well, i don't give a damn about my bad reputation

apparently, i am in a blogging sort of mood. so, that's a thing.
and, at the risk of boring my audience of one or perhaps two, i am a vulva crusader. i am a labia nazi. okay- so here's the thing- vagina and vulva are two different things. vulva refers to the external female genitals. vagina refers to the internal bits, the part that a penis, or a tampon, or a sex toy goes into. THIS IS NO TIME TO BE BASHFUL. this is important to me. even my very own, relatively intelligent friends have absolutely no idea what a vulva even is. until i brought it up, they had never even HEARD the term. isn't that the saddest thing ever? i think so.
today, a friend of mine is being absolutely vexatious. he isn't letting anyone post on his facebook wall. it is his birthday. so... HAPPY BIRTHDAY to him. from me.
vexatious, i tell you! vexatious is an excellent vocabulary word that everyone should add to their adjective lexicon.
its actually four in the morning so i have nothing else to talk about.

tender moments, at cathedral, children praying, embracing with angels

hello, how are you?
i'm doing well. i hope you are too. anywayyyssss...
it's been a while.
today i got an iphone. i am so in love. i am officially an apple fangirl, to the disappointment of my father, a diehard linux geek. IT'S JUST SO DAMN SHINY!
anyway. i read some transromer, a little bit of roach, some freud, and other things. i'm having a nice vacation. i went over to a friend's house, and tomorrow i'm going to a christmas party.
yesterday, one of my friends told me that there's a boy in one of our classes who tries really hard to impress me, but i couldn't imagine why, so i asked her. and she said that he wants me to think that he's smart, and i do, in fact. i wondered, though, why he would care so much what i specifically think of him, and she told me that i'm often very intimidating, ''when someone first meets [me]'', intellectually. which, is good, i guess? but i genuinely was not aware that i had that affect on people. i know i can sometimes accidentally make people feel bad- there's that aspergers!- but, i feel like these other people- this boy, for one- have so many other things going for them; they're very well-liked, usually, certainly more well-liked than i. (i often hesitate to use the word popular just because it's such a cliche)
so that's something in my life.
i don't know. also, i got my friends their christmas presents. i think they like them. sometimes, it's sort of a pain in the ass to pick out presents, but i usually feel as though it is worth it. usually. there's also always at least one person who gets me, like, a really nice gift, and i haven't gotten them anything, and then i have to keep EVERYONE'S present and give them to them privately but in the moment lie and say that i haven't gotten presents yet so that i can run out and get one for this girl. and of course, it did happen. oh well.
there's an old alice in wonderland quote that goes, 'it's better to be respected than loved.', from the red queen. i feel like perhaps i am more respected than loved, generally. i don't know, though, that one is better than the other. i imagine that i if i were more loved i would desire respect. i'm sure it's possible to have both, and of course to some extent i do, but generally... not.
my mother told me a funny story the other day- i like to describe my upbringing as vaguely christian, and i feel like this sort of anecdote supports that. so anyways, apparently one day we were all outside at night, and i pointed to the sky and said, 'look mommy! it's the jesus star!' and my mother was like, 'what?', and i was like, 'jesus lives there.'
and she was like, 'oh. sure.'
i had many things to say before i actually opened this window, but somehow all those concepts get away from me somehow.

we own the night, we'll never forget how it feels to be young

On Friday I had a sleepover with two good friends of mine. We had it at the home of the friend who lives further away from myself and the other friend. It's amazing how different the places we live are. We walked to the cult on her road and then we lay down on the asphalt.
Sometimes, when I think about the absolute inevitability of the death of myself and everyone I've ever known, I wonder if anything matters. Shortly after this thought, I think that everything matters- because if it didn't, why would I be doing it? I think that this is perhaps the best answer I will ever come up with, even after reading a novel entitled 'Everything Matters!' about that very topic.
These are the things I thought about while lying in the middle of the road. These sorts of realizations tend to come to you when you are at least somewhat risking your life.
After a moment lying in the road I sat up and looked around. My friend lives between two horse pastures. Everything is grass or trees there. I screamed just because I wanted to, and then we all screamed. One of the horses came running towards us, but just before it ran into the fence it stopped and stared.
I think lying in the middle of the road is probably the most interesting that has happened to me in a long time. I wonder if that says more about me or the place that I live?

you know i'd shoot that fucker again, yes i would

I've begun to the view the world in a way that I imagine a writer ought to. I jot down noteworthy ideas and I save them in the back pocket of my jeans, but when I look at them later I often am unsure what I was trying to articulate, or, more often, I understand what I meant but the feeling of the moment has passed. I think if I left one in my jeans, my mother would find it and think me quite mad.
I read Super Sad True Love Story a few weeks ago and of all things, one of the ideas stuck with me- the male narrator comments that women taste not at all sweet and vaguely urinary. Naturally, I decided to test this theory out on myself. Thousands of people enjoy cunninglingus with no ill side effects, so I was fairly sure that there's nothing medically dangerous about it. And now you know: Gary Shytengart was right.
On another sexual note, it strikes me that the non-porn, generally accepted euphemism for penis is 'member'. One has to wonder how that came (haha) about.
Sometimes, when it is very late at night I can hear a jet plane in the sky. There's something vaguely ominous about such a rumbling, but I'm not quite sure why.
I sometimes feel that I am very small and very young and terribly dull and unimportant. This often happens when I try to think of myself and my place in the multiverse- to think about myself as a God-like someone would. I'm not really sure where Christians get off- whenever I try to imagine a supreme being that sees all, it doesn't make me feel special or happy or important. Quite the opposite, in fact. It makes me feel alone.
On a somewhat lighter note, my Biology teacher told us yesterday that she's trying to sit down more because she's begun to experience contractions. The students, myself included, are very alarmed. Interestingly, she was still at school today and plans on coming tomorrow. She says she's trying to stay as long as possible because she doesn't want us to have a substitute for the rest of the semester, but I can't imagine one day will make too much of a difference. Still, though, it's nice to know she has our best interests at heart. (I'm not certain that I used the correct colloquialism there. Perhaps it is, 'taken our best interests to heart'. Regardless. Did you know that 'irregardless' is not a word? It isn't.)

I have been known to occasionally levitate on lonesome desert roads

Ah, Gubler.
On my way to the a town on the coast of North Carolina I saw two religious billboards that made me smile. One of them read in white letters on a red background, 'Who promised you tomorrow? Today could be your last. PRAY.'
I think there's a name for this sort of an attitude, but I can't quite recall what it is.
The other simply stated, 'JESUS CHRIST: SAVIOR.'
To which my dad quipped, 'Largest business card ever?'
There's something terribly distracting about flashing colored lights in the darkness. The streetlamp at the end of my road flickers on and off in the dark sometimes. Cars cast black, squamous shadows on my walls as they drive past. When they pass, the world seems just a little darker than it was before.
I sometimes have a thought and I wonder if I am the only person who has thought this before. Other times, I do something mundane and I think to myself, I am the only person who will do this exact same thing, ever.
Yet other times, when I'm bored in school I think to myself, 'I probably know more about crack cocaine than any of the people in this room.'
Somehow, knowledge of illicit drugs makes life a little bit more exciting.
I read an novel by Denton Welch today and I feel that it perfectly captures the exhausted, hysterical, claustrophobic, throbbing, lonely, acidic, awful, exquisite feeling of being youth.

hot sweat and blurry eyes

I spent Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and today with my grandparents. I don't particularly like my grandparents, really.
I do enjoy their town- a little, tourist-y type place off the coast of North Carolina. We went Black Friday shopping. One of the shops carries old-women type things in the front- Not Your Daughter's Jeans, jewelry, Vera Bradley items- but in the back there's a particular display that caught my eye.
Lace skivvies, rolled up in the most delightful fashion arranged artfully around a demolished sink. I stared at them for a moment, pretending to look at the display of bath ice cream next to it, and decided that I must have one of those undergarments.
Of course, there's that tiny little problem of my parents wanting to know exactly what I'm buying all the time- not because they're worried I've bought drugs or something, but because they're actually interested in my purchases.
So I left the shop empty handed, though I was still preoccupied with thoughts of pink lingerie. We proceeded to two other stores, but when we reached the third I told my mother I wanted to go back to the other store. Predictably, she asked me what I wanted to buy. I lied and told her I was going to buy her a Christmas present. At which point I left and made the short trek back to the other store.
Once I entered, I was consumed with guilt. Should I buy a pair? What the hell was I going to do with them, anyway? I opened my wallet and found that I had fifty five dollars. I decided to actually buy my mother a present, and I settled on a piece of jewelry. Unfortunately, none of the pieces of jewelry in the store were below thirty dollars- and the underwear in question were themselves thirty dollars. You don't need to be a math genius to know that I didn't have the cash.
Now free to examine the display a little closer, I noted that while the bikinis (bikinis, for those of us not proficient in the language of women's apparel, are not only a risque type of swimsuit, but also a cut of underwear) were 30, the thongs were 20.
I selected a pink one and grabbed the first normal looking piece of thirty-dollar jewelry I could find. Liberated, I placed them both on the counter. Again consumed with guilt, I hastily told the completely disinterested saleswoman that they were both gifts- and I guess I was only half lying. Only 25% lying if you count the vickies as a present for myself.
Secretly thrilled, I leave the store short fifty dollars.
And that is the abrupt end of the story of the most interesting thing I did over Thanksgiving break.

in youth is pleasure

There are a certain few experiences I feel that are central to the experience of being a teenager- they're sort of ingrained in the collective perception of youth, or at least they are in my mind. This is a list of the things I want to complete by the time these years are done.
1) Go on a road trip. The road trip must go through the desert. The road trip must be confined to the continental United States. The road trip must take us to California. The car must be old. The motels must be sketchy. I will go alone, or with friends. We will take lots of photographs. It will be our coming-out in the traditional sense of the world.
2) Get a fake ID and go somewhere. A strip club? A concert? An X-rated movie? A lounge? A bar? The world is my oyster.
3) Get so drunk I throw up. Steal the alcohol from a parent. Never do it again.
4) Have sex in the back of a car. Maybe in the school parking lot, after a football game. During a football game. In the woods. Down the street from my house.

