Footsteps

Tumblr

2010-04-08T16:53:00.000-07:00

I have a Tumblr now.
After considering deleting this blog, I decided to keep it up just for grins, BUT from now on I will mostly be updating on the Tumblr blog.
I might have something on here, once or twice. Maaaybe, but only because I actually have followers now (Only five, but that's better than nothing.)

http://-twobuttoneyes.tumblr.com/

Anyway.

I caught a lizard, and you didn't!

2010-04-01T15:35:00.000-07:00

Or maybe you did. How am I supposed to know?
Anyway, in the ordinary course of walking home from school today, I saw something in the shade of a Dumpster in the parking lot. Was it a twig? A rock? A piece of trash?
No. It was, ladies and gentlemen, a LIZARD.
Not only was it a tiny reptile, but it was a tiny reptile with tiny aqua-blue spots on its back! I almost died with excitement. Working swiftly and silently, I unzipped my backpack, took out my dorky Tupperware lunchbox thing, (this, below, if you don't know what I'm talking about)
... removed the lid, and held it trembling above the creature's unsuspecting body. I cooed softly to the critter and reassured him that I just wanted to be BFFs, that I wasn't trying to kill him, you're cool, just stay still, little buddy, okay... then I happened to glance up, and saw this guy in my history class, who was walking past the Dumpster. We made eye contact for one uncomfortable second, then he kept walking. Awkward.
I didn't want to risk being seen chitchatting with a lizard by anyone else, so I snapped down the container, which commenced a great grand flurry of wriggling and scrabbling by the lizard. Then I had a grand time trying to get the lid back on the container without the creature leaping out and attacking me, and without sealing the lid so that it wouldn't be able to breathe. I ran all the way home, holding the lid so that it was hovering precariously an inch off the container. The lizard could breathe easily with the air I was allowing in, but it could also hop right out of the container and land on my face.
See, that's why I was running.
I did get it home though, and fashioned a quick terrarium out of a plastic box, tape, and some plastic wrap with holes poked in the top. I call him Charybdis, and he is my best friend forever.
At least, until I find a way to play an April Fool's prank using him, and then set him free again. I'm thinking I'll put him in my sister's backpack, but maybe that's too gross.

This is a title

2010-03-21T18:08:00.000-07:00

Today was a day of indulgences. I went for a really long walk this morning because my dad had checked the online grade-checker thing, which shows every grade that you receive on every assignment for the year, and had seen that I'd sort of gotten a little bit of a C on a math test, which is much lower than I usually score.
Dad: "Jen, you got a C on... "chapter nine assessment?" Is that something you need help with?
Me: ...
...
...idk.
And then I left to avoid an interrogation. I am a coward.
But anyway, I stopped in at the grocery store near my house before heading for the creek for an Odwalla, which is probably what God drinks every day, which is the modern-day ambrosia and nectar, which I worship, therefore I can excuse its ridiculous price range. (The pomegranate ones sometimes cost over four dollars.) Anyway, for some reason they weren't selling the regular sized bottles, instead only offering the slightly larger size.
Darn.
After a few hours of walking, I returned home, hoping my father had gotten distracted by something else. Sure enough, he had: after our dishwasher flooded, he has spent several weekends remodeling the water-damaged bathroom that is adjacent to the laundry room. He painted it the same yellowish color of raw polenta, then furnished with white. Going in there sort of feels like walking into a hard-boiled egg. Not pleasant.
Anyway, he was painting when I arrived. I stuck my head into the bathroom and asked if he was ready for our weekend-ly run. That kept his mind off of the C for another hour. Then I dashed out to the grocery store again to buy pine nuts and cheese; I was planning to make Greek pizzas for dinner. While I was there, I saw a little tub of ginger ice cream that was so pretty and cute and classy-sounding (oh, I think I'll just treat myself to some ginger ice cream) that I had to get it.
It was faboo, by the way. Superb. I just ate my first scoop for dessert and it was possibly the most marvelous ice cream that I have ever tasted, ever.
Well, that wasn't much, but that's all I have to say . I really just wanted to have a post up that actually wasn't a survey.

(That picture at the top is of a random collage, by the way. I have been spending quite a bit of time creating random collages to put on my binders.)

Are all these surveys boring you? Sorry. This one is kind of boring.

2010-03-18T17:41:00.001-07:00

The Way I like to Say Hello:
Generally, "hello."

Once Upon A Time...(finish the sentence):
...is no way to begin this story.

When I was five my favorite item was:
I do not even remember.

What I like between two pieces of bread best is:
Cucumbers and guacamole.

When I grow up I want to be a/an:
Book editor.

I like:
Words, running, Community, blogging, my cat.

I really, really want:
A perfect life. Who doesn't?

I desperately need:
A life.

If I could color my hair any color I would color it:
I don't think I would. My hair color is fine.

People often call me:
Weird.

I'm terrified of:
Tapeworms and failure.

The Way I like To Say Goodbye:
"Bye."

She is addicted to surveys.

2010-03-16T17:44:00.000-07:00

1. ONE OF YOUR SCARS, HOW DID YOU GET IT?
Ah, swimming in the ocean in Sorrento. :)
That is probably the most glamorous scar I have received.

2. WHAT IS ON THE WALLS IN YOUR ROOM?
Nothing at all.

3. DO YOU SNORE, GRIND YOUR TEETH, OR TALK IN YOUR SLEEP?
I used to grind my teeth soooo bad... but now I just lie silently unconscious.

4. WHAT TYPE OF MUSIC DO YOU LISTEN TO?
Hmmm, you should know by now.
A FINE FRENZY!

5. DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME YOU WERE BORN?
What? How would I know that?

6. WHAT DO YOU WANT MORE THAN ANYTHING RIGHT NOW?
I want fruit salad and a really long nap. Why am I blogging instead of napping? Because I am dedicated to you, readers!

7. WHAT DO YOU MISS?
Several people.

8. WHAT IS YOUR MOST PRIZED POSSESSION(S)?
Hmm,

9. HOW TALL ARE YOU?
5 feet and two inches.

10. DO YOU GET CLAUSTROPHOBIC?
Uh-uh not at all.
Well not in small spaces. But when I'm surrounded by a bunch of people, definitely.

11. DO YOU GET SCARED IN THE DARK?
No.

12. THE LAST PERSON TO MAKE YOU CRY?
Well, couldn't say.

13. WHAT'S YOUR WORST FEAR?
Failing at life in general: you know, getting bad grades, dropping out of high school, having to take a nasty job at a greasy hamburger joint, scraping together tips to pay for rent in a slimeball apartment with the urine of various bums soaking the door... and so on.

14. WHAT KIND OF HAIR/EYE COLOR DO YOU LIKE ON THE OPPOSITE GENDER?
Oh my, blond hair is nice. :)
But of course it doesn't matter. I have no hormones.

15. WHERE CAN YOU SEE YOURSELF PROPOSING?
I'm never getting married, fool.

16. COFFEE OR ENERGY DRINK?
Ew ew ew, energy drinks. Why did you even mention those disgusting concoctions?
Coffee fosho.

(Fosho? I never say that!)

FAVORITE PIZZA TOPPING?
Olives, yummeh!

18. IF YOU COULD EAT ANYTHING RIGHT NOW, WHAT WOULD IT BE?
Fruit salad.
Wait, didn't I already say this?

*is too lazy to scroll up*

19. FAVORITE COLOR OF ALL TIME?
Maroon.

20. HAVE YOU EVER EATEN A GOLDFISH?
Cracker goldfish? Or fish goldfish?
^Yes..........................^No

21. WHAT WAS THE FIRST MEANINGFUL GIFT YOU'VE EVER RECEIVED?
Meaningful, eh?
I guess... life.

22. DO YOU HAVE A CRUSH?
Pass.

23. ARE YOU DOUBLE JOINTED?
I wish.

24. FAVORITE CLOTHING BRAND?
Forever 21, miss.

25. FAVORITE ANIMAL?
Mice.

26. LIKE TO SING?
I hate singing.
Except when no one is around. Then I love to sing.

27. FAVORITE MOVIE?
All things Pixar make my world go 'round.

28. GAY, STRAIGHT OR BI?
Straight.

29. HOW DO YOU FEEL?
Mildly sick. Wildly ick.

30. SAY A NUMBER FROM ONE TO A HUNDRED:
Seventy-three.

31. BLONDES OR BRUNETTES?
Brunettes, I guess, because I'm closer to a brunette.

32. FAVORITE QUOTE?
Oh my, don't even ask that. I have a zillion.

33. FAVORITE PLACE?
Oh, the creek. Lovely place.

34. HAVE YOU BEEN OUT OF THE USA?
YYEESSS. :D

35. YOUR WEAKNESSES?
Hmmm. Being accused of things, getting close to people, and being cool.

36. MET ANYONE FAMOUS?
Never.

37. FIRST JOB?
Nope.

38. EVER DONE A PRANK CALL?
Not of my own accord.

39. DO YOU THINK EVERYONE OUT THERE HAS A SOULMATE?
No way.

40. WHAT WERE YOU DOING BEFORE YOU FILLED THIS OUT?
Homework.

41. HAVE YOU EVER HAD SURGERY?
No, but it's possible that I get to have a big metal rod implanted in my back next year. Oh, the joys of scoliosis.

42. WHAT DO YOU GET COMPLIMENTED ABOUT MOST?
My writing, I suppose, and being "really sweet to everybody."

43. HAVE YOU EVER HAD BRACES?
Not on my teeth.

44. WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY?
All I want for my birthday is you-u-u-u!

45. HOW MANY KIDS DO YOU WANT AND THEIR NAMES?
No kids. Fifty cats.

46. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?
My middle name is my grandma's name. Exciting, isn't it?

47. WHAT IS THE BIGGEST TURN OFF OF THE OPPOSITE SEX?
Obnoxiousness. (Wow, I spelled that right?)

48. WHAT IS ONE THING YOU LIKE ABOUT HIGH SCHOOL?
This hilarious quote that is written on one of the stalls of the girl's bathroom. I always make sure I get to use that stall so I can have a good laugh while I pee.

49. WHAT KIND OF SHAMPOO DO YOU USE?
Garnier Fructis Sleek and Shine.

50. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?
Omg have you even seen my handwriting?

(The answer is no, by the way...)

51. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?
Vegetarian.

52. ANY BAD HABITS?
Overthinking.

53. ARE YOU A JEALOUS PERSON?
No.

54. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?
Absolutely not.

55. DO YOU AGREE WITH FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS?
No.

56. DO LOOKS MATTER?
Unfortunately.

57. HOW DO YOU RELEASE ANGER?
*is a bottle-upper*

58.WOULD YOU RATHER GAIN 58 POUNDS OR LOSE 58 POUNDS.
Lose, of course. Then I could just eat incessantly until I was back to my fat self.

60. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE TOY AS A CHILD?
This nasty mouse that I made stupid little vests for, and I pretended he was a pastry chef, too. His pastries were plastic beads, and his oven was my wallet.
Don't even ask.

61. HOW MANY NUMBERS ARE IN YOUR CELL PHONE?
As if I am going to go count.

62.WERE YOU A FAN OF BARNEY AS A LITTLE KID?
I don't even remember. I didn't watch much television, so probably not.

63. DO YOU USE SARCASM?
Of course.

64. MASHED POTATOES OR MACARONI AND CHEESE?
UMBOTHPLEASE.

65. WHAT DO YOU LOOK FOR IN A GUY/GIRL?
I don't look for things.
(Major cop-out.)

66. WHAT ARE YOUR NICKNAMES?
Russell.

67. FAVORITE SUPER POWER?
Flyyyyyying.

WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE TV SHOW?
Chopped on Food Network.

69.WHAT'S THE BEST WAY TO DEAL WITH YOUR ENEMIES?
I don't have enemies! How dare you!

70. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM FLAVOR?
The kind where it's vanilla with berry flavored "ripples" or whatever running through it.

71. DO YOU HAVE ALL YOUR FINGERS AND TOES?
Why, yes.

72. DO YOU HAVE A COMPUTER IN YOUR ROOM?
Unfortunately not.

73. PLANS FOR TONIGHT?
It's a school night, buster.

74. WHERE DO YOU WANT TO LIVE WHEN YOU ARE OLDER?
Either a little run-down hut by the sea in Monterey, or a musty-smelling retirement home where everybody knows each other's names.

75. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS?
Who?

76. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO?
My cousin's mindless blabbering.

77. LAST THING YOU DRANK?
Iced tea.

78. LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?
I really don't know.

79. THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE IN THE OPPOSITE SEX?
The whole thing, actually. I'm not going to say, "Oh, their eyes," like you're expecting. I notice everything at once, not just about the opposite sex but about people in general.

80. WHAT DO YOU LIKE TO DO IN YOUR SPARE TIME?
Blog.

81. FAVORITE THING TO HATE?
Stuff that I don't have to feel bad about hating, like really, really hot days.

82. FAVORITE SEASON OF THE YEAR?
Summer, of course. Have you forgotten that I'm fourteen?

83. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE TYPE OF CANDY?
Dried blueberries covered in chocolate and then covered in soft candy coating!!! Yay!!!

HAVE YOU EVER REALLY AND TRULY HAD A BEST FRIEND?
No.

85. WHAT IS YOUR HAIR COLOR?
Brown.

86. EYE COLOR?
Green in fluorescent light, yellow and green in sunlight. (Yes, yellow eyes really are as gross as they sound.)

87. SHOE SIZE?
Honestly, I am not entirely sure

88. FAVORITE FAST FOOD PLACE?
Ew. Do not even talk to me about fast food, because I will launch into an annoying, strung-out, "Do you even know what goes into McDonald's meat... how they treat the chickens at slaughterhouses... etc...?"

89. FAVORITE RESTAURANT?
Nope.

90. DO YOU LIKE SUSHI?
The sickly smell never fails to put me off when I feel like trying it. It seems sexy, though. I'm sure I would be a much more graceful and competent person in general if I liked sushi.

91. WATCH TV TODAY?
No.

92. FAVORITE DAY OF THE YEAR?
I suppose my birthday? People are generally nice to me, but it's not as big of a honkin' deal as Christmas or whatever.

93. PLAY ANY MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS?
No.

94. REPUBLICAN OR DEMOCRAT?
I am fourteen.

95. KISSES OR HUGS?
Hugs.

96. RELATIONSHIPS OR ONE NIGHT STANDS?
Neither for me, thanks.

97. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU BOUGHT?
Two tins of Altoids.

98. WOULD YOU EVER BE A HOUSEWIFE?
Well, maybe.

99. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING?
Homer's Odyssey, very very abridged version. (My cat is still enjoying it, I believe. I've been reading it aloud to him every day.)

Please.

2010-03-14T13:00:00.001-07:00

Formspring me.

Just a couple things

2010-03-13T20:19:00.000-08:00

Hello, America. First, just a couple of things I wanted to show you:IT IS THE REAL-LIFE RUSSELL. I WANT TO MARRY THIS KID, AND I AM NOT EVEN KIDDING RIGHT NOW.

Oh, I have major skills if this is true. I have been tripping so much lately, it's just crazy. Sorry if you were one of the people who I crashed into/almost crashed into/grabbed suddenly for support to avoid crashing into you these past few weeks.
It's a mystery.

Anyway, do you guys remember that half-broken laptop that I have in my room, the one where the only thing that worked was the Appleworks, and then Appleworks broke so it was just sitting there useless?
Yeah, I don't know if I have mentioned this yet, but it has un-broken itself, somehow. I restarted it for the millionth time in an attempt to fix it, and voila, I guess it got tired of being broken, and it worked again.
So now I have resumed my great American novel (ha ha ha ha ha ha NOT) and perhaps will be spending a bit less time blogging.
NOT TO SAY that I am going to give up on it. I deeply apologize for considering it... twice. And for still considering it, a little bit.
I mean, it's just that I really have nothing to say. Oh and that reminds me, *clumsily drops to knees, awkwardly readjusts backbrace to make this position possible, bows head, and presses palms together* there is at least one person who reads my blog often, out of my grand total of four followers. Please, kind sir or mistress, will you leave a comment on a post or in the cbox? I used to get comments every once in a while and I would pee my pants with happiness. It would make my entire day worthwhile. My entire life.
I guess, when my blog started sucking, and I cannot quite pinpoint when that happened, (except for that I think I can, but the reason is so pathetic that I am not even going to say it) people stopped leaving warm fuzzies for me.
Cry, cry, cry.

Oh gosh, do you know what I hate more than anything in the world?
Okay, not more than anything in the world. But it is pretty gosh-darn annoying, and gross. Are you tired of buildup and just want to hear what it is now?
When milk goes bad. Blech, blech. I never notice when it's in the jug, so I just pour it out like normal. And when it hasn't gone super-bad, just a little sour, but it's not chunky yet, you don't even know it until you taste it/smell it. Well, today I was making a mushroom sauce that called for milk, so I dumped the milk over my pan of already seasoned and cooked mushrooms and caramelized onions that were the perfect golden color and everything smelled delicious, but then after I poured the milk over it all I noticed this terrible smell. Like, really, really awful. It was the milk.
I had just poured spoiled milk over my lovely onions and mushrooms, so now the entire panful of food was useless. I wanted to slap myself, but my mom did that for me. Ha-ha, just kidding. But that was an enormous waste, and I had to eat my dinner of tofu with boring old soy sauce from a bottle instead of creamy fresh homemade mushroom sauce.
Cry, cry, cry.

Do I have anything to talk about that doesn't make me cry? Yes, I do. Several happy things happened today.

I got to open a brand-new box of fabric softener sheets, and used three of them in my laundry.
And then I wore a pair of sweatpants right out of the dryer, and my legs were so warm and yummy-feeling for the five minutes that the warmth lasted.
I brushed the extra hair off of my cat today, and then made a little mustache out of the loose fur. (WhyamIsoincrediblycool?)
I hit a triple at my softball game today, and then my coach let me play first base for two innings.
My sister let me hug her.
I painted the fingernails on my left hand turquoise, and the fingernails on my right hand pearly pink.
I stubbed my toe, but for some reason it didn't hurt.
I read the Odyssey out loud to my cat. He enjoyed it, I think. Well, I did, at least.

Oh, to end things on a happy note~~

I guess this post is mostly about cooking, so I'm going to put that as the title.

2010-03-09T16:48:00.000-08:00

Remember how I was saying that nobody reads this blog anymore?
Scraaatch that. I got a new vote on the poll, and a vote for "Almost every time I'm online," nonetheless! I just wonder who it is.
-random subject change-
Can you even conceive how much baking I have had to do this past year? Birthdays, potlucks, clubs, et cetera. Freshman year has been a flurry of flour and butter and eggs. I just finished making a double batch of chocolate muffins, one batch for my friend's birthday and another batch for a "chocolate potluck" that my community service club is having.
Sigh. I love baking. But I could probably fund the construction of a school in a developing country with the money I have wasted on cocoa, sugar, vanilla, and whatnot.
I remember that I had something to say when I logged in to my blog account. I just need to sit here and think for a minute. I bet it was really, really important, and that's why I forget it.
Hmmm. After seventeen minutes of sitting here concentrating so hard that I think my brain might explode any minute now, I STILL DON'T REMEMBER. *frustration*
-another random subject change-
Guess what we have to do for Spanish? Instead of being a normal teacher and giving us a test at the end of the chapter, my super-duper extra-fun-and-interesting teacher is making us cook Hispanic food in front of the whole class.
How does this replace a test at all? Do not even ask me. How are we proving that we've learned our chapter ten Spanish by dicing onions and squeezing limes? I have no idea. But now I have to make gazpacho soup while the rest of the class looks on in boredom. Yay.

*is still unable to remember what she was going to say*

*awkward silence*

Uhh. How about a survey now?

When someone says "we need to talk," what runs through your mind?
I don't think anybody has ever used that phrase on me, because I'm not one to get too involved with other people.

What’s the last movie you watched? With who?
"Legally Blond" with my cat because I'm a loser with no family or friends to watch movies with.

When was the last time you wanted to punch someone in the face?
I never want to punch anybody in the face. Except extremely annoying people.

Do you know anyone who always looks perfect?
Yes.

Two wrongs don't make a right, Correct?
Correct, sir.

Do you think relationships are hard?
I wouldn't know.

Is there someone who meant a lot to you at one point, and isn't around now?
Yes.

Can money buy happiness?
Technically, yes, but then again, technically no.

What do you hear right now?
"Near to You" by A Fine Frenzy, my fingers tapping on the keyboard, my mom screaming at my sister, the dishwasher running, and my own disgusting snuffling.

If you had a tree that could grow anything you want, what would it grow?
Money, of course.

