortunately for her, they did not pay heed to the panicking mother. Instead, they started the ride, and there was nothing more she could do about it. The first hill you climb is the biggest. As you can imagine, the tiny little eight-year-old with no restraints on was not a big fan of that first big drop, and surely I was not a fan of the following drops, twists and turns. I had to sit in the fetal position, holding on to the belt and any bar I could get ahold of. My Mum also had to help by holding her arm around me, as the force of the ride was too much for a wimpy eight-year-old to completely handle by herself. By the time it was over, my Mum's arm was bruised and numb, and I was scarred for life.
Fast-forward eleven years, to a nineteen-year-old me, who is still terrified of roller-coasters, especially that particular one. I nearly died on it as a child, so there is no judging me on this standpoint. When you have a near-death experience on a roller-coaster, then you may tell me whether or not you might have a complex about it. Until then, back off. So there.
Anyway, went off subject a little there...Okay, so there I was, eleven years later, and I had finally worked up the courage to say, "okay, let's go" when my Mum suggests we ride the Ghostrider. I had made up my mind, and there was no changing it. It was just yesterday, in fact, on a Thursday, which surprisingly was a really good day to go, because there was virtually no line. We just walked up to the cars, waited for it to empty out, and got in. As I've said already, the restraints are considerably better than eleven years ago. So Mum and I sat, put our separate belts on tightly, and locked our --also separate-- bars over our laps. It seemed secure, so we were both feeling pretty confident. The ride started, we made it to the first big drop, and then we started climbing. The ride click, click, clicked loudly, but then suddenly, clunk, squeeaak! We stopped in the middle of our climb to the drop. My first thoughts: "Oh my God, I am cursed!"
And I just so happened to say this aloud. The people behind us cussed and said something along the lines of, "I don't want to ride this now". The people in front of us turned around and exclaimed, "oh, so this is your fault?!?" Mum and I explained how I nearly fell to my death when I was eight. They completely blamed me for this second freak accident, because as I had so wisely exclaimed, I was cursed. This was it. It was time for the Ghostrider to exact its revenge on me for surviving the first time. And this time, it was out for blood...
But then, as if a miracle had been sent by God, the ride started, and soon we were plunging down that first big drop. I screamed and closed my eyes. But for some reason, after that, I started laughing and yelling hysterically, as if I had lost too much oxygen and gone completely mad. My Mum tried asking me if I was having fun mid-ride, but all I could do was laugh and shake my head, saying "this is crap, I don't like this...!"
By the end of the ride, I was dizzy from my lack of oxygen, and I was shaking with adrenaline. As we walked off the ride and down the exit lane, I said to my Mum, "that was friggin' crazy. Wanna go again?"

Blog ya later, Miss Eccentric.

Saturday, February 5, 2011


The word has many meanings, to say the least. It's used in everyday life, by all kinds of people of different ethnicity's and generations and genders...All in all, I hear it way too often. It's like a filler-word. It's used when no one knows what else to say. For me, this word is used as a, "I don't want to start anything, so I'm gonna just let this go and I won't talk about it again."
I know I am guilty of using this word, but I am trying to stop myself now for future situations. However, to other people, this word takes on a whole new meaning. As mine is simply a way to keep the peace, others have used it in a way that suggests harsh dismissal. Sometimes when it's used in such a manner I imagine that the user of the word simply wants to say something along the lines of, "I don't care what the hell you're saying, I'd really like it if you'd shut up now. If you don't, I'm going to go all homicidal on you and murder you with a straw, then I'm going to do a voodoo dance on your grave to bring you back, just so my gerbil minions can eat you and then burn themselves alive. 'Kay?"
I don't always know why these thoughts go through my head, but it's nothing but the truth. I've always been the type of person who thinks if you have something to say to me, say it. Don't bull$h!t me with your nasty comments to which you try and disguise as a surrender. So you can imagine why I'd really rather know the true meaning behind a word such as "whatever", instead of just taking it as "they have nothing more to say". Because I know from experience that everyone always has more to say. Just in the beginning of this year I read in one of my favorite books that when people want to say something, are about to say something, but then hold themselves back for reasons such as not wanting to say anything socially unexceptionable, holding it on the tip of their tongue for a second and swallowing it...Well, these are called spill-words. I wholeheartedly believe in spill-words, however there are two types in my mind: Type one, the type that almost comes out but again, gets swallowed, and two, the type that comes out in one dismissal-word instead, a word that is loaded with spill-words. I'm more inclined to either just say what I mean, loud and clear, or I will use the type of spill-word that almost comes out but doesn't. This is because I know when to be loud, proud and opinionated, however, I also know when to shut my big fat mouth as to not hurt someone that I love. But be that as it may, I know far more people that use the other type of spill-word, the type that comes out as a nasty, snapped comment that is loaded with the true and crude meaning. Like the word, "whatever". Which brings me to my last point (I think, hehe). Words are just that: Words. People are the ones who put meaning behind them. Now, let me explain this so you don't take it the wrong way. Yes, I am a writer, and therefore find meaning and put meaning into every word I read and write. A story is not a story unless it has meaning. However, a word does not have meaning unless you tether either an emotion to it, or you act on that word, show it more than you say it. Take the word "love", for instance. I have heard this word in several different ways. Depending on who says it, it can either take on a profound meaning, or it can simply mean nothing. But it's not the act of saying the word itself that gives it meaning. It's what you do that counts. I find more meaning in someone silently looking you in the eyes, telling you that they understand you, or gingerly holding your hand, or hugging you when you need it, or making you cry with just one glance...It's the actions that love is truly shown in. When the word is thrown around so much you do not find meaning at the sound of it anymore, you know it's just empty sounds coming from someone's mouth. It's like that saying, "actions speak louder than words". We put meaning into words, and unfortunately they mean nothing unless you can back them up with your actions. And I don't know about you, but I can back up every word I write, and every word I speak. Because I mean each one, and I can prove it with my actions. How about you?