I don't know where these ideas came from- I can't think of one particular movie or TV show or book where they happened, but I feel that fragments of all the words I have consumed have fused to form these images in strangely specific detail.
I feel that I must do these things in order to have lived to the fullest- I don't know if they'll all happen, but they damn well should.

you'd better run

A baptist church near my school has their message set to, 'Let God "Occupy" Your Heart!'.
Today, on the way to my favorite restaurant, I saw a stray dog tearing apart a deer carcass in the middle of a field. I feel that if I were a religious person, I would interpret this as some sort of sign from some sort of deity, but instead I was surprised, not by what I felt, but by what I didn't feel: revulsion. I was expecting to feel disgusted but somehow I was first struck by the remarkable honesty of the image- I wonder why we view other animals as savages when really, they're just being real? I thought about all this over dinner as I watched my mother eat a burger. I don't think I have any moral objections to killing and eating an animal, but there's something about the sterilized way Americans, particularly, view food and meat consumption that always alienated me. People argue that we cook animals because they're not safe to eat otherwise, which is obviously true, but it's just another step in the distance between us and the food we eat. I would argue that eating is one of the most intimate interactions- so I wonder why people don't worry about what they consume more?

this place I have disowned and reclaimed, loathed and romanticized

I was reading Salon today, like a cool kid, and I read an article in which the author describes her hometown. I thought to myself, 'What a deeply humanizing essay.' In those exact words.
My home is located in just about the middle of North Carolina. This county I live in is filled with small towns, medium towns, and rural backroads of grass and gravel. One of the best things about the County is that it is absolutely, unarguably beautiful. The most beautiful time is just before the sun sets- something about the sunshine and the grass and the flowers almost makes me want to cry. My busride is over an hour long, so I have the time to stare out the window for extended periods of time. My home itself straddles the line between the County and The Town. I have a Town address, but attend a County school. The politics between the two regions are entirely too complicated for me to attempt to explain, in this post anyway.
I love the County and I love The Town. The Town is a college town, right next to the oldest public university in the entire United States. Main Street's highlights include a vintage shop, a dress shop, a used bookshop, a comic book store, a head shop, an anarchist bookstore, a denim store (?), a record store, an art supply store, an art museum, a sushi restaurant, another, crappier sushi restaurant, a pizza place, a Mediterranean deli, two spirit wear stores, a movie theatre that seems to play only movies that are at least one year old, another, better vintage store, more than a few bars, a Ben and Jerry's, and a Dunkin Donuts. Clearly, this is where I belong. I feel as though I could not have created a better assortment of businesses- the only thing I would think to add is a strip club. (Though for all I know there is one)
The County contains another town, which we shall refer to as 'the town'. The lack of caps is to distinguish it from The Town, but also to illustrate its inferiority. This is the place about half of my high school peers call home. Main Street of the town includes a restaurant, a 'soda shop', an antique store that is only open for a few hours on Sunday, an African Goods store, a Sheriff's office (though I think it might be abandoned), and an actually fairly decent jewelry store. At the end of Main Street- yes, it is a dead end- is The Courthouse. The Courthouse burned to the ground last winter leaving behind the brick frame and what I referred to as a child as 'King Soldier', actually a bronze revolutionary war foot soldier on a 10 feet marble pedestal. I'm not entirely sure how the denizens of the town were able to afford such a thing- perhaps it was a gift in the same way that the statue of Liberty was, except instead of France it was The Town.
the town claims Courthouse Rebuild efforts are underway, but driving by weekly gives me the distinct impression that said efforts have since been abandoned. And so The Courthouse and King Soldier, once enforcers of law and order, now loom over the town as a reminder that you really should replace that faulty wiring in your ancient house.

the town as it is today, but without the roof. Or the trees.

The rest of the County, or so it seems to me, is entirely farmland and farmhome- I both pity and envy the residents of the town, because though they have likely never ventured further than the coast, or Virginia if they're lucky; they live in beauty that never ceases to amaze me whenever I drive through. It's not that my neighborhood is ugly, exactly- it's just unremarkable. I'm grateful, though, not to live in the field of duplexes, or in one of the tree-less suburbs that surround my neighborhood, formally known as Highland Forest.
One of the more interesting parts of the town is the abandoned trailer park directly across from my high school. It's absolutely fascinating- dozens of trailer sprinkled over the hill, in various states of disrepair, all abandoned. Daily I wonder about the abandoned trailer park- Where did these people go? I found a photo album on flickr of it, annoyingly all in black and white, illuminating nonetheless. Fascinatingly, they left everything behind- clothes, televisions, bibles, canned food, folding chairs, and ghettoblasters. I wonder if there was a fire- but if there was, why aren't the trailers and everything in them burned to the ground? And if they didn't burn, why didn't the owners come back? It's sad, but this is one of the top ten places I fantasize about visiting when I get my learner's permit.
There are so many other things I could tell you about The Town and the town but I think these stories are probably only interesting to me, so I bid you adieu. 

It's not a bird, it's not a plane, it must be Dave who's on the train

I've been listening to a lot of Scooter lately. Because I'm a 2003 raver.
I had a lot of things to say about five minutes ago but when I pulled up this page, I no longer had anything to say.
Today I bought 100 dollars worth of books, but I only paid for forty percent of them. My best friend's birthday party was Friday. I feel well-liked. I like parties. I like my friends.
School is so monotonous. Sometimes I sit in my room and I feel that I can't breathe. Then I have to open the window and stick my head out. Does that qualify as a panic attack? I don't think so.
My friends think that I am in love with any boy that I talk to on facebook, though really that's not the case.
Additionally, I'm thinking I could be a lesbian. I've just been reading a lot of different kinds of erotica and I'm really enjoying the lesbian ones. I don't really care, it's just something to think about. I'm not sure that someone can know their sexual orientation without, ahem, actually trying everything out. Or maybe, someone can; but I cannot.
Also on that note, I recently purchased a vibrating toothbrush. Does anyone really think that a vibrating toothbrush is going to be used for cleaning teeth? Apparently they do. I was overall disappointed with it, but maybe if I try it again later I'll like it better.
So that was my weekend!
Also, at CVS yesterday, my mother and I ran into an old colleague of hers, one that I happen to know pretty well. He was purchasing condoms. I don't think my mother noticed, but I did. Also, I think he's married. So that's GREAT.

I'm not sick but I'm not well

So how are you? I'm good. I'm doing pretty good, actually. WHO NEEDS GRAMMATICAL CORRECTNESS?
That's just how we roll in the rural South.
I'm doing well. I had thought that high school would be hard, but I'm actually doing very well. Report cards went out yesterday. They were good. I thought math would be hard, but it's hard. I feel good. God knows I measure my self-worth by numbers, why not learn other things to do with numbers? What am I talking about?
Tomorrow, I am going to the State Fair. I enjoy the State Fair, but unfortunately we will be selling 'ham biscuits' at the Kiwanis booth. Because I'm in Key Club. Why did I sign up for Key Club? I don't know, it's terrible and boring. But whatever. Oh, I remember, to pad college applications.
The other day in Biology we separated the DNA from strawberry. The cheesecloth we used to strain the mashed strawberry with looked like a used pad, but other than that it was actually super cool. You could actually legit see the DNA. It was AWESOME. I love science.
I've been thinking about politics lately. I wish I were better at politics, but I'm really not. You know what I've noticed? So, there's fuckloads of hype about the Republican candidates... but you never hear a damn thing about the Democrats. What the fuck is that? I think we need some fresh faces in the Democratic race. I feel like everyone is assuming Obama is going to be the Democratic candidate- but has that actually been decided? I don't think it has. This is ridiculous. And NO ONE else has noticed this. Okay, so I'm on the first google result I got, and there are two candidates, Obama and some dude named Terry... wait, no, Randall Terry. Who is both pro-life and anti-LGBT.
AWESOME, guys. FUCKING AWESOME. Let's all just have a slow clap for the democratic party, shall we? That's what I fucking thought. Goddamn. Maybe I should fucking run. With these two bozos, I think I might actually stand a chance. Nevermind that I have to be 35, I'll just pull a reverse Courtney Stodden. Does that sound like a sex position? That's because it is.
Also, apparently the Naked Cowboy and the chick from Roseanne are running as independents. WTF IS THIS? YOU'RE MAKING A MOCKERY OF THE U.S. POLITICAL SYSTEM.
Plus, rum tastes absolutely awful.

Quintessential.

I often have a lot of things to talk about, and I sometimes, on the bus, write them down on notecards, but then I misplace the notecards. So it's really a very flawed system.
Today, we took our six weeks benchmark assessment in Biology. I got a ninety three, which is the worst test grade I've gotten so far, but still pretty good considering that benchmark assessments are composed by the state rather than the teacher. And then we took a quiz on 'Wake Ups', a wake up being something we complete every morning- She puts a question about yesterday's topic on the board, and we copy down the question in our notebook and then answer it, changing our answer if we are incorrect. Unfortunately, she never actually TOLD us that we would ever be tested on them- which probably would have been a really good idea, considering how poorly people did on the assignment. (I got an eighty eight- I missed one out of eight. That's what I get for not reading the question thoroughly, I guess.)
Also, yesterday I asked our Biology teacher if photons are bosons or fermions. She first asked me to repeat the question twice, and then still did not seem to understand. Wisely, she told me that she wasn't sure and would get back to me today. Unfortunately, she didn't, but thanks to physicsworld.com, I have confirmed that photons are, in fact, bosons. You're welcome. Particle physics are really cool.
And then... I am not enjoying PE in the least. I did get the lazy PE teacher; however, he is actually SO lazy that he lets the other, mean PE teacher do everything while he apparently sits in his office and gets high. So, it's really, not an ideal situation.
Additionally, I have learned how to make cake... in a mug. WITH A MICROWAVE. My life is complete.

