?

I know babies are more connected to their mothers since they usually are more familiar with their voice or touch, but I was wondering how a baby can tell who their father is? I remember when I was a baby, my dad was around sometimes. My mom and dad were never married, and he didn't live with us. However, when I did see him, I for some reason picked up on him being an "important man." I could distinguish that he was different from my mother (the woman), and I sensed that there had to be a man like my mother. I think that's pretty interesting looking back on it.

I wouldn't consider what I have been having nightmares or night terrors, but they have been quite disturbing for my mind. For a week or so, I have been going to sleep and waking up every two hours. That's stopped, but recently I have been groaning and whining in my sleep, which is no doubt disturbing my roommate. She said I once talked in my sleep to my grandpa, who is deceased, about opening the door. I do remember having a dream about an intruder in my grandparents' house, which is no longer standing. Both of my grandparents are deceased, and I had a close relationship with my grandpa. I even imagined being paralyzed and not seeing anything but the top of my roommate's head and the poster above her bed. Everywhere my head or eyes went, all I could see was that particular side of the room. It was like I had sleep-paralysis/blindness. Last night, I had a nightmare of my mother trying to kill me. She didn't actually do it, but she had a vampiric look in her eyes that made me realize she was going to attack me. I woke up as she was closing in on me. I began to groan and whimper, and couldn't go back to sleep right away. I have a regular relationship with my mom other than the few incidents of our not getting along, but it was a pretty odd dream. I haven't been getting these until I came back to college after Winter Break. It's been a long time since I had nightmares or sleep disturbances.

It's a TV my dad paid for, and she insists on turning it on anytime she pleases. I wanted to watch The Grammys the other week or so, and was like, "Well, can we flip back and forth because I'm watching the walking dead." I didn't have the energy for that, so I streamed it on my small laptop. This week, I want to watch a little of the Oscars, and when I told her if her show was off, she's like, "Yeah, but I'm watching this now." Okay, this is not HER TV. Her parents didn't buy it, my did. I hardly watch TV because I have important things to do, but when something that I want to watch comes on, she happens to watch one of her shows. I don't say anything because I don't want to start any drama with her again, but she asked if I could stream the Oscars. No, but her nice, expensive, and big laptop can probably stream her shows.

I watched the adaptation with Scarlett Johansson and Natalie Portman. I actually enjoyed the film and actresses, but then I saw how fans were complaining the inaccuracy of the history, so I decided to lok up Anne Boleyn and Catherine of Aragon. I did my research, and came up with the conclusion that despite that Anne wasn't an evil witch that people made her out to be, she was not a good person. She conspired for the dethroning of a legitimate Queen, the bastardization of children, threw her sister under the bus, and was a social climber. Do I think she deserved to die? Well, it was harsh, but it seems like poetic justice to me after what she put Catherine through. Anne is of course the lesser of two evils when it comes to King Henry. It seems like a lot of people admire her because she was intelligent, a "modern" girl, and knew what she wanted. That doesn't mean anything to me. She may have changed history, but a lot of bad people were intelligent and changed the course of history. I was surprised at the Hester Prynne sympathy she is obviously receiving roughly 450 years later.

I made a sock and pretended to be a racist antisemite just for laughs. I ended up admitting to it when people caught on, and now I feel bad. I even had the account argue with me and give me compliments as a way to not make it suspicious. I now feel awful and stupid because I used fake pictures if someone I knew. Why do I keep doing stupid crap like this? I ended up lying and tricking people. I even made people look stupid. I was just trying to parody and mock real racists and antisemites, but I may be one myself. Should I just have kept it to myself instead of admitting it? People are mad.

I've been called "psycho" and mentally unstable since high school, so I guess it's true. I also done crazy things like make fake/sock accounts of people for laughs and haven't done the most smartest thing in my life. I went to doctors, and they told me I was fine, but I don't know. Making a fake account was pretty silly, though. I never had any friends and was a "weirdo." People who don't like me or find me different instantly call me crazy.

Despite animal communication not being similar to human language, the chirping of birds, squeaking of dolphins, and the dancing of bees potentially represent systems of similar language.