Do you know anyone who's been in jail?
Yes. Hello, high school.

What is your favorite color?
Maroon.

Do you have a lighter on you?
Hah, no.

Could you go a month without talking to your best friend?
I suppose so.
Oh gosh, I guess I technically have. Yes.

Have you ever sat in the back of a police car?
No.

Would you say you’re emotionally strong?
Yes, except you would never know it if you knew me.

What’s worse, ignorance or stupidity?
Stupidity.

Do you know anyone who doesn’t smoke pot?
Yes. ME.

Think, what do you want more than anything?
A perfect life, of course. Endless money, a lover, an awesome job, a beautiful house in the mountains or in the middle of the sea, good looks, a wonderful personality, fifty cats, perfect health, etc.

Would you rather have long or short hair?
Long.

Do you follow your head or your heart?
My head, always.

Do you ever get so frustrated that you just wanna cry?
I don't cry when I'm frustrated.

After taking a shower, do you change in the bathroom or in your bedroom?
The bathroom. My house is a freaking industrial meat freezer, not just in the morning but all the time. (Hence my habit of putting on my robe as soon as I step in the front door.) I like to stay in the steamy warmth as long as possible.

Which would you rather, grow old with somebody or alone?
Alone.

Your lost in the middle of nowhere, without a phone to call for help, What would you do?
I would spin around and around in circles until I got so dizzy I fell down, and then try to go to sleep and not wake up, ever.

What's your middle name?
Jean

Have you ever given up on someone but then went back to them?
Like this blog? Yes.

Do you have someone of the opposite sex you can tell anything to?
Not even close.

Have you ever dated two people at once?
I’ve never dated anyone. So no.

Who was the last person to piss you off?
My Spanish teacher. LOL, not really. Uhm, I think it was my sister.

Are you Asian?
No. I declare this the random-est and most pointless question on this entire survey.

Are you happy right now?
I am neutral.

What age do you want to get married?
Never.

What's a line from the song you're listening to?
"Something's causing fear to fly, rising like a dark knight in silence." (Last of Days, A Fine Frenzy.)

Are you a bad influence?
It depends on what kind of bad influence you mean.

Do you get jealous easily?
No.

Is it usually easy for someone to make you smile?
Yes, because certain things strike me as amusing even when other people don't think anything is funny at all, and they give me little furtive sideways glances when I start laughing in the middle of a conversation.
It is colossally inconvenient.

Is tomorrow going to be a good day?
It's a possibility.

Ever cried while you were on the phone with someone?
Yes.

What color's your shirt?
Off-white.

Do you like to be tickled?
Ugh, no. It is absolute torture, and I am not even kidding you right now.

Are you dying to take off your clothes?
IT IS FREEZING, BUDDY, WHAT DO YOU THINK?

Do you care too much/not at all/just enough?
Too much.

Have you ever kissed someone with the same first initial as you?
LOL NOW THAT I THINK ABOUT IT YES but it's not what you think.

Who would you want to be tied to for 24 hours?
Wow. I really don't know.
Does my cat count?

What should we do w/ stupid people?
Feed them to sharks.

What was the first thing you did this morning?
I woke up.
Hah, hah, hah, hah, hah, not what you were looking for.
Uh, I folded up my quilt and stuffed it under my bed.

Are you spoiled?
No.

How do you vent your anger?
I don't vent. I bottle.
That makes some people think that I am never angry, including my parents.

Would you ever join the military?
No. I am far too wimpy.

The last website you visited?
The blog where I found this survey.

Who was the last person you took a picture with?
Micheal, who you don't know, so I don't know why you care.

Today, would you rather go back a week or go forward a week?
Forward! Leave the past behind! Let's get on with this nonsense called life!

It's between afternoon and evening. Hmm.

2010-03-07T16:23:00.000-08:00

Borrowed another survey-ish thing from Once Upon A Time.

If I were a month, I'd be November

If I were a day of the week, I'd be Sunday
If I were a time of day, I'd be the moment you wake up

If I were planet, I'd be Pluto
If I were a sea animal, I'd be a jellyfish
If I were a direction, I'd be east
If I were a piece of furniture, I'd be a shelf

If I were a liquid, I'd be vinegar
If I were a gemstone, I'd be fake

If I were a tree, I'd be a willow
If I were a tool, I'd be a little screw
If I were a flower, I'd be a magnolia
If I were a kind of weather, I'd be a sprinkling snow
If I were a musical instrument, I'd be a lyre

If I were a color, I'd be white
If I were an emotion, I'd be neutral
If I were a fruit, I'd be a pear
If I were a sound, I'd be whispering leaves
If I were an element, I'd be one of those ones at the bottom that aren't real elements yet

If I were a car, I'd be a something rusty and slow
If I were a food, I'd be a cube of tofu
If I were a were a place, I'd be the sea

If I were a material, I'd be off-white silk

If I were a taste, I'd be cupcake frosting
If I were a scent, I'd be vanilla and cinnamon
If I were an animal, I'd be a chickadee or a mouse
If I were an object, I'd be a magnifying glass
If I were a body part, I'd be an eye

If I were a facial expression, I'd be a vacant stare
If I were a song, I'd be 'The Minnow and the Trout'

If I were a pair of shoes, I'd be tall boots with buckles

This was so much fun!

Anyway, I sort of re-did my bedroom. More like un-did it, actually. I was beginning to notice how there was so much clutter pressing in on all sides of me that it was almost claustrophobia-inducing. And since I have the opposite of claustrophobia, this should have been lovely for me, but it really was not. I like things to be nice and neat, but you'd never know it by looking at my room.
So I took action.
I cleared all the crap off of my shelves and filled an enormous garbage bag with all sorts of things that I have but never use. Some of it, like the books and stuffed animals, can be given to Goodwill, but the wiffle balls, stacks of pictures cut from magazines, bits of chain, and bottles with only a droplet of lotion left in the bottom that I couldn't bear to throw away because they smell so good? Trash. And everything else was stuffed onto the top shelves of my closet or into my set of drawers.
I ended up with a fairly bare room. Some things, though, I couldn't hide: my shoes, my books, my guitar, and this enormous stuffed tiger that I am never going to throw or give away, no way. I chose to leave out my jewelry box and lotion/perfume/room spray/stuff I use every day.
A couple of days later I saw this picture on a blog...
... and decided to do something like it. I made "clouds" out of cotton instead of tissue paper and hung them from white nylon above my bed. I used to have little paper lanterns above my window, I took off the paper lantern part so that it was just a string of white lights and set it along the windowsill. Now my bed looks like this before I go to sleep:(Those two random blotches on the wall are hooks from my bulletin board. I have yet to take them down and fill the holes with putty.)
I don't have any more pictures of my room, sorry...
But who am I apologizing to? Nobody reads this blog. It's just a lonely forgotten corner of cyberspace. Sad. Remember when I thought I was going to stop?
(Should have.)
Anyway, I might keep doing a "blog," but not publish anything. That way I won't have to reread anything to make sure it's acceptable to show the world, and besides, there isn't much of a point of showing the world something if they aren't going to look at it.
I don't mean to sound pessimistic. It's just true. And I have started that other blog that I said I was going to start, so I can keep publishing on that one and delete this one.
I don't know. We'll see.

If you read this, I love you~~

I wonder

2010-03-05T15:35:00.000-08:00

What's wrong. What are you doing. What is my purpose. What is a rooster?

2010-03-02T15:22:00.001-08:00

You know what's weird? When somebody tells you something, and you say "What?" even if you heard them perfectly fine. I do this to other people all the time without even thinking about it. It's like I need an extra second to respond, or something.
And other people do it too. When I'm talking to somebody and I ask them a question whose answer will make absolutely no difference at all on my life or anybody else's in the universe, and they say, "What?" I usually just say "Never mind." And then they answer me. And I wonder why they didn't just answer in the first place. And then I remember that I do the exact same thing to others.
In books and movies and whatnot, the characters always hear each other perfectly. During long dialogues between people, there is never a "What?" In real life, people are going, "What?" every few minutes. Listen to your conversations. It happens so often. So often we don't even notice it anymore. But in books and movies it happens so rarely that we don't even notice how unrealistic it is for two apparently modern-day teens to have a conversation that lasts the front and back of a page without once saying "What?"
It's kind of handy for me, though. Whenever I try to explain something more complicated than how to work a toaster, I start making all these analogies to totally unrelated things, and detail far too much, and wave my fingers around in front of me thinking maybe they will stir up the words and rearrange them into a commentary that actually makes sense.
And then people say, "What?" Even if they heard me. Even if I --gasp!-- made sense. It's a reflex, and I can always brush away my insanity with a "Never mind."
It's just odd. An oddity.
I was only thinking about it because I noticed it happening about a million times today.

Speaking of talking, I found this wonderful Stephen King quote today. About a minute ago, actually. It reminds me of something I was talking about on here earlier.Mucho love~~

Look this up: Nudiustertian

2010-02-26T16:47:00.000-08:00

Changed my profile picture from the random shot of a chocolate bar that I stuck in there when first starting this blog over a year ago to one that I took while in Monterey.

2.
I am thinking about starting another blog, but very different from this one. Sometimes I get really angry or sad about something, and a stream of poetry and prose flows out of my imagination. The little word-bundles are very nice really, but too dramatic and stupid to post here where people who know me in real life can see it. So if you stumble across a blog that maybe uses some pictures you've seen here, or uses language that sounds like me, maybe it is me, indeed.

3.
I saw 500 Days of Summer the other day. Well, half of it. I walked in while my sister was watching it for the billionth time. She'd offered to watch it with me before, but I'd always said no. Why? When I asked what it was about, I got something along the lines of
Sister: "OMG IT'S THE CUTEST THING EVER THIS GUY MEETS THIS GIRL NAMED SUMMER AND THEY'RE LIKE IN LOVE BUT NOT REALLY BUT THEY SPEND 500 DAYS TOGETHER AND IT'S SUPER SWEET I LOVE IT."
Me: "Uhnothanks."
But since I had nothing better to do, I watched what was left of it. Surprise: it was a lovely movie. Not good by any means, but enjoyable to watch. It's a known fact that I only like animated movies and those aimed at the six-to-ten-year-old crowd, so to enjoy a movie like this is a big step towards teenagerhood for me.
This completely random and completely hilarious dance number made me laugh for at least a year or two, and I begged we watch it again and again. (To which my sister had no complaints.) I don't know why I was so amused by this scene, but I was. However, I also find food falling in slow motion to be hilarious beyond words in any language, so I don't know if that counts for anything. I also love this quote, even though I'm not usually into movie quotes so much.(-Nobody likes Ringo Starr.
-That's what I like about him.)
I can really identify with this. I like things that nobody likes, just because I think that somebody should.

4.
I am a vegetarian now. I decided this over the break. My mom and dad are none too happy about this decision, but they are dealing with it. Why? Because for one, meat is sort of disgusting, always has been for me. I saw pork shoulders at the grocery store the other day. Can you imagine a row of dead pigs, with either a machine or a butcher taking a huge blade and hacking out the shoulders, then shrink-wrapping it for sale? Ugh.
Not that I will judge you if you do eat meat.
But also because I have heard too many horror stories about animals being tortured in slaughterhouses. Animals are supposed to be living lives. Actual lives. I don't think any living thing should be in a cramped cage their entire lives under horrible conditions. And if enough people are vegetarians, the demand for meat will go down and less animals will be killed for meat.
Let me put it this way. Imagine thousands of dead cows being stripped out of their skins and being put through a machine that grinds them up and spits them out the other end, now as red squishy hamburger meat.
That's why.

(I could post some really awful pictures I've seen, but I won't to save your eyeballs from melting into their sockets. You're welcome)

Discover me

2010-02-25T15:16:00.000-08:00

Bold the things you like, italic the ones you love but hate:

striped socks
winter vacation
minty breath
warm hands
sublime
proving people wrong
sketching
steel drums
the sims 2
kissing
backpacks
cloudy weather
picking out presents for people
kevin flamme
boys
old movies
reminiscing
mario party
orange juice
interesting people
late night texting
cool teachers
levi jeans
the city bus
cardigans
sneezing
drinking cold water
finding money in my pockets
making connections
books
bolding surveys
a clean bedroom
collages
meeting people
comfortable positions
headphones
marathons
packing to go somewhere
mascara
daydreaming
possibilities
ramen
notepads
burt's bees
babysitting
actually getting homework done
feeling good about myself
complimenting people
postsecret
confiding in people
themed things
t shirts
gentlemen
singing harmonies
being surprised
new clothes
target
long eyelashes
bright eyes
naps
nicely-dressed boys
barack obama
tweezed eyebrows
inside jokes
eye contact
acronyms
thinking
animals
collecting turtles
understanding
friendship bracelets
meaningful items
simon & garfunkel
silly pictures
raspberries
not going to school
startrek
reading blogs
showering away problems
worn-in shoes
paranormal television shows
facebook chat
baked ziti
visiting my elementary school
soft blankets
big words
staying up late
second chances
piggy back rides
saying words over and over until they sound really strange
surrealism
the feeling of relief after going pee
home vidoes
unusual names
diving boards
smiles
cats
feeling better
considerate people

Found this on Once Upon A Time.
Feel free to repost on your blog!

Flies and other little things

2010-02-23T16:47:00.001-08:00

Completely unrelated photos^

How long has this "create post" window been sitting here patiently, waiting to be filled with words? Forever at least. Interestingly enough, I have nothing to say.
Scratch that. I have something to say. I hate flies. I think all the flies of the universe have had some worldwide conference thing, during which they decided it would be a wonderful idea to gang up on me. Whenever I enter a room, they all go, "OMG GUYS LOOK IT'S JENNY LET'S ALL ATTACK HER!!!" I think only I can see them, because when I wave my hands in the air in a feeble little attempt to swat them all away, I occasionally notice people glancing over at me. They're probably wondering if I'm having a mild seizure, though they have yet to dial 911. It's really annoying. Flies bug me. HA, HA, HA, HA. I am amazed at my own cleverness. Does anybody get it? Flies are bugs, and they bug me. "Bug" as in "annoy." Actually, more like irritate to the point of feeling an urge to stab somebody with a rusty pitchfork, but that's an elaboration that I really did not have to share with the world.
Anyway, *plunges hands through a thick swarm of flies to reach keyboard* it's kind of odd that I don't like flies, because I really like little things. The purple gems out of pomegranates are my favorite thing to eat, with snowflakes close behind. And my favorite bird is the chickadee, and my favorite flowers are those pretty pink cherry blossoms that grow on trees. My favorite animal is a mouse, the little little kind of mice that you can't see unless you're really looking. Flies are minute insects, so I should be fascinated with them.
Instead, their tiny size just makes them all the more frustrating. The smaller something is, the harder it is to swat.

Candy corn

2010-02-20T12:12:00.000-08:00

So, new poll again. But this one doesn't really count for much, because I'm probably not even going to listen to whatever you-all think this blog needs. So far the only vote is for "try to be funny," and buddy, that is not going to happen. I am just not a funny gal.
I don't know, I read back to my eighth-grade posts just now. They were written by a much more energetic and humorous person. Maybe I used to be a funny gal, but people change. Maybe this used to be a good blog, but things change. I don't really mind if nobody reads this, anyway.
Check that. I do mind if somebody reads this. Getting comments on the posts and messages in the chatbox used to make my day. Now I rarely see a sign of life. Not motivating, folks.
Anyway, sorry for seeming so downtrodden yesterday. I was just really frustrated with myself about something. This is certain to be a happier post.

Last night I couldn't sleep. At all. I don't know why, because I'd been exhausted all day. And what do I do when I can't sleep?
WHY, MAKE A CANDY-CORN SMILE TO ATTACH TO A PAIR OF GLASSES, OF COURSE!
I had entirely too much fun with this thing. Even though the "candy-corn smile" did not end up looking like a smile at all.

And how on earth did I obtain giant candy corns in the middle of February, when all citizens of the United States of America are aware that candy corn is only readily available in October, and sometimes the end of September if the grocery stores are a little too eager that season? This is the secret:
On the way to Monterey, we stopped at the Gilroy Outlets, which is a bunch of stores, mostly women's apparel with names like Nine West and Ann Taylor, stuck side by side by side by side. My mother and grandmother spent hours browsing through racks of beige slacks and navy blue button-up sweaters, ribbed cotton tee shirts the color of pond scum and sold-color pencil skirts. It was loads of fun, let me tell you, being surrounded by such exciting variations in clothing.
What I think is that they should just take all the dull clothing from all the stores and make one giant warehouse out of it all. Each store literally sells the exact same thing as the one next to it.
But not the Jelly Belly store!!!!!!
That's where I got the candy corn. They were selling big sacks of it, three sacks for a quarter. Three sacks of stale mellocreme, just twenty-five cents. How could I resist?

Unspeaking things.

2010-02-19T12:14:00.000-08:00

I always have so much to say, but the words are locked up in my heart and never find their way out of my mouth. They get stuck halfway up my throat, and I always swallow them back down. My voice is so flimsy and weak, it never says what I want it to. I still hope people understand what I'm trying to convey. They never do.(andrew hefter photography)

Maybe I'm the only one who talks in riddles and never says what I mean. Maybe I'm the only one who makes people decode their conversations with me to get inside my head, the only one who sees secrets in sentences that don't exist. Maybe that's why I often find myself all alone.
And nearly every time that I do say what is on my mind, it's never the right thing to say and I want to unspeak it. It's so easy to say what I feel like saying on my blog, but when I talk to people that matter, my mind whirs a million miles a minute while my lips freeze. Everything I need to say spills through a filter between my brain and my voice, and so little gets through.
Why is it so hard for me to speak?

Jenny, did it hurt to stick all that tape on your face in the first photo?

Yes. But one must make sacrifices for art.

I am a little starfish and I need the sea to thrive.

2010-02-18T11:34:00.000-08:00

Reasons why I love Monterey:

This...

this,

and this,
this,THIIIISSS...
and especially this.

So. As you might have concluded, and I hope you did, or else you are terribly dim, I have returned from my short venture to Monterey. It was lovely, like it always is. Cold, windy, rocky beaches; that is so fully where I belong. If you can count on one thing to be unquestioningly wonderful, no matter what, why, how, when, or where, it is the sea. The moment I was released from the car, he greeted me with open arms and drew me in and didn't let go for hours.
My mom yelled for getting so soaking wet. The rest of them had gone shopping while I stayed on the beach, and she had expected me to just lounge on the shores for one hundred and eighty minutes while the sea was just sitting there waiting, calling, sending welcoming rays my way. And I couldn't waste time changing into a swimsuit, I only had as long as the shops could entertain them to enjoy the ocean. Who cares if my impatient-ness resulted in waterlogged jeans?
By-the-by, by "them" I mean my grandma, my mom,
my sister:

my cousin:
and my other cousin.
Plus me. Coincidentally, this is the only picture I have of myself, and I edited it up. Oh well.
There's a small beach right next to Cannery Row, where they were off to do their second period of shopping during the evening. My mom didn't want me to get all wet again, because we were going to eat dinner in a restaurant, so she didn't let me hang out there. Even after I promised to not even touch the water, to hold my breath so I wouldn't be able to smell the salty fishiness.
We both knew I would break any vow once I got the damp sand squishing between my toes.

Ugh. I want to go back already. I want to live there. I want to get married on Fisherman's Wharf. I want to die in a little sailboat in the choppy waters off the coast of Monterey. I want to go back there.

Shouting out loud.

2010-02-15T00:00:00.000-08:00

It's shout-out day.
I am shouting out to you, and you, and yes, even you. You too, over there. Some of the names are in code, some are nicknames, others are plain and simple, but I'm not going to specify too much.
Are one of these shout-outs... to you? Maybe. Decode and decide.

Again, not all of the images are mine.

To KK,

To Shirley,
To those of you,

To the most obvious cryptic I know,

To my mother,

To myself,

To Amy,I'm sorry for having so many pictures and so little words lately. I just don't have anything much to say.
Also, I am leaving for Monterey TOMORROW, and let's hope I don't stumble through a post while drunk on sea air. Actually, my mother isn't bringing her laptop, so that's not going to happen. I'll post when I get back, maaaaybe, but remember, I'm not the most dependable blogger you know.

or am i?

To be in love.

2010-02-14T12:37:00.000-08:00

Stupid lovey-lovey images, in honor of Valentine's Day. Not all of them are mine, but I don't know who to credit.