The cynical who once were dreamers

Yes, that IS a quote from a song from an Lindsay Lohan movie. So, yeah. Not as deep as you thought it was.
It was a tie between that and, 'How can it be? What does it mean? It's atrocious! It's obscene!', which I also enjoy. And is not from a Lindsay Lohan movie. THE BABY IS UNNATURALLY GREEN.
Aneeee---wayyy. It's just a musical sort of day.
Actually, today was 'Decades Day' at school. So, I was the 90s, specifically the grunge movement. I wore a ripped plaid flannel shirt, acid wash jeans, and Doc Martens. (Yes. Yes, I know those are from the seventies) AND NO ONE GOT IT. Literally no one. Everyone was the stupid fucking eighties with their fucking legwarmers over their jeans which ISN'T EVEN SOMETHING PEOPLE IN THE EIGHTIES DID. And then the goddamn side ponytails. Dear god, the side ponytails. And let's not forget the vaguely slutty off-the-shoulder shirt concept, shall we? No, we shan't.
Actually, no one got it, except for my Algebra 2 teacher. So, that happened. And, uh, yeah.
Also, on the bus today, the boy sitting next to me asked the boy in front of him if he had a blunt. And then that boy nodded. And then the boy sitting next to me said, 'Sharing is caring.' Which I really thought was a somewhat homoerotic thing to say. But, okay.
So that was a thing. Too. Yes. I don't know, it's Monday.

Thoughts on a turtle

Today, my mother narrowly missed hitting a turtle in the road. I was thoroughly horrified for a moment there, and it took me a moment to recover. Then, I realized, Jesus, we need to save the turtle. And so I told my mother that, and she said that it probably turned around. But the truth is that it probably didn't, and my inaction killed it.
That's something I've been thinking about today.

It hurts to be this pure.

 The other day, in Biomedical Technology, we were given a worksheet that simply asked, who is your idol?
To which I replied, I have none. I thought, what a strange thing to ask, who is my idol? And I have none, that's the truth- though, I'm sure, had they asked, 'who is your role model?' I would have responded entirely differently. Or would I have? Who are my role models? I can't say that I know.
Let me think. Augusten Burroughs. Karl Marx. Alex Day. Jesus, I don't know. (Jesus, in this context, is in interjection. Not a name. Although, he certainly did have a knack for getting people to do what he wants, right? Fuck it, let's add Jesus to the list.) Jesus. I thought of some other ones, earlier, but I forgot. I was just reading this book by John Waters, not coincidentally, entitled Role Models. He's a fucking character. His role models are Little Richard, Rei Kawakubo, Bobby Garcia, Leslie Van Houten... and the Wicked Witch of the West. He's a fucking awesome writer.
Huh. Well. I had something else to say, but I forgot it. Oh wait! Carlos Slim.
I keep thinking of different role models. Now it is role model week. Every day I will name a new role model. GIMMICK.
Also, my comment got featured in a Tyler Oakley video. Specifically, 'Tyler's Favorite Things: August', for my comment describing a woman living in my town who owns a car covered in baby doll heads. To which I added, TRUE STORY. And it is.

A girl oughta have a sense of humor

Today I attended a Science Olympiad meeting. I was the only freshman. AGAIN. Where are you, freshman? We're the largest class our high school has had since its opening in 1971! Anyway. That happened.
Also, yesterday I spoke with the guidance counselor and next semester I am taking Honors Chemistry! So that's... cool.
Yes. Well... the other day, on the bus, we drove by a house with like, 7 firetrucks and three ambulances- not an exaggeration. But, then, when we looked at the house, there was nothing, like, wrong with it. So I don't know what the hell that was. But it was fucking weird.
And... math is not made for partner work. I know because I made my LOWEST GRADE OF THE YEAR (80), on a partner work assignment. In math. Because my partner is just, really, nice guy, but not good at math. The partners were assigned to us. SIGH.
And then, in Biomedical Technology, I was thinking about how some of the qualities in myself that I like the most, other people seem to not like, and also, a lot of times, if I were not me, I would totally fucking hate me. I don't know. I guess I'm kind of a bitch. Sometimes. One thing I do like about myself, though, is my sense of humor. But, oftentimes, I am the only one who likes it. I've also noted that a lot of my female/very platonic male friends appreciate my sense of humor, but often, people who may or may not be potential, ahem, mates, do not like it as much. And I wonder if that's due to the fact that they don't know me very well and are not used to it, OR if it's because men do not find my particular brand of humor appealing. (And yes, that is an unfair blanket statement.) I don't know. Something to think about.

You're standing on my neck.

I think Daria is my new role model.

Anyways, kids, sometimes, I mean to write something but then I forget about it. I plan out my blog post on the busride home, but I never write it down so I always forget. Let's see... um, I have a terrible cold. Everyone at school has a cold.

Also, yesterday, there was a car wreck outside of my highschool. I think someone died. I'm not sure, though. Moments like those make us confront our mortality- if only for that moment.

The word of the week is terpsichore.

I am changing my class schedule tomorrow during lunch- it's a half day. I have a class entitled Microsoft ITA: Excel and Access, which sounds like pretty much Windows propaganda, but you know, whatever. Anyway, I'm actually changing it because I think it's the class for the kids who failed our eighth grade computers test... and I got the highest score. So, yeah. I'm getting the hell out of dodge. 

When I meet with guidance, I'm also going to talk to her about my 'career cluster' which I prefer to refer to as our 'vocational course track' but that's just me.

Anyway, at our school, last year, we all had to pick our 'career cluster', and while I've pretty much sorted what I want to be when I grow up, to use a cliche, I don't know how exactly it fits into the 13 'career clusters'. So, I picked Health Science- which is the medical field, basically. But that's not really... I'd like to be a psychologist. But I guess if I wanted to go to medical school and be a psychiatrist, ti would be good... but if I don't, less so. And this course doesn't cover any psychiatric stuff. So... it's interesting, but I feel like I might be wasting my time. But I also feel as though we HAVE to pick a career cluster, in which case I should probably just stick with this one. But, hey, what if I wanted to be, like, a porn star? Just kidding, different example. What if I wanted to be an English major? That's not a career cluster. Shit. 'Career cluster'. It is a flawed system.

Also, I haven't been reading much lately and I feel as though my brain is SHRINKING. Not really, but kind of. Also, I fucking rock the hell out of Science, but the thing is I can't brag because everyone else is practically failing the course. So... yeah. 

I had some other things to say... but I forgot them.

Also, yesterday I taught a boy on the bus how to pronounce the word 'ally' because I have a button on my bag that says 'ally'... also, he's a senior. And now he thinks it's my name.

ghetto fab never looked so good.

Sometimes, I find it's difficult to put things in perspective. For example, today I spent over 1.5 hours trying to install minecraft in pretty much every manner, all the while becoming more and more emotionally unglued. You think I'm exaggerating, but there are literally tears of anger streaming down my face right now. I am shaking with rage. Yeah. I have a fucking problem.
I got a 100 on my Biology quiz. Some of my friends got the grades 40, 46, and 70. So... that's good for me. Yeah. I thought it was super unfair, though, because after everyone took the quiz, our teacher stands up at the front of the class and says something along the lines of, 'You all did poorly on this quiz, obviously you have not been studying nightly as I asked you to do.'
But the thing is, I haven't done any of that shit. And you might say, well, that's because you're a genius. And while that IS completely true /sarcasm, a lot of the people who got those poor grades really really did study and studied every night and made flash cards and shit like that. So I just thought that was really bitchy and unfair of her and it pissed me the fuck off. Excuse me if this entire post takes on an angry tone, I am still literally shaking in rage.
I feel a little better, though. MOVING ON! To another angry topic. I am an angry person. Am I? I don't know. I think so, maybe. I feel, sometimes, like I have no one to confide in completely. I feel like the emotion I am the least open to expressing is sadness. I don't really discuss sadness with my friends, or my parents. I don't feel sad that much, though. Sometimes I get so angry I feel sad. I think a lot of people view me as angry when I say cynical/sarcastic/bitchy things, but I don't think when I say stuff like that I'm actually angry. But sometimes I am actually angry, but that's a side of me that people I don't think ever experience. Maybe that's unhealthy. Or maybe, not. I don't know. Maybe I should get a fucking therapist. Except I can't, because then I would have to confide in my parents. So, no. Besides, my life is pretty sweet. I just wish sometimes I could get someone who would say, 'Yes. This is normal. You are fine.' Maybe I'm just too damn meta.
Anyway, on to the angry topic (Oh, you thought THAT was the angry topic? Ha.). So, in Biology we do labs a lot. We did one today. I addressed this in the last post, but it pisses me off, so I thought I'd write about it again. I don't know. I was the bitchy one, again, today. I did all the goddamn questions, and when either of my friends wanted to write, I had to spoon feed them the answers. I fucking swear to god. And they wouldn't handle the fucking homegenized chicken liver, and it's like, GROW THE FUCK UP. It's the same as any other fucking piece of meat that you both eat daily. So, that was fucking frustrating.
I often feel as though I get frustrated with other people when they aren't as fast as I am. I'm very aware of this, but somehow it keeps happening. And I feel like this makes people think I don't like them, but really, well, sometimes I really don't like them. But sometimes I do, I'm just better than them academically, and it frustrates me because they slow me down. I'm friends with the smartest kids in the school (that I know of), and I still get impatient with them. I don't know. I feel like I'd be better off if academia and social... stuff were two different areas. There is a fairly large group of people where, I can tolerate and even enjoy being around them in a purely social setting- i.e, the lunchroom, a football game, but when we sit together in a classroom, I just want to fucking punch them. This doesn't generally apply to my close friends, but I feel like it would just be easier to make friends if I didn't have this quality.
Today, I attended my first quizbowl practice. I was the only ninth grader- originally, my friend had planned to go but she had an unexpected doctor's appointment (read: her fucking insane parents didn't tell her she had a doctor's appointment until this morning so that she would miss the practice deliberately, because they're fucking insane and controlling) so I was the only ninth grader. And there was only one tenth grader. So it was all eleventh graders and 12th graders (because I can't spell the word 12th. Is there an f in there?)  One thing you might not know about me- I'm sometimes painfully shy. So there I was, in quizbowl practice, shaking (with nervousness, not rage), but then after a round or two- and some encouraging glances from our suspiciously effeminate but very nice quizbowl coach/honors 12th grade english teacher, I finally jumped in to the game. Apparently, my strengths are pop culture (expected), art (expected), and mythology (unexpected). I think I was actually pretty good... there were 11 people at practice, (dramatically up from last week's 2), and our team (BLUE!) won by a landslide. I also got the bonus question, sudden death tie breaker. (It was 'femme fatale') So that made me feel good. The answers I remember getting are- horus, dedalus, michelangelo, the a-team, nonegon, orion... and other things. uh... other things that i forgot. overall, very good. whee for ending on a positive note!