It was evening when they finally arrived home. Annabelle laid her coat on the arm of the kitchen chair as soon as they entered inside. She looked across the room and saw that she had left the light on the stove on. She looked at Norman sheepishly.

"Sorry. I guess I forgot again."

"Sure," he mocked.

She turned on the kitchen light. The house was a small bungalow with only two bedrooms and a full bath. The kitchen was filled with junk that needed to be cleaned out. Each day she would remove some of the things they did not need in order to make room for more important items. She was hoping to save money for a brand new television set; preferably one with color. Most of their belongings were outdated, but they were all they could afford. She didn't mind them, but it was about time for an upgrade. Norman hadn't rid many of his belongings since 1968. He didn't like the idea of getting rid of things. It wasn't like Annabelle's job as a waitress or his working at the gas station could afford them anything decent. They at least had the necessities. Hopefully the jobs wouldn't be their careers. One could only dream, Annabelle would think.

"****!" Norman made an outburst.

"Norman?" she said, turning around to find him on the floor.

She walked over to help him up. He had tripped over one of the empty boxes over on the far corner of the room.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," he breathed, "I just tripped, that's all. This damn house is too small."

"You lived here for two years."

"Yeah, but I eventually want to move out."

"How?"

"I dunno, but I'll find a way. And you'll come with me."

She chuckled. "I don't know. Maybe you can publish one of your poems."

"That old raggedy typewriter is hardly working anymore. And no one wants my poems. Who am I going to send them to, anyway?"

Annabelle shrugged helplessly. "New York?"

He laughed out loud. "I have other things to worry about."

"Well, you're majoring in writing." she said indignantly. "What's the point in that if you're not going to go through with it?"

"Why do you care? You're trying to be a damn scientist, remember?"

"Psychologist."

"Same difference."

She knew she wanted to be a psychologist, but she never thought of what would happen after she graduated from college. She was only twenty-three. Despite that, she did plan on working as mental health psychologist. Years of reading old and tattered books of mental health and how a person's mind worked helped her decide that goal. Her interest in helping others while at the same time learning something about how the human mind functioned always interested her. She especially wanted to know what made a person a racist or a bigot. That was her most important question.

She was more so interested in her own behavior, but that didn't stop her from wanting to know about others as well. Ever since she had told her parents what she wanted to do, they were never interested in that outlandish claim. Her mother told her she might as well have made a living working as a maid like her grandmother rather than relying on such a "ridiculous dream." That had crushed Annabelle so much that it took years for her to come to terms with her own mother. She knew what her mother was trying to say, but she didn't need her own parents downing her hopes. Her father was less doubtful of her, but still warned her of disappointment. Annabelle didn't like her family or anyone around her doubting her or other people like her just because of some people thinking otherwise. Just because it wasn't likely, didn't mean it was impossible.

"Terrific," Annabelle Halon said, holding out the palm of her hand so a tiny droplet of rain could fall into it. "I forgot my umbrella too."

Her boyfriend, Norman Perry, instantly hooked an arm around her shoulder. They had been walking for a distance. At the time, it had been nice to go out for a small walk. Their last class of the day ended at 2:00pm. Although it had been overcast all day, a rainstorm wasn't expected until approximately 8:00pm. It was 4:45pm, and raindrops were already starting to pour.

"It's not too far," said Norman.

They had only been living together for nearly five months. It had been Norman's idea for Annebelle to move in with him ever since their Sophomore year of college. As reluctantly as she was at the time, she had finally given in. They were together, so she didn't think it would be that big of a deal. It was at least better than living with an inconsiderate and selfish roommate. Three roommates later, and she decided living with her boyfriend wasn't such a bad idea.

"How much longer, because it seems like we've been walking forever." she joked.

"Not too long. You need to work out more."

"Hey! I do. I work out whenever I'm turning the pages for when I'm studying."

He laughed. "No, I mean actually getting out and running. Doing something with your muscles?"

"How's this?" Annabelle stopped in her tracks, turned to face him, and extended her mouth into a grin.

"Okay, you have me there."