I love the idea of being in love, even though I never have been.
I don't think I could fall in love with a person. People are too complicated.
I could fall in love with a pear tree or a blue jay, a square of silk, or a whistling wind. I have fallen in and out of love with the sun a hundred times. He and I, we don't have the healthiest relationship.
But that's another story.
The only people who love me are the ones who have to by laws of nature; my family. There are no geeky boyfriends, no crushes, no hugs and kisses, no 'dating,' no 'relationships,' and there never have been.
And that is just how it should be for me. Sometimes I think I want to delve into that element of life, but I don't. People are too volatile, I've seen too many reputations ruined and hearts broken because of what they call love. Those schoolroom couples don't seem genuine, not a true definition of what I call love.

I think if I go on, I am not going to make a lot of sense. (See first picture.)

On a less whimsical, more down-to-earth, solid-ground note, my family is thinking about taking a little overnight trip to Monterey. We have the entire week off for no particular reason, but free time is filling up fast with softball, movie dates and the like, a hefty school project, and now this possible mini-trip.
I am willing to throw aside that project for a couple days and cancel any plans; I am ecstatic to hear of maybe maybe maybe, a visit to my true love, the sea.
If I ever become beautiful I will give myself to its waters. If I live to be old, I will die on an empty shore. I really hope that this trip happens after all.
Because I really, really love the sea.

You can probably tell I'm in a strange and sprightly mood. I think I need to bottle up now, before I spill any more inky insanity from my mind through my fingertips.

I'm not usually like this, promise. Just let me be crazy for a minute.

Splitting a face in a wonderful place.

2010-02-13T18:21:00.000-08:00

Or explode. I don't usually smile that big, you know.

Went on a perilous journey to a creek today. I was already in a good mood when I headed over there, so when I started thrashing through the shrubbery and splashing in the shallow inlets of the water, I felt so buoyant I almost floated away. Good thing I didn't, because it would have been a bummer to miss out on all the fun that ensued.
The creek is lovely, but there isn't much of a story to tell.
A story in pictures today.

Yes, I took pictures of myself, which I am sort of unaccustomed to doing. I was not feeling particularly attractive, but I was feeling particularly happy.
So I pointed a camera at myself...? I don't make sense, even to my own head.
I have TONS more pictures, but I'm saving them for later. I'll start future posts with a picture from the bazillion I took during my afternoon excursion. That way I won't ever run out of pictures to put at the top of posts, as I always fear I will.

Much love~

Bird

2010-02-12T15:22:00.000-08:00

Spanish class today was the same as Spanish class any other day, except for that a little bird came fluttering in through the open door and flicked around the classroom, befuddled by the sudden change in environment.
We were equally confused. "What is that?" "Why did it come in here?" "Is it retarded?" "Can we name it?" "How are we gonna get it out?" The bird darted frantically around the classroom in an aimless, hopeless pattern, lurching from one corner to the next, seeking escape.
The teacher has the brilliant idea of turning off the lights so it would fly towards the sunlight streaming in through the door. But when she did, the bird freaked out and shot behind a filing cabinet. After a few seconds of unsure ha-ha's and a few pitying moans, the bird reappeared. It rose into the air--we held our breath--started towards the door--we bit our lips--hovered near the doorway--we crossed our fingers--then lurched upward, pitched forward, and BAM! Into the window. It was insistent that the window was the only avenue to freedom. It hurled its tiny body against the pane of glass again and again and again, torturing itself in its attempt to escape.
At this point my fingers were itching. My camera was sitting patiently right there in my backpack, but I could sense its eagerness radiating in electric pulses. We're not exactly allowed to have them on during school, but I had to ask.
"Can I take a picture of it?"
I was relieved to be granted permission. I didn't catch very much of the action, but this is what I managed to get:

The little creature did not enjoy being prodded at by the janitor, but he eventually he figured out how to get himself out the door.
We all applauded for him, but he was probably far, far away from our classroom by then, too far, far, far away to hear us.
Anyway, that was the big interest of the day. Today was "Valentine's Day," technically, since it falls on a Sunday this year. Not many people brought Valentines, not many girls paraded around with balloons and roses. It was a bit muted, but that's okay.
I have this big project to work on right now, even though what I feel like doing is...
...I spent five minutes trying to think of how to end that sentence. I don't know what I want to do, but I know that sitting my bum on a chair and researching for an hour is not it. I have way more energy than a single body can possibly contain. I need to run. That's what I need to do.

Weeds and Bacon

2010-02-10T15:53:00.000-08:00

Those are weeds I'm standing in. I know, weeds are supposed to be ugly.
These were the nicest-looking weeds I've ever seen in my life. Or maybe I just liked them because they matched my shoes.
Somewhat.

Well, I think there's something wrong with me. A few days ago I was living my humdrum life, making cynical comments inside my head and constantly waiting for the week/year/rest of the life to end. But then a little switch in my head flicked, a dial turned, and suddenly everything seems just fine, and even wonderful. I think I might be happier than I have ever been.
Nothing in particular happened to initiate this sudden but welcome burst of positivity. But it came forth nonetheless, and I plan to enjoy it before it sputters and fizzles, and my life descends back into its lusterless gray shades.

I have energy now. I tap and hum in class. I spin in circles down the sidewalk instead of walking, if nobody's around to see. If this goes on I'm going to jump out of my skin and explode into the sky. I will fly, fly away and never come back to the world where there are troubles, because it is simply too amazing to feel so free.

Anyway. Bacon. *click*

A multitude of lightbulbs illuminating

2010-02-08T15:05:00.000-08:00

I think I think too much. I can turn around entire situations by overthinking things. I have put myself through a good amount of misery by doubting and believing and deciding and changing my mind with every blink.
Sometimes I really want to kill my stupid, paranoid brain.
My blog is a good thing, a place where I can ramble mindlessly without worrying what I'm talking about, or why. I used to care more, but suddenly my mind has more important things to attend to, and the blog that used to be the center of my personal universe is now just an accessory to my life, a little embellishment, a sprinkling of glitter on the edges.
Speaking of which, please vote on the new poll, because I actually want to see some answers for this one. Do pictures make this blog any better at all? For this post I wasn't really sure what went with the topic, so I tried to look... curious. Curious--wondering--thinking...? Whatever.
So, I'm really craving a little snow these days.
I know, Jenny. You live on the coast of California. You never see snow, unless you travel up or, as it turns out, down. But snow is so pretty and bundle-up-y. School and softball keep me pretty busy, and I crave an excuse to stay in bed, stay in my head, watch the snow drift and feel my spirits lift. I never feel like facing the world when it's freezing out. I cling to my bedclothes in the morning as if I were clutching the corner of a cliff with fingers weak enough to slip.
The frigid days send my spirit out of my skin, my nerves close off, and I draw into myself. Wintertime can be beautiful, but my skin is paler than the moon and my heart has frozen solid. I think maybe I'm ready for little sunlight.

(Both literally and figuratively)

The Valentine's Day post, early.

2010-02-07T17:32:00.000-08:00

I count all the reasons I love you before I sleep,
Count the endless reasons instead of sheep.
Because even when I close my eyes, I only see your face,
And I shiver because I am not wrapped up tight in your warm embrace.
You left me with a frozen heart, a silent heart that will no longer beat,
A heart that fell asleep and never woke, a heart shamefully accepting defeat.
But sometimes,
When I smother my thoughts,
And cover my ears and my eyes with my pillows and my sheets,
And tell myself you were never important to me, I can hear tentative heartbeats.
I count the heartbeats before I sleep,
Count the lies instead of sheep.

Yes, I took that picture and did not edit it. There was actually a heart-shaped puddle on the front lawn of my school.
Prettycoolhuh??
But now that I think about it, I should have gotten an angle that reflected something more eye-appealing than a school building. I mean, it makes the whole picture so much more bluh than it would have been otherwise.
Then I thought it would be cute to whip up a little love poem to go with it. But don't worry, it's not based on any actual experiences/emotions; I'm not heartbroken.
But that's not all I've been whipping up!
I've been working on my valentine to give people this year. Last year I was boring: a little card and candy. I almost fall asleep just thinking about it.
THIS year, I am making fudge, then pressing those little conversation hearts on top, and making rice krispie treats with pink sprinkles, putting them in a cupcake liner with two jumbo conversation hearts, covering the whole thing with tissue paper, and tying it up with ribbon.
*claps excitedly*
I have pictures and everything...
Fudge with conversation hearts pressed in them!

Pink-sprinkled rice krispie treats!

^ Yeah, when I spread the mixture out to fill the entire pan, the treats were realllly thin. So I kind of compromised by doing this. ^

Liners waiting to be filled with delicious treats...

And f-i-n-a-l-l-y, what's done now. I'm still waiting for the fudge to set, so this is all you're going to get to see. (So far.)

Ta-da!
Valentine's Day is really sort of a pointless holiday, unless you have a wife/boyfriend/girlfriend/husband who will dutifully buy you stuff. It consists of the aforementioned buying of stuff for each other of couples, plus giving your friends little cards and candies.
It just doesn't seem special enough to be a holiday, you know?
But then, you don't see me complaining that Boxer Day is a pointless holiday, so whatever.

<3

Capturing beautiful things

2010-02-06T18:14:00.000-08:00

Went for a walk through the neighborhood today, looking for pretty things to take pictures of. It was five o'clock already when I had the idea, so I couldn't go far. Plus, the batteries in my camera were low and we didn't have any more. I went anyway. I think I need to do more spontaneous things.

These clover (clovers?) were in somebody's front lawn. I was struck by a sudden urge to find one with four leaves. I did a quick reconnaissance of the street around me, then crouched and started hastily shuffling through the teeny plants. Every time I heard a car approach or thought I saw a movement in a window in the corner of my vision, I would promptly straighten up and casually start strolling down the sidewalk. Then, as soon as the car/kid on a bike/dog walker had turned a corner or gone far enough down the way that they wouldn't be able to see me, I would resume my task. My fingers located each stem and determined that only three leaves were attached to it, time after time, between nervous glances at the front window of the house whose lawn I was trampling on.
I think I searched that clover patch pretty thoroughly, but no four-leafed clovers presented themselves. I'm just waiting for bad luck to strike.
Maybe I shouldn't have looked. Maybe I should have just glanced at the patch and not known whether one was there, but left the possibility open that maybe there was.
I guess I like to be sure of things. Hence being year of the Boar on the lunar calendar.

Walking home, I decided to cut through my school because it was getting dark and I needed to get home. I love being at school during the day when it's empty. I don't know why. I guess because it's just so suffocatingly crowded during the school day, it seems really spacious and nice when there aren't thousands of bodies shoving and bumping past you constantly.
But in the dark, it was creepy. I kept thinking somebody was going to jump out of the shadows at me, and I had this odd sensation that I wasn't supposed to be there, like students are not allowed on campus when it's not school hours. It would a have been a good time to commit suicide, have my first kiss, get beat up, lose my mind, get inspired to write a really edgy poem, pass out, or meet a mysterious stranger.
None of these things happened. I scuttled away, frightened by the spooky ambiance.

Also;;
My duct tape/comic strip pencilcase that I talked about earlier:

I'm using it to store all my markers and Sharpies. I saw this tote bag in a boutique in Monterey a loooong time ago that had this sort of comic strip collage design. But, being in Monterey, it was a large sum. I don't remember how much, but I remember thinking that it was not worth it, no matter how cute it was.
I think I might make a tote bag, because the little pencilcase I made was really pretty durable and not crappy like most other little experiments of mine turn out. I have made a tote before with a T-shirt, and I think I can convert the method to duct tape.

It was wet outside today.

2010-02-04T20:04:00.000-08:00

I used to say I loved the rain, before that I said I hated it, and before that, I loved it, and now I'm not so sure where I stand.
It can be awfully inconvenient at times, but when you have nothing to do and nowhere to go, rain can be rather pleasant. Especially the smell. During my afternoon run today, droplets started alighting on my cheeks, but never escalated into a downpour. It was kind of nice, puttering along the creekside trail with little sprinklings of water dampening my skin. I memorized its rhythm, setting my pace to the faint beat of rainwater on the ground.
Yes. Sometimes rain is very, very nice indeed.

Remember last year when the toilet flooded? Well, guess what. The washing machine flooded. We called the same company and they put in the same giant screaming fans to suck out all the water from the carpet, and we're going to have that whole entire ordeal all over again.
Hurrah.

Also, remind me to post a picture of this pencilcase I made today. I made it out of duct tape and velcro, then pasted on a collage of newspaper comics and sealed it with packing tape.
Hurrah for real!

Okay, well, very short, dumb little post. Bite-sized. Eat up.

Snow springing from my palm

2010-01-31T18:34:00.001-08:00

So, my grandma died.
It wasn't a horrific surprise. We knew it was coming, she'd had Alzheimer's for over a year. And the memorial service was two weeks after she had died. Thinking about her was a little melancholy, perhaps, but nobody was heartbroken, and traveling down to Palm Springs for the service turned out to be a very nice trip.
I always enjoy going down there. All of my relatives live there, and they are these mega-blinging-rich people who buy Dior hand soap for each of the fifty bathrooms and travel to Egypt and Spain every summer. The people who flew over here from Kansas and wherever stayed in this fancy Marriott hotel, and the first day we got there, we had dinner at one of the restaurants inside, those ones that charge seventeen dollars for a salad.
Wow. It was a huge place. This crazy hotel actually had BOATS that would take you to your room, and you could cruise across this enormous lake full of ducks and black swans to get there. I have no idea how much it would cost to stay there for a night.

My family and I were staying at a nice low-key Best Western, but everybody else was staying at this enormous place. The decorators must have spent at least fifty thousand on palm tree seeds alone. Or bulbs. Whatever palm trees grow from, because they were everywhere. Anyway, the dinner was so awkward. Two of my dad's cousins got terribly drunk and started acting so obnoxious that other diners would turn and glare. My sister and I didn't know anybody except our parents and grandfather: the rest of them were these complete strangers. But apparently they were related to me. Whenever they started conversations with me, they just did not know what to talk about, and neither did I, so I just stuck to smiling and laughing occasionally at whatever the rest of them were saying as I ate my eighteen-dollar cold-turkey sandwich and fruit salad.
Yes. Eighteen dollars. For two slices of wheat bread, two slices of tomato, a pickle, two lettuce leaves, and turkey, plus a small bowl of pineapple, honeydew, cantaloupe, and grapes. I could make that dinner myself for five dollars.
The adults went to the bar afterward, and my sister and I were free to wander the hotel. We considered splitting a Starbucks, but a Frappichino was nearly five dollars. I can't imagine how people could afford life like this.

More exciting-ly, on the way back, it started SNOWING, which thrilled all of us, except my mom, who is about as easy to thrill as a zucchini.
We stopped at the first rest stop we could and exploded out of the car and into the whirlwind of tiny white ballerinas twirling madly towards the ground.
My sister catching snowflakes on her tongue:
I love the taste of snowflakes. They are a fairy queen's finest delicacy, tainted sweet by their fleeting presence, rich with promises and cool on the tongue.

I love the feel of snow crunching beneath my feet. The sound is crisp, the footprints left behind distinct, the entire sensation a satisfying one.

Even this dirty, murky old stream is beautiful because it is dusted with snow. Snow is magic. It lifts my spirits and makes everything around me so much more fascinating, and I always feel so dizzy and intoxicated after just moments of prancing around in its fluffy, freezing, enchanting beauty. I climbed back into the car with glittering diamonds melting in my hair and tiny butterflies perched on my eyelashes. I felt like a goddess, a mythical snow goddess.
It's too bad I live in California. We very, very rarely get snow, but I suppose that's what makes it so special.

Dying

2010-01-31T18:11:00.000-08:00

My world is dying, some of it is dead already.

It's a bit depressing to watch the trees extend skinny, naked arms up towards the sunless sky and to see plants droop drearily, defeated.
Though I have to say, the silhouettes of bare tree limbs against a cloudy sky is actually a very beautiful sight to see. And winter air is clean and fresh in the lungs, even if it chomps at fingertips with ice-cold teeth.
While the rest of the world is dying, the orange tree thrives.How many oranges do I pluck, peel, and eat during the long months of winter? A thousand, at least. The compost bin is already littered with orange skins.
Yesterday was actually a pretty nice day, but I craved comfort food nonetheless. I wandered through the grocery store and bought a package of ground beef, a bag of chocolate chips, and nine enormous mushrooms.
Stuffed mushrooms and chocolate petit fours for dinner. Yum.

I want to try to do more posts with pictures in the future, because the last time I've done a picture post was...
...long ago. I don't even remember.

Self-induced heresy

2010-01-18T15:48:00.000-08:00

As you can see, I have added a little animated llama to my page. If clicking around isn't enough to satisfy your entertainment needs, there's always the tab in the lower right corner that says "more." Click it, and you can get hay so you can FEED the llama.
Try not to waste too much of your life playing with it. I'm warning you because I've gotten myself mildly obsessed.
The heavens have been pouring since Saturday, which means being holed up inside doing homework and laundry and cleaning the bathrooms and working on projects, taking bubble baths, and reading quietly. Boring, but actually pretty nice at the same time. Certainly not much to blog about.
HOWEVER I have been working on a scrapbook of pictures of my friends and family and whatnot. I don't know if I mentioned this, but I got a camera for Christmas, which sparked a picture-taking obsession. Now I'm scrapbooking all the good pictures, leaving out the random shots of pebbles, trees, thumbtacks, et cetera.
Though all those random shots might make for an interesting scrapbook.
I also finished up my vignette project. The hardest one, for some reason, was the "A Place I Have Lived" one. My first draft was way too long, but when I restarted, cropping most of the ideas out, I found I didn't have enough to say. The mediocre product of all that toil:

Hiding
It was a fair-sized house at the bottom of a hill, with trees and a sidewalk out front and a thousand acres of untamed wild stretching out into the distance out back.
At least, that’s how I saw it when I was six, just out of toddler-hood and eager to explore. The stretch of tall, dried-out grass waving cheerily to me from the backyard--which was really far too big to be considered a backyard at all-- enticed the adventurous child that I was to explore. I was drawn to the ferns, so golden, absorbing the sunlight and reflecting it back towards the sky. Later I would discover that if I crouched, I could be hidden amongst the ferns. They extended their shining arms up towards the stratosphere like children reaching imploringly for a cookie jar placed just out of their reach; I huddled down into the dirt, shrinking, shrinking as I stole through the tall grasses, carving out avenues with every footstep until a maze was engraved in the field, an indistinct labyrinth serving as a record of every square inch of the artificial wilderness that I had discovered so far.
I had always been a hider. I wiggled my miniature child’s body into impossible spaces, a habit that my parents were determined to break. “It’s not normal,” my dad would growl, “It’s not healthy,” my mother fretted. I heard several of these “Jenny’s-a-freak” conversations, crammed into a cupboard or squeezed into the narrow gap behind the sofa in the front room, holding my breath for fear I would be discovered. They never found me, hushquiet mouse girl disappearing, fading into invisibility in whatever hidey-hole I was occupying. But when their anxiety blossomed into arguments and their speaking became shouting, I had to squeeze my eyes shut, swallow down the building tears to control the shaking of silent sobs.
I don’t know why it bothered them. I don’t know why I had such an intense addiction to being in confinement, but I did, and I learned to flee to the field when I felt like hiding. They liked to pretend I was out frolicking like any other, normal little girl would be, which I sometimes was, but the three of us knew that I was really going out to curl up in the densest patch of ferns that I could find and take pleasure in knowing that right then, I was one speck on the planet that no one could see, and that if I wanted to I could disappear, vanish into the magical meadow of sun-bleached grass and never have to return to the real world, the world of schoolgirls who wanted nothing to do with me, of clamming up at times when I really needed to speak up, the world of disappointment, of insecurity, and of stony-faced parents who shook their heads at me when they discovered me harbored beneath an end table, parents who didn’t understand that sometimes, I just needed to hide.

...the end.
Hiding felt more natural to me than being out in the open where people could see me and judge me as they pleased. I was born an introvert and grew up an introvert. I developed the insecurity of adolescence several years too early, and it only festered within as I grew.
Once my classmates were old enough to realize that some people could be decided better than others and that they bore the power to exclude, exclude they did. I was stuck on the outside for a good part of my life. I was so used to being pushed away that even when people did open up to me, I didn't trust them and closed up, retreated into my very limited comfort zone and told myself that they were just ridiculing me. I did not believe that anybody of higher social caliber would want to associate themselves with me. My brain had been wired to think that I was an unacceptable being, so I just focused on keeping out of the way.
This self-induced heresy hit a climax in eighth grade. Possible friends slipped through my fingertips like thin silk ribbons, fluttering back into oblivion to find somebody else to befriend. One would-be love dropped to the floor, shattering like a thousand-karat diamond into a thousand useless fragments.
What if I was angry at myself for letting one perfect person waltz in and out of my life, without allowing myself to actually enjoy my time with him, without telling him what I had always meant to tell him, and for lying to him just so that he would never know what I really thought about him?
What if I decided to try again, but what if I was still too afraid? What if the idea that I was unwanted had ingrained itself so deeply into my mind that it had become true? What if I took a leap, and was brought down to a crushing halt with a single word?
After all, it only takes one word to break a heart.