dance, fucker, dance

I... I don't know what I was going to say. On the bus yesterday, I thought about what I was going to write. But yesterday was a long time ago.
I... lost the election for freshman representative of the Student Peace Alliance. But that's okay, I didn't nominate myself anyway. A junior did, which is nice because I remember her from when I was in sixth grade and I had to eat at her table because I was in her math class, and she was nice to me. So, that's... that's good. She's still very nice. I lost to the other kid because his name is Noble, and really, who can compete with someone named Noble? No one. It was pretty much just names, because no one knows either of us.
And then... in Biology, we did a lab. We do lots of labs, and it's nice because she lets us pick our groups. So I'm always with my two best friends, and sometimes our male friend, because we feel bad for him because he doesn't have any friends in the class. The other rednecks probably think he's a flaming homosexual because he'd rather be partnered with us over them.
But back to the point, yesterday my two friends wanted to have fun, which is all well and good- except we have an enormous lab to complete and a four page packet that goes with it. Also we have forty minutes. So, I want to get the thing done, and as much as I would just like to have fun with them, the thing needs to get done- and if we're all three having fun, it's not going to get done. So basically, I looked like a bitch with a stick up her ass, because I don't mess around with them and I tried to get them to help me with the assignment. So I leave the class feeling frustrated and upset, and they leave the class thinking I must be PMSing or something. (Those are the words they would use. We are teenage girls, after all.) So, that's just not fun. It was better today, though. We disagreed a little bit about the assignment, but it was mostly good.
And then... I have a math test tomorrow. And I'm totally fucked. Although, math itself is generally pretty fun, for math. The girl who sits next to me, a sophomore, is nice. And then, the kid who sits behind me is on the Varsity football team (suggestive eyebrow wiggle) and SUCKS at math. I thought he was copying off of me because we always finish at the same time... but he made a seventy on the test, whereas I made a ninety-eight. So, that.
This post has no point. I forgot everything meaningful I was going to say.

I wake up and I feel alone.

I've been so tired lately. I've been getting up twenty minutes earlier than I did last year, but it's still sort of late, comparatively.
I've had a rather nice week. I've been doing surprisingly well in Algebra 2... we got our tests back today, and we got them LAST FUCKING FRIDAY. And he only has one class of, like, twenty eight students. Foolishness. - word of the week
I also attended THE QUIZBOWL INTEREST MEETING. Because I'm such a special gal. There was one (1!) person in attendance, other than myself, which was pretty cool. He was a senior but he still talked to me which automatically makes me like him. It's probably because he doesn't have any friends his own age. But whatever. There were also tryouts today, though, so probably (hopefully) more people came to that one. I really like the teacher, he teaches 12th grade Honors English, which is cool. And his classroom is cool. He has interesting posters, and in interesting bookshelf. I don't know. He asked us to name our strengths on the contact sheet... and I couldn't think of any. Afterwards, like, when I got home, I could think of some... so he probably thinks I'm a complete idiot.
I don't know. I did okay on our little practice quiz- 8/22. It sounds bad, but Quizbowl's a team sport, so it's actually pretty good. I don't recall the questions, but here are the answers I got right- Amazons, Sedimentary, California Gurls, Amy Winehouse, Starry Night, Parabola, The Scarlet Letter. EPIC WIN. And I got a couple more half-right, which don't count in an actual competition, but still make me feel better. Seriously, though, what do those answers say about me? I don't know. I'm reading too much into this.
In all my classes, it's an internal struggle. I'm torn between not wanting the other kids to think I'm a know-it-all, and wanting my teachers to think I'm smart. They're both very powerful motivators, but basically what it comes down to is whether I want the kids or the teachers to like me. I've been mostly leaning towards kids, but am still somewhat conflicted. Today, in Honors Biology, I was the only person who knew that the word 'genesis' means beginning. I'm an atheist. shwang wang wang.
NEW BLOGGER IS SO GLITCHY. Not really. It's slightly glitchy. <- meta shit.
Something that is sad is that I don't see a lot of my friends during the day. I guess I'll have to make more of an effort to be sociable. My mother's concerned that I spend too much time inside on the computer. And she's probably right. HOWEVER, it irritates me that she thinks she's in charge of my social life. #firstworldproblems
Also... I don't know. There isn't really an also. Today I went to the mall with my friend. It was pretty good. We went to some tacky-ass stores. And then she had to go. And I had to get my bag out of her car. So I lugged a 20 BAZILLION pound backpack around the mall for about another hour until my mom got there. So I just camped in the Barnes and Noble coffee... place, reading skeptic magazine. And the woman thought I was ten, because who takes a backpack to the mall? No one. ME. Yeah, she asked me if I or 'one of my parents' have a Barnes and Noble card. I haven't heard the, 'one of [my parents]' line in YEARS. for swears.
A few days ago I bought a religious book called erasing hell. And I couldn't read more than five pages. And I felt really close minded. But I just... it was So. Stupid. I don't know. I don't want to be one of those people who thinks that they're right just because they don't listen to any other ideas. So, I tried. I think I'll maybe try to find some better literature. There is not very much very good literature on the topic of religion. I guess that's because it's such an emotional thing. I don't know. I started reading 'The God Delusion' by Richard Dawkins, and while his overall philosophy is something I agree with, HE IS SUCH A DICK. Really. He's just an enormous asshole prick who is an asshole. It's hard to explain, but if you read a few pages I think you'll likely agree. Unless you are Richard Dawkins, because Richard Dawkins is a smug prick.
I used to be young, but now I feel old.

I'm tired of looking up into those starry eyes.

Today has been okay. I'm currently reading a novel written from the perspective of a sexually and intellectually precocious young teenager, 1st person, diary format.
Sound familiar? I thought so. Unfortunately, the main character is male. The main female character is, unfortunately, that elusive mix of beautiful and intelligent. She's the object of several character's affections- and I have to wonder what it is about me that does not have men falling at my feet?
Tomorrow is picture day and I look upon with the same vague horror as all unattractive girls do. Today I had to sit sandwiched between my ex-boyfriend and his best friend on the bus. The ex himself seized the opportunity to make several disparaging comments about my physique, some of which were completely untrue and some of which... were not.
I've been reflecting on myself a lot recently due to the frequency with which I am novels in which there is romance (it's important to differentiate between the former and a 'romance novel', which I despise).
I'm fairly confident in my personality- I would want to fuck me, if it were purely based on personality. I'm wickedly funny, incredibly intelligent, and just plain awesome.
That leaves my undesirable traits to lie in the realm of the physical- a weak point for me. I stared at myself in the mirror for what felt like a long time today and highlighted some strong and weak points. (It's important to note that I never wear makeup except for the occasional lipstick)
My body from the neck down is, I think, good. I have rather perky and average sized breasts, small pink nipples and minimal stretch marks. My ass, is, while flatter than average, able to fill out a pair of jeans. My legs, squishy though they may be, are visually smooth and firm. Their one problem is I have scratches pretty much all over them, which I am working on improving. However, I don't think that's a particularly important asset.
Now up to the face. My lips are fairly full, not pale, generally pretty good. My nose, is fairly nondescript. Cute, I guess. There is nothing physically wrong with it. My eyes I have always considered to be a good feature of mine. They're large, blue-green and are framed by rather long and full eyelashes- which I have been complimented on, thank you very much. Now on to my two problem areas- my skin and my hair. My skin, while capable of tanning pleasantly, is rather oily and acne ridden. Examining the acne, it's not unusually terrible but it is noticeable and I'm not terribly sure how to fix it, because I do try.
And then my hair. My hair, while an attractive color, in my opinion, is not particularly straight or curly, mostly straight I guess. It's currently a bit too long, but beside that, it gets unbearably frizzy pretty much the moment I start to do anything. Isn't this supposed to be a problem only girls with curly hair get? I guess not. It's horribly frizzy, even if when I stepped out the door it looked fairly nice. It looks within an hour like I never comb it. I'm serious. It's a problem.
And that's it! tada! It doesn't seem so bad now that I've put it in writing, but it certainly looks bad. I just feel as though the reason exactly two boys in my lifetime have been romantically/sexually attracted to me is almost certainly attached to my appearance. I wish I could read minds, vain though it sounds, so that I could know what people actually think of me. I really, really, really want to know. But of course, since I don't actually know a whole lot of sociopaths, I'll never know.
And that's the angst of the day!

BLOGGER ANGRY! BLOGGER SMASH!

This has been an uneventful weekend. I went to the mall with my best friend, Emma. Lately I've been noticing that I don't feel quite as comfortable as I used to around her. I don't know. It's a very subtle feeling- just sort of creeping up very slowly in my mind. I think maybe since she's so important to me, I feel like I have to please her more than I have to with my other friends? Or maybe I'm just reading too much into something. Or maybe... I don't know. I've always felt that, especially last year, I've always felt that I need her more than she needs me. I don't know. Maybe I'm just a jealous bitch. And I think maybe that part's all in my head, you know? Like, I'm insecure, so whenever she chooses to spend time with someone other than me, I just feel like she doesn't like me anymore. And I feel like maybe that's not.. healthy. But I don't usually feel like that anymore, mostly because I've been developing more friendships with other people. And I realized, just now, that she probably chooses to hang out with other people, because, until rather recently, I had two best friends, her and another girl who I believe I have mentioned in another post. Enormous falling out? That one. So maybe that's why. Because I feel like, if SHE had another best friend, that would be hard, for me. But I don't know.
So we went to the mall. And I didn't buy anything, but then we went to Target and I bought a teen book- which is weird, because I haven't read those in years. I bought a teen book and read it in one sitting, which is weird for me too, because from January to July I read fifty books, and then none from then until two days ago. Literally none. It's weird, because, as I read the book I really liked it, but now that I'm thinking about it it was sort of terrible. Oh well, at least I was able to squeeze some enjoyment out of something, right?
And then, Sunday, I had plans with another friend, but she bailed. Oh well. I love her to death, but she's a bit of a flake, this friend.
And Monday. I woke up at ten, which is unusual for me, so that I could FUCKING GET SHIT DONE. But then, my parents didn't let us leave till two. I need a fucking car, bad.
Here's something weird about me- sometimes, usually only at my parents, I get really, really mad. I don't know if this is normal or not, it's usually over really stupid things- like not being able to leave for four hours. I don't know, it just feels like my anger just sort of turns over over and over, like a snowball and it takes a while to melt. But the really weird thing about when I get mad is I just want to scream and throw shit and kick somebody. Not really my parents, when I get mad at them. Just someone. I don't know why this would be. I know it's unhealthy. Because I can't kick or punch or throw things, and I certainly can't scream. Even if my parents aren't home, the neighbors, you know.
So usually I just say, 'FINE. WHATEVER.' in a passive aggressive voice, and maybe slam some doors and stomp around, and then I go up to my room and stew in my own anger for a while. And after a while, if I manage to distract myself and not just feed the flames, it'll start to fade. Slowly.
I think anger is one of those more nuanced cultural taboos- I think it's not really a bad thing to express anger, according to society, but there are certain things that we are discouraged from saying; particularly women. So there's... there's that.
What am I even talking about? I don't know. It's early in the morning.