They both laughed and continued to walk before they reached their neighborhood. They lived in a neighborhood which wasn't too far from the river. Norman had bought the house a couple of years ago. The owner of the house had sold it to him for extremely cheap. He had been working at multiple jobs in order to obtain at least a decent house to live in. He would have rather lived on his own than with his mother and father with three other siblings. It was nearly impossible for him to make it to college. Especially at the rate he and his family were. But after years of working his *** off just to make enough money to go to Samuel Williams College.

The college had a good writing program. Since he spent most of his life writing poems and lyrics over the slightest mundane, he took it upon himself to pursue a career in writing. He preferred poems because of his reading stories by other black poets and novelists. Which was the thing that almost divided him and Annabelle. Upon his first meeting of her, he had asked her of her major out of curiosity. When she told him it was psychology, he thought she was the craziest person he had ever met. His comment, "As if a woman like you would make it as a psychologists." almost turned her off. He didn't understand why she had took that comment to heart. His parents said the same about his aspirations.

"Why should I listen to someone I don't even know?" Annabelle had huffed.

She had tried to walk away from him at a fast pace, but he managed to catch up with her.

"I didn't say you COULDN'T be a psychologist. I just said you were crazy."

"You also said I wouldn't make it."

"Maybe that was bad wording, but it's accurate. There are some women psychologists, but this day and age, it'll be hard for someone like you to be a successful psychologist."

Annabelle looked at him queerly. She looked as if she were really considering his statement. After a few minutes, she said, "Hmm...thanks for the challenge."

"Not an issue." he said, attempting to put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off.

"What are you majoring in?" she asked with a tone of accusatory.

"English."

Annabelle made a noise that sounded like a combination between a snicker and a sneeze. "Yeah, I see. Langston Hughes?"

"Just because I can." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, I can be a psychologist." she said, trying to hide the smirk that was forcing itself to appear on her face.

"Alright. We'll see."

She stared at him with a look of disbelief. He had noticed she had a pretty face which became sexy when it contorted into a frown. The thing was, it wasn't a frown he could take seriously.

"You're beautiful," he told her.

"Okay," she said, confused.

"No, I mean it. Let me take you out some time."

"Why?"

"'Cause I want to. How 'bout it?"

She crossed her arms and let out a deep breath. "Okay, but just at a time that's convenient for me. I have a lot of work to do."

"So do I. How 'bout tomorrow? It's Friday."

"Whatever," she finally said.

But Norman could see the same small smile on her face. Without any warning, he placed a kiss on the side of her head before leaving.

Often times when I'm alone studying or sitting by myself by choice, a person decides to sit next to me despite their being other tables or chairs away from me. I find it annoying because it's like people see someone alone and in peace or content, and they somehow disrupt it. I like to be alone, and someone may say, "Oh, you seem so peaceful all by yourself, I want to join you!" It's like, that's the point. Some people don't seem to get the hint when others want to be in solitude.

The news on the young girls approached Officer Warren like an impending omen. He knew something like this would eventually come. It was his fourth year, and he was still unprepared. Being that this was a small town in Indiana where a murder came once in every blue moon, Warren had no idea what he was getting himself into. The majority of the crimes in the past had been petty or something that could have been forgotten the next day. It had been an overcast day on the verge of a rainstorm. The setting had been foreboding enough with the dark-gray clouds looming above. Not even the usual neighborhood children were out skipping in the puddles. As soon as he got that call that he needed to go to Red Oak Avenue to question a young girl who had reported a murder, the word "murder" hung in his head like a nasty taste in his throat that just wouldn't go down. There weren't any tragedies in Pleasantview, Indiana. At least not from his growing up. Of course, there were the usual natural deaths, accidents, and even the occasional petty murders, but not anything like he was about to witness.

It was a small house which rested on a dead end at the end of the street. The house was made out of red bricks with green shutters on the windows. When he approached the seemingly quaint looking place, he noticed the lawn being swarmed by garden gnomes. He of course noticed the yellow tape surrounding the scene as well. Not to mention several police cars parked in front of a few houses down from the girls' place. He was met by his partner, Graves, who had a sickening expression. Warren knew he was in for a dramatic scene. He just had no idea how bad it would be.