-Miss Eccentric.

P.S. Yes I know that some of that was crazy-rant worthy, and may not make complete sense, but sometimes I need to say what I feel. This was one of those times.

Friday, January 28, 2011

The Art of Writing a "Popular" Blog for the Ages:

The art of blogging is a lost art indeed. Once upon a time, young people such as myself took on blogging as a way to get their word out there, a way to share their love of things, their frustrations, and occasionally to share their own stories as I do. These blogs were lengthy, and the contents were to some extent of good quality. They meant something, especially to fellow American's who just love to take full advantage of our right to Freedom of Speech. Blogging was a healthy way to learn, to laugh, and to share. That did not last very long. The age of technology has seemed to ware on the young people of this earth, and frankly they take advantage of the swiftness of "getting what they want". We all know that the English language has suffered the most from this, what with text-speak becoming the native language of the US. I am not here to preach about that now, because I'm sure everyone is tired of hearing it. And I don't think it's all bad all the time. When I'm just messing around with friends and family, I don't mind spelling things funny on purpose for humor, or adding a "lol" or "lmao" etc. at the end of a sentence, or even a fitting smiley-face instead. This is just for the enjoyment of my friends/family and I. Other than that when blogging and story-writing, I prefer to use the language that our ancestors created in order to allow us to fully understand each other during speech and reading/writing. However, this is not a "popular" way to get one's blog noticed by "blog walkers". So, I have comprised a small demonstration of how to make your blog more popular, by imitating what I have read during my own personal experience in blog-walking.

Step One: As the years go by, I have noticed a very dramatic decrease in the attention-span of the average teen. This might be because "evolution" is trying to tell us that we must keep up with the speeds of the computerized devices in which we live on. They get bored easily, thus, they do not enjoy reading lengthy paragraphs that stay on one subject too long. They prefer to read small tidbits of one subject, and then move on to the next in another, equally small paragraph. So do not write large paragraphs regarding one subject!

Step Two: Do not use large words. Although schools (I'm sure) are still trying to teach the youth words that make them sound more intelligent, they honestly do not understand most of what they are taught. For instance, if you were to ask a young person to use "judicious" in a sentence, it would go something like this: "when i judicious alot my hands get wrinkly". So keep your words simple, and to the point.

Step 3: Do not spell numbers out. It's much quicker for them to understand "3" rather than actually reading "three". And besides, who wants to take the time to spell out a five letter word when they can just hit one key and it will mean the same thing?

Step Four: Text-speak is, as I said, the native language of most young American's. Thus, if you are to get through to such an audience, you should speak their language! Words such as "okay" must be shortened to something more simple to read, such as just a "k". Also, if you are to say "with", instead go for the much simpler version, "w/", which granted, is only two characters smaller, but still. It's very taxing to press two more keys in a rush. And they're always in a rush.

Step Five: Italicizing your lettering as a way of adding emphasis on a certain word as I did above with "always", is completely unnecessary. Simply writing it in ALL CAPS is good enough. It wastes too much time to click the Italic button, and besides, no one knows how to read anything other than the fonts on a computerized screen, and the slant of the Italic lettering might throw them off and make them think that it was written in cursive, thus losing their interest immediately. Instead stick with caps, or simply add emphasis by repeating your important word or sentence more than once.