This place is getting to me. I think I'm getting The Fear.

I started high school two days ago. It's not... well... I don't know what to say about high school over all.
Our high school schedule is a four block, which means we have two semesters, divided by winter break. Four classes per semester, eight classes total. Blocks (they technically aren't called periods, although mostly they are anyway) are 90 minutes each.
My schedule this semester is Algebra 2 Honors, Health/P.E., Biomedical Technology, (OXFORD COMMA NEVER DIES.) and Honors Biology.
Day 1 was... well, shitty. It sucked. Day 2 was a lot better, so I won't go into an awful lot of detail on why Day 1 sucked, but suffice it to say I had a bit of a crying meltdown. Yikes. Well, the good news is I feel much better now.
Algebra 2 is... well, it's... it's hard. I recognize a lot of the people from my past math classes, when I was in sixth grade I and three other students took math with the seventh graders in addition to sixth grade math... and I'm still a little resentful. That year sucked, because, and this sounds stupid, but it meant a lot to me, I didn't get to sit with my friends. Or anybody in my grade, actually. So that was just... terrible. So then last year we took Geometry online, and in seventh grade we took Algebra 1 with eighth graders. I can't spell eighth properly. Okay.
Well, anyway, I remember some of the people from Algebra 1. I'm not sure that they remember me, but that's alright. Behind sits a football guy... he's a bit intimidating, and the only other freshman friend I have with me in my class is my carpool buddy and dearest guy friend. Unfortunately, he has a lot of sopohmore friends, so I think I'll probably end up being ignored. The only other person I really know in math is a girl I used to go to summer camp with, and though it's a bit complicated, we've remained friends over the years and correspond often online. Fortunately, although she is a sophomore, she does still talk to me in the class. Mostly people in the class are fairly friendly... though they don't know I'm a freshman. So, that. As you can see, I'm a little self-conscious.
The teacher seems rather nice. He's a bit of a nerd, which I love. I've thought about it a bit and I think my type is nerdy guys. Not, like, I like my Algebra teacher, it's just, on the subject of nerds. en-ee-ways...
We went over how to use our calculators yesterday. I was so lost. We didn't use them at all last year when we took Geometry online, but of course everyone in a normal class did, so THEY all know how to use it, and of course, my Geometry/carpool/freshman buddy mentioned above is a complete and total computer genius, so of course HE can use it, so it's pretty much just me. After that we did some easy things which I knew how to do so that made me feel better. I think... I think we have a test soon. Yes. September second.
Then I have P.E./Health. There are three P.E. teachers at our high school- the woman is a bit older, and she's also the volleyball coach. My good friend is on the volleyball team, so this coach loves her, but her motto is, 'don't just sit, get fit!' which she told us on the first day. AWESOME. Fortunately, I did not get her. And then there's this blowhard gym teacher, who basically fits all of your sitcom gym teacher stereotypes and more. He's a gigantic dick who hates freshman. And women. But fortunately, I didn't get him, either. You have no idea how fucking relieved I am that I got gym teacher number three, or, the lazy teacher. He's really fucking lazy. 'So guys, uh, I don't really like to teach Health, so we're probably just gonna do some stuff on the computers for that. and uh, yeah...' Apparently, sometimes, during Gym, he just goes into his office and smokes pot. So, uh, at least he'll be relaxed. :D Yeah, I'm really fucking relieved. On Friday, the other two classes stretched and ran around the track, while OUR gym teacher said, 'So, uh, we're starting health on Monday, so I don't really see the point in starting a whole unit, so, uh, we're just gonna, uh, walk around the, uh, cross country trails this, uh, block.'
Yeah. So we did that. And it sucked, because it was hot outside. But it could have been so much worse. TRANSITION! There are eight (Eight is a difficult word for spelling) girls in my P.E. class. But it's okay... I know half of them from middle school, and the half that I know, I like. Also, it's awesome because the locker rooms are super duper big, I mean, they aren't really, but compared to our middle school they totally are. Last year, halfway through the school, the new school (PMS are the initials. I'm not fucking kidding. They seriously are.) opened, so we transfered there after winter break, and we merged with the middle school of another K-8 school in the area. What this means is I sort of know half the freshman class, which is good. But anyway, PMS had to have gigantic gym classes, (two eighth grade classes and one sixth grade class) in the gym at the same time. Which means, in the locker room at the same time. And sixth graders, goddamn, sixth graders really fucking do not understand personal space. I'm not going to elaborate on that anymore.
So, it's fun. The way our P.E. works is we'll have Health for three weeks, and then P.E. for three weeks, and so on... and we have Health starting Monday. So that's excellent.
Then I have Biomedical Technology. It's the intro level to the Health Science courses, which means that if you want to take any medical classes, you better fucking take Biomed your first year. So I did! And it's boring as hell. Yesterday, we spent seventy minutes on proper notetaking techniques. And I'm not exaggerating on time. Seventy fucking minutes. Although, it probably would have been forty if it weren't for the fact that this woman who teaches the class takes a break at the end of each phrase she speaks, almost as though she's waiting for us to burst into applause or something. Also, she's morbidly obese.
But on the plus side, it's really, really fucking easy, and at the end, I'll be a certified nursing assistant. Plus, I like the people in the class, I have my second best friend, and then a guy across from me who I ride the bus with and yesterday gave me his number. And I didn't ask for it. So that was interesting. And the woman is so fucking lazy she lets us sit wherever we want, basically, so we have fun.
That's also the class I have lunch with, though we get to sit with whoever we want in the cafeteria, but the lunches are in shifts. So we have second lunch. There are four lunches. Not that many of my friends also have second lunch, but I have my second best friend, and my P.E. friend, and my former best friend, and some guy friends, and some friendly acquaintances, so it's not optimal, but okay.
Then, I have Biology Honors, which is quite a bit of fun. I like the teacher, though she's six months pregnant, which means we might get a sub near the end of the semester. Also, she's gained 17.2 pounds since the beginning of her pregnancy. I know that because my group yesterday guessed the closest to the amount she's gained (20 pounds) at the end of class. We won candy. It made me happy. And, she lets us pick our groups, and, although we have assigned seats, she put me next to my best friend, so it's fun.
And that's about it... OH! And the bus. Let's not forget the bus, shall we?
Okay, well, the bus is pretty fucking terrible, it's hot, and overcrowded, and ghetto as hell. WAY ghetto-er than the school. I didn't ride yesterday, but I did ride Thursday. I got home at four thirty. School ends at three. In a car, it takes 15 minutes to get from my house to the school. Our bus driver doesn't fucking know how to drive, or how to navigate the area, or how to control a group of ghetto-ass kids, so it was super duper fucking fantastic.
I sat next to some mentally disabled kid because he was one of the only people that didn't look like he wanted to shiv me. And then, the ex-boyfriend decides he, too, wants to sit next to me. So we're three to a seat, which I'm pretty sure isn't even fucking legal. And then, in the seat across from us is some punk-ass kid with five goddamn visible tattoos. Tattoos that look like he didn't get them in a parlor, if you know what I mean. And you don't, because that was a subtle joke about prison tats.
So, that. But then my ex-boyfriend laughed at all of the boy's jokes because he was scared. And then the gang kid called my ex his, his words, not mine, his 'little white nigger'. So, that. I HAVE GANG TIES NOW! :D
And then I got home at four thirty. And my mom was flipping shit because she thought I would get home at, like, 3:30. And apparently she called all of my friends that live in the neighborhood because she was worried. so, awesome possum.
and that's about it.
Also, there was an earthquake here. It was scary.

i'm not very interesting.

I haven't been posting recently. It's nearly two in the morning and the sound of my typing seems very loud.
I haven't really done anything the past couple of days... mostly, I've just been watching SVU and listening to Weezer. But mostly only Pinkerton and the Blue Album. Because I'm one of *those* Weezer fans.
One thing about myself that's both good and bad is that I don't have a very distorted self image... I think. So, this is good, in that, I don't obsess about things that aren't bad about me, and I'm aware of the things that are good, HOWEVER, I feel like the bad things I think about myself are fairly accurate, so I look in the mirror and see well, pretty eyes, and a normal nose and normal lips, and long eyelashes, but also acne and not very well manicured eyebrows. And I sort of turn that thought over in my mind, like a stone, and I think to myself, 'Yes. If you were a third party with no investment in this situation, you would agree with yourself.'
If that makes sense. Maybe I have a dissociative disorder.
I've been trying to work on my summer reading. School starts on Thursday. I'm... cutting it rather close this time, even by my standards. I want so so badly for my English teacher to like me and think I'm good but then I sit down and I stare at the book and the words on the page and the assignment, and I know that it's really not that hard but I just can't, I can't get into the headspace to actually do it. So it's been slow going. I spend about ten percent of my time doing my project... and ninety percent of my time stressing about it. It's not very rational but I don't really know how to fix this.
I'll get it done. I hope.
My best friend called me today. I talked to her for ten minutes, which is pretty short for us, but long for normal people. She told me about how she went to the zoo with her younger cousins and there were seals having sex but her cousins were like, 'LOOK! THEY'RE PLAYING!' and she was like, 'yeah! they're... having a great time...', which was true.
And then we talked about English, and I feel better because she's put about the same amount of work into it as I have so far... so we're planning on meeting up tomorrow when my mother is out to talk about the assignment. Because we're nerds.
And later I told my mother that Emma was coming over to go over the English assignment and she looks at me and says, 'You're not cheating, are you?' and I said, 'No, Mom. We're just...'
well, what are we doing?
'We're just trying to make sure we're doing it right.'
Which is true. But for a moment there, I said to myself, are we cheating? No. We're not. But sometimes I get nervous even though I didn't do anything wrong. I would fail the polygraph if I were ever accused of murder.
It's 2:06. It feels like it's been forever. I can't go to sleep at a normal hour now because I've been consistently staying up very late for weeks. So I'm fucked when school starts... in two days.
Shit.
I'm nervous. I'm starting high school. I don't want to fuck this up.
I'm going to sleep. I'm going to work on my English assignment. I'm going to listen to Weezer. I'm going to watch SVU.
I'm going to stare at the wall.
Goodnight.

