there are seven days...

mm, seven days.

that's creepy.

anyways, for this history, i'll involve a dentist memory.

because i went to the dentist today.

thirteen cavities!

anyways.

when i was younger, i had a rotten tooth.

the dentist was the worst one ever.

he asked if my tooth hurt when he pushed down on it.

well, he pushed down on it.

and it hurt.

so i bit down on his thumb.

i wasn't very old, like six or so.

and he started yelling at me.

cussing, and screaming.

i guess he almost smacked me.

and this man was a child dentist.

traumatized me.

with his beezer, drill, whatever.

i'm now terrified of dentists.

and i don't have great teeth,

so i have to go there often.

stupid dentist.

ten, nine, eight...

ten;

on valentine's day,

my father would put a stuffed animal on the porch.

ring the doorbell.

i would answer, expecting him.

and all there would be is a stuffed bear or something.

i opened the door, picked up the animal,

and looked around. 

i'd close the door and walk inside,

and he would come to the door and surprise me.

that was when he lived not far away,

and didn't have anything else to do with his time.

i was his only at that time.

nine;

one christmas,

my sister and i got a present together.

we unwrapped the box,

undid the tape that was on the box,

and at the sight of the styrofoam,

i exclaimed, "yay! exactly what i wanted!"

and proceeded to rip a piece of it off,

and put it in my mouth.

i paid no attention to the television inside the box.

this memory taught me to love the little things.

if you don't believe me, i have it on tape. (:

eight;

unhappy memory.

our lawn mower was on our lawn,

and i looked at it.

one of our cats, shampoo,

was on top of the bag.

another cat, one of the newest ones,

a kitten, my favorite,

was inside the bag. i ran inside to tell tim.

not to turn on the lawn mower.

my mom said he was already outside. 

i yelled in horror,

and ran back outside.

the lawn mower was already started,

and the kitten rolled out of the front of the lawn mower,

dead.

it was traumatizing.

we buried it and i cried like a baby.

eight days until i'm an adult. 

crazy.

eleven days.

my sisters give me lots of memories.

one of my favorites,

has my sister brendi in it.

when i was younger, i absolutely loved disney movies.

still do.

my favorites?

the little mermaid, the lion king, a bug's life, and many more.

so before i'd go to bed,

one of my sisters would come and tuck me in.

then, brendi, this one night that i remember,

turned on the little mermaid's soundtrack.

and would lip sing it to me.

i loved her so much at that moment.

she was incredible at it, and made me dream happy dreams.

thanks to all my sisters,

for making my childhood so much better than their own.

i love them very much,

and it's memories like this,

that make me wish i was young again.

<3

thirteen and twelve.

stupid blogger didn't let me post yesterday.

so this one is going to have two memories.

and i never said they had to be happy ones.

thirteen;

people say that i'm amusing to tease.

well, i don't like being teased.

but they do it anyways.

it's because of this man that was in my family,

and now he is not.

he used to grab a newspaper.

on the cover of this newspaper,

was a china man without teeth.

it scared the crap out of me.

he used to wave it in front of my face,

every time that i walked inside,

and would yell rather loudly,

"he'll love you long time!"

i hated that man.

another time, he stole my toy baby.

put her on a ceiling fan.

and turned the fan on.

i was traumatized. 

and it was all just 'teasing' to him.

twelve;

when i was younger, i had pretty long hair.

my sisters loved to do hair.

one time, they wanted to braid it.

so all three of them sat around me,

while i sat on a toilet, 

and they took little strands of hair,

braided them,

and put a bead on the end of each one.

my hair was like that for a loooong time. 

a couple weeks, at least.

i even have pictures of it.

when i was on my tricycle.

good times and bad times.

two memories down.

twelve days to go. (:

day fourteen.

i found a paper that i wrote when i was ten, i think.

it's called,

'someone special, starring me!'

and it had simple questions that i'm going to write down on here.

because i think it's a good memory,

a little bit of history for someone to read over.

what is your favorite subject in school?

math.

( funny, i greatly dislike math now. )

what is your least favorite subject in school?

writing.

( another funny thing. this is absolutely my favorite now. )

what is your favorite sport?

kickball.

( i didn't know kickball was a sport. )

what is your favorite animal?

cheetah.

( it was my favorite until too many people liked it. )

name something you do very well.

sing.

( haha, yeah right. )

name something that makes you mad.

when someone is talking when they're not supposed to.

( still does. )

what is your favorite t.v. show?

powerpuff girls.

( please, netflix? please? )

what is your favorite book?

cats and dogs.

( based on the movie. i still have this book. )

who are you favorite friends?

paige, mckel and mykala.

( paige jacobs? mckel ekker? mykala...? )

what would you like to be when you grow up?

artist.

( not so much anymore. it would have been cool, though. )

what would you like to learn in school this year?

learn about dinos.

( they fascinated me, i guess. )

i love learning about my past self.

it's interesting to see how much i have changed over the years.

because then i can look back,

see what i liked,

and try and bring that certain trait back to life.

certainly not the math liking one, though.

maybe the singing, artist, kickball ones.

i wonder if anyone even plays that anymore?

anyways, day fourteen is done.

goodnight, sweet dreams.

day fifteen.

my birthday is in fifteen days. 

fifteen memories from my life.

up until my eighteenth birthday?

okay. memory numero fifteen.

when i was younger, two houses ago,

i used to take cat food out to the cats.

think, we had a bunch of cats back then.

at least thirteen.

and so i would take the cat food to the garage,

hang out with them,

and then i'd eat the cat food with them.

it was really weird... 

i ate lots of gross stuff back then,

like lick butter from the cube.

that's one of those memories that make me chuckle,

and make other people gag.

there you go. (:

love story.

the life of a hopeless romantic is in fact that.

hopeless.

because they live for the romance.

when they don't get it,

there is no more living.

you are simply there,

watching other people's romance.

loathing them for their happiness.

then the next worst thing is watching romance fail.

when you know it won't work out,

but you can't say anything about it.

because you don't want to ruin the romance that is there now.

sometimes you want fake romance.

to fill the void of what should really be there.

when opportunity arouses for some romance,

you have the perfect idea of what you want,

so anything less doesn't stand a chance.

half the time you don't even want romance.

just someone to talk to that doesn't have romance,

like you don't.

but of course, who doesn't like someone?

who doesn't have some gushy love story to tell?

not very many people.

or they have some history that you can't associate with.

everyone says that i'm pretty.

fun, good friend, blah blah blah.

where's my love story?

my prince?