I did not screw up my Project Citizen speech. Please hold the applause, thank you, thank you. The whole shebang was actually Not That Bad. Most of the FOUR FREAKIN’ HOURS was spent slouched in fold-up chairs and letting other students’ voices create a pleasant white-noise barrier as my mind drifted off into the horizon. When it was my turn to give my scrap of the conjuncturate speech, I spoke and said all the right words at the right time, at the right volume, with the right amount of space between each word and sentence. What a feat!
I had a softball game today, too. We were winning by one run the entire game, but then they got three runs in the last inning and that was that. The same exact thing happened the last time we played this team, too: we were up by one run the whole time, but then in the last inning they punted our behinds to Venezuela. Also, the last time we played them I hit a double, and it happened again today. De-ja-vu?
The drama class is putting on a show of The Sound Of Music. I have never actually seen the movie or read the book (if there even is one) or watched the play, so I am not familiar with the story. Well actually, I know that there are a bunch of nuns and children, and that they all dance and sing. But hey, this way it’ll be more exciting, you know, mysterious twists and turns in the plotline and all. I need to find somebody to go with, though, or maybe I’ll just go with my cousins. I feel kind of bad for the drama people sometimes, though. It’s like, their shows have to compete with the extraordinary performances by those artsy-fartsy Castillero-ians. Dirty Cobras! We must seem so pathetic and lame and artificial and mediocre and flat and boring to them. They are the Artsy School. We are the academic drones, with a good curriculum, but with a student body that isn’t something to be proud of, really. The few dribbles of school spirit that run through my veins is drying up as I type. Maybe I had better stop there and talk about something else.
Like my personal Reawakening. I’m getting back into the swing of poetry-writing. In sixth and seventh grade, I would churn out poems like a... wench... churns butter...? (Attempt at a clever analogy: fail.) But they would always turn out all mournful-ish and “emo.” I tried to write more cheerful rhymes, but it didn’t work out too good. The only thing, though, is that I kind of obssess over having perfect ryhme. Half-rhymes are not my friend. You trip over them and have to climb around them and try to sculpt the imperfect pronunciation into something that works with the rest of the poem so that the thing rhymes. So if a word or line doesn’t have the exact proper rythym and ryhme, I just omit it. My poems never satisfy me, though. I write one and reread it, then start thinking how I can do better than that. I guess it would be appropriate to post one right now. I don’t know what to call it, so feel free to comment with title ideas. I never know what to call my poems. Usually, I just pick a random word from the collection and write it at the top of the page, then bam. That is the title. Sometimes, though, none of the words sound very nice on their own, so I have to spin a whole nother word out of midair. It’s tough work.
No one sees what I hide
In my twisted mind of fears and lies
Memories black with ashen flames
Bear the heart that no soul tames
Chained in a world where hatred dwells
In tears of sadness and nightmarish hells
And in tangled thoughts that none shall see
I reach for someone- for you to help me.
But you won't come, as proven true
So I'm ever alone, waiting for you
Hey, I didn't say they were any good.
As long as we’re talking about words, kind of... poems... words... Have you ever come across a word, and you’re not sure if it’s horrifyingly ugly or attractive? And not just an in-between word, like “telephone” or “cabinet.” You know it’s either ugly or attractive, but you’re just not sure which. Probably not, I guess. But I’m a word-categorizing kind of girl, so I actually have. One of them is the word “cusp.” All right, folks, did you wince reading that, or smile? I can’t tell if it’s a nice word or an icky one. I know it’s one of the two! I’m just... not sure which... I am using lots of ellipses in this entry. I guess I’m kind of unsure what I’m talking about sometimes. Take those to be little awkward pauses in the conversation.
It is eight o’clock in the night, people. (But it’ll probably be seven in the morning tomorrow when I post this.) This little girlie needs to snooze.