Step Six: Punctuation is unnecessary, and should be ignored altogether. A sentence such as, "let's go out tonight, I'll buy", should be more like, "lets go out tonight ill buy". Yes, in a normal society the "ill" could be construed as a word describing a feeling of sickness, however, in the context that it is used, they will assume that it was meant as an, "I'll". So again, I say, ignore punctuation. Unless, of course, you are to use excessive amounts of Periods and Exclamation Points instead.

Step Seven: Capitalizing letters in the appropriate places is a no-no. Do not capitalize "I", or the first letter in someone's name, or the first word in the beginning of a sentence. Who cares? No one. After all, it means the same thing when saying, "james rocks" rather than "James rocks". Instead, randomly capitalize letters in the middle of a sentence, just because it looks cooler. And maybe add a number in there. "jam3s rOcks!!!!!!"

Step Eight: Subject-matter matters. It's everything, really. If you don't pick the right subject, you'll lose your readers by the first ridiculously-small paragraph, no matter how many times you do tHiS. For instance, subjects such as politics, whales being hunted to extinction, the growing concern of the US Government trying to boot religion out of everything, or perhaps even a review of an intelligent documentary you saw on Discovery are not welcome. They're boring. No one wants to read of such things, because really, their brains are too full of video games and who-hooked-up-with-who as it is. It's a delicate balance in their small minds, and if their worlds are shattered with the knowledge that Florida is actually full of giant snakes in people's backyards instead of all fun-in-the-sun, they might have a System Failure. You must instead feed their need for knowing useless information, such as why Lindsay Lohan was arrested again, or what "Snooky" did on "Jersey Shore" last week. Paris Hilton is also a good subject. But remember, don't stay on that subject for too long!

Step Nine: Do not title your blog anything that makes sense. If you blog about Brittany Spears, her name must not be anywhere near the title. Instead, come up with something random like, "bald chick" or something. This also goes for your Labels. Don't add any Labels that have anything to do with what you said.

And finally, Step Ten, putting it together. Here is an actual-sized sample of what your new-and-improved blog should look like as to catch the attention and adoration of the young people today:

"ch33Tos r goood lmao

k so i was out w/ jess lasT weak and she was all dev hooked up w/ tiffany & i was all noooowaayy an it was epicness....lolz

then we yaked more an u know we was All talkin bout how we wached the kardashian's yestrday an heres my thots

1...it was funny wen khloe was all bring it on!!!! & kim was all wtf shut it iiiighttt???? and then kloe was all HOld ma earRINGs....!!!! i mean realy!!!she was al hoLd ma EARINGS! frreakin made ma day,,,,couldnt stop lmao all nite.......

;) tHen we got to tha mall an maed fun of the  G33KS it was huge pwn..!!!!

.....holla at yall....ttfn!!!1"

Simply put, 'tis a masterpiece! Honestly, I think that I have just cracked-the-code on what the young people today enjoy. I have revolutionized what it is to create a blog in which every teenager can understand and relate to...

Now, on a more serious note, I am ashamed. The above content of this blog post is truly atrocious, and I promise you all that I will never post anything like that again. Grammar-Freak's honor! But I think I got my point across here.

-Miss Eccentric.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Feelings of Inadequacy...

Alright, so obviously I haven't been really diligent with my postings for a while now, and this honestly bothers me...I used to post every three to four days, whether I was busy or not. I would always find the time, but nowadays it seems that I just don't really know what to blog about all the time, and I'm always worried that when I do have an idea, it's not going to be humorous, or have one of my infamous paranoid rants in it...So needless to say, I've been wanting to try and change this attitude. Also the fact that I have finished my novel, and therefore have more free time to blog, really makes me want to try again. However, the real turning point here was when my dear friend Saphira (holla at you girl!) sent me a link to this really funny blog. It's called Hyperbole And A Half, and truly the woman who writes it (Allie Brosh) is a humor genius. She uses this plain-old Paint program to illustrate her funny stories, and really, this just makes me feel completely inadequate. So, to show you all just how this has made me feel, I have decided to somewhat mimic (not steal, Allie Brosh said herself that if someone was to do sort of the same thing it's not stealing unless I completely copy a post or idea of hers, but to make a Paint character is not copying) her style by creating my own Paint illustrations, with my own style and my own story and my own words. Just for fun, and to put me back in the mood by changing-it-up every once in a while. So...