I am that merry wanderer of the night.

Today, I woke up at nine. Having gotten around 5 hours of sleep, I stagger out of bed, completely naked, then realize that, hey, I have to be at school in half an hour to drop Digital Communication Systems and add Microsoft ITA. Well, shit.
We made to the school about half an hour later than we had planned. Looks like pretty much the entire ninth grade turned up for Drop/Add day! AWESOME. So, we (my father and I) wait for 1.5 hours in the un-air conditioned hallway until the stupid guidance counselor can finally see us, and it took FIVE MINUTES. Five fucking minutes, I seriously counted. AND my dad filled out the bus form. GODDAMMIT.
So then we went home, and also I took a map from the office so I spent about an hour planning out my day and color coding the map to match my notebooks. I still need to put the stickers on my notebooks, actually...
So then, I procrastinated working on my English assignment for a while, and then my best friend called and we went to go see 'The Help', which has Emma Stone and is about black female maids in the decade before the Civil Rights Movement. It didn't suck as hard as I thought it might, and I actually cried twice. Luckily, my friend didn't see because we both agree that crying makes us incredibly uncomfortable.
I also noticed that we were, and I'm not exaggerating here, the only people who did not appear to be senior citizens in the theatre. GODDAMN.
So I got home at ten, and then I tried, I really did try to work on my Fahrenheit
451 project, but for some reason whenever I sit down to do it my mind just goes numb and I can't think. So I read 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' instead, which was much better because there's no assignment. I actually like Fahrenheit more than Dream, but the assignment stresses me out, I'd rather not think about it. (SCORE ONE FOR SUBTLE LITERARY ALLUSIONS.)
Yep. So that was my day. I had an actual, like, personal essay planned out... but I seem to have forgotten it.
Additionally, I was just on Facebook and noticed that my ex-boyfriend dyed his hair red. Fortunately, he looks like a fucktard.

my mother dated an anarchist.

^ punk band name right there. oh yeah.
So, today I got up at 1:45 p.m., because I stayed up until four listening to The Blue Album and reading fanfiction. Because I'm cool.
I took a shower and I ran out of body wash so I had to get out of the shower and get this strong-smelling tropical stuff I got from bath and body works. It's sort of like... pineapple? I guess. I hate pineapple.
So that's great. Then I convinced my dad to take me to Franklin Street and shop. We hit up the vintage store, where they had, like, 20 pairs of identical bowling shoes. Oh, the nineties. So that was interesting, and then I went to The Dress Shop, where the woman was weirdly nice, and it wasn't because my dad looked like he had money, that's for sure. She was like, 'We have some dresses over there that would look SUPER cute on you.' And I was like, uh, awesome? Normally they're bitchy.
Then... hmm. Then I went to Chapel Hill comics, and I bought MOME 2006, and... a graphic novel by the guy who wrote Scott Pilgrim. The cashier was like, 'hey, did you know that he's publishing a new graphic novel in 2012?' and I was like, 'Um, no.'
And he was like, 'Yeah, he's releasing some of the art this week I think.' And I was like, 'Yeah... cool.'
Oh, comic book store guys. How I do love your awkwardness.
And then we went to the record store (CD Alley, haha, get it?), which is fun for about five minutes and then you get bored because there's no way to actually LISTEN to any of the music, and besides, CDs are obsolete anyway.
So instead I went to Internationalist Books, which sounds totally harmless, right? WRONG. This is the most straight-up, hardcore anarchist book store in NC. And my mom dated the guy who started it. He got murdered a little while after they broke up, but I could have been an anarchist baby! It's a little weird to wrap my head around, even though I know she dated the guy who ran Internationalist Books for a while. I didn't know how hardcore their shit was until I went in there today, first time in a few years. I really wanted to buy B!TCH magazine, but I didn't because my dad was RIGHT THERE. Otherwise I totally would have.
So yeah... pretty kickass day. I also went into Hazmat, your friendly neighborhood stoner store. We got cigarettes, tie dye shirts, dildos, girly mags, candy and bongs.
That should be their slogan but it's maybe a little too long.
I still have not worked on my summer reading... I have one week.

Do you believe?

So, I was originally going to title this post, 'the world has turned and left me here' after the weezer song. But then I didn't know what I would talk about. So, instead, I listened to that song a little more, and the chorus goes, 'Do you believe?' over and over, so I thought I would talk about religion a little bit. Side note- Can you believe Rivers Cuomo is 41? HOLY SHIT. He still looks like he's fourteen.
Anyways, I think religion is a super interesting topic, right up there next to politics and sex. The three greatest motivators of human nature. Well, and money... but money is boring. Since I'm sort of an asshole, I often confrontationally challenge people's religious beliefs. Yes, I know, I'm a mean girl. But it's really because I want people to UNDERSTAND, really understand why they believe what they do. Personally, I'm an atheist, because, let's face it, God is a fundamentally ridiculous concept. But I'm not here to argue, I'm here to explain.
Unlike a lot of atheists (often referred to as 'militant atheists'), I'm not the sort of person who believes religion is evil, and should be abolished. I think... I think religion is, at its deepest core, an invention created to comfort people. I think religion certainly has its place in society- but unfortunately, religion also creates conflict.
Do I think it would be better for humans if there was no religion? Well, yes and no. If everyone had the same religion, there would be no conflict... but, it's in human nature to disagree, that's why religion evolves over time- Christians were born out of Judaism, Protestants were born of Catholics... and I'm sure there are more specific examples of religious divisions but I wasn't given a religious upbringing so I'm afraid I have a poor understanding of the different sects, or branches, or parts, or somethings, of Christianity, despite being raised in what I like to refer to as a Southern backwater.
So... I understand why people believe what they do, I just wish they were more aware of their own religion, and what faith really is, and why it needs to be separate from other parts of thought, and if they actually truly believe, or if... or if they've just been indoctrinated by their mother and father and school and friends and culture. And I think that's something EVERYONE has to ask themselves, not just the religious folks.
It's late at night so I'm not really sure what I'm talking about. I'll read it back in the morning and edit it down.

I'm very sirius.

Do you want to know a secret?
I am in love with fanfiction.
I love to read it, I love to write it. I fucking love it. For some reason, I keep it a secret, though I'm not really sure why. Actually, the last time I talked about it was at summer camp during a scavenger hunt- the person I was talking to and I made a mutual agreement to never speak of it again.
I'm not sure how to say this, but I have a freakishly elaborate fantasy world for each of my favorite shows. It's pretty unhealthy, but it's something I've been doing ever since I was a kid. I have this weird thing where whenever I get particularly attached to a show I sort of insert myself into that 'universe', and kind of make up stories about it, I guess. It wasn't until a year or two ago that I found a name for this kind of story- and that name is fanfiction.
What sort of fanfiction do I like? Doctor Who, Harry Potter and Criminal Minds are my three favorites, though I occasionally read other fics. I haven't quite worked up the courage to post any of my own writing on fanfiction.net, so it's currently languishing on my computer. That's likely where it will stay for all of eternity. Nonetheless, I certainly get a kick out of it, and that's what counts, right?
EDIT- I read this back and I sound like a complete psycho. Ohhhhh well. Additionally... what was I going to say? Oh yeah. Additionally, I've been thinking I'm not wearing the correct bra size, so I tried measuring... um, yeah, apparently I'm a 34DD. HA! No. This is not at all correct. I measured once, twice, three times, and I went to dozens of different sites, all telling me the EXACT same thing. What. The. Fuck? So I guess I'll get my mother to take me to Target this week... yay? I'm almost positive that she'll make the entire experience as uncomfortable as possible. So that's something to look forward to. And, of course, my SUMMER READING PROJECT. *gouges eyes out*

I'm sorry, Dave.

I watched a lot of good old SVU today. It's amazing how, even though I'm watching episodes from last year, it seems incredibly dated. Maybe SVU is just sort of a dated show.
I also just finished 2001: A Space Odyssey. It's actually my first time watching it all the way through, though of course I'm familiar with the whole HAL concept. I was... surprised. I was surprised, first of all, by the weirdly slow pace that the entire movie went at, even the dialogue. I think a movie made these days with that sort of pace would bomb... and I have to admit the idea that Generation Z has incredibly short attention spans may be proved by my impatience with this movie. Or not. Maybe people in 1968 found it incredibly slow, too.
HEY! I'm actually talking about something zeitgeisty, for once. Awesome.
And, at the risk of sounding like a complete idiot, I was confused from the point where- SPOILER! (Seriously? The movie has been out for 43 years.) Dave turns HAL off... until the end. Because I'm dense. Really, though. So, my interpretation of it is that Dave kept on going to Jupiter, and then the black thing was actually a wormhole, and Dave goes through it, and it ages him, and then, like, the white room with the art deco furniture was like, Dave's afterlife, and all the different people are actually him, aging, including the baby, which is... also him? Like, he's reborn, or something?
I don't know, I was confused. I didn't talk to the person I talked to yesterday again today, though I did read his blog... weirdly, he also posted about artificial intelligence, which is a little bit of a freaky coincidence.
Additionally, I do feel much better today, though I still have to work on summer reading. So, that's stressful.
11:11. Make a wish.

Sometimes when I'm sad I cut myself... another slice of cheescake.