My own oafish self.

2010-01-08T21:05:00.000-08:00

Every
single
year
of my entire history of attending school, I have had to write an essay about my name.
Okay, maybe not every year. But I have certainly churned out my share of swirling, whirly commentaries about one single word.
Jennifer.
It's not the easiest thing on earth, writing an entire essay about your name. I try to keep it going by first saying what my name means, then why my parents named me it, then whether or not I like it, and what I would change it to if I could, and blah blab blahbbl blah. My essays were lies. I loved my name, I hated it, it was the name of the daughter of the cousin of the king of Wales, it was my super-Nazi great-grandmother's name, I would change it to Scarlett, if I could, I would change it to Jennyanne, I would change it to Esmerelda. Maybe I didn't say all those things. Maybe I said none of them. Who knows? I have written so many "My Name" essays that they have all blurred together like sweet potatoes in a blender.
This year we were instructed to write not an essay on our name, but a vignette.
Just to, you know, spice things up a little.
And since I realized I have nothing else, really, to post, I shalt post it.

My name is Jennifer, and it means “fair one.” I’m not so sure how I feel about that. In sixth grade, my mother’s teacher read her a story, and one of the character’s names was Jennifer. My mother decided that it was the most beautiful name she had ever heard, and stored it away in an airtight container pushed to the back of a shelf in the corner of her mind. She must have packed it away too well, though; by a slip of memory her firstborn was named Laura. By the time I arrived, though, my mother had found the dusty old airtight container and brushed off the grime. I was to be called Jennifer. By preschool, that had changed. They called me JJ, which I hated, but I couldn’t protest because I was abnormally quiet not only for my age, but for my species. There was not a child quieter than I, nor a turtle, nor a rabbit, nor a mouse. I don’t know if my mother cared that they had chopped down her resplendent Jennifer to a pair of short, stabby letters. She wanted me to be Jennifer, but I was JJ. If she minded, she never let on. Maybe Jennifer had been beautiful when the name had first endowed her sixth-grade ears, but its radiance had been leached away after years of it being part of her daily vocabulary. “Pick up your toys, Jennifer.” “Time to go to school, Jennifer.” “Jennifer, go get your sister for me.” The word ‘Jennifer’ was becoming a drooping decaying deteriorating dishrag that had scrubbed the leftover gunk off of one too many dirty plates. And then, as silently and obscurely as I had slipped into being “JJ,” I turned into “Jen.” Then I was “Jenny.” “Jenny” stuck around for many years, and became so much a part of me that even my mother addressed me by that name. By fifth grade, I knew enough to hate it. Jenny was the name of an awkward loser who couldn’t figure out how to grow up. When I thought of what kind of person deserved a name like Jenny, I thought of an ungainly wreck, inept in the ways of the world. It only angered me further when I realized I had painted a perfect mental picture of my own oafish self. I envy the graceful Gabrielles, assured Alices, and poised Phoebes. With an incapable name like Jennifer, or Jenny, or Jen, or JJ, or whatever bits and pieces you can hack my name into, I know I am doomed to forevermore be a vagrant in the competitive universe of 21st-century society.

I realized that "Jennifer" really is a very awkward name, which explains, you know, me. I have been trying to fix that, by the way. I even bookmarked an "overcoming social awkwardness" page that I'll get around to actually reading at one point or another.
See?

Maximum home enhancement.

2010-01-04T11:53:00.000-08:00

So, remember how in the previous post I was just running off to go see Avatar?
Well, my mom decided she wanted to see it after all. And she insisted we stop at the Cost Plus World Market on the way to the theater to show us some furniture that she had seen there before. So we looked at a very dull brown armchair and nodded encouragingly as she rattled on about all the strategic places in the house she could place it for maximum home enhancement. Then we looked at a set of shelves that we really could not possibly need because it was so big, and it's not as if we have space for anything much larger than a single wooden stool.
Anyway, that made us late for the movie. By the time we got to the ticket window, (which is not even a window at all, because we went to Century Theaters) they had sold out of the next two showings.
Me: "We could see The Blindside... *nudge* *nudge*..."
Dad and sister: "No yuck ick no."
Mom: "Okay so, let's just go home."
The rest of us: "Wait for real?"
Mom: "Sure."
We ended up going to Target to buy ping pong balls and socks, which was a crazy adventure, but then we just sort of meandered back home and went on with our lives as if the whole seeing-a-movie-together charade had never even happened.
Sad news: My winter break ends tomorrow. This is my last day of schoollessness. *bawls* But to be honest, break has actually become pretty boring. I don't think I mind going back to school so much. So this is actually neutral news.
Happy news: Yesterday, I made these pretty little cakes that I meant to take a picture of, but they got eaten up before I remembered to. Heh, heh.
I made a half-batch of white cake batter, but baked it in larger than a half-size pan so it wouldn't be too thick. Then I cut it into cute little cubes, dipped each one in a sugar glaze/thin icing, then painted little flowers and things on them with food dye. They were so cute! It's too bad I didn't get a picture of them. :(
Speaking of pictures, isn't this cute?

What do blind people think people look like?

2010-01-01T13:51:00.000-08:00

It's a new year. Can you smell the fresh air? Does it seem cleaner to you? Does it taste newer?
Yeah, I don't think so either.
Usually my cousins come over for New Year's, and we stay up until midnight and pop those little firecrackers and light sparklers and watch the ball drop like normal people. This year they didn't come over, I got too tired to stay up until midnight, and my dad forgot to buy the sparklers and poppers.
It's not like we wasted an actual real holiday, though. I mean, it's not as if we didn't hand out candy to trick-or-treaters, or like we forgot to put up Christmas lights. New Year's isn't really so much to celebrate.
And we are sort of celebrating by going to see a movie today. Whenever there's a movie I want to see, I go with my friends. It's been a long time since I've gone with the rest of the family like I used to. So this should be dandy, eh?
Except for that my mom bailed on the rest of us. She and I wanted to see The Blindside, and my dad and sister wanted to see Avatar. She didn't put up much of a fight.
Mom: "Okay, I won't go. Save a couple bucks."
Gee, mom, I can tell you were really excited about our bonding experience. I didn't put up much of a fight either after that, without even some flimsy support from her.
Me: "Okay, I guess I want to see Avatar, too, then."
So I looked the movie up just now, because all I knew about it was that it involved strange blue people in outer space. It is THREE HOURS long, and doesn't appear to be about anything at all except blue people bopping around in an outer space forest. The trailers aren't exactly the most informative pieces of video I have viewed in my life.
I don't believe I will enjoy this movie. But who knows? Nobody knows! Maybe I will love it! You can't be sure about anything until you try-y-y!
Yeah, so, I have to leave now.
Enjoy your life.

Reach for sky, don't assume it's too high.

2009-12-30T15:41:00.000-08:00

Well, this is just ridiculous.
Here I go again with a post, after I said I was going to be gone for awhile. Only the most capricious of souls could break such a mighty promise.
Capricious, that's me.

Anyway, I went to Sky High today with some chums. Do you know what Sky High is? It's three trampolines with slanted walls shoved into a warehouse, with vending machines and game gadgets jammed in the empty spaces. The entire place smells like feet, and there are constantly small children capering about underfoot to trip over.
Sounds like just loads of fun, eh?
It actually was pretty gosh-darned fun, once we started boinging. It's hard to bounce off the walls and be bored at the same time; that borders on being an oxymoron. I mean, sure, there was the occasional kid bouncing into your legs or tripping onto you, but it was a fine experience.
We were the only people there who were above the age of eight. The "staff" guys, each one lanky and zitty and blond and looking exactly the same as every other "staff" guy who worked there, making me ponder the possibility that they were all clones of each other, wandered over to make sure we were following all the rules far too often. The rules included no sitting, no standing on these red pads that were all over the floor, no touching the yellow pads on the walls, no wearing shoes without laces, no talking too loud, etc. One of them would always be a few feet away, ready to pounce and say "EXCUSE ME LADEEZ BUT THAT'S NOT ALLOWED."
Just because we're not six years old and adorable, they think we've come to tear the place down. I've grown out of innocence; now I am discredited by the world.
Well, maybe not the WORLD. But at least the staff guys at Sky High.

BACK. poof

2009-12-29T17:15:00.000-08:00

She sneaks back onto her blog, suddenly drawn to it now that she's admitted defeat and abandoned it.
Funny how that works, isn't it?
I do have something to blog about, luckily. Last night I went to a hockey arena to watch hockey players play a hockey game. I was not anticipating any amount of fun, let me tell you. I have never been a huge aficionado of crowded sports arenas with big sweaty men in jerseys waving their jumbo cokes and greasy buffalo wings around as they shout bits of advice at the players. "PUT IT IN THE NET, THORNTON!" "MAKE THE FRIGGIN' SHOT!"
The only reason I can describe a hockey game so vividly is because I have actually attended one before. One of my mother's "teacher-friends" (She's a first-grade teacher, and apparently all the teachers at the school she works at are real good pals.) had four tickets that she was supposed to sell to a guy through craigslist or something. But then the guy decided he didn't want to go, or something. He just never showed up. She wasn't a hockey fan, but knew that my dad and sister were through my mom, so gave them to us.
This was a couple years ago. I was a young and vulnerable child, at the tender age of eleven, totally unprepared for the wild mayhem of a packed hockey arena. I clung to my father's sleeve as he excitedly maneuvered the family through the fit-to-bust passing areas of the pavilion. During the game, huge screens situated all around the ice rink flashed between bright advertisements and encouragements to "MAKE SOME NOISE!"
Believe me, the audience fully took the screen up on that offer. People shouted and clapped and hollered and belched and stomped and cheered and booed and screamed and applauded and cried out until the entire arena was one big atrium of excited cacophony.
If I were a hockey player, which I will never be, but still, if I were a hockey player, I would not be able to concentrate in the middle of all that obstreperous bedlam.
But then, maybe it's quieter down on the ice, like being in the eye of a hurricane. But I will never know, because I wasn't on the ice. I was one cell in a sea of pandemonium, and it nearly drove me out of my eleven-year-old mind.
I really tried to appreciate the hockey game, but it was difficult when I had no idea what was going on down there. Every once in a while people would start whooping extra-loud for no apparent reason. I always knew when they had scored a goal, because the entire sea always leapt up out of their seats in a grand rollicking wave. Plus, I knew what a goal was, even if I understood no other aspect of the game. I would obediently stand up until the thrill had died and people returned to their seats.
My mom got my dad four tickets for Christmas this year, so we all went again. It was basically the same thing last night, except I am no longer an impressionable child, and I could easily handle the mad turbulence of the arena. I tried to enjoy it, because hockey tickets are expensive, and I knew it was probably the last time I would attend a game. But I think one visit every couple of years is enough of that kind of environment that I will ever require.

Today I woke up with the wisps of a nightmare holding fast in my mind. I wrote everything down as quickly as I could, before the memory made like a winter dove and fluttered away.
It made me think of somebody. I don't know if you read my blog, but if you do, I miss you.
I don't think anybody reads my blog anymore. One of my former readers abandoned her blog, one I never knew in person but seems to have disappeared into thin air, and one is gone from my real life and hasn't left footsteps on my blog-life.

Hello, nobody.

Oh. I just looked at my blog, and somebody checked the "Jeni sucks" box. Not exactly exemplary feedback, but at least that means somebody is still reading this thing.
Don't expect me to keep updating because I've ended my hiatus so briefly. I don't know if this blog dead or alive. Maybe it's a flower seed that just needs some coaxing to bloom; or maybe it was buried too deep under the surface and is destined to ferment until the end of time.

GONE. poof

2009-12-28T15:36:00.001-08:00

So, I will be taking an extended hiatus from the blogosphere.
I decided this a while ago, but just today I realized that I never actually posted a warning of hiatus-ness. So, this is it.
This blog has really been going downhill for a long time, and I don't think I can stretch its tenuous existence any more than I have already. At one point I've got to admit that I have nothing to write about and put a stop to the burbling posts full of space sentences and rambling.
Even if I did have something to say, I can't get on the computer to post because it is constantly being used by somebody or another. Usually my dad.
I don't know if this blog is on a break, or just broken. I might be back, or maybe not; I'm not going to make any promises.

The Grand Fiasco.

2009-12-11T20:37:00.000-08:00

I just came back from baking cookies at my friend's house.
It was a disaster.
She has apparently never made cookies or cake or anything from scratch before in her entire life, a great worshipper of the boxed cake mixes and refrigerated slice-and-bake cookie dough rolls.

Earlier today, discussing whether homemade or storebought cookies are better:
Me: "Homemade cookies taste better."
Judy: "You can't even tell if you don't taste them side by side."
Me: "People will be impressed if you tell them you made cookies yourself."
Judy: "If you don't mention it, nobody will even think about it."
Me: "Homemade cookies are more thoughtful to give to people."
Judy: "Storebought cookies are more convenient."
Etc, etc, etc.
There was no baking soda or vanilla extract in her house, so we made a quick stop at mi casa for me to dash into my kitchen and retrieve the necessary ingredients. She was unsure of the purpose of baking soda. I told her it was so the cookies would rise. She was unsure of what rising was.
She only had one egg in her fridge, so we sent her dad to get another carton. Then I couldn't find any butter in there.
Me: "You don't have any butter..."
Judy: "Yeah I do... right here."
And then she pulls out this big tub of fake-vegetable-oil-butter-flavored-spread.
Me: "...that's not butter."
Judy: "Yes it is, look."
And then she points at the word "butter" in the phrase "butter flavored spread."
Me: "Well okay then we'll see how this goes."
And then I open the tub.
Me: "Um. It's empty."
Judy: "Oh. Whoops."
So she calls her dad at the store and tells him to get more butter. Guess what he brings back? Another tub of 48% vegetable oil "butter flavored" spread.
Me: "Sigh. Okay, I guess we'll just put in a little more flour."
So we're sticking all the ingredients in a bowl and beating it all into a fine greasy mess, thanks to the oily fake-butter concoction.
Judy: "This beater feels really hot."
Me: *adds sugar*
Judy: "I think it's overheating."
Me: "Okay, we better hurry before it breaks, then."
So we throw the rest of the stuff in and she flicks the beater on high speed.
Me: "Hurry gogogogogo the top is starting to smoke I think hurry gogogogo!!"
I smash a couple eggs into the bowl, glug in the vanilla, and dump in the flour.
Beater: *breaks*
We dumped the smoking, useless appliance in the backyard and stir the rest of the ingredients in by hand. It is a slow, grueling process, but we are finally ready to plop greasy balls of dough onto trays. We stick them in the oven for ten minutes, then check to see if they're done.
Me: "Ehhh they could use a couple more minutes."
Judy: "Okay!" *punches button*
I didn't see that she entered FIFTEEN more minutes of baking time, when I had meant just two or three. And I didn't realize until it had been quite a while...
Me: "Hey, the oven hasn't beeped yet."
Judy: "Well it still has five minutes to go."
Me: "??? How much more time did you put it in for???"
Judy: "Fifteen minutes..."
The cookies are almost completely blackened.
The next few batches come out looking fine... but then we tasted them.
Us: "EW."
That butter spread stuff really messed up the cookies. They tasted like dry, dense lumps of ickiness that even her little brother wouldn't eat.

I don't think I convinced her that homemade cookies are better than storebought ones.

"Life," said Piggy expansively, "is scientific, that's what it is."

2009-11-30T19:08:00.000-08:00

Remember when I used to post every day? Or at least every other day?
Those sure were the days.
One reason is that the half-broken laptop (as in, the only thing that worked was Appleworks)(which is mildly ironic because... apple works. It was the only application that worked.) (Ha.) broke completely, so I can't type on it and then transfer to this Internet-capable computer. Another reason is that I don't have the time to blog anyway.
It's not like I really have anything to blog about. Blogging used to be fun, but now it just sort of feels like a responsibility. I feel guilty if I go too long without posting.
And okay, now I have a dentist appointment. *goes to the dentist*
*returns from the dentist*
Hi.
My teeth felt lovely and refreshed for all of ten minutes. Then I had to eat a salad for dinner, and there are bits of walnut and spinach and feta cheese and dried cranberry stuck in all the little crevices.
Christmas.
I have done almost all of my Christmas shopping, and it's only the first day of December. I also have done almost all of my Christmas-crafting. For my dad, I papier-mached the letters "F-A-M-I-L-Y," then ModPodged family photos onto them and strung them into a thingie to hang on the door or a wall or something. And for my mom, I made bath jellies, a bar of oatmeal soap, and these awesome little things called "bath cookies." To make them, you have to bake them in the oven like real cookies, and they come out looking like cookies, too: but instead of eating them, you drop them in the bath and they dissolve and make the whole bathroom thick with the scent of sweet vanilla.
My mom is actually more of a florals kind of gal. But I love the smell of vanilla. I will be lying on the floor outside the bathroom whenever she uses a bath cookie, nose pressed to the crack beneath the door where it doesn't quite meet the ground. Inhaling.

Today I realized that sometimes people go out of their way to be incomprehensible. It is very inconvenient when I am trying to understand what they mean when they say this or do that. But I guess I can sympathize with those who are too insecure to be their honest selves.

The werewolves looked like kitties!

2009-11-23T15:40:00.000-08:00

Despite my refusals, my friends were able to drag me, kicking and thrashing, into the theater showing New Moon. I sat in one of those retarded chairs that flop upwards when you stand up staring at the screen and trying to convince myself that this was the worst movie I had ever seen in my entire lifetime.
Darn. I accidentally liked it. Especially the part where Robert Patterson got smashed into the marble stairs. That was my favorite scene, that one with him getting tossed around. It wasn't bloody or icky, so don't think I'm a morbid freak. Though I may be one.
It was hilarious in that theater though: people laughed out loud when they saw Lautner with his nasty long-haired wig on. And then they screamed with excitement when he took his shirt off. I did too for the fun of it, but I thought he looked COMPLETELY NASTY with these all bulbous muscles in extra places where nobody even has muscles in real life.
Umyeahwell, it was better than the first one for sure. Not really a good movie at all, but not a wretched mess.
I always just have one thing to say, and then I wait to post until I have something else to add to it because I don't want the post to be so short, but then whatever I had to say gets old and I don't want to post it anymore because it happened three weeks ago, so I just delete it.
From now on, I'm just going to post what little tidbits I write anyway. Starting... NOW.

"Ew! Broccoli is so good!"

2009-11-21T17:36:00.000-08:00

OKAY SO.
The school newspaper has this section called "Overheards," which is a collection of random and often humorous quotes that the newspaper people have heard in the hallways. Since they don't know anybody's names, the quotes are anonymous. One of them this month was "Ew! Broccoli is so good!"
I SAID THAT.
I feel so proud. I'm practically famous! (not really.) But it is completely out of context. My friend was saying that cheesecake was her favorite food and that she hated broccoli. I hate cheesecake and love broccoli, so naturally I said, "Ew! Broccoli is so good!"
Yeah. That's the only thing I had to blog about. I'm so happy I have time to blog today. High school means so much WORK. Now homework consumes most of the weekend, and I'm out with my friends for whatever is left of it. Poor blog. I neglect you.
And now it's dinnertime.
Sorry for the lame post.

Or are we ashes and wine?

2009-11-12T18:40:00.000-08:00

Okay. I know I have urged you to listen to A Fine Frenzy songs far too many times, and if you dismissed anything of hers before because it was too slow for you, give this song a chance. It's much catchier than what she usually does. Listen.
I also want to nominate "Bird of the Summer" (by her) as the best lyrics ever. I used to think "Minnow and the Trout" was so clever with its whimsical stories, but this song is so pretty:

You came with the season, as the first swallow sang
A brown-headed stranger, with a five-letter name

We planted our kisses where the wild berries grow
My feet sprouted wings and I flew all the way home

My cheeks red like fire engines racing
Straight to the heat of your skin
And I know our days are numbered, early bird of the summer
You'll fly south just as the fall begins

The leaves changed their colors and the schoolyards were filled
My coat with the patches barely keeps out the chill

You sent me a postcard from a town out of state,
I wish it were warmer and I hope you're the same

The fields where we wandered were golden
Now only muddy my boots
And I know I should recover, you're a bird of the summer, I was wrong to try and capture you

I met someone walking in a park by the lake, it don't fly like we did but it don't fly away

Gone is the pale hand of winter
Here is the first flush of May
And soon I will discover whether birds of the summer fly in circles or just fly away

I must be boring all the non-A Fine Frenzy fans to tears. Sorry about that.
We have to memorize all the states and capitals AGAIN, for World Cultures. Plus some physical features to spice things up and make us feel like we haven't been transported back to the fifth grade.
I'm excited for this weekend. There's a race in Monterey that I do every year, and it's this Sunday. I don't do too many organized races, but this one is really nice. The route goes right along the water, so you've got a nice view of the ocean to enjoy while you run.
And the weekend after that, I'm going down to Palm Springs to visit all my relatives who migrated down there as soon as they turned forty and refused to ever come back and live Northern Cali ever again. We're eating Thanksgiving dinner in a restaurant, which is so untraditional and lame that I don't think I've be able to choke down the turkey.
Just kidding. It will taste fine.
I'm going to go to this little store that I went to last year for my (very very early) Christmas shopping. They have all these cute little stationary sets, jewelry, plushies, and things like that, and I will probably get the majority of my gifts for my friends there. I always get impatient for Christmas. I'm going to start my season a month early.
Okay, I keep getting distracted with things, sooooooooo
bye.