The young girl laid in a pool of blood in the small laundry room. A bloody face-print on the dryer reflected under the small, dim light hanging above it. The laundry room looked as if it had a brand new paint job. For a second, Warren thought there was a halo of blood around the girl's head until he realized it was just her hair sprawled outward.

"God," he choked.

He was trying his best to appear professional, but the look of horror on his face was evident. Graves empathized.

"Yes, we got a call around 6:30 reporting that there was a dead girl in the laundry room."

"'A dead girl in the laundry room," repeated Warren.

Graves nodded. "A girl named Shelley McPherson. She said and I quote, 'There is a dead girl with a slit throat in the laundry room.'"

"Who is Shelley McPherson?"

"Her roommate and best friend."

"So she was hysterical?" assumed Warren.

There was an odd look in Graves' face. "No. She sounded calm, almost lobotomized."

"Shock."

"That's what we thought at first. We thought nothing of her delivery. We just assumed she had shown up at their place to discover her friend's body."

"Did she?"

"She was already there?"

"Wait a second?" said Warren, furrowing his eyebrow. "She was already the---"

"I asked her if the murderer had been in her house. She said, 'Yes.' I asked if the murderer had already left or not. She said, 'No. She's still here.' I said, 'She?' And as if she was intentionally trying to rhyme, she said, 'Me!'"

Warren immediately became alert. "'Me?'"

"Yes," Graves said, nodding slowly. "We at first thought this was just a prank call. We get these a lot, you know. But just in case, we sent someone over to check."

"Who checked?"

"Betty."

"Where's he now?"

"In the living room with the others. They're already exploring the house to find anymore evidence. But so far, the only blood we found was in the laundry room and kitchen."

"Okay, back to this Shelley girl saying 'Me.' Are you saying she called to confessed she had murdered her best friend and roommate?"

"I guess so. But the thing is, it wasn't out of guilt or psychological pressure. The call came shortly after she had apparently done the deed."

"So this was no, 'Edgar Allan Poe beating heart' type of thing,was it?"

"The girl sounded as if she couldn't wait to get caught. When she said, 'me' the pitch in her voice changed. It went from placid, to a hint of cheerfulness. She sounded like my son running home to show my wife and I what he drew in grammar school."

Warren once again forced himself to look at the girl lying face down on the hardwood floor. He knelt down beside her body to examine it.

Growing up, I noticed people who weren't Autistic or had Asperger's tended to blame the ones who were for certain problems. Like if a neurotypical were to "annoy" a person with Autism or Asperger's, the later would end up being the "problem" instead of the former. In which the "problem" would end up being "fixed" or "removed." I have Asperger's, and it seemed like with teacher and adults, instead of trying to help my being bothered by "neurotypicals" I was bothering the "neurotypicals" and therefore, I had to be "fixed." The video from along time ago where the father recorded his Autistic child in preschool being belittled by the teacher made me think of this. The son was made out to be the one with "behavior problems" when it turns out it was the teachers simply just couldn't handle him and were the ones abusing him.

Yesterday, I came back to college after a three week Holiday break. My roommate had some problems due to my posting on Twitter, "My roommate's room is messy." She took it to heart and decided to tweet about my leaving pubic hair in the tub. So we sort of bickered back and forth online about that by not mentioning any names. Before I left, I felt bad about the fallen out so I left a little note wishing her a nice Holidays. It was my dad's idea, but I thought it was a nice gesture nonetheless. I'm not back for longer than three or so hours, and here comes her family walking in. I kind of groaned in my head because I had a feeling it would be unpleasant. I was minding my own business listening to my music when her mother curtly tells me to unplug my cords for her daughter's outlet. Now logically, I saw she had a bookshelf, so obviously they were going to put it there in the place of the outlet. I said, "Okay." respectfully, and did I was told. The woman directs my own outlet, and I didn't see anything wrong with that. It wasn't until I was in my bed trying to nap when she went off.