I just realized that I'm the girl who eats their feelings.
I'm not really hungry, I just feel sad. I'm not fat though, so I defy at least one cliche. Yay? I guess? I should have just added this to my other post but I like my title so I'm keeping it.
I'm also watching Food Network Star, which is probably making me feel sort of hungry too.
Now about those sweaters- I actually got four today, one from modcloth came in the mail.
The modcloth one is black with large white strawberry print. It's sort of thick and is a cardigan. I like that the arms fit. I have fat arms.
Fuck... my headphones went in my soup. (Spring Onion by Kitchen Thai, if you were wondering)
The second one is a lighter, floral cardigan. It's cream colored and the flowers are light blue and light pink. I'm not terribly sure what I'll wear it with, other than a plain or blush colored tank top... but it was only fourteen dollars so what the hell, right?
And then the other two are supersoft pullover cardigans, short sleeves (elbow length), v-neck, actually, right angle neck. I luff them.
Okay. This is good. This is how Frances got her groove back.

Lipstick and other curious things

Today was rather odd. The worst I've felt in a while. It's probably because a byproduct of social interaction is negative emotions, and I haven't really been socially interacting recently, what with it being summer and all.
Today I went outlet shopping. I bought some sweaters from Anne Taylor Loft, which is a sort of matronly store, but I love it anyways. A few hours ago, I would have talked about these sweaters for paragraphs. Maybe tomorrow. I feel sort of bad because I was talking to somebody on facebook and I think I made him feel bad. Or I said something wrong. Or something. I'm not particularly socially adept in that way... I'm unable to identify the exact source of the problem in our conversation. I think it began when I popped back in after leaving. Oh, regret. How bitter art thou.
Anyways... I'm having difficulty readjusting to the mindset of thinking of my audience as a faceless mass, rather than a very faceful individual. The faceful individual way of thinking, merits though it does have, is not really what I want for this blog... though I suppose there's not much I can do at this point.
I'm a firm believer in my mother's mantra of my childhood-
'Everything will be better in the morning.'
EDIT- I was going to talk about lipstick. I have four different lipsticks- peony, coral, fuschia, and red. i made a lip print of each of them and I think the fuschia looks best on paper, though the red in person. I'm not really sure why, though the lip prints could make an interesting collage. I don't know what else I would use though. I'm distracted. This isn't very good. I'm feeling agitated.
Everything will be better in the morning.

spank the monkey.

I'm a little hesitant to post this, seeing as how I have at least one possibly reader at this point, but you know what? I am ZEITGEIST GIRL! None of this sex negative culture will leach into my world outlook!
That said, today's topic is masturbation. Uh-oh. Yikes.
Around 98 percent of men and 60 something percent of women masturbate. And you know what? I'm in that sixty something percent. You heard me! I MASTURBATE. What's so wrong with that?
Just about everybody in this country masturbates. Yet, somehow, still, our culture almost never discusses it, except in the context of crude, crude humor. That has absolutely GOT to change. We're in 2011, people! Wake up! It's amazing to me that people are still clinging to these ancient sexual taboos.
Anyways, that's my lacigreen-esque rant for the day. It's a little shorter than usual, but they can't all be epics, can they now?
So, my non existent readership- what do you think of masturbation? do you masturbate? leave it in the comments!

I HATE THE WORD PANTIES.

Panties is the worst fucking word I have ever heard. It sounds so childish, even though it's supposed to describe, like, sexy underwear. I always use the word underwear; my hatred for the word panties might stem from the fact that my mother never used it, she used 'undies', which I think is cute for little kids.
I kind of wish that there was a decent word for, like, sexy underwear, because lingerie is more general. I guess it works, but like...
After googling the phrase 'i hate the word panties' I read that some people call sexy underwear 'vickies' like Victoria's Secret, which I like and would use except no one would know what I was talking about and then I would have to explain and feel like an idiot.
That always happens to me, where, like, you say a word the person you're talking doesn't understand, and you have to explain it, but YOU feel like the idiot. It's really annoying. I wonder if I am the only person this happens to.
Anyway, what word do you use instead of the disgusting word 'panties'?

Doctor Who

Okay, I've started watching Doctor Who. I just finished episode eight season 1 and sobbed uncontrollably for like, the entire fourth quarter of the episode. It was so fucking sad I swear to god. And, in episode six, I cried during that too. That one wasn't really intended to be sad but I totally cried. It was where the last dalek dies, and all it wants is to feel the sun. God, I'm totally crying right now just typing that sentence. I really don't cry over T.V. often. The last time was probably... maybe a little during Criminal Minds one time, but I really cried during a couple episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Last summer I watched every single episode and these three were the most upsetting. In order from least to greatest. The one where Buffy's mom dies, the one where Oz and Willow break up forever, and the one before the one where Buffy's mom dies, in which a robot is programmed to love Warren, and dies.
I seriously cried so fucking hard at the end of the episode I was worried my parents would wake up. It was a fucking sobfest. Seriously. So sad. It was weird because the character who died, I didn't have any attachment to her at all. She was just there for that one episode, and she wasn't even a person. She was a robot. I think that almost made it more sad.
Sorry for not posting in a while, my life has been exceptionally uneventful.
I think my tears got acne medication in my eye. It burns slightly.
I'm going to NYC on Thursday! YAY! Never been before. Should be fun, despite how irritating my parents can be. They don't really mean to be, it's just sometimes they need to CALM THE FUCK DOWN. Go with the motherfucking flow. Honestly, it's like my mother's got to plan every single second of our vacation, but if it were just me all I would do in advance is the plane and hotel. Part of the fun of being on vacation is you can do whatever the hell you want.
Oh wellll. It's four in the morning! That's the fun of being on vacation.

Zombie bites.

I had a strange dream last night. It was shot (my dreams are like movies) like an episode of BlackBox TV. All I can remember are zombies. Zombies and the feeling of raw terror unlike anything I've ever experienced in real life. At the end of the dream, a female zombie bit me, on my shoulder. I touched the jagged, deep bite, my eyes widened in horror at the 'camera', I could feel pain, and then I woke up, chest heaving, covered in sweat.
I spent most of the morning thinking about where my subconsious could possibly have come up with that idea, when I remembered the game Boxhead, which I described in an earlier post. What a curious dream.
Today was fine. Our school AIG teacher, for the first time in about two months, came to see our geometry class of five. I think she may have forgotten about us, because yesterday I borrowed a textbook from her. I told her that the English teacher has been making me read Holocaust books, and I've also been reading Lolita and Catcher in the Rye. At this, she asked me, if, 'Lolita and Catcher in the Rye are Holocaust books?' Tell me, Mrs. AIG teacher, did you attend college? You did? Huh. I wouldn't have guessed that.
Really, though? You haven't even heard of Catcher in the goddamn Rye? Ever? You're an AIG teacher, for the love of god. Jesus fucking christ.
We took a test on the Holocaust book, 'I Have Lived A Thousand Years' (which we shall, from this point on, refer to as IHLATY. I find the title to be cumbersome.) today. I remembered more than I thought I might, though I finished quite early. I pulled out my book to read, and who should appear by my side but my English teacher herself? Goody.
Basically, she spends the rest of the class telling me what she didn't like about my answers. (Although she did, curiously, let me change some of them) There's this thing about her, where, at the moment when you're talking to her, you know that she's full of shit but you can't quite come up with the words to point that out to her, so you end up just nodding and saying 'Okay'. Therefore, she walks away thinking that she has won, which is deeply frustrating. She also seems to want to make eye contact, constantly. It's somewhat unsettling and I end up looking for something to stare at, like a book or a piece of paper, when I talk to her.
She told me that she wasn't going to give me credit for my answer to the test question, 'Now that you've learned about the Holocaust, what do you consider to be your unbearable burden?' The italics and bold are hers, not mine. So my answer was, basically, that I don't have an unbearable burden, because I have never experienced something as extraordinary and terrible as the author of this book.
She tells me that that's not what she was looking for, so of course I'm pissed, but somehow end up just nodding and saying 'Okay.' What the fuck did she want me to put for that goddamn question? FUUUUUUUUUCCCCKKKKKKK. FUCKFUCKFUCK. I don't know... everything about her just really pisses me off. I fantasize about writing an anonymous note on the last day of school that simply says, 'Fuck you.'
That would be so fucking great. I couldn't do it though. I care too much about my future.
There used to be these two girls in my P.E. class that would just sit. All class period, just sit on the floor. The teachers never seemed to say anything, except for my teacher's awkward attempt at conversation one time. So I wondered, what would I do if I just didn't give a fuck? It's certainly a question to ponder.
EDIT- I just counted how many times I used the word 'fuck' in the last three posts, including this one. 28.

I've been dreaming

I have insomnia. I sleep very deeply but I take at least an hour to go to sleep. Is that normal? I don't think it is. Lately I've been dreaming. Usually I don't dream, but these past few weeks I have every night. My dreams, I think, are stranger than most people's. Or maybe, they're not, but people simplify their dreams when they tell them to me. I don't think so, though. The only recurring theme in my dreams that I can think of is (well, fear is too broad, but fear) having to care for something? Like I had a dream where I had these cats that were about as big as my thumb and I nearly went insane trying to take care of them 24/7. I have difficulty remembering my dreams. When I went to summer camp where I took a Psychology class last year, our teacher told us about lucid dreaming, which is when, in your dream, you're aware that you are dreaming, and this allows you to control the dream. That had never happened to me before I heard about it, I think, but it did a few months ago. Strange, that. Very strange.
We took a computers test. I hate my tech teacher. He's really just a really bad teacher, objectively. Like, he sucks at explaining things. For example, portrait and landscape? Yeah. He takes, like, ten minutes to give an example that no one understood. ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS TURN THE PAPER SIDEWAYS. That's landscape. Turn it back, that's portrait. Really. It's easy. Also, fucking EVERYTHING is an effort grade. I understand effort grades, and they can be good, USED PROPERLY. Tests, interestingly, ARE NOT MEANT TO BE AN EFFORT GRADE. AT ALL. I got a 100 on this really pretty hard test, I didn't miss any questions, but EVERYONE will get a 100 as long as they tried their best. FUUUUUUUUUUU
But, really. What the fuck? All this is going to teach kids is that they don't have to study or even pay attention to get an A in your class. You stupid fuck.
I have this thing where I can't listen to music with words if I'm writing or reading. It really bothers me. I'm a really good multitasker and I can block really obnoxious shit out to focus on one thing but I really cannot listen to music and read or write. I often end up typing/writing down the song lyrics accidentally. Hilarity ensues.
Today was a good day. I think I have a small crush on an ex-best-friend's crush. Is that bad? I should feel bad but I really don't give a damn! HA!