Sanna Croose.

2009-11-07T21:48:00.000-08:00

SO today I went to Santa Cruz. Beautiful place. My family and I occasionally decide it's time for some salty air, so we drive over there and park about an hour from the wharf. Then it's an hour's stroll along the ocean, enjoying a constant view of powerful waves crashing onto the rocks.
Almost every other time we've gone to Santa Cruz, I have bought a chocolate-covered strawberry at this festive little candy store on the wharf. For the first time ever today, I bought a bag of caramel corn instead. Everybody crunched and munched the delicious confection all the way back to the car. I felt sugar-buzzed and content as we pud-pud-pudded around the downtown area. There was a bookstore that I spent at least an hour in. I bought three used books for less than ten dollars, and read this one book that made me literally laugh out loud several times. Luckily there were few other patrons to stare at me.
My mom bought a knife at a kitchen store. The blade could not have been more than two inches long. She apparently found in in the clearance section and was charmed by its soft lime-green rubber handle. I asked her what she was planning to cut with the dinky doll's knife.
"Little things, you know, like radishes and stuff," was her reply.
The last time I ate a radish, I was nine years old.
In the Urban Outfitters, several quirky objects stole my heart. A flashlight shaped like a cat, and when you turned it on, the lights came from its eyes. A plug-thingie that was shaped like a little man, with a face and limbs that you plugged extension cords into. A magnetic clip that looked like a mousetrap; the trap could be lifted and could snap down and clip papers. A phone shaped like a hamburger: the bun flips open to reveal the keypad. A drawing pad that you could draw on, then look at your drawings through special glasses and they would look like they were popping off the page. A Rubik's Cube with a little screen that would function as a clock, thermometer, timer, or one other thing that I forget, depending on which way you turned the top row of sqaures. Who comes up with these weird little items? Can it be my job when I grow up?

Anyway, when we got back I decided to make a pair of shoes out of duct tape. My dad got mad at me for wasting expensive duct tape, but they were awesome shoes.

Oh my golly gee, I forgot to mention. On Friday I attempted to teach two of my non-softball-playing friends how to play softball. I never realized how hard it is to teach somebody a new skill. I will never be a teacher, I guess. I was like, "Okay first we'll learn how to throw yay," and I threw a ball, and then was like "You go now!!!" and of course they didn't know how. Then I had to go, "Ummm well you put your arm back kinda like that, and then you just sorta bring it upwards and then like, go like... that, and then you're done."
Trying to explain how the game worked was even harder.
"Okay soooo if the batter hits it and it hits the ground before any of the fielders touch it, they have to throw it to first, which is that one, and if the batter gets there first then they're in, and if the first baseperson gets it and steps on the base first, they're out... oh and they're allowed to run through first base, but not second or third, those ones, because if they do then the fielders can tag them even if they already touched the base, but you're allowed to go back if you run it as long as you're not tagged first... but if the batter hits it and it goes in the air, one of the fielders has to catch it and the batter is out automatically, and the batters on base can't advance to the next base, because if somebody hits the ball and you're on, for example, second, you can run to third and even home if you have enough time..."
I'm so bad at explaining things. I left them dazed and confused.

Clever trick

2009-11-04T15:52:00.000-08:00

Today I was walking home from school, and I saw this candy wrapper on the ground. It was for Air Head Extreme-o's or something. That exact wrapper had been lying there for as far back in the school year as I can remember. I have been taking the same route home every day, and I've noticed that wrapper on the ground the same way I notice the cracks in the sidewalk or the fallen leaves scudding across driveways. It's always just been there, part of the scenery.
Today I realized it was litter. So I stopped, and picked it up, and threw it away. It's something I should have done weeks ago.
But now I'm worried I'll miss it. Maybe my life will change somehow, because I purposely altered it by getting rid of something that has always been a part of my daily routine. You never know.

A little later, still walking home, I realized I was smiling. I immediately stopped, thinking it would look stupid to be smiling at nothing. But then I thought, why not? I smiled all the way home. Why is it considered idiotic to be smiling when you're alone with nothing funny or cute or whatever? I protest this unwritten law. I will smile all day tomorrow.

I have an urge to go to a park with somebody and sit on the grass tell them my entire life story, and then talk about randomities such as the ones listed above for an entire afternoon.
Any takers?

T-shirts and Tutus

2009-10-23T20:08:00.000-07:00

I'm not dead. I swear.
I guess... I've just had a really busy twenty days? High school is so nonstop. After cross country is homework, and after that is bedtime, and if there's ever any free time, my sister's always on the computer so I can't update. I used to have about twenty-thirty minutes of free time in the morning depending on how quickly I chose my outfit and ate breakfast. That was when I left for school at 8:05, barely making it to tardy bell. Now I have to leave at seven forty, so I can't really use the morning for blogging time anymore. Plus... the sister is usually watching her cop shows on it anyway.
Stuff that's happened during my absence:

I got my backbrace. It's really uncomfy. It's like a great big SQKWEEEEZZ around my torso... constantly. And it looks really awkward under my clothes. I tried to find shirts and stuff that hid it, but only about three shirts actually made me look normal. It really hurts in the rib area because my sister kicked me there and now there's a large and icky bruise. Putting pressure on it does not exactly relieve the pain, know what I mean? But enough complaining.
I finally scored a medal in cross-country. I think my dad would be pissed if I went through the whole season without a medal, so I was relieved to earn one, even if it wasn't anywhere near first place.
Free online barcode generator. This is mine. Get yours. *click*
Realization: we really have a very rowdy school. EXAMPLE: Today while crossing the street to get to the trail behind the school, a guy with his buddy parked in the passenger seat swung out from the student parking lot and swerved the car towards where my friend and I were standing and made an "OHMYGOD I'M OUT OF CONTROL" face, then veered away at the last second, sending loud guffaws out the open window as they sped down the road. Dangerous. Stupid. Rowdy. EXAMPLE: In the parking lot, a bunch of seniors were hanging off a pickup truck, sitting in the bed and jumping on the roof. The driver lurched forward to try to send all the guys flying backwards, a haphazard experiment in inertia. They all laughed and swore and clung on even as the truck screeched into the street. Dangerous. Stupid. Rowdy. EXAMPLE: As I walked home from practice today, tired and sweaty and in no state to put up with any dangerous stupid rowdy acts, of course I ran into a gang of hooligans by the creek. They greeted this vulnerable young freshman with various obscenities. Where has the respect gone? Why are people obnoxious in the face of innocent passerby?
Halloween. After a two-year hiatus from dressing up and trick-or-treating, my friends have peer pressured me into dressing up and going candy-begging with them. We're being MAGICKAL FAIRIES. That means t-shirts and tutus, with wands and tiaras to top it off.
That's it.

My single solitary guide...

2009-10-08T17:48:00.000-07:00

Oh my goodness. I used to only watch one show, The Office. Then I added Chopped to my queue. And then I watched two episodes of Community and fell in love. This show is hilarious. I love it. But I'm afraid I'm turning into a regular television-watcher. I used to watch TV every once in a while, now I watch it every weekend. The no-TV-on-weekdays rule still applies, though. Not that I have time on weekdays to watch TV after cross-country.
Speaking of cross-country. Eight mile workout the other day at QUICKSILVER, which means upupupupuphill. My legs have been feeling icky and weird ever since. They've never felt like this before, and I gosh darn don't like it!
Ahhhh. My sister and mom are out somewhere, and I finished my homework. Now I have the house all to myself. I walked to CVS for a roll of Necco Wafers, and now I'm blogging and listening to wonderful A Fine Frenzy and eating delicious chalky candy and enjoying the perfect lazy evening with no interruptions.
I'm glad the day worked out this way so I could have this little pocket of time to myself. It has been a busybusybusybusybusybusybusybusy week and I am SO glad tomorrow is Friday.

My dog is begging me to play with him right now. He enjoys dragging me out into the backyard and placing various objects in my hands just to snatch them back again. It's the real thrill of his day in his dog life.

Ick.

2009-10-06T19:08:00.000-07:00

I just thought I'd share some photos that make me feel extremely uncomfortable.

This next one makes my femur feel like oatmeal.
Something about children with really unnatural faces gets me. These vintage food ads give me the shivers all the way up.
Why does this kid have a pile of hot dogs lying on the table while he's eating a big bowl of pasta? If you'll notice, the spaghetti is being brought into his mouth with such force that the strands are tilted back with the tailwind... and he's not even bothering to look at where the food is going. Bright fellow.
You know you want these pork and beans. But you can't have these pork and beans. These are my pork and beans."OH MY GOD IS THAT OSTRICH LIVER? GIVE IT HERE!"
I know it's just a baby. Not even a real baby, just a doll of a baby. But it completely freaks me out.
I don't even know how I stumble across these things. I hope I've made your Tuesday a little bit creepier.

Another quiz, yay!

2009-10-02T07:23:00.000-07:00

You heard me, folks. Get ready from another copy-pasted quiz that I got from somebody else’s blog!

Do you love life?
Certain aspects of it...

How many hours of sleep do you get per night?
Depends... usually about nine.

Can you draw?
Anybody can draw! Some people just can’t draw WELL... like me.

What’s the creepiest thing that has ever happened to you?
Thinking I was being followed this one day... RUN-ON SENTENCE TIME! ...it was getting dark, I was walking home and I kept making random turns through the neighborhood to get this guy off my trail, but he kept following me and I was like WHOA, GO AWAY so when I got close to my house I started running and he did too, but then I went inside and locked all the doors and looked out the front window and he just kept walking down the road, so I guess it was a coincidence.

What does your room look like?
Blue wall. Green lantern. Mishmash of colored pillows. Polka-dot bedspread. Two bulletin boards cluttered with cards/photos/tickets/drawings/whatever. Whiteboard. Bookshelf, whose top is often used as a lounge area for my cat or a seat for me. Shelves of junk. Drawers of junk. A desk cluttered with junk. Horrible screechy metal doors that open into a closet. Bamboo wall stickers. Beige carpet. Mirror. Teal hanging organizer tube thing.

How long is your hair?
About this long.

Have you ever traveled abroad?
Proud to be able to say YES!!

Which do you prefer: boiling hot or freezing cold?
If we’re talking about tea, I’ll take boiling hot. I’m guessing this is about weather/temperature though, so my respuesta finale is freezing cold.

What font do you like to type in?
I don’t know. Helvetica?

Have you ever cut yourself?
Falling off a bike, being careless while chopping vegetables, pricking a finger with a needle while sewing, pressing too hard while shaving, tripping and scraping a knee, yes, I have cut myself.
I think if this quiz was looking for juicy emo secrets, it should have been phrased as “Have you ever cut yourself on purpose?”

Have any of your family members died?
Yeah.

What are all the pets you’ve had in your life?
First pet was a goldfish, whose name began with a D but I forget it now. My sister had one named Ditto. They died.
Second pet was a hamster named Zoom, and another (my sister’s) named Slyvester. They died, a terrible tragedy.
Now we have a cat, Lewis, and a dog, Jack. They are not dead.

What is your favorite song?
It’s always changing, but stays within one album: One Cell in The Sea by a Fine Frenzy. Right now it’s between “Last of Days” and “Minnow and the Trout.”

Who was your first crush?
Peter Pan. The animated one. Not kidding.

Is he/she still your crush?
No. I have MOVED ON, Petey-boy.

Who do you like now?
What if I had answered yes to the last question? Then this question would be a repeat. :o

Who is your best friend?
I have a lot of best friends!! I don’t think anybody really has just one...

What do you usually take for lunch?
I take an apple and carrot sticks just about every day, then I usually grab Craisins, almonds (if we have any), or a granola bar. These days I’ve been taking Gatorade too, to ‘fuel up’ for cross-country. (Or maybe I just like the taste.)

What do you give your friends as gifts for their birthdays?
Impossible question!! It depends on the person!!

Do you floss?
Do you breathe? Yes, I floss.

Do you prefer a big group or small cluster of friends?
Big group!

What smiley faces do you use the most? (ex. :) :/ XD)
The normal one. :) Sometimes :D too, but that’s reserved for when I’m REALLY happy. Plus :( when I’m sad, and :’( when I’m REALLY sad.

Are you outdoorsy or indoorsy?
I guess outdoorsy. Because after school, I run cross-country in the outdoors, then do my homework in the backyard (outdoors) and eat dinner and sleep. And spare time is usually spent on my bike--in the outdoors, and I do love camping and hiking, which my family does at every opportunity. Then again, I like to spend time in my room with my cat and a book/my scrapbooking stuff/the newspaper/modeling clay/my sketchbook/my journal when I’m feeling lazy. But I do that stuff out in my little spot in the backyard a lot too. :/ I don’t know!

Are you a jock, emo, prep, nerd, or artsy type?
I thought there were more labels than that...? Well anyways, I am not an emo or prep for sure. I don’t know if I’m a nerd or not. I have friends, but they might be nerds too through someone else’s eyes. I can’t really tell. I’m not exactly a jock, I play softball and run cross-country but not super-duper well. And I’ve never quite been sure what defines an artsy type. I can’t draw or paint, so I’m pretty sure I’m not. What does that leave? I guess I’m in the Miscellaneous file. No one label can define me.
When you think about it, that’s true for everybody.

If you were a crayon, what color would you be?
I’ve heard this one before. I never get this question. I think I would probably get to the wax factory and ask for a deep maroon or a bright green, and they would tell me they ran out of colored wax and use plain wax instead. Other crayons in my box would bear wrappers with “Tickle-Me Pink” and “Goldenrod” printer on them, and I would be sitting there, brand-new for eternity, because no kid ever took any interest in the crayon labeled “Plain.”

Do you have a secret admirer?
How would I know if they were secret?

What is the most important thing in the world to you?
My cat, my family, my blog.

What is the best thing that has ever happened to you?
Going to Europe last summer was without a doubt the most wonderful thing that has ever happened and will ever happen to me in my lifetime.

Can you sing?
See “Can you draw?”

Which celebrity do you admire the most?
Einstein. He was a genius.

Are you a good kisser?
You’d have to ask my cat.

Are you usually early or late?
Uhhhh. Both. I guess I’m usually early for appointments and what-all, but sometimes late for parties and meet-you-at-the-mall-at-noon type things.

Fan of Pandas

2009-09-26T21:48:00.000-07:00

So this morning I had to get up WAY too early to go to a cross-country meet at Westmoor. It was all the way in Daly, which meant an hour's drive. I had to get up at EIGHT. I repeat, WAY too early for a Saturday.
Not really. I actually haven't been sleeping in so much anymore, partly due to the fact that I want to get up early enough to get at least a forty minutes' run in before the sun comes out. This won't be a problem come winter. I wish it were winter right now. Cold air slips easily in and out of your lungs. The outdoors aren't so sticky and uncomfortable in winter, and as long as you've got a thick jacket you can enjoy crisp air on your face without worrying about sweat or sunburn or freckling. Plus, with winter comes rain. i<3rain. style="font-style: italic;">sharks to buy and kill and eat. Nothing was all packaged up like it is at Safeway. The squids and dead fish were piled up on beds of ice, oysters laid in tubs of water that you scooped out with a strainer, and the live fish were crammed into tanks with no room to swim around, just fins and tails wiggling, the piscine equivalent of jogging in place. Only the sharks had any room to move around. It smelled like lobsters and crayfish and fish and squid and and dead cow and dead quail all intermingling into one big cornucopia of nauseating scents. I scurried over to the nicer-smelling bakery area after a few minutes of holding my breath. They had adorable little butter cookies that were shaped like pandas:
which we got for my sister, fan of pandas. She hasn't eaten any yet because they're too cute. I don't blame her; I wouldn't want to demolish the cuties with my teeth either.
We went out to lunch, and I got a salad because I wasn't very hungry. Irony ensues. The salad was two feet wide and three inches deep, a monstrous dish that could feed fifty people. After eating for a couple of years, I had barely made a dent in the thing.
After such a fun day, I came home to homework. Blah. The rest of the day was pretty blah-y, so not much else to say. Plus I should sleep anyway because I have a 10k tomorrow morning and I should have gone to sleep a long, long time ago...

(...in a galaxy far, far away...)

Considerella went to the ball.

2009-09-22T20:37:00.000-07:00

Got measured for the back brace the other day.

Yuck. Yuck, yuck.

Lots of pokey-proddy-feely-pinchiness from a doctor who smelled of hair gel and cheese. He put me in this tight cotton jumpsuit thingie and scanned me from a zillion different angles, and whah-la, a 3-D image of my torso started rotating on the computer screen. The horrible plastic spine-straightener is being fabricated as I type.

Got my new cross-country uniform after practice today.

Yuck. Yuck, yuck.

Not only is it Spandex, it’s about fifty-four sizes too small. And I have to run in that thing!!

The past few days haven’t been all bad, though: I shaved a few seconds off of my previous time at the meet last Saturday, had some time to ride my bike over the weekend, went to Wal-Mart and bought pajama shorts for three dollars, and took a nap on a school day.

This is a first. After a disgustingly intense cross-country practice that ran late, I headed upstairs to get my homework done before it got too late. My bed, though, was radiating some serious comfort rays, and I decided to crawl up onto it and sit for just a few minutes, deciding my brain would work better if my achy legs were rested. It being a bed, though, I was obligated to lie down. Once I had my head on the pillow, the cat rose from the bookcase, padded across the room, hopped up onto the bed, and curled up on my stomach. No way could I get up with an adorable fuzzy feline snuggled right there, so I kind of accidentally conked out. When I woke up almost two hours later, I thought for a few minutes that it was morning. But then I remembered... cross-country-bed-cat-homework-ohcraphomework and sprang up to get it started. I’ve never actually slept like that in the middle of the day on a school day. I slipped into unconsciousness for a few short minutes during the Broncothon last year, but that hardly counts. I felt wonderfully reenergized afterwards and powered through my homework.

I could not get to sleep that night.

Homecoming dance and game is next week. Dances are the bane of high school to me, but everybody else seems to enjoy them and the mild ripples of drama that go along with them. EXAMPLE: He was gonna she was gonna ask him out he said yes she said no they told me he said she said she turned him down for him but he asked her so she asked him and he said no and I said yes so now I’m going with David, can you believe it???

*sigh* Freshmen. (MEANT SARCASTICALLY BECAUSE I think it’s hilarious when sophomores, who were freshmen a single year ago, sigh and shake their heads and go, “oh, those freshmen.”)

----

The world is still spinning

The sky is still blue

My life will continue

But I’ll keep missing you

Still missing people, especially one. Why do I keep wanting to see them when I know it’s impossible? Somebody once said something about elusiveness; knowing you can’t have it makes you want it.