Okay, before, when I was writing my novel and blogging regularly, I felt like I was on top of the world, like I could tackle anything and come out the other end as the victor...
 (Yes, my hair really has green streaks in it. I tried to make it bright turquoise, but my hair hates me and decided to be faded-green instead)

Then, I became so caught up in my novel and finishing it, because I wanted to win at writing and being young and having my first novel, so I took a break from blogging. And I felt good at first! That is, until I finished my novel, and I got the post-novel letdown...And to top it all off, I was just recently at a bookstore, buying some books that I've been wanting and browsing for new authors, when I found this really interesting book. It's called Halo, and it's written by an eighteen-year-old girl named Alexandra Adornetto. And to top that all off, this girl was first published when she was fourteen. Yes, you read right. Fourteen. This shook me to my core, and completely burst my little ego-bubble.
This worried me. I mean, if this girl was published at fourteen and now has a reputation and is making her way across seas from Australia, what's so amazing about a nineteen-year-old who wrote a novel in America? I mean, I'm an adult. It's quite amazing when young teens do stuff like finish novels because they're young, and really, the young people don't often do grown-up things like that. But that no longer applies to me. It's not so amazing now because most adults have accomplished stuff like I have, more even! It's quite disheartening, and quite frankly made me feel completely inadequate...
 (To show just how bad this made me feel, I have purposefully spelled "inadequate" wrong in my illustration, indicating that I was so upset that I didn't think I was worthy of trying to be perfect anymore...)

I didn't know what I should do. I mean, I wanted to be accomplished! I wanted my two years of novel-writing (which I could have used for being a bratty-teen, but didn't because I wanted to make a difference) to mean something! I wanted people to recognize the fact that not all girls my age had the maturity and the determination to do something as amazing as writing a whole fiction novel that is quite large indeed! But I just kept thinking, "it's too late, I'm too old now..."
 This changed when I saw Allie's blog. It was so awesome that I just had to go back and read her earlier posts. I read all of 2010's posts and some of her 2009 posts. And it turns out, not too long ago she wasn't even that popular! All she started with were some funny stories and some dorky little drawings, and that's all she had! She didn't even have a job, she admits it herself! But through perseverance and humor, she somehow managed to become so popular and accomplished that she has several thousand followers and now gets money and is super awesome and (as she would say) has almost won the internet. And it got me thinking...
And it's true! I mean, how many nineteen-year-old's do you know that have committed their lives to one thing at such an early age, without changing their minds a million times? I have written a whole novel. I am nineteen, and I have done something that most people my age and sometimes older have no attention-span to actually finish. And you know what? I'm proud of myself, and (to quote my new fave blogger) I want to win the internet, too! Or, if not win, at least come in a close second behind Miss Allie Brosh!!! So, in conclusion, this is my way of saying that I want to blog more. I might not blog all the time, because I want a life too, but I want to make it a habit to come up with more than one blog a month. It's the least I can do for myself as a young writer, to spread my fingertips and type! So wish me luck, fellow bloggers, and Happy Reading!

Blog ya undoubtedly sooner rather than later, Miss Eccentric.

P.S. I apologize for the last drawing here being too large and hanging over the edge of the post like that...However, if I made it any smaller you wouldn't be able to see the writing on it, so I suppose it will just have to do.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

My New (or rather, old) Underwood Typewriter!

This blog post is reserved for anyone willing to help tell me what model/year this Underwood typewriter is! I've cleaned it up and successfully unstuck every key, but I'm not sure how old it is or what it could be worth (other than personal worth, since I am a writer and this is my first real typewriter). Please help if you can!

Oh yeah, I found the serial number on a little metal tag to the right of the ribbon, if that will help:
Thanks =)

-Miss Eccentric

Sunday, January 9, 2011

Battle of the Eight Legged Demon...