She complained about my dirty dishes and them being disgusting. I forgot to wash them before I left, and she's apparently tired of her daughter doing all of the work. Okay, her daughter isn't the only one cleaning. her daughter was the one leaving crap in the sink and letting them "soak." Her daughter does the same crap, but tries to blame it on me. Her daughter was the one belittling me and making videos about me, but I didn't say nothing. I felt she was trying to slander me on the internet by reporting to her friends that I talk to myself. I have Asperger's, so being yelled by anyone, especially an adult twice my age is distressing for me. I did not say anything. Instead, I pretended to be asleep and ignore the woman. She went on to imply my mother was doing a bad job at raising me by saying she didn't care how I acted before saying "Your upbringing is LOUSY!" Now I find it funny how adults who disrespect and bully children always use that line to make themselves feel better. I may be a little bratty at times, but don't bring my GOOD and RESPECTABLE family into this.

Before she and my roommate left, she told me that the next time I have a problem with my roommate, I say it to her face. Good enough of a point. Then she yelled at me some more and threw profanities. And I feel she only did that because she knew deep down I wouldn't say anything, which makes her a coward in herself. I would never act a foo in front of someone's parents or disrespect them, because I feel you should make an appropriate impression on someone you know's parents. She even said, "What kind of child doesn't say hi when someone walks in the room?" I'm usually asleep when she drops by, and when I do see her, I say hi. She usually initiates it. She seemed nice enough before, but she was awful. I told my roommate if she has a problem with me, she can talk to my mother and I gave her the number to give to her mother. We talked about this to my RA, and hopefully this straightens out, but I don't want to be around someone who has a parent disrespect me. I don't like being screamed at by adults who aren't apart of my family. She claims I was "messing" with her daughter, but that's not entirely true. Her daughter is the one talking down to me all the time when she thinks I can't catch them. This isn't the first time I had a parent complain about my bothering their child. And my mother understands that when this usually happens, the OTHER kid must have done something to provoke me for this to get out of hand. Usually it's them who ticks me off and I retaliate. They then go to their parents as if I'm the source of all of the tension. Should I have said anything in retort instead of a cold "Yes" when she asked if I understood her, or not anything at all?

I'm thinking about working on a story about a young college student from a working/middle class family trying to make enough money to pay for college, but she keeps getting cheated out of her money by friends or just being irresponsible by them.

Another idea is writing a story about a kid with a mental disorder, and all of their teachers and classmates blame things he can't help onto him. He is bullied, but because he is "different", teachers think he's the one in the wrong and the "normal" kids are being "pestered" by him.

I also have an idea about two girls who grew up as best friends, but one day the girl snaps and brutally murders her. The story is based in the early-70's, and it is done in a way as if it were being reported by investigators and we have flashbacks of what happens.

One more is a land that is set centuries later where the idea of "love", "lust", and emotions are limitless. It's a Dystopian/Utopian Fantasy where the people in the novel have no limit to what they can do. However, the things they love and need end up disappearing, sending them to a very sad, but peaceful place.

I have Asperger's, high-functioning Autism, and my parents and even roommate have called me out on my running, jumping, and rocking back and forth. My mom assumes it makes me look "retarded", and it often happens if I'm stimulated such as listening to music or thinking of something funny. I tend to "run" if I have an "epiphany" of some sort and get excited. I have a compulsion to run, and I just told my roommate I had ADHD so she wouldn't think I was a weirdo freak. Is sudden movements normal in Autism?

If a dog is usually treated like a child/baby themselves, and the owner/master suddenly gets married or has a baby, how would a dog deal with that? Do they get jealous like humans, or do they accept the new members eventually? I know some dogs love babies and would cuddle, guard, protect, and play with them, but some can get jealous if they no longer get the "child" treatment like they did before. And if so, how would you help them deal with that?

People hurt, people cry

Pain stricken and bleeds

People lose loved ones who’ve been there for a while

Through death or neglect

Love destroys worse than hate

For it manipulates

It’s selfish and used as weapons of lust

It makes excuses

(Chorus)

People hurt and lose

By pursuits

People hurt and lose

By neglect

People hurt and lose

From no communication

No one tries to fix what’s broken

I'm only 19, but I'm pretty sure marriage is about commitment, trust, mutualism, respect, and starting a family together. Yes, physical love should be in the picture, but if people rely on sex, then why would they get married? If you want to have sex and screw around, just find other people and not get married. Once you marry, all of that stuff is thrown out of the window with responsibilities. I don't feel pity for people who are miserable because they're not screwing 24/7. Sex isn't the foundation for marriage. No one needs sex, they just want it.

