We need to get out.

Let me clear it up for any moron with lingering doubts: It’s worse. It’s over. You lost. You lost the day your tanks rolled into Baghdad to the cheers of your imported, American-trained monkeys. You lost every single family whose home your soldiers violated. You lost every sane, red-blooded Iraqi when the Abu Ghraib pictures came out and verified your atrocities behind prison walls as well as the ones we see in our streets. You lost when you brought murderers, looters, gangsters and militia heads to power and hailed them as Iraq’s first democratic government. You lost when a gruesome execution was dubbed your biggest accomplishment. You lost the respect and reputation you once had. You lost more than 3000 troops. That is what you lost America. I hope the oil, at least, made it worthwhile.

-Riverbend (A woman, Iraqi blogger.)

I've finally made up my mind concerning the war.

LAWL

Scariest moment of my entire life:

Jewish kid: Ooh, lemme see your tattoo!I wanna see if I can read it.
Me: Ok...
Jewish Kid: Is it a name? I can't really....
Me: *slightly worried* It's emeth!
Jewish kid: It's supposed to be 'emeth'?! Truth?
Me: Yes!
Jewish kid: Well, It's not...
Me: WHAT?!

I was still shaking ten minutes later. In the end, he misread it, but that was a horrible feeling.

Most awkward moment of the evening:

Jewish kid: So, Alyssa. Do you get a lot of attention from the boys?
Me: ....No.
Jewish kid: Really?!
Me: .......-___-

Pet Peeve

"You should enjoy being single!"

"That's why I go on dates."

It hurt SO bad. Kinda.

This is the hebrew word, 'emeth'. It means "truth" to the extent of strength and solidity. It's what Jesus referred to when he said he was the 'way, the truth, the light'. It's like the Truth (notice the capital) and reality in one. Never changing--like God.

You'll be glad to know it doesn't hurt at all any more. WOO

Inked.

August 6, 2007. 6:40 PM. I walk into Santa Clarita tattoo with my father.
August 6, 2007. 7:16 PM, and 100$ later, I walk back out of the tattoo shop with a brand new tattoo.

I'd post a picture, but it's covered with plastic right now. It will be until tomorrow morning. I can't swim for two weeks, and I have to care for it with antibacterial soap and lotion. I absolutely adore it. I'll explain it tomorrow, when I post a picture.

As of this moment, I can no longer donate blood. I'll have to answer 'yes' to the tattoo question on the questionnaire sheet the doctor's office has. My faith is branded on my skin. I love it.

My mother doesn't.

My mother hasn't said two words to me since I got home. This is the only thing that worries me (aside from the lingering pain). I compromised with her, set restrictions, dates, and ideas, and let her push me around concerning this '18th birthday present'. She agreed to it once, and ever since she has been cold. When I had finally decided around 6 months into my 18th year. She said to wait. We agreed to 6 months. It's been almost a year. I love her, and I feel as if I've disappointed her, but this is something I've thought and prayed about. I'm sure she'll come around.

It hurt. A lot. Much more than I expected. The tattoo feeling has been described as 'annoying'. It actually felt like the guy was cutting my skin. But I didn't object. I didn't make a single sound. I'm kinda proud of myself. The foot is supposed to be the most painful place to get a tattoo. Tons of nerves. But I did it.

And I love it.

I'm Home

Mmmm. My bed. My bankets. My own room. A real shower. Electricity--the internet!. Aim, a chance to rant about Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (finally) and yet, the laziness to put it off for another day.

It's good to be home. After nearly two weeks of living out of the same ten foot by ten foot space as the rest of the family, without electricity to even justify bringing a rig camping, I am home. My entire summer I looked foreword to July 21st--the day Harry Potter was released, because it signified many things. The end of Taco Bell, the beginning of the end of Harry Potter, and the beginning of my two week long vacation where I would finally indulge in all the books I've been meaning to read, where I would sleep all day, and sit by the fire at night. Well, now I am glad it is over. I read...way too much to be healthy, I ate way too much junk food (which was oftentimes the only thing available) and I didn't get to sleep in because of the screaming monkeys next door.

I did, however, finally get to see San Francisco, which was beautiful and awesome. I decided to someday live there, despite the less than perfect experience there with my slightly tedious family. Plus, the traffic sucked. I decided that one day, I would Open up a coffee shop, and live on a vespa. In addition to some sort of ministry to the less perfect parts of town.

Well, now I'm home, and I'm broke, of course. One of the pains of having money, is that I feel less inclined to ask my parents for help, and I spend money on things I shouldn't. Like the family clue game and alka seltzer. And later, when I get my 200$ credit card bill, I don't quite have the money to pay it off, and I can't ask for help. Or something.

I'm rambling because I've spent far too many minutes in semi-consciousness today. Goodnight.