Here comes the first flash of May

2009-09-12T19:23:00.001-07:00

Today was my first cross-country meet. It was very un-intense: three miles with only mild hills. The freshman girls ran first, at nine o'clock. It's so much easier to run in the mornings than at three/four o'clock in the afternoon in August/September. That doesn't mean I did any better than I expected: I was in the middle of the pack, exactly average.
It was a nice change from my usual Saturday morning, though: rolling out of bed, lacing my running shoes, munching a piece of toast, going out to run, and then either riding my bike to my grandma's house, starting my homework, vacuuming the house, or getting a load of laundry going and crawling back into bed with a book.
Which is pretty much how I've spent every single Saturday morning since school began. How many weeks ago now? Four?
This first stretch of school usually drags onnnnnnnn and onnnnnnnnn, but this year the days are whipping by like that. *snaps fingers* High school is good, but I miss certain people. Some people went to other schools or moved away, (actually only two people moved away) but some people I just don't have any classes with, and it's so impossibly crowded that it's hard to find people at lunch.
Um.
Yesterday was 9/11. I never really knew what the big deal was about 9/11 before. I thought a plane had accidentally crashed into a building, which I knew was very, very bad, but why all the "AMERICA SHALT NEVER FORGET THEE DAY" patriotismness? Disasters happen all the time.
But then we watched a documentary about it in World Cultures. It was a TERRORIST ATTACK, and people DIED. There were people on fire and people stuck on top of the building, and it was so horrible horrible horrible that they jumped off and pummeled SMACK into the ground because they were scared and confused and would rather be dead than suffer this sudden and unexpected hell. Another plane rammed into another building, people fled, wild-eyed and breathing raggedly as a tower collapsed behind them.
It's one thing when you see stuff like that in a movie. I'm one of those people who have trouble buying into special effects
but
this was real
and it happened in our country
when I was alive, not a thousand years ago.
I felt really deflated for a while.

iwilln e v e r f o r g e t

Then I came home after cross-country and went online, and GUESS WHAT.
A Fine Frenzy has a new album, Bomb in a Birdcage. Now, I have never been one to freak out over some new album but adnjfnjdahgufgbfbfudaifd;uhfg this is amaaaazing, I didn't even know she was going to have another album.
Unfortunately this one isn't half as good as her first, One Cell in the Sea. Not a quarter as good as her first. In fact, I don't think I'll even buy the entire album. The style of music has turned around, and even her familiar voice sounds different in most of the songs. "Elements" though... that's a good song.
It's hard to love it as much as the first, but I will carefully cultivate myself and allow it to grow onto me until there is a place in my heart for it, right next to One Cell in the Sea.
In other news, I wrote four poems last night, after a long era of not writing any at all. One of them was about missing people, because lately I've been thinking about all the people I'll never see again. the little old lady-the lonely girl-the cute lovable one-the inspiring artist-my first follower-the off beat kentuckian~~ Some people have it a lot worse, though. They move somewhere new, and then every single person in their lives, aside from family, are just cut right out. I guess when so many people are lost like that, you only remember the ones who were close to you, and the thespians just sort of drift to the fuzzy edge of your memory.
Most of those people I knew for a long, long time. Two of them I knew for less than three weeks. But I don't want to forget any of them evereverever.
Ever.

Sorry this post was a big string of mood swings. Parts of it was written other days, and I just patched it all into one post here.

...for only $4.99/month!

2009-09-06T19:07:00.000-07:00

I just bought some more music on iTunes. I also went to the mall today and bought two shirts. After the mall, my mom and I went to the downtown Tapestry and Talent and I bought a bag of cashews at a convenience store on the way.
So I'm just on a spendin' spree today. Whoo!
Thanks to cross-country, I now know how to get to a dog park on foot. And NO WE DON'T RUN IN CIRCLES AROUND A DOG PARK. There's a trail thing behind it that we run on. But anyway, that's where I'm going for tomorrow's morning run. I'm gonna bring the dog and have him socialize for a while, then run home. Yay. I don't run with my dog often because the thing is kind of a hassle, but we'll make an exception tomorrow WON'T WE POOKYBUTT??? (He just walked in. He must have known I was talking about him.)
I was taking pictures today with my old camera, the one with the lens that doesn't close all the way and the weird internal disfunction that makes it slightly blur some shots, and realized that the camera was junk. But it's not like I really need a new one, I'm not really so much in the habit of taking pictures.
My phone is on the fritz, too: it refuses to send a text, so I try to send it a billion times and it keeps not working. Then it sends all one billion of the texts and I'm like agahfbdsafdjkfvj
but that's okay, I still love it, we're best friends for life.
Uhhhm not much else to say. School's fine, cross-country's aweshum, life is good. I just remembered that we have cranberry juice, so I'm gonna go drink some now.
~~J

Two Weeks

2009-08-29T21:33:00.000-07:00

Of school have passed. And I'm functional!
Anyway, I was about to blog, but then I got caught up in this website, called One Million Giraffes. It's so cool, and such a good idea! A bored Norwegian set a goal to collect one million giraffes by 2011. People can sculpt, draw, paint or whatever a giraffe, then upload it and send it in. I'm going to make one after I publish this post.
Other stuff: I watched every single Harry Potter movie that we own last night. I was up until three o'clock in the morning, but still managed to wake up four hours later to go for a run before it got too hot. AND TODAY WAS HOT, LIKE SERIOUSLY BOIL-THE-SALIVA-TIL-YOUR-TONGUE-BURNS HOT. I had to mow the lawn and trim the shrubby things over the fence. Not a good day for yard work, but c'est la vie.
Thursday is my birthday! I was going to say yay, but then I remembered I had to get a back brace that day.
I don't know what I'm still doing up. I'm really tired, and I should finish the last of my homework instead of browsing giraffe pictures and blogging. I should do my laundry that I never got around to. I should drink an Airborne because my dad is sick and I'll likely catch it.
I should go.

This is my life.

2009-08-26T19:54:00.000-07:00

WELL it has been a realllllly long time since I last posted.
My days are busy. I get back from cross-country past five, and then the rest of the evening is occupied with the consumption of dinner and homework. No time to blog, phoo.
Bad news. We have to swim in P.E. It's cold and chloriney and then you're all wet and your hair sticks to your face and you smell like chlorine for the rest of the day. But that's not the worst of the bad news.
I have scoliosis for real, and I have an appointment on September third for them to run tests and get me fitted for a back brace if I need one. The doctor said she was pretty much absolutely sure that I would need one, but they were going to do the tests anyway just to make me SUFFERRRRR.
And guess what September third is. September third is my birthday.
Leave it to my mother to forget my birthday and schedule an appointment for a scoliosis specialist to poke and prod at my spine on the one day that should be fun, or at least pleasant. Maybe she'll schedule an appointment for me to get braces on Christmas.
I sound so whiny. I'm not really so upset about it. My birthday's on a Thursday anyway, so it's not as if it would be much different from a regular day. Aside from a scattering of "happy birthday"s from friends.
I bought music on iTunes for the first time in my life this afternoon. Click for a bigger picture:

It was seven dollars and ninety-nine cents for that, money that could have been spent on a real object that I could hold in my hands and use. It's a strange thing, buying music. Money was just cast off into the world somehow, and what you've bought is just a few more lines on your iTunes library. But then you click the lines, music starts playing, and it's all worth it. This music was definitely worth it. I think I mentioned her before, but in case I haven't, GO LOOK UP HER SONGS AND LISTEN LISTEN LISTEN LOVE OBSSESS.
Cross-country today. Was so hard. Five miles, and it was all up-hilly. BUT I only had about a half-hour of homework, and I could hop online to blog, so that's okay. I decided I'm going to take my dog up that trail again this Saturday since I have nada planned. Sunday brings a birthday party, yay. But it's only halfway through the week. Can't be looking forward to the weekend yet.
So.
How's your life?

It's the first day of school.

2009-08-17T07:21:00.000-07:00

Urgh. You know what that means, though? That means this blog has been here for almost a year. I guess I'll have some sort of blog-party when we hit the anniversary.
Yesterday, I tried to stay active all day so that I would be tired at night and fall asleep right away and get the maximum amount of sleep-minutes possible so I wouldn't be late on THE FIRST DAY OF HIGH SCHOOL. I went for a run in the morning, then bike-rode most of the day, walked my dog in the afternoon, played basketball with my sister, looked for my classes at the high school, and ellipticalled while watching Chopped until it was dinnertime.
Yeah, I was tired. And I ate two Canada mints. Oops.
Cross-country starts today after school. I don't know how much we're going to have to run. Hopefully not too much because I'm really tired right now.
Probably just sleepiness. Waking up a six/six-thirty has yet to become part of my morning routine. My alarm woke me up at six, and I managed to roll out of bed and crawl into the bathroom half an hour later, but now I'm all sleepy, have extra time on my hands, and wish I'd gotten more rest while I could.
I still haven't picked out my first-day-of-school outfit, which I should probably do now, seeing as I'm in my pajamas and have to leave in ten minutes.
Gotta go.
----
First day of school: I was a clueless freshman among clueless freshmen. My cousins and sister, who had walked with me to school, dissipated immediately into the crowd, locating friends within seconds of arriving.
I was jostled and bumped through a hallway leading to the quad, where I sprang down into the grassy oasis at once. The concentration of students was lesser here, and I caught my breath as I pulled out my schedule. From the central point of the school I could see just how intimidatingly crowded it was here. Students bustled past each other in groups, hundreds of bodies in constant motion. It was a relief to locate some friends so we could dive back into the crowd together and make our way to our first class.
My teachers seem pretty nice, mostly. And I have friends in all my classes.
Lunch was crazy. My friends and I walked around in hopeless circles looking for a place to eat that wasn't already occupied by a scary clot of seniors or a huddled circle of freshmen. When we finally sat down on a brick wall-thing, we were informed that it was the "senior wall" and that we as freshmen were not safe in their territory.
Whatever. We stayed there. Nobody stabbed us or shoved our heads in toilets, so it was okay.
In sixth period I sit behind a guy who went to Juvenile Hall for five days for getting high at school and attended San Jose Community last year.
I feel scared.
Cross-country after school was pretty horrible. It was hot and muggy, the conditions that are the opposite end of the spectrum of perfect for running.
The good thing about the first day of school is that there's no homework, so I have time to blog and shower before dinner.
It was a pretty good start to a school year. We'll just see how all this goes.

Screenies

2009-08-15T20:00:00.000-07:00

I figured out how to do them. This revelation will change the legacy of this blog forever.
FUN GAME!!!! <--Click for a good time. My desktop :)
For the record, I absolutely cannot stand the taste of Soyjoy. The smell nauseates me. But I collect the wrappers because they are just so cool!
Okay, this is just a dumb little post. I didn't really feel like blogging, just wanted to share my discovery.

Canada mints!

2009-08-15T08:38:00.000-07:00

Cross-country tryouts were yesterday. Warmup-stretches-sprints-laps-more sprints-done. The coach guy (never told us his name) told us to turn in our sports forms and run over the weekend. Today I got up entirely too early (seven o'clock on the dot: compare to my usual ten or eleven wake-up time) and ran for a half hour to get it over with before the clouds parted and the sun could boil my bones. Cross-country goes from three to five. That doesn't leave very much time for homework before eight o'clock beddy-bye time. Maybe I'll have to start going to bed at the ungodly hour of nine!
School starts the day after tomorrow. I should probably have already gotten myself into a school-night sleeping regimen. Oh well. I'll work on that tonight.
Yesterday I walked to the Long's Drugs near my house (now CVS) and got a few luxury purchases: White-Out and Canada mints. Canada mints are like giant Altoids, but not as minty and less expensive. I've only had them once before, loved them, but then couldn't ever find them again. So, I was thrilled to see the 99 cent package for sale. I ate one on the way home and vowed to only eat one every other day. I haven't eaten one today... so far, so good. :D The whole drugstore has been restocked and re-shelved with the aisles all in different arrangements and new signs. It's weird. But cool.
Okay, I left for a while to go for a walk with my dad. Now I'm back, with no more to say.
kthatsitseeya

I ALMOST DIED!!

2009-08-13T22:22:00.000-07:00

(just kidding.)

WOW I blogged yesterday and I forgot to even mention that we went to the dog beach the other day. My dog, Jack, whimpered the whole way there because the only time he rides in the car is when we’re putting him in the kennel. I kept telling him that no, we weren’t going to the kennel and that we were going to the beach, and I explained in great detail the joys of splashing around in the ocean and how much sand there was for him to run across, and how there would be other dogs to play with and to please just shut up and I’ll give you a MilkBone.
Not really. I am not so cruel. The poor mutt can’t help it if he doesn’t understand English.
The whimpers stopped abruptly once we got out of the car, though. He was like “HEY WHAT WE’RE GOING FOR A WALK? WELL WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST SAY SO?” It was a short walk to get to the dog beach: about twenty minutes. We were about to set up camp near a big bouldery thing. Then we noticed the dead seal rotting away under the boulder.
Yeah. We decided to move elsewhere. The beach was really un-crowded: I guess people don’t want to look after their dogs while they play volleyball/swim/wade/dig/lounge about. The spacious stretch of sand invited us to let Jack loose and hurl a tennis ball as far as we could and follow close on Jack’s heels running after it. That got tiring after less than a half hour. We engaged in a not-as-draining game of volleyball, then meandered down to the ocean.
At first we just let the water splash up around our ankles, laughing at Jack chasing the tide with the few other dogs that were on the beach. Soon we’d wandered deep enough into the water that our knees were almost submerged and the splash of the tides cast salty droplets onto our shorts. I ran back up to our little camp thing and took off my soaked shorts and slightly wet T-shirt. Ta-dah, I had my bathing suit on underneath, and I dashed back down to the water. I wasted no time, not slowing my pace until I was waist-deep. The waves pushed me backwards, I pushed forward. Soon I was bobbing a little, mostly underwater except my head and shoulders. Seaweed danced between my knees and clung to my legs, salty spray brushed my face. I was feeling very much at ease, even when a particularly large wave knocked me off balance for a brief second. Then a particularly larger wave started building up, and I tried to back up a little bit but couldn’t get very far being half underwater like that. It was a very weird feeling when the wave was right up in my face, curling over me. I wanted to freeze time, even for just a second, and enjoy the sensation of being embraced by ocean water.
Time didn’t freeze. The water crashed down a split second after I realized it was so close, and I got knocked down and spun in a frantic loop. There was the initial shock of being taken under so forcefully, and the panic of not being in control of my body, but I knew I was very close to shore, and the direction of the wave was only taking me closer. I was safe, so I decided to just let the wave exhaust itself. Surging forward, I felt sand beneath me and scrambled to stand up. Once my head was out of the water, a tangled mass of wet, sandy hair fell like a thick curtain across my vision. I didn’t have time to stabilize myself before the rushing water made me lose my balance again. I fell on my butt, found myself in about two feet of tidewater, and sat there. I started laughing a little bit because now that it was over, it seemed kind of fun and I found myself wanting it to happen again. Actually, I’m pretty sure a brain cell in the back of my mind was screaming as I tumbled through the water, “I can’t wait to blog about this!”
The only thing was that now my head was wet and sandy. I brushed a couple stray pieces of seaweed off my arms and legs as I assured my dad that yes, I was okay, no, nothing got scraped, and did he happen to have a brush on him?
I got cleaned up (i.e. brushed my hair) with the help of my sister. After about fifteen minutes of yanking at my soggy mass of hair, it flattened into its regular, straight self again. I rinsed it off in a shower thingie, then went splooshing into the ocean once again. This time I didn’t go more than waist deep, though. I’m not completely crazy.
On a more boring note, I got my X-rays today. Turns out the large irregular curving lump on my back means I have a pretty wacky spine. I looked at the X-rays and saw a skinny ghost thing that was apparently me, with a line that went straight up my back for a few inches, then veered off to the right and became straight again in time for it to reach my neck.
The guy checked my record stuff and said I didn’t have to worry... yet, and that I should gain weight and keep a healthy diet and put some aloe vera on that sunburn of mine. Did I mention the horrible sunburn I got at the beach? Four applications of sunscreen did nothing to protect me from a blazing California sun. Don’t be surprised if I show up at school completely red from head to toe, with the upper half of my body bending over to the right.

What would happen...

2009-08-13T10:21:00.000-07:00

...if you see your doctor shuffling through the halls sobbing while a nurse measures and weighs you, and are later told that she has had a family emergency and is not "emotionally stable" enough to give you your checkup? Guess what would happen.
You would have to sit in one of those uncomfortable paper gown thingies wondering what happened, then shift around on your butt waiting for them to find you a different doctor, then nod and smile and say it's okay when various nurses poke their heads in the door and say yes, they are still looking for a doctor, and get told to get dressed again and sent into the waiting room, and then called back awhile later and put into a room and given another one of those gowns as well as an unfamiliar doctor, and after an hour and so many minutes since first exiting the waiting room you receive your checkup.
They said I had an irregular curving lump on my back. By the time we got to the X-ray unit, they were closed. I have to go back there later today.
But before I got my checkup I went to the mall with mah sistur, and bought STUFF. Namely, a dress, a shirt, and a bottle of water. In the bus on the way there there was a guy who talked constantly to his pal the entire way, describing a story in rapid bursts of swear words. I plugged my iPod into my head and listened to the Mamma Mia theme song over and over and over and over and over until we got there.
I'm going back there today to see Julie and Julia, which looks like one of those movies that looks really good in the previews but ends up being terribly boring. Last night I saw the Boy in the Striped Pajamas, which was one of those movies that looks really good in the previews but ends up being just okay.
I don't really have anything else to say. Three days til school. Ack.

DUDE IT'S LIKE RED AND BLACK!!

2009-08-10T21:55:00.001-07:00

So. Footsteps has a new look, temporarily. I'm looking for one that incorporates footsteps into the design, and coming up with nothing. This one is cute and I'll keep it for now, but the only problem is that it covers up the poll and chatbox.
I stopped typing for a minute and heard crickets chirping in the backyard. It's nice to listen to, but reminds me that I should have gone to bed over two hours ago. I just want to do a quick post before going to sleep. (a.k.a. laying on my bed staring up at the ceiling, rolling over and staring at the wall, rolling and staring at the other wall, and so on.) It was pretty hot today. I worked in my mom's classroom, which is just about all I've been doing the last few days. But today I left early: about two o'clock. Since my grandma's house is on the way home from the elementary school, I popped in to say hi and steal a slice of her cantaloupe.
I love cantaloupe. And fruit from the market always tastes ten times better than the Safeway kind.
When I got home I was too hot to go for a bike ride, so I rode the stationary bike instead so I wouldn't feel fat and lazy. The big highlight of the day was filling up a kiddie pool and splashing around for about half an hour. I didn't think I'd do anything else for the rest of the day, so I just hopped in with what I was wearing: shorts and T-shirt. But then my mom came home and said we had to go to OfficeMax, Kohl's, and the dollar store. (I wish I got some form of payment for mentioning company names. It's like free advertising for them. Because sooooooo many gobs of people read this blog.) Anyway, then I had to dry off and change and throw my wet hair into a beret thing so nobody would see its wetness in about four minutes. We bought nine notebooks at OfficeMax for nine cents. I bought wall stickers that look like bamboo at the dollar store for one dollar. They're pretty awesome. I made it look like they were sprouting from my bed and had them shoot up next to my bulletin board.
Going to Kohl's reminded me that I'm running out of time to buy school clothes. I don't do that thing where every year, you purchase an entire new set of clothing, but I'm still wearing clothes that I bought in sixth grade. Some things have holes worn into them. I do not have any jeans that fit, no exceptions. So I kind of need to buy at least one pair of jeans and some shirts that don't have holes in them. I did buy a shirt the other day, which I am proud of. That's at least one. Since I don't own anything from Kohl's I didn't trust the store (yeah, paranoid) and plus, I only had five bucks with me.
Tomorrow I go work at my mom's again, then have a doctor's appointment. Afterwards I need to do my laundry and go to the drugstore to buy toothpaste.
I live a thrilling life.

Emmett

2009-08-09T17:50:00.000-07:00

It’s the last week of summer: usually a depressing time, but not this year. I think I’m just about ready to go back to school. Even though it is-- DUN-DUN-DUN --high school. I cleared various craft projects, sketches, and the like off my desk and replaced them with my school planner and some math workbooks to practice in at least once a day. I erased the random to-do’s and lists of movies to watch and books to read off my whiteboard and created a day-by-day planner and a countdown to the first day of school.
I’m not excited, really. I’m just trying to ease myself back into school-mode.
Today was a long, lazy day: I took my dog for a walk in the early morning, then walked to my grandma’s house to walk her dog and go to the local market. After lunch my mom and I biked to Cost Plus, then my cousin’s house to see their new kitty. His name is Emmett, and he’s adorable. He is brown and bronze-striped, like a tiger, kind of. His eyes are a warm golden-brown caramel color that invite you to melt into him. A very pretty cat. They got him at the shelter, and he had already reached the ripe old age of three when he was bought. (Unsure whether that was the correct word.) We entertained him with bits of yarn, then went outside to sway to and fro on their rope swing. They came over to our house, where we cut up magazines and taped pictures onto my bookshelf. Then they went and watched Heroes, and I came online to blog. I’ll have to start dinner soon. I’m going to try a new recipe: chicken and red potato taquitos.
Last night we met up with out family friend, Shelley. She’s fifty but looks abour thirty-two, and she plays the drums in a band called Throwing Roses and lives in an apartment with cashews always in the cupboard and a cat who will bite you if you come too close.
We walked on a trail in Campbell that passed through a park. There was a nice clean-cut all-American looking couple enjoying a picnic on the grass. Amongst the sandwiches and napkins, though, there was a bong. It was unpleasant to see there, because if it hadn’t been there I would have passed them off as a couple people sitting in the park , enjoying the warm afternoon air. But seeing the bong immediately transformed them into horrible dirty people with ugly habits and deteriorating health. Funny how that one object can change a person’s mind. Plus, why did they have it out there on display like that? Nobody wants to see the icky thing. Because then they get icky thoughts about you. And what could have been an innocent picnic is an icky, icky thing.
But you know, it wasn’t so big of a deal as I make it sound. We went to Aqui for dinner. My dad got something with mango salsa on it. I made mango salsa once, and it was delicious, but for some reason I never made it again. I made a mental note and this morning at the market I bought two mangos. I don’t know if taquitos really go with mango salsa, so I’m going to make the salsa tomorrow when we have sesame chicken. Yum yum.
After dinner we went home, and I watched a show about this girl who sews little microchips and speakers and things into clothes. There was one shirt where if you touched your wrists together, it would play recorded sounds. She made a hat that would flash lots of little LED lights when you pressed a button on the lid. It was cool. I would very much enjoy a shirt that made sounds.
Anyway, I have to go make dinner. Try not to choke on a tortoise shell in my absence.

