Of all the things to hate in the world, with all the crimes and criminals, you hate a little green vegetable.

I've nothing good to say at all. Which means, of course, that I'm going to say it all!

I hate peas. I think they're gross.

I hate showering. I feel as though I earned my filth.

I hate naps. I think they're a waste of time.

I dislike Bryan Butters. I think he's a tool.

I hate brushing my teeth. It is so so so boring.

I hate having a job. It is too much work.

I hate when people try to be someone else. Isn't that just generic?

I don't like drugs. I think they destroy people.

I don't really like soda too much. It makes my tummy hurt.

I don't like boys. They're dumb.

I don't like musicals, and yet, I sing as though I am in one.

I don't like computers. They're no good.

I don't like dirty. Clutter, rather.

I don't like the mouse's in the Union Building. You can't scroll down.

I dislike the taste of black coffee. It is too bitter.

I can't say I enjoy being alone.

I don't like to cry. It leaves my face all wet.
I don't like saying good bye, because I don't like to cry.

I don't like reading anything other than Harry Potter.

I especially dislike homework. It is tedious.

I loathe Spanish class. Fuck Queen Rita.

I don't much care for any font other than Times New Roman.

Slide shows bother me if I didn't make them.

I don't like to be corrected. I hate that I need to be.

I am afraid of heights.

And elephants.

This guy sitting next to me is tacky. I hate that.

I don't like stereotypes. I think they're ridiculous.
I hate that I stereotype people.

I don't like politically incorrect statements.

I don't like that I don't get to decide what is politically incorrect.

I hate it when people are late. Even by just a minute.

Especially Chelsea.

I don't like being called little Dustin, but that hasn't happened for a while.

I don't like talking on the phone. Unless it is a boy.

I don't like when people are offended by the things I do.

I don't mean to offend anyone.

I don't like animal abuse, therefore I don't eat meat.

I don't like that I like cheese so much, I want to be vegan.

I don't like that I am weak.

I don't like that my head phones may or may not have crapped out on me.

I hate it when you paint a room and have to tape it off first.

I hate that I have to do my own laundry.

I don't like that I have to read almost 2 plays everynight.

I dislike that I don't own any of them.

I hate that I never read the plays I am supposed to.

I dislike lists.

And counting.

I don't like telling time with an analog clock. I get bored.

I don't like the taste of okra.

I find it ridiculous how some people can accomplish nothing.

I find it even more ridiculous how some people are such fuck ups.

I don't like adultery. I think it is disgusted.

I am attracted to very few races.

I dislike that about me...

I don't like Mac's, I'm a PC.

I don't like keanue Reeves, Nic Cage or Kristin Stewart.

I hate that they get to be famous while I go grocery shopping.

I love to have my picture taken.

And I love Broccoli.

I also love my Friends and good times.
Life is full of adventure, but no one wants to play.

I hate that.

REM stage 4

A few dreams I had a couple of nights ago stuck in my memory. Unless I'm fighting Zombies, Dinosaurs, or Zombie Dinosaurs, they don't exactly stick around for me to remember them in the morning. I usually prefer to have dreams about Harry Potter, as I am recently completely obsessed to the point of awesomeness, but the occasional inspirational dream will do.

The first, as plain as it is, I've had a little bit more trouble interpreting... It was in a bedroom, not my current or 131 bedroom, but a rather familiar (I can honestly say to the best of my knowledge I've never set foot in this room) bedroom. The walls were grey/beige lit easily by two lamps on either side of the bed. The bed, as with most adult bedrooms, was in the center of the room with the head board against the farthest wall. At the foot of the bed sat a blanket the color of blood, and the bed spread covering legs was a light brown color. The legs belonged to Taylor. Yes, that old boyfriend of mine. He was reading. His torso outside the bed spread and his arms upon it. I can only assume he was reading an Augustus Burrows novel. I walked in the room doing the thing I do every night right before bed (mind you, I don't actually have a bed routine, but in the sense of the dream, it felt as if I had done it every night for 10 years). Just having brushed my teeth, I take off my glasses. I would assume I was about to put them on my side night stand and roll into bed, but my dream ended. I cannot recall if I woke up after that or not, but I just know that it felt so real. So... Natural.

My second dream, although less... Happy (assuming you interpret the first vision as happy). I was at my parents house, for some reason, I was drawn to visit the front lawn. When I passed over the threshold of the house door, I noticed something odd. It wasn't that the sky was purple (but for all intensive purposes, it very well could have been) nor that the lawn was a sea of hats. No, what I saw was a crowd. As I drew closer I realized that the crowd was circling a car that lied, parked, beneath the oak tree.

I began to inquire why everyone was so intrigued by the vehicle when a stranger exclaimed that someone, a girl, was about to be raped. I was appalled. Why was no one doing anything? That poor girl is about to be violated and emotionally scared in front of an audience. She's going to have to live in this world knowing that she was so traumatically hurt and no one bothered to do anything about it.

Knowing that it is a horrible thing not to have hope, and that she must be completely terrified and in severe danger, I began my search for a blunt stone. My plan was to use the stone to break the window and rescue this poor girl. The moment I wielded my newly found stone to the window, I realized that there was no window. Or, at least, it had been rolled down. I was confused. Could she just not escape herself? After having paid so close attention to my new discovery, I found that I was near a group of the girls friends. They kept saying her name, Danielle. Her name was Danielle. It is such a beautiful name. Such a beautiful girl. Just to clarify, I asked one of her friends, "Her name is Danielle?" "Yes" was the quick response.

"Danielle," I said softly to the girl in the car, though she didn't react. I don't think she heard me. "Danielle," I repeated, this time followed by a quick glance from a crying, young, beautiful girl. I don't know why or how, but as soon as I had her attention, "The greatest lesson you can learn is to love, and be loved in return." The past couple of weeks this has been my moto. I of course came upon this insight while watching Moulin Rouge, this being the central theme of the film. After I said the words, Danielle stopped crying. She wiped away the tears that had been running down her face and she looked at me with the most astonishing eyes. She crawled out of the window of that car and jumped into my arms. I embraced her knowing that I just changed her life forever.

If you were to ask me what I took away from this dream, I'd come up with a mixture of answer and theory. My theory being that, while I believe that she was about to be rapped, I do not believe it was sexually. I cannot recall another person being in that car below the oak tree, so I believe that the idea of rape is more appropriate. Abuse, or improper treatment is one definition of the word. I believe that her life has been so incredibly terrible up to this point, and until now she had been blaming it on bad luck and shacking responsibility. When I came into Danielle's life, she suddenly found the courage to realize that her life is what she makes it.

The answer I'm looking for is that we have to take responsibility and stick up for ourselves. Take action and be who we are. This world will walk all over you and leave its foot print without so much as a warning. We've got to stand our ground and live. We've got to stand our ground and love.