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[Author's Note: This installment picks up after "Friendship is Like Outback Steakhouse: Part VIII". It is very important that you read the intro and Parts I through VIII in order before reading this part.

Also, in this part, I describe how I really felt the day after I got my wisdom teeth out. I was very much in a different state of being at the time than what is my usual disposition. The explanation of how I felt flows into a flashback: the true story of one of the most harrowing, yet the most defining and life-altering experiences in my whole life].

I am horrified and mortified at my appearance, as well as pissed off at the dentist: getting your wisdom teeth out is the most evil of all necessary evils that I have had the necessity to do! I feel like and !@#$%^&*{} in addition to being completely devoid of inspiration for poetry or a method of completing my second novel. My face looks like a weather balloon and I am stuck eating yogurt and popsicles. I want MEAT, DEFLATION, and, most of all, INSPIRATION for something other than rants! I also want a reason to ####### quit cussing! One thing I am thankful for, however, is that Mason is being especially gracious for once, but I still wish that he had a better reason to be that way.


Muhahahaha! I have proven someone wrong...without any original intent to do so!
The ^^^^^^^^^^^^^ dentist-I mean, the dentist-said that today would be the worst day of the ever-conspicuous weather balloon face, but he was wrong! To day, my face is more deflated than it has been since last Friday, when I actually had my wisdom teeth out.
Way to piss me off over almost nothing, smartass! Y'all ^^^^^^^ medical practitioners-especially y'all dentists-think that y'all are the brightest bulbs in the streetlights! Well, guess what? While I'm formulating this scathing tirade speech, I'm using this technique called 'apostrophe'-something that only authors can rightly do! By thinking in such a way, I am not pissing my Mom off because I am not saying anything to your face at the moment, you bastard! Be glad that I have a Mom who will protect unsteady emotions from my criticism, because there was a time when my deconstructive criticism had no suppressant! And y'all should be truly thankful that I am a perseverant survivor!
Okay, I feel better now. Saying all of this in the back of my mind may not have sent any kind of cogent message, but I guess that I am relieved enough to the point that I don't have the need to crush anyone's spirits.
But if it weren't for my roughneck stand in life, I would have fallen apart over all of this: my current low opinion of myself due to my appearance and my current inability to be inspired as an author. I also would have fallen apart to the point of no return if I hadn't discovered back in the seventh grade how tough I really am.
You see, I was a very different person-in a very bad way-when I was in the seventh grade. That was when I met someone who was even more horrible than myself, and that awful person was my pre-algebra teacher. And the student she hated more than the rest was none other than me.
For most of the year, I complained to my parents and to my favorite teacher, Mrs. Pridewell, who adored me and who I looked up to because she was so great and so tolerant of me. My parents took longer to convince, however.
It was in March of that school year-2002-when my Mom received a call from an infuriated Mrs. Ridley. Mrs. Ridley besmirched every fiber of my being, excoriated my parents for making me who I was (which, in reality, they did not do)-blaspheming all that my family and I stood for, while my Mom was sitting there listening. It was the direct and more degrading, defaming and scathing besiegement to top the rest-and I was more pissed than ever at Mrs. Ridley. For her to personally derogate a tudent in front of his or her own mother-and include the whole family in the degradation-was far more than I would countenance. 'Arlene is a living, breathing, walking talking problem!' What about Mrs. Ridley's own problem: excessive hatred?
I did, however, have a problem of my own-but not one that Mrs. Ridley thought I had. I, partly due to the fact that I was very young, had a problem with being vengeful and malicious toward people I didn't like. Against Mrs. Ridley, I was more ill-willed than ever: I was actually plotting to murder her in retaliation for the way she treated me and my family. If my parents didn't know that I was doing this and gone to great lengths to stop me, I would truly have gone through with my plan, and today I would either be sitting in jail-maybe on death row-or be walking on the face of the Earth under a permanent shadow of guilt. What a shame that would have been: not being an author and an aspiring mathematician-the very thing that Mrs. Ridley tried to prevent me from becoming. And I definitely would never again have been envied if I had been so destructive during such a young and ignorant state of being. An untimely death, it would have been-on two counts! I, later, realized that Mrs. Ridley's reason to hate me was pretty damn good, but, of course, unjustified by her actions. She could tell that I was (and still am) powerful in my school community and well-liked by the other teachers in addition to being intelligent especially in the way of math and English (I hadn't yet become an intellectual; you see, that requires a more considerate heart and a deeper soul that I hadn't yet created for myself to use).
The reason that I tell this terrifying tale is that it was when I finally realized that I had to recreate myself entirely. It was also, most importantly, the time when I accepted Christianity for real, when I devoted my stand to God. Since the events of the 2001-2002 school year had nearly ended in a self-debacle, I knew that I needed God to guide me through my life's adventures and trials. I had always valued the idea of Christianity as a truth, but it wasn't the same as having God walk by my side every second of every day. I credit God for my current intellectual status and for my optimism, my happiness and joy, and my satisfaction with who I have grown to be. I wish that everyone would walk the line of God, because, if that was the state of the world, the whole world would be at peace: happy and satisfied.

(To be continued...)

"Call unto me, and I will answer thee, and show thee great and mighty things, which thou knowest not."-Jeremiah 33:3, King James Version

"Your word is a lamp to guide my feet and a light for my path."-Psalm 119:105, New Living Translation

The present and future are not about who you were in the past-rather, they are about who you are and who you will become.

"Writing is truly glorious in that an author can put on paper the words that fear denies the voice to speak."-from my short story, "Set Free"

"...What you feel is what you are;
What you are is beautiful..."
-from "Slide" by the Goo Goo Dolls

Life surprises you! And I'm talking about the good stuff, because a bad surprise is not a surprise at all, it is just shock and horror. All of these good surprises, they are rewards, and the things that happen to remind you that you matter and that you should make yourself faithful so that you can be deserving of all of life's good surprises. Every wonderful surprise in life is a chance to flourish, so grab life by the horns-but don't ride, steer instead: life's horns are life's joystick. You can handle it, because your life's horns are made especially for you. If you don't give up, all of this will hold true and life will continue to surprise you.

Aubri, a. k. a. "Leopard Lady"

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The following comments are for "Friendship is Like Outback Steakhouse: Part IX"
by ArsPoet2789ica

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