Donner Lake

2009-08-09T08:50:00.001-07:00

Haven’t blogged in forever. Sorry. I haven’t been able to snatch a minute on the computer: whenever I have downtime either my sister or dad is using it. Plus, I always have little things to do, errands to run, and I think, “Okay, I’ll start the Donner Lake post just as soon as I finish this,” but then I have to go do something else and forget, which to leads to some other thing, and days pass without me ever starting the post. Plus, I have been spending just about all day in my mom’s classroom, helping her move around desks and shelves, stapling piles of papers, arranging lesson plans and filing various little bits of information. It sounds boring, but at least it gives me something to do.
ANYWAY. Donner Lake. My aunt/uncle/cousins are the kinda people that have enough money to rent out a cabin nestled in the foliage surrounding Donner Lake, so about a week ago, that is exactly what they did. My family and I drove up there to stay the last night. Several small boating docks jutted into the water, and we chose one nearby the cabin to dump towels, folding chairs, and coolers full of fresh fruit and cold drinks. We got there around lunchtime, and snarfed sandwiches on the dock. Small ripples textured the lake, sending gentle waves of water lapping softly up against the shore. The lake was in constant slow-motion. After eating, I sat in my bathing suit with my feet swirling little patterns into the water, watching my cousins and sister sitting in their bathing suits swirling little patterns in the water, wondering when one of them was going to go ahead and jump on in, because the water felt cold between my toes and the rest of my body was starting to sizzle a little bit from the sun but I didn’t want to be the only one swimming while they sat there un-swimming, watching me. They said they didn’t feel like swimming. I didn’t believe a word of it. Here they were with a giant stretch of fresh cold water on a blazing hot late-summer afternoon, in their bathing suits and ready to swim, and they tell me they’re just not “in the mood.” I swallowed my scoffs of disbelief and jumped in. After stroking and paddling and splashing and kicking for an hour or so, I hoisted myself up onto the deck. The cuzzies and sis were in the cabin. My dad was on the deck. So was an inflatable canoe my uncle had brought, without my knowledge. We canoed.
We canoed across the lake, then over to some private beaches that you were supposed to pay for, which was pretty dumb, then looped back around and to the dock. At that point I was tired, so I changed into a fresh set of dry clothes, drank a glass or orange juice, and sat on the dock with a book. I didn’t get too much time to read, though, because it was just about time for early dinner. Spaghetti. Yum. After dinner my mom and I walked around the lake. It was a longer walk than we had expected, so it was pretty dark by the time we returned. I was too tired to shower but did anyway, then clambered up the ladder into the small loft I was sharing with my sister. I fell asleep quickly, but was awoken by
THUNDER!!!!!!!
AND LIGHTNING!!!!!!!!!
Which scared me so bad that I lost my breath a little bit as I half-climbed, half-tripped back down the ladder. I don’t usually get scared of lightning or thunder, but the thunder especially was hardcore. It was so freakin’ loud that the cabin literally did shake a little (though it might have been in my head) and every time lightning flashed, it would stream through the big bay window in the front room and spill a shock of blinding light into the cabin that made you blink to get rid of the spots it left hovering in your vision. Everybody else was awake in a flash. (Ha-ha. Flash, lightning, get it.) I wanted to close the curtains, and so did both of my cousins, but everybody else wanted to watch the lightning. They wanted to watch it. I wanted to run away and bury myself underneath seventy miles of blankets and hide in an underground burrow twenty kilometers deep in a room with a quadruple-locked door. But the lightning wasn’t even half as bad as the thunder. I can’t even begin to describe the horrible, eardrum-crushing cracking noise it made. It felt like a mild earthquake and sounded like a thousand redwood giants crashing to the ground at once. I made one daring trip back up to the loft (Which I’m pretty proud of, considering how much courage I had to muster up in order to make the six-foot climb) to retrieve my pillow and blanket, then got two more blankets from a linen closet and nestled deep into the coach, wrapping my gatherings around me tight, pressing a pillow over my eyes. Beside me, my cousins did the same. Rain beat against the roof, a sound I usually love to lay in bed listening to, but the thunder interrupted every couple of seconds and made my bones rattle.
Eventually, all that commotion must have stopped because I fell asleep there, swaddled up in blankets. I was awake before anybody else. My first emotion upon awakening was relief that the storm was over. I decided to make a fancy hot breakfast, and eventually people started waking up at the smell of hash browns and scrambled eggs. We had to leave that morning. It was sad to drive away from the lake so soon, but I’d had a good time the day I was there to enjoy it.
Except for, you know, the thunderstorm.

Old post, sorry... I lost my USB stick.

2009-08-04T16:38:00.000-07:00

Well, there have been TWO big events in the time I have been gone. One: the aquarium for my dad’s birthday, and two: two days at Donner Lake.
I haven’t been to the aquarium for years: I was taken once as a little kid and once in fifth or sixth grade. They had a new exhibit up: the Secret Life of Seahorses. Their life isn’t actually so secret anymore, since the aquarium explained in detail with pictures and videos every aspect of their supposedly secret lives. Some of the seahorses had these crazy extra limbs with leaf-resembling thingies on them so looked like plants, and they were displayed in glass boxes filled with plants, so you would have to stand there searching for about an hour and a half looking for a telltale shifting eye or coiling tail before moving on to the next display. I was able to find two seahorses in the tank. My sister and dad could each find six. I felt inferior.
There was this one gigantic tank that was two stories tall and full of sharks, fish, and manta rays. I admired the sharks’ piscine grace, and wondered why they weren’t eating the other fish. My answer came lumbering into view a few seconds later: a big fat giant whopping beast of a fish swam by. That thing could have eaten me in two bites: it was nearly the size of one of those Volkswagon Bug cars.
Not really. Maybe half the size. But for a fish, that’s still huge!! He probably told the sharks to back off and leave his fellow fish alone, and the poor helpless sharkies were too afraid to disobey. That fish was boss.
I imagined the monster slamming its immense mass against the side of the tank, sending the glass shattering and the water rushing out to flood the aquarium. Local visitors and camera-toting tourists would run screaming from the tumultuous flow of fish-water, and Mr. Giganto-Fish would snap up small children in its big strong jaws. I tugged my dad’s sleeve and suggested we go look at the otters.
...which were adorable! They reminded me of young children on the playground, (the lucky ones that weren’t swallowed by that fish) hopping in and out of the water, climbing over random scatterings of driftwood and popping through hollow logs. We probably spent more time at the otter exhibit than in any other part of the museum, joining the rest of the crowd in a chorus of coos and laughs over the otters’ playful antics. Time for an otter joke to wrap up this paragraph: What otter can cast spells? Harry Otter!! Share that one with your friends, folks. You’ll be the coolest kid at school if you get people to believe you made that knee-slapper up.
The octopus was unimpressive. He sat with all his tentacles smushed up against the corner of the glass so you couldn’t see his head, just a mass of squishy white octopus-goo. Meh. The penguins were awesome, even if they just sat there, not doing much. C’mon. They’re penguins. Gotta love ‘em.
The bestest part ever was the jellyfish. They glowed in alienish colors, half-transparent as they pulsed gently in the water. Their caps bore no evidence of a mouth or eyes. Those long tendrils looked like strands of silk, but one touch and BZZT! you die. I stood staring at a tank of jellies for a long, long time until I began to feel sleepy. When I grow up, I’ll make a movie that is just masses of jellyfish pulsing, and win an Oscar. America will be mesmerized by the jellies’ delicate tendrils, glowing colors, slightly eerie but fascinating aura.
We went to Fisherman’s Wharf for dinner. I eated me a salad, then we went home and consumed very caloric chocolate cake. I fell asleep after a slice of it, my senses fuzzy through the sugar-induced haze.
I’ll have to tell you about Donner Lake later. I have to go to a bowling party that starts in like three minutes...

Stuff

2009-07-29T23:07:00.000-07:00

Same old, same old.
Chores. Bike rides. Swimming. The three components that have made up my entire summer in the United States.
Not much to talk about, except for the fact that I’m going to the AQUARIUM tomorrow! It’s my dad’s birthday, and we’re both geeks, so the Monterey Bay Aquarium is a thrilling place to spend his birthday. I bought a plush jellyfish from a garage sale for 25 cents last summer and named him Rondando, and I’m going to bring him tomorrow to see all his jellyfish pals.
My cat is a freak. There was a bug flitting across the roof of my room just now, and my cat was on top of my bookcase trying to swat it with his paws. I climbed up on there too and held him up so he could reach it, but it flew away, across the room. I jumped onto my bed with the cat still in my arms and lifted him to where the bug had come to rest, but it got away once again. I leapt to the other side of my bed, but the dumb cat couldn’t even see the bug until it took off, even though I was holding him three inches away from it, so I ended up having to clamber up on my desk and hold the cat up so he could swat the troublesome insect. The cat stared at the bug for seventy-six hours, eyes gleaming. I kept waiting for him to lash out a paw and kill the thing for good, but he just kept staring and staring. Then he slumped back against me and started purring loudly. I sighed, plunked the useless feline on my bed, and killed the bug once and for all with a flick of the flyswatter. Then I sank down onto the bed and hugged the wonderful little kitty and nuzzie-nuzzled him for a while before returning back here to type this. I love my cat.
Another day, he committed another great act of stupidity. I have a nylon rope with stuffed animals hanging from it across my room. One of the animals touches a hanging lantern light, and one end of the rope is tied to a hook near a set of shelves with more stuffed animals and a few bottles of lotion and notebooks and things. My cat was sitting on my bookcase, because the limits of his world are pretty much my bed and my bookcase, when suddenly he spotted a bug. (I don’t even know where all these bugs came from.) I guess he was feeling a little more ambitious that days, because the bug was hovering near my lantern in the center of the room, and he decided to go for it anyway. He sprang from my bookcase and expected his momentum to take him all the way to where the bug was, I guess, because he seemed pretty surprised when he dropped and hit the rope of stuffed toys, upsetting the lantern and pulling one end of the rope free, which sent the rope flinging towards the shelves and knocking various items on the floor. Have you ever heard that cats always land on their feet? The kitty landed upright, daintily hopped up onto my bed, and purred. I love my cat.
Actually, I had another huge swerve off the highway of routine today: instead of riding my bike to Pier 1 Imports like I had planned, I rollerskated around the neighborhood. I felt like I was in the 60’s. I used to live on skates from when I was about 8 years old to about 10. Whenever I went outside to mess around in the yard, I would put skates on instead of shoes. I had this thing for hitting wiffle balls against the side of the house with a tennis racket, and I would do that on skates. It must have looked weird to random passerby. Most of the time I would speed-skate in rapid circles around the court. Sometimes I would cradle my kitty in my arms and skate around with him. Neighbors would give me gooey smiles if they say me. In fourth and fifth grades, I would rollerskate to school and back, dropping my skates off in my mom’s classroom. My sister and I would have water-balloon fights on skates. When the family took Wholesome Family Strolls around the neighborhood, I was always on skates. I don’t remember why I stopped. The only thing is that people kinda stare at you when you whiz by: a kid on skates is not as common as a kid on a bike. Plus you can’t get as far: I’ve taken my bike to places far from home. On skates, that would take a while. It was a nice change from pedaling, though, plus it brought back some childhood nostalgia or whatever. Even though I’m still a child anyway. You know what I mean.

Short Little Quickie :)

2009-07-23T16:09:00.001-07:00

Wait, there's another Harry Potter movie after this one? I didn't know that! I thought the one I saw the other day was the grand finale, but apparently there's a whole nother book, and therefore a whole nother movie. Does that mean the characters end up being like 18? Remember when Harry was an eleven-year-old, and eleven-year-olds read the books? Now it's all out of whack because Harry and company got old, and their fans stayed young. At least this means the sucky ending of the last movie wasn't the end to the whole big shebang.
In other news, I found a website whilst reading other people's blogs. One blog linked me to this awesome website called MyLifeIsAverage, kind of an equivalent to FML, which I enjoy but also feel a bit uncomfortable reading because of the F part. Click here for laughs.
So, this is why I don't blog as often anymore: there's nothing to talk about. I go for bike rides, go swimming, and do chores. There is really not much to be said about those things. My mom declared yesterday that summer was over, and we had to start getting back into school year gear. (I used the word "gear" instead of "mode" so it would ryhme. MLIA.) That means we can't go to the beach or do any day trips or anything anymore. Which sucks, because I only got to go to the beach once this whole summer. Oh well. Next year, then. We went shopping for school supplies, then decided I could just use whatever was left over from last year. We're drawing close to that depressing last-few-days-of-summer part of the year.
I guess I just keep bike riding and swimming and chores-ing until it's time to enter that intimidating place known as HIGH SCHOOL.

*dun dun dun*

Three Days in the Life of a Person

2009-07-22T22:47:00.000-07:00

I realized something the other day: summer is more than half over. There is less than a month left. With that in mind, I set about collaging a variety of items onto my pencilcase and notebook. (My version of getting ready for the school year.) They came out really cool, and since I already had the craft box out... (a.k.a plastic bin containing candy wrappers, clay, ticket stubs, plastic eyeballs, beads, glitter, fabric scraps, cotton swabs, sequins, markers, ribbon, and also a glue stick) ...I made some erasers from fancy eraser clay shaped like a donut, ice cream cone, pizza slice, mushroom/muffin, and bowl of spaghetti. So now I’m all set. :D (Lots of lists in this post so far. Also a multitude of parentheses.)
Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t really mind going back to school. But I do mind going to HiGH sCHOoL. There’s going to be seventeen-year-olds there! Seniors! People with jobs who get high in the bathrooms and leave trails of cigarette smoke behind them, and talk so dirty that you start itching for a bar of soap to jam in their mouths, and make out in the corners between classes and are so big and tall that dinky freshmen avoid crossing their pathes at all costs so they don’t get dumped in a trash can or have their heads shoved into a toilet bowl. UMYESI’MALITTLESCARED. I’m only thirteen, and untangling middle school took me a little bit more than the three years I was given. High school intimidates me.
On a lighter note, we went to Gilroy the day before yesterday. I got a box fan for my room, because it gets so hot up here that you could fry a rat on the ceiling. I’m not really in my room much during the day, but it’s hard to sleep when you feel like you’re submerged in a pot of boiling water. I’ve been staying up til two or three the past few weeks, mostly reading or drawing or making little erasers/collaging notebooks and pencilcases. Cough. See first paragraph. Sometimes I go downstairs to use the elliptical machine and watch late-night Food Channel on very low volumes. Sometimes my dad is still up, and we play backgammon for about an hour, then we both get tired and go to bed. Actually, that’s only happened twice. He’s usually tending to some Very Important Matters via computer or paperwork.
The day before that, I went to the mall with Sarah and we saw the new Harry Potter movie. We got to see all the characters get drunk. Yay. Also, Dumbledore dies. Darn. The thing that was missing from the movie was the classic dramatic run-in with Voldemort (oh snap I said it) at the end. All the other movies have had that scene where Harry and the Dark Lord battle it out. Every. Other. One. This one ends pretty badly, too: Snape kills Dumbles, the bad guys run away to go tend to some other evil doings, and Harry vows to go destroy them and Voldemort. You’d think there would be more closure, or at least the promise of another movie afterwards, but nope. The credits roll, and that, Potter fans, is that. My friend’s birthday is coming up, so I got her present while I was there. A shirt with a dinosaur on it, purple nail polish, and two erasers: one shaped like a slice of cake and the other a set: three bowling pins and a ball. It’s a bowling party. Pins and ball equals bowling, cake equals party. I hope she gets the gimmick, or else I wasted three bucks on nothing.
Today, my mom visited a friend who lives in Willow Glen. She let me walk into the nearby town to browse antique shops and relax in the bookstore. I thought about buying a book, but decided to just go to the library when I got home. Which I did. Then I walked to Jamba Juice, then to Starbucks, then back to Jamba Juice in a fit of indecision. Deciding to get Jamba Juice was based on the fact that it's healthier, but I ruined it by ordering a parmesan pretzel with my drink. Not so healthy. :\ There were a couple of kitchen stores, too, and after a little walking around I went back to my mom's friend's house and played Monopoly with her kid. He had trouble grasping the concept of bank loans, and also rent. Explaining how to handle finances to a five year old is beyond my abilities. I just sort of let him do his own thing, and he ended up winning. Shucks.
The rest of the afternoon I filled with chores. Walked the dog, washed the windows, scrubbed down the bathroom, vaccummed the carpets, did my laundry. Thrills. I biked to the library to get some books, then to the grocery store for my mom. After dinner, the family went over to -name of my middle school- to play tennis. The past week or two, we've all been engaging in Fun Family Active Sports after dinner: tennis, basketball, or this softball game called Three Flies Up. Ain't we a good family. It's weird to be there now: it's like, this is not my school anymore. I am not part of this place. I should probably walk over to -name of high school I'll be attending- tomorrow and familiarize myself with the campus.
Love from your lazy blogger. Sorry I’m not posting more often.

100th Post

2009-07-18T21:42:00.000-07:00

Okay, this is it. The hundredth post. And I know what you’re thinking: this one better be good. Well, it might be, because I’m about to leave for a county fair. That’s the thing where they show off giant pumpkins, have pie-eating contests, and weigh pigs to see which one is the fattest. Because everybody loves an obese pig. I’ve never been to one of these before, because frankly, I didn’t know they still existed. I’m thrilled to be attending one, because “county fair” seems like a wholesome place to be. (Like the library.) If it’s anything like the one they showed in the cartoon version of “Charlotte’s Web,” I’m gonna pee myself with excitement and overstimulation. Alternatively, it could be a handful of beaten-up rides and games, a crate containing a goat, and a hot dog stand. But we’ll see how it goes.
There were no giant pumpkins. I didn’t see anybody cramming pie down their throats. And while I did see ONE pig and piglet, they were not being weighed. BUT there was a horserace (yee-haw) and I guessed which horse would win and got it right. So if you need somebody to pick yer lottery numbers for ya, just gimme a ring-a-ling. I don’t know why I’m talking like a tobacco-spittin’, spur-jinglin’ cowgirl. Nobody there talked like that. For some reason, I thought they would all have Southern accents and wear flannel shirts, but what I got was a handful of sullen teenagers slumped behind cotton-candy and funnel cake stands, and sweaty middle-aged men working the overpriced rides. It was a little like a watered-down amusement park, for the most part. The standard rate for rides was five dollars per person per ride. Three dollars to try and shoot a basket and win a big stuffed monkey. But there was a whole big thingie of farm animals. It smelled just lovely. Really. Cow poop and goat breath are both such lovely aromas. But with pinched noses, we bravely marched into the pens and petted the smelly things. They were adorable. There was also a whole room of cages of rabbits. Of all the words in the English language, I think the one being used the most in that room at that time was “cute.” Everybody moved from cage to cage, cooing and making comments like, “Oh, my little bunny-boo, you are so cute,” “That one is adorable!” “Oh can we keep this one Daddy? Oh pleasepleaseplease?” “Oh my god you cutesy little thing! I just want to smother you with snuggles and kisses, my love!” And believe me, I chimed right in. These rabbits were for sale, and my sister went nuts. “DADCANWEGETONE?!” Of course I wanted one of those little twitchy-nosed lovebundles. But with our house already overtaken by a big slobbery dog and a rapidly shedding cat, a bunny was out of the question.
That fair was expensive. I already noted how much the games and rides cost (so we had to skip them, D:) but we cheated our way into getting a lower cost. It costs ten dollars for an adult, ages 13 and up, to enter the fair. It costs 6 dollars for a child, 12 and under. My dad asked me how old I was. “I’m twelve, right, Dad?” I replied. He was like, “Twelve? Okay,” not picking up on the sarcasm. Then he strode up to the counter before I could tell him otherwise.
Dad: “Two adults and one child.”
Me: “Wait...”
Cashier: “Okay, that’s going to be $26 dollars.”
Me: “Hey Dad, you know I’m not...”
Dad: -forks out two twenties- “Here’s forty, can I get a couple singles with change?”
Me: “Dad...”
Cashier: “Fourteen dollars change... is four singles enough?”
Dad: “Sure.” -walks away-
Dad: “Now, what was that you were going to say?”
Me: “Never mind.”
Yeah. So we basically cheated the ticket guy out of four bucks. But I think the county fair gods deserve it for not having giant pumpkins or pig-weighing contests. The fair was fun, though. The highlight of the day was when a big guy slurping an Icee was looking at T-shirts with Twilight people on them in the gift shop, and asked his daughter, “Hey, is that the Jonas Brothers?” Another strong point was when a dad holding his son said to the son, “You’re such a stupid kid,” and the son went, “Shut UP, Daddy!”
Afterwards, we had a late lunch in Pleasanton at the High Tech Burrito. I ordered a burrito just to see how high tech it really was. Another disappointment. It was just rice, grilled chicken, salsa, and cheese all wrapped up in a tortilla. No microchips. No SMS N75 calibration units. But it was a good burrito.
On the way home, we stopped at a dollar store. After a year of strict no-spending, it’s tough to ease myself back into my old lifestyle of an occasional purchase. I bought a pair of jeans when I was at the mall with a friend, but returned them awhile later after deciding I didn’t really need them. And at the dollar store, I saw at item that I was absolutely enamored to. I couldn’t pass up this product, no matter how much it cost. And hey, it was only a dollar anyway. My first purchase after a year of spending nothing was A WATER GUN SHAPED LIKE SPIDERMAN’S HEAD. Oh yes yes. I had to have it.
We came home and I went swimming. After dinner, my sister and I took the dog for a run. It started to get all scary and dark, so after a half hour we scrambled for home. Now I’m sitting here with the chlorine and sweat still clinging to me, typing a blog entry that probably won’t get posted till tomorrow, rushing through it because I really need a shower right now.