In the next chapter, this couple goes to this guys house for the girl to change out of her bloody clothes after the guy shot a person who was about to attack her. I've been lost for months, and I'm just now thinking of a new chapter for the story. I don't know how to start it and state what happens.

Savannah found her way back inside the house. Quite a few people had left judging by how the crowd was beginning to look sparse. She made her way over to Holly who was talking to Megan, Shelbi, and their other friends. They were laughing at a joke Shelbi had told when Savannah approached them.

"Hey, girl," said Holly, looking at her up and down. "Why do you look a mess? You've been drinking?"

"She was probably with Andy," teased Shelbi.

Savannah shook her head. "Not anymore."

"Aww...you guys broke up already?" they heard Erica's voice say from afar.

Holly rolled her eyes. "Ignore that."

But Savannah just laughed. "No, it's fine. It's just that Geoffrey and Gremlin crashed our intimate session."

"Oh, yay! A threesome!" Shelbi joked again.

The girls just looked at her. Shelbi thought it was a good idea to make jokes at inappropriate times. She figured it was to make things less awkward. Savannah just thought it made things more annoying.

"What happened?" Megan ask.

She put on a tone that suggested that she was pretending to be sympathetic. Savannah ignored her as if she were truly interested in her affairs.

"Andy and I were making out in his car when Geoffrey unceremoniously yanked the door open."

"Oh," said Megan. "That sucks."

You don't know the half of it. Savannah thought.

She glanced over to see Andy wandering through the crowd when he looked over way. Embarrassed, she tried to hide, but he was already making his way towards her.

"There you are!" he said when he reached the girls. "Why'd you leave so fast? I've been looking all over for you."

"I was just getting a drink," she lied, looking at her friends for some reinforcement.

Megan just smiled, which was of course mischievous. Holly, however, simply walked away as if nothing had happened.

Thanks, Holly. You always have my back.

"You look tired," observed Andy. "You want me to take you home?"

Relieved, she nodded yes. She wasn't quite in the mood to party in the first place. Not to mention, she was away from the likes of Geoffrey and Erica.

The silence was strangely comfortable as she sat in his car. It was rare for her to ride in a car at night, but when she did, she relished every moment of it.

"I know I asked you this like a million times before, but are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." she answered.

"What are you thinking about?"

She wanted to groan at that question. No matter who the person was, they never allowed her to think to herself without wanting to know what her thoughts were.

Can't a girl enjoy silence?

"Not much," she said, shrugging. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot,"

"Why is Geoffrey such a---"

"******* douchebag with no common sense?" Andy finished, shooting her a knowing smirk. "It's what he does. He doesn't mean any harm by it, though."

Savannah tried to smile, but it was hard. She didn't like Geoffrey at all, and according to him, the feeling was mutual. He was always finding a way to criticize her as if she were a walking flaw.

"Don't look so offended." continued Andy. "He does that to everyone,; including me."

"I bet he doesn't," she mumbled inaudibly.

"I don't know what that Eliza girl's problem is, though. Have you noticed that she's been really weird lately?"

"Not at all," she said ironically.

"What's the deal with you too? Are you guys cool or what? I know you guys didn't get along before, but since the beef with you and Nicole has been settled, I'm sure Eliza's cool with you now."

Savannah managed to put on a fake smile. "We're on...good terms."

The truth was, she really didn't have time to talk ill of any person in front of Andy. That was a mistake she had learned the hard way. It was better to keep silent than to let unnecessary information spill out.

"Okay, that's cool." He nodded his head. "I think she kind of likes me."

"Really?" she said.

Savannah realized that she had said that in a way that sounded like she was asking him how he could be so oblivious. She had tried her best to ignore the gremlin's shameless flirting with Andy, but it was beginning to become unbearable.

"You know how girls are," she said, "they like to be flirts. It doesn't mean anything."

"Yeah, you're probably right," he said, putting one hand on her knee. "But you're the only girl I pay attention to."

Without warning, she felt her stomach do a somersault once again. She always took his compliments for gospel. Andy for some re