Last night, was possibly the scariest night of my life. Why the melodrama, you ask? I'll tell you.
There I was, minding my own business, reading a book before slipping into a peaceful slumber, when all of the sudden, something in the corner of my eye catches my attention. My head jerks to my right to see what it is, and there, standing proudly on a pillow right beside me, is a spider. And not just any old tiny, clear, jumping spider that you find in your shower. No, this one was huge, dark brown and hairy, with big vampire teeth and the demeanor of a werewolf during a full moon. And it wanted me. It was hungry, and I was on the menu. For a moment I sat in pure stillness, in fear that if I moved too much, it might jump on my neck and start sucking my life away, but then I worked up the courage to attempt to smash it with something. But the moment I got near it, it jumped to life, and with some fancy tactical maneuvers that a ninja would envy, it escaped me, stealthily sliding away into the crack between my bed and the wall. I tried looking for it, worried that it would come back for more later, but could not find the little bugger, as it had put its camouflaged body-suit on during its escape, therefore disappearing into the background. I sat back against the wall once more with my book in hand, deciding that it was just a stupid, tiny little spider, and what harm could it cause? It probably got distracted with something else down that crack that spiders like, so why would it come back up just to get revenge on me for trying to smash it? So I continued to read, and Joey (the cat, not the character from Friends) began to clean again, apparently finished with giving me strange looks for spazzing at seemingly nothing a moment ago. However, after a few minutes of blissful reading, all homicidal thoughts forgotten, the nightmare returned. Only this time, the ninja-spider was on, my arm. I spazzed immediately without conscious thought, waving my arm about, trying to get the beast off me. I paused in my frantic waving as the spider in question dropped off my arm, somewhere onto my blanket instead. I froze, staring at the place where I could have sworn I saw it land, but I did not see it on my navy-blue blanket. And then, to my horror, the reason for its absence on my blanket revealed itself.
It was on my arm again.
This time my instinct to kill set in, and instead of spazzing like an idiot, I began to swat viciously at my own arm like an idiot, trying to vengefully kill the damn thing once and for all. I then proceeded to jump out of bed, and with careful precision, I smacked and banged on my bed as a monkey might. At this point Joey had obviously had quite enough of my spazzing about, so he jumped of my bed and went to casually lay on the ground in front of the little heater in my room. Finally my brain kicks in a little, and a thought breaks through my murderous fog of panic.
"Eh, maybe I should do something useful and try finding the little bugger..." I thought, and my body responded by ceasing the embarrassing swatting-of-the-bed. I paused, breathed, and recovered my pride enough to calmly reach to my covers and peel them back, searching in between each blanket for the beast of a spider. Now, this may seem like an easy task, however, I have like, eight blankets and a sheet on my bed due to the very cold conditions of Southern California in January. Alright, that sounded completely ridiculous, but hey. It's very cold in my room this time of year, okay? Anyways, where was I? Ah right, searching for the demon with eight legs. Okay, so I peeled back every single one of my blankets, one by one, twice, just trying to find that damn spider. I would have just let it go, because really, how much damage can a tiny little spider cause? It worked the first time thinking this, when it had escaped through the crack beside my bed, so why wouldn't it work again? Why couldn't I let it go? Well, maybe because it came back last time on my arm, so why wouldn't it do it AGAIN? This reasoning seemed perfectly rational at the time. So, I continued to search. Finally, after a few more frantic flippings of my blankets, I spotted it, sitting quietly and unharmed on the side of my mattress, waiting to strike. I froze, afraid that it would escape once again. Then, very slowly, I reached over to my desk, grabbed a paper towel that I had been using with my paints the other day, and I approached the creature. It sat perfectly still, daring me to do something. Daring me to even try and kill it. At that moment I summoned all my courage, reared my hand back, and swiftly and efficiently smashed where the spider was sitting. I then carefully pulled back the bundled paper towel, trying to see if I had indeed smashed it, and I found remnants of spider guts on the murder weapon in question. However, there was no body. I glanced down, wondering if it had somehow survived, or, perhaps, maybe it had just fallen to the ground under my bed. I weighed my options: Either I could take the guts on my paper towel as a sign that it was now dead somewhere underneath my bed, or, I could continue to let the horrible thoughts run through my head, telling me that it was now under my bed bleeding to death somewhere, and that in its last breath it would jump up once more and come after me again, so at least its last move in life would be to eat the human who had killed it. Let's just say that I chose the latter option, thus, I knew that I had to find the body before I could ever even think of trying to sleep again. So I carefully pulled a few things from underneath my bed, using a paintbrush to pick through some of the things. And finally, as if God had decided to give me a break on this one, I found it. A tiny, twitching, grotesque carcass on the carpet, clearly either seconds away from death or, hopefully, already dead. I disposed of the body using the murder weapon, and it was as if a weight had been lifted. I could finally sleep. I could finally lie in my own bed, without the fear of a hairy little monster eating me from the inside out in my slumber. I laid back in bed, in the peaceful darkness of the night, cat deciding that I was sane enough to sleep on again, thus jumping up and lying on me. I was warm, comfortable and ready to relax and sleep.
And I thought, at that moment, "what if it wasn't alone? What if spiders are like rats, if you see one, fifty more will be hiding in the shadows, waiting for you to kill one of their own so they can avenge their soldier with malice...?"

...Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite...Muahahahahahahaa...

-Miss Eccentric.

BTW: Notice how I added that the cat was basically disgusted with my behavior? Yeah, well, I'm a little peeved that fatty didn't pull his weight last night! His job as a cat is to kill the critters that get in their people's way! But no, he just sat around like, "what, Mom? I'm not getting that spider. You can get the spider, I'll just sit here and watch with a look of amusement on my fat little face."
...Yeah...Just a tad annoying...