Dandelions.

My English teacher does not know what a dandelion looks like. She told me she didn't like this book she was reading because of 'little inconsistencies.' When I asked her what inconsistencies, she said that the author described dandelions as being yellow but she's pretty sure that they're those flowers with the white puffs.
SIGH.
I proceeded to explain to her that while, yes, those flowers with the white puffs ARE dandelions, so too are little, scruffy yellow flowers. I then briefly explained the reproductive habits of dandelions. The expression on her face was somewhat... of disbelief? I'm really, really concerned that she does not know what a dandelion looks like, especially living in the state that we do. Walking the 30 yards from the bus stop to my home today, I counted ten directly in my path, and dozens more within my sightline. My dad speculated that she's an alien.
She's kind of passive-aggressively making me read a bunch of Holocaust books, because I finished the depressing one early. Three of them, actually. She gave them to me yesterday, I finished one today, and also Catcher in the Rye. The one I read today was a graphic novel called Maus (pronounced Mouse), and I was surprised by how much I liked it. It was sad without being depressing and awful, and the characters were great and had a lot of depth. It was about the author's father, and what was great about it was the way he wove the present, him interviewing his father and he and his father's life, with his father's story. It was excellent.
The other two look much worse. 'The Boy Who Dared' which I vaguely recall considering reading in 3rd, 4th, or fifth grade, and 'Alicia' which looks depressing. Our whole class is reading the 'censored' version of 'I Have Lived a Thousand Years' which I first thought was stupid but now I see why; I didn't even like the book or the characters but I almost cried (in a bad way) at how awful the stories were several times, and that's not something I do a lot. So Mrs. Erman felt the need to read us a scene from the original, which was basically just how some Nazis disemboweled this woman's baby because she refused to shoot it, and the rest of her family. HOORAY.
It's just... ugh. I know the Holocaust was FUCKING TERRIBLE, however, I would really rather not read about the disembowelment of someone's goddamn baby. I just really fucking don't. That's not something that betters me in any way, I didn't learn anything from it, it didn't 'enrich my learning experience', it was purely upsetting.
I really wish I had more people that I feel like I can hold an extended, uninterrupted, enjoyable, intellectual conversation with. I think that would be more interesting and 'enriching' than doing stupid fucking assignments and having REALLY FUCKING STUPID class discussions about the books we read. Right now I feel like there's only one person I can hold an extended intelligent conversation with, and that's my dad. My dad is someone who I respect a lot and I also feel really comfortable with. I think my dad is the person I go to talk to about 'smart' stuff, and my mom about 'girl' stuff. Those two categories pretty much cover everything I ever talk about. EVER. Not quite, but mostly.
I really really love my parents. I think, objectively, of all of the parents I know, that they are really the best. Looking back on my life, I think all the decisions they made were really the best ones for me, and I feel so blessed to be in a family like this one. Sorry for the cheese.
I think that's mostly all that mattered to me today. I'm ripping Philip DeFranco's outro. WHATCHU GONNA DO, PHIL? Just kidding. It's a good outro, I'm using it today. I like him, even though I often disagree.

Dr. Kittycat House

My cat has a limp and uses prescription painkillers. She's grumpy. I think she's like a feline House, except an idiot.
Today was fine. In Geometry, which I take online in the library with four other students, we played this kickass computer game. We played it because the blockers at our school are pretty strict, and although I and another boy know how to get around those, we prefer not to take our chances. It's called Boxhead, and it's a zombie-shooter game. For some reason, your character and all the zombies look like lego people. Probably just laziness. Although there's no way to actually win, as far as we know (class periods are an hour so you have to quit after that), but our goal is generally to use barrels to block all of the zombie entrances. I don't play that much, but when I do the guys are always surprised and maybe a little horrified with my grimly thorough murder of all the little enemies. I love that game.
I've taken to eating waffles without syrup, just butter. Frozen waffles, the kind you heat up in a toaster. They're excellent. The best ones are the buttermilk ones from Eggo, because they're a little bit sugary. The chocolate chip ones are a rip off because you get around three chocolate chips per waffle. It's much better when you just add your own, one in each... waffle slot? Waffle square? Waffle grid square? Something like that.
In English we're reading this book about the Holocaust. 'I Have Lived A Thousand Years'. It's depressing as fuck but it's not that good, so it's just depressing without having any redeeming value. It's pretty awful. I have the idiot English class because, it's complicated, but mostly, they only sort the math classes by level, so during 5th period, all the smart kids, are in the smart math class, so there are only idiots left in all the other 5th period classes. So, idiot English class. I'm literally the only fucking person who can read out loud competently. Including my teacher, who is fucking stupid. We've been reading out loud since Friday and it kind of makes me want to slit my wrists. Kidding, but really it's fucking terrible. I do give her some credit though, since we have the stupid English class and even my stupid English teacher knows it, she let me go to the workroom and read silently by myself. THERE IS A GOD! Not really, but I was happy. I finished it today in one class period. God, so fucking depressing.
I bought this awesome tomato print cardigan from Urban Outfitters online the other day and I wore it to school. I actually received way more compliments than I thought I would because the people at my school tend to, shall we say, ridicule the people who dress differently from them, and so everyone dresses the same and it's awful. To give you an idea, Uggs or Sperries for shoes, sweatpants, Hollister jeans or too short shorts for pants, and plaid shirts or Hollister t-shirts for shirts. Or a sweat shirt. You can probably see what kind of school mine is.
So I was a little nervous to wear it, which is dumb, but I was, and everyone liked it. I was happy. The sweater makes me look like a guidance counselor/art teacher, but in a good way. If I were a public school teacher I think I would kill myself. People are just so goddamn stupid. It's fucking amazing how stupid people are. I think the teachers at our school are sort of in denial about how fucking stupid their students are, as a whole, so that they don't have to go home and jump out a window. Some days, though, I think they cry themselves to sleep. I don't really blame them, it's really fucking sad.
Recently, we took nine weeks assessments. I thought I might fail the Science one, because my Science teacher is lazy as fuck and never teaches us anything, but I actually got the highest score in the school... an 87. So, there's that. My best friend got the highest score on the reading one, and I was a little jealous. Mostly happy, but a little jealous. 90 percent happy, I think.
Tube tops are disgusting. They make you look like a gigantic whore even if you're not. I actually remember when I was like, 10, and I bought these tube tops from old navy in 4 different colors. They made me feel really sexy, even though I didn't know that word at the time. I'm not sure that's the right word for how I felt, but it's close enough. It's funny how easily I can remember articles of clothing I used to own. I used to have this orange dress when I was two, I fucking loved that dress. Apparently I went through a phase where I would only wear orange things. Orange was my favorite color until I turned six, and then it became purple and pink. During my tomboy phase (3-5 grade), it became just purple, and now I think it's pink. I really love all colors with pretty few exceptions. It's funny how I associate old clothes with memories. For example, a shirt I used to really like, purple with black peacock feather print, I never wear anymore because that's what I wore on my first real date with my ex-boyfriend. It's funny how that happens.

to see her dreams so startlingly naked, it's difficult to take it.

Today was fine. My best friend was sick, so of course carpool was awkward and Social Studies was boring. There's this weird thing in the back of my mind that always happens where I'm sort of annoyed when my friends get sick, even though it's irrational and selfish. I wonder if it's just me or if others sometimes feel this way too?
My nails are cherry red. I painted them for the first time in months because I was reading Lolita and the narrator mentions Lo's cherry red toe nail polish. So I painted my nails. I avoid painting my nails, generally, because it takes such a very long time to dry and they chip so easily. Also I'm bad at it and almost always manage to fuck up. Happily, I only fucked up a little and was able to wait for them to dry. It's not that I'm an impatient person, it's just annoying to not be able to do ANYTHING during those twenty minutes. And I often overestimate how dry the polish is, and then I do something and I smear the polish and get it on whatever I was touching.
The positive part of painting my nails, though, is how sexy my hands feel afterwards. I also don't bite them when they're painted. They're only chipped a little around the edges today, which I think lends a a sort of devil-may-care quality. Although I could very well just look sloppy.
Lolita was actually not as sexually graphic as I imagined it would be, despite its claim to fame as a 'pornographic' novel. It did not really describe sex at all, although it did go into great detail on the appearance of female characters, particularly Lolita. I guess I can see how an adult male reading this might be made uncomfortable and kind of feel like a pedo. I think I am at the optimal demographic for not feeling like a perv by reading this novel, if that makes any sense. In a way, I am Lolita.
Or so I would like you to believe. Or so I would like to believe.
My second best friend's boyfriend got staples in his head this weekend because they were on a field trip with the band to Carowinds and then it started to hail and the bus got dents in it and a cymbal fell on my second best friend's boyfriend's head. Another friend, my second best friend's best friend, texted my best friend (my desire to not use names on this blog is becoming ever more complicated) with the somewhat dramatic, '[my second best friend's boyfriend] split his head open'
which led us to believe that he had cracked his skull and was at this moment comatose or bleeding out on the floor of a filthy activity bus. The staples, while pretty painful looking, are not life threatening.
My social studies teacher, who is my favorite teacher, and decidedly the best teacher at my shitty school, always pronounces the days of the week with a 'dee' at the end, instead of 'day'. She pronounces day correctly, but days of the week are always mondee toosdee wensdee thursdee fridee. It's quite odd.
I'm going to high school next year. I was, originally, not going to reveal my age on this blog but I came to the conclusion that it is very difficult to discuss my self without discussing my age, or at least my year of schooling.
I'm going to high school next year, and I am 80 percent excited and 20 percent nervous/apprehensive. I think high school will be better than middle school, and if it isn't I'm enrolling in the school of Science and Math or dying my hair, changing my name to Stella or Lola or Andromeda, for short, Andy, and moving to Los Angeles and becoming a porn star. Not really, but maybe. Not the porn part, though. Maybe an actress... or a musician. I've always wanted to be in a band even though I suck ass at playing musical instruments.
I wonder what color I would dye my hair if I were to do so. I think probably hot pink, or bright red. A friend of mine dyes her hair black and the ends a different color every three weeks. It had been green (TURQUOISE! she'd insist) and this week it's dark red. I envy her, for more reasons than her hair.