Every time

2009-07-14T18:27:00.000-07:00

It used to be like, every time something happened, my first thought would be, "I so have to blog about this when I get home." If I ever had some sort of weird thought/idea, I would make a mental note to record it on this blog. My life, my mind, and my blog were bound to each other and functioned as one.
Now, I'm letting my summer roll by without being documented here. It feels weird, as if I'm going to have to catch up on everything at some unspecified later date. Allowing myself to live my life without blogging about it feels crazy and wrong. I think I had become obsessed.
I have not made ANY progress on the Europe journal thingie, thank you very much. Sitting here at the computer copying from handwritten pages onto the "New Post" screen is not the way I want to spend the precious hours of my summer.What I've been up to:

Reading. I bike to the library at least once a week to check out a stack of books and return the ones I had checked out previously. I like the atmosphere there. Everybody is quiet, for the most part, and it's air-conditioned. It feels wholesome or something to be spending time at the library. Instead of, say, the mall.
Bike rides, all the time, every day, every trail, every neighborhood. I started with familiar trails and neighborhoods, then started fanning out further in all directions from my house, discovering new places to pedal. I like to alternate between coasting along and rocketing down the trail. Going faster is my preference, though. I feel like a beastly demon of speed. Oh yeah.
Chores. Not much to be said about this one.
Grocery shopping. It's kind of Zen, or something. I can't wait until I'm out of college and living in a little apartment somewhere, planning my meals and cooking for myself. I want to scan the rows of canned soups and pick out whichever ones I feel like eating, compare prices on bags of shredded cheese, make selections of packages of veggies and boxed dinners in the frozen foods aisles, squish and sniff and inspect the fruits and vegetables in the produce section to test for ripeness and freshness. In the meantime, though, I shop off a set list that my mom has sent me along with. It's still very stimulating, though, at least to an easily amused being like me.
Practicing softball with my sister. She's on a superstar summer traveling team, so I pitch balls to her, field the balls she hits, and throw the ball back and forth to build up her Arm Muscles of Solid Steel. And to work on my Arm Muscles of Ligaments and Tendons.

Anyway. I'm having a nice summer. I stay active during the daytime (*cough* bike rides) and relax with a book in the evenings. I devour books from after dinnertime (7:00 or so) till about one or two in the morning. I always switch into nocturnal mode during the summer, except instead of sleeping during the day and staying awake at night, I stay awake all day and night. Not all night. You know what I mean.

Europe, Part 1

2009-07-12T22:35:00.001-07:00

I counted the months, the weeks, the days. Countdowns were started on every calendar in my possession. I wrote the counts on the corners of my planner in neat red ink, and in big swirly writing on the whiteboard in my room. It still has the “1 day left!” written in bright green ink across the top. I remember how satisfying it was to mark down a “1” after having started at over a hundred and patiently writing the painfully large triple- and double-digits. I etched the numbers in the margins of papers, memorizing the number of days and weeks left. There were new numbers each day, printed in unused corners and vacancies in homework sheets, glancing out from behind notebook pages. The digits repeated themselves everywhere: I wrote the numbers down again and again to reassure myself that a good thing was coming, something worth waiting for.
The good thing came, and it was absolutely worth waiting for. The Europe trip rocked me to the moon and back. I loved visiting a place with something to see everywhere you turned, history and artwork lacing the cities. Knowing that there was sure to be adventure ahead with every step I took was so, so diatonically different from the long, dull days at home that I associate with summertime. I kept a journal of the whole thing, which I’m going to type out here. Enjoy a nice long post after seventeen days of nothing. (It’s so weird to refer to the last seventeen days of my life as “nothing.” Those days were the furthest from “nothing” that I have ever been in my entire life.) (Oh and uhhh the first one is in Spanish. Use WordReference.com or something if you want, or just skip that entry.)

June 17, 2:54 P.M. (US Time) Estoy en el aeropuerto. Estoy esperando la hora tres y media. Eso es cuando el avion va a Europe. Vamos a ir a London primer. -upside down exclamation point- Tengo que montar el avion por diez horas o mas! Compre una merienda sana y rica, y tengo tres libros buenos para leer. No pienso que lo va a estar muy mal. Pero tal vez lo va a estar pequito aburrido.

June 17, 2:30 P.M. (US Time) I just got on the plane. Right on schedule. I’m sitting next to a nice lady and her mom. There is enough legroom, plus little headsets so you can listen to music. They provide a nice thick magazine to read, and also blankets and pillows and those weird eye cover thingies for when it’s time to sleep. And there are T.V. sets to watch movies on. The flight will be good. 10 hours? Pssh. I can make it. P.S. I have a window seat. That means I get a great view, but have to inch past two people if I need to pee.

June 17, 4:05 (US Time) Wait, how is it already 4:05? We just took off a while ago. My watch must be wrong, or maybe we hit a stitch in the timezones. The takeoff was cool. First we coasted along a concrete path for a solid ten minutes, watching other planes whiz by as they gained enough momentum to veer up, up, and away. I watched a few as they angled upward and lifted off the ground. They looked like little birds or something, not big clankety machines. I watched them soar upward, but then suddenly a cloud would wrap itself around a plane and swallow it in its fluffy white mass. Planes climbed into the sky, then--whoof--disappeared. It was exciting to feel our plane tip upward and wobble in the air. I couldn’t wait to get devoured by a cloud. Watching the earth drop away from underneath me was awesome, but also a little scary, but really interesting. We sliced right through a cloud on the way up. At first my view was shrouded by a puffy white blur, but then we pulled out over atop the cloud. IT WAS WEIRD. It looked like a meadow of marshmallow glop, or cotton, or snow. And clouds, I guess they’re a lot bigger than they appear. The cottony marshmallow snow stretched out forever in every direction. I guess that is what it feels like to be stranded in Antartica.

June 17, 10:30 P.M. A few hours ago, I looked out the window and saw a lovely sunset. An hour or so later, give or take an hour, it was beginning to darken, just slightly. I took a peek out the window just now, and the sun streamed into the dimly lit plane. I’m guessing we’ve crossed over to a different time zone, then. Sunrise doesn’t occur at 10:30 in the night.

June 18th, 10:45 A.M. (Paris time, I finally changed my watch.) Clouds are weird. Sometimes they’re all fluffy and yummy-looking, and sometimes they resemble big old hunkering clods of styrofoam skimming mountaintops. When you’re atop a cloud with early sunlight spilling across it, it’s like a miniature heaven. When you’re soaring through the interior of a cloud, it’s just a flurry of white. Sometimes clods are a semi-transparent sheet suspended above the earth. Sometimes a cloud is just a stray wisp of water vapor hovering in the air. Spend eleven hours on a plane, and you begin to appreciate clouds.

June 18, 1:00 (Paris time) This is so weird. I never slept on the plane, just sat there until the lights came back on and they started serving a breakfast of salty ham and sour yogurt. So now it’s tomorrow even though it feels like yesterday’s today. We have to wait for four hours in the terminal. Everything here is painfully expensive.

June 18, 5:00 (UK time) We’re through with plane flights and passports and such. I bought exotic foreign candy bars at a terminal to bring home so people can ooh and aah over the weird wrappers and then snarf them down and say, “gee, I shoulda savored that, considering I’ll never be able to get ahold of one of those again unless I fly to the UK!” A voice on the intercom announces, “For security reasons, any unattended baggage will be removed and destroyed.” That made me chortle.

June 19, 7:25 A.M. (UK time) SO today we get to do fun stuff, not security checks or bus rides and all. Today we take a walking tour of London. That’s going to be fun. You know what wasn’t fun? My shower earlier this morning. It took me quite a bit of time to figure out how to turn the thing on. When it came on, finally, the pressure was all messed up. So I reached up to fiddle with the showerhead, and had hardly touched it when it fell off and clonked me on the head. The water started shooting a jetstream straight across to the other wall. I cupped my hands around it in a pitiful attempt to somehow shove it all back into the wall. It never occurred to me to just shut the water off. Then I grabbed the showerhead and clamped it over the hole where the water was flooding from, stepping onto the ledge and balancing delicately on the edge of the tub in order to reach the spot where the showerhead needed to be. Gingerly, I adjusted the pressure, stepped down into the tub, and washed my hair at warp speed, bracing myself for another blow by falling showerhead.

June 19, 8:50 A.M. (UK time) The bus chugs along. London has a lot of pretty brick buildings, but we have yet to arrive at famous attractions. After dinner, we can go see a play, which would be very glamorous and fun. But it costs 40 pounds, or 70 dollars, so maybe not.
-London sets apart a bit of land for every living space, where people used to keep cows and goats. The “common grounds” are now used as parks to walk dogs in, have picnics, and stuff. Only people living in the group of houses/apartment building/whatever can use the common ground, but everybody has one near where they live.
-There are about 18,000 taxis in London. Most people don’t own cars because parking is inconvenient and expensive- $6/hour.
-Houses are squished up right next to each other to make room for common grounds. Townhouses don’t appear to exist here, but probably do in less bust parts of the city.
-King Edward made an oath to travel to Rome and help them in their time of need before he was king. Once he became king, he had to stay in England and help his own country. He asked his priest what he could do to compensate for breaking the oath, and was told to build a church dedicated to Saint Paul. The king did so, and built a house next to it to live in. Before the church was finished, he died and was buried in the abbey of the house. <-- Saint Paul’s Cathedral: we’re going there right now. Our tour guide just told us that little story.
We’re in Brixton, in the western part of London. This is where you buy sarongs and samosas: Indian goods. There are Arabic, Russian, and other communities here in London as well.

June 19, 10:00 A.M. (UK time) We saw Big Ben, the London Eye, and the Houses of Parliament. It’s striking to have these iconic things that I’ve only ever seen in movies, on television, or in pictures suddenly come into view. I took a picture of a long skinny thing, which turned out to be a monument dedicated to the Fires of London. The city burned for four days and four nights, and a thousand people died. Depressing.

June 19, 11:05 A.M. (UK time) I have been attempting to take pictures of myself with background through the window. It is not working tremendously well. Oh well. We are off to the Buckingham Palace now.

June 19, 11:45 A.M. (UK time) I’m back! I got lovely pictures of the Changing of the Guards, but none of the interior of the castle. Mrs. Kalman said it was too crowded. You would need to make reservations several months in advance. D:3 <--tilt head to the right.

June 19, 7:50 P.M. (UK time) WHAT A DAY. TOO MUCH TO SAY. AND I’M ABOUT TO GO OUT AGAIN, ANYWAY. Oh wait, I do need to announce that I just took my first subway ride. It was certainly a very pushy-shovy atmosphere. As in, lots of pushes and shoves. And when the bus thing took off, nobody in our group knew to grab ahold of the nearest pole or seat back or subway ridee, so we all lurched backwards and stumbled all over each other while the more experienced subway riders looked on in disdain and smirked.

June 20, 5:35 A.M. (UK time) Done with a country already! We are taking a train to Paris today and kissing Great Britain goodbye. Yesterday was a lot of sightseeing INCLUDING National Gallery-Buckingham Palace-London Eye-Houses of Parliament-Big Ben-St. Paul’s Cathedral-Piccadilly Circus--- and that was all very fun. Between attractions, we were given a lot of free time to shop, visit a marketplace, find a cafe or supermarket, and go to nearby parks. It was a “meet me here in two hours” type of thing. I liked having the freedom. Sarah, Shirley, and I went to a local supermarket and bought little plastic tubs of pasta to share. With the split cost, it was only 50p. While I was there I bought a bunch of those weird candy bars that they sell here but not in the U.S. How mysterious and elusive. I’ll have ten! Yeah. They’re pretty much the entirety of my gift shopping. “Yeah, I’m back from Europe, have a candy bar.”
Anyway, we walked back to the square, where we sat on the curb and watched a streetpreformer whilst shoveling pasta into our mouths. It was delicious. Then we went shopping for a while, which included my purchase of a can of authentic English tea for my momma. After awhile we wandered through a market, and by then it was time to return to the meeting spot. The tour guide led us up through a Chinatown, then down a row of side-by-side theaters, and landed us in Piccadilly Circus to use the restroom and take photos for a few minutes, before heading to the National Gallery. I really liked the Monet paintings. Up close the paint just looked like sloppy strokes and blurs, but the further you backed up, the clearer the image became. The paintings had the most clarity when you stood at the other end of the room. I’m off to breakfast now, more later.

June 20, 10:05 (UK time/11:05 Paris time) I am in a Eurostar train at the moment, headed to Paris. I’m unsure whether to use Uk time or Paris time, so I just put both in the heading. And since I already talked about yesterday, there isn’t much to document except the morning’s commute. But I guess other stuff will come up as I write. OH WAIT first I wanna say that the food here is wonderful. The first night everybody had spaghetti from the hotel restaurant, and last night we had Indian food. In England. But lunch is awesome because we get to go wherever we want to eat: yesterday it was a supermarket. They have entire aisles dedicated to lunch items, a la carte or full meals, ready for you to pick up and eat as soon as you step out of the store. There are sandwiches, wraps, cold pastas, salads, sushi, fruit salad cups, pizzas, stuffed pita, and also THAI SPICED AND COCONUT LEMONGRASS CHICKEN ROLLS!! which is what I got at the train station earlier on today to eat on the train at lunchtime. Why doesn’t Safeway offer such a gargantuan variety? Possibilities of lunchfood here are endless.
I hope everybody enjoys the harried phone message I left last night. It cost a dollar a minute, which included the time it took the phone to ring.

June 21st, 7:10 A.M. (Paris time) Sorry I didn’t write about my day in Paris yesterday. It was all go-go-go for the entire day, and we returned to the hotel at ten til one. In the morning. I would complain more about that, but the Eiffel Tower sure is pretty at night. I wish we could have rode to the top, but the lines were miles long and only one elevator was working. We were given ten minutes to look around a bit and snap pictures. Going to the top would have taken several hours of standing in line.
Now I’m all out of order. We didn’t see the Tower until later on. After the train, we dumped all our stuff in our hotel rooms. Sarah and I are rooming with a 17-year-old from Arizona. Then we took a Metro train to the Louvre, which was FANTASTIC. After edging our way into the crowd circling the Mona Lisa and taking a picture, we stumbled out, relieved to have that over with, and roamed through random rooms for a while. The place is so BIG. It’d have taken forever to see the entire thing, a week at least. Two hours was notably insufficient. But going outside to the gardens and pyramid was nice, too. The air was crisp and the sun was out, and there was plenty to see out there. Our nest stop was the Eiffel Tower, which you heard about, then dinner at a place with the unfortunate name of Flam’s. But the food was GOOOOOODDDD STUFFF. They make pizzas with super-thin crusts, then top it with sauce, cheese, onions, and ham. We sat at a long table, and they set down pizzas randomly. Once a pizza had been finished, they would bring out another. I had to control myself, because I know I could have eaten ten of those things. So I loaded up on salad instead. After that we revisited the Eiffel Tower because it was all lit up and glowy. Then there was an extra excursion for those who’d signed up and paid twelve euros. It was a boat cruise along the Seine. Guess who signed up and paid all by herself. That was really fun; they played music and told us little facts about the bridges we were passing under and some of the buildings we were seeing. It was kinda cold and kinda really late, but at the end when we pulled in near the Eiffel Tower, it was flashing a million tiny lights all over the place. The Eiffel Tower SPAHKULS at night. 11:00 P.M., for just ten or fifteen minutes. We had to take the grimy Metro home. It stopped in the middle of one of the tubes, and everybody lurched backward, and I thought we were going to die, but everybody laughed and made cheerful “what’s-going-on” noises, and after a minute of panic I realized that that just happens sometimes. Today we’re sightseeing again. I need to go to breakfast now. Lots of stories later!

----
You know what, guys? It is so tedious typing out that whole journal, so that’s all you get for now. I keep wanting to write blog entries, but can’t until I get this monster of a post out of the way. I’m sorry for taking so long to write this thing. I haven’t been on the computer much, so I couldn’t continue chipping away at the journal. At this point, summer is already half over. I’ll try to put up the rest of the journal, in small increments, up before September comes!

I'm in Europe!

2009-06-30T09:38:00.000-07:00

And having colossal amounts of fun. I get home in four days, or maybe three. I lost track. I miss my blog. This is costing me half a euro.

See you!

My plane takes off at 3:30

2009-06-17T10:31:00.000-07:00

And won't bring me back to America until July 3rd. Don't expect any posts from tomorrow 'til then.
I should write about what I've been doing the last couple of days, but it's going to have to be quick because I need to return some library books before I leave the country. Reading is actually a lot of what I've been up to. I got a big stack of books from the library, and placed them in several locations around the house. There's one on my dresser for late-night and early-morning reading, one on my desk for when I'm waiting for my mom to get ready when we're about to go run errands or something, one on the bay-window sill next to the kitchen for reading during meals, and a scattering of others in other places.
I have so much more time for fun stuff like hikes down to the Quicksilver reservoir, long bike rides, little craft project things, walking my dog around the neighborhood, and whatever else. Summer is amazing.
Okay, I have to go. We need to be at the airport in an hour, and I still have library books to return. Sorry for the short post!

Summer

2009-06-13T17:08:00.000-07:00

I won’t try to argue with the fact that Christmas is the best day of the year. But the first day of summer vacation is a close second. What other day fills you with that exhilarating rush of freedom, provided by the knowledge you have over two months ahead of you to spend any way you’d like? There are some limitations (not enough money to go bowling, mothers sometimes unwilling to give rides to friend’s houses, extra summer chores, etc.) but those obstacles hardly stand in the way of two free months.
As I did last summer, I composed a list of things to do during the vacation. My calendar is nearly blank now, but I’ve been filling in the empty boxes with Stuff To Do. Tomorrow, I’m going to write funny quotes and also “inspirational” quotes every few squares on the sidewalk out in front of and beside my house, and also glue a quarter to the ground. That way, people strolling past will have a reason to look down (read: to see the quotes) and they’ll spot this COIN. I can never resist the temptation to bend down and pick up a coin lying on the ground. It’s so amazing, like an omen or something. Whenever I get change after a purchase, I always toss a coin on the ground once I exit the store, so somebody can experience the joy of finding it. I doubt anybody in the human race will ever be able to spot a quarter on the ground and just leave it there. No organism in the world has that degree of self-control. But anyway, I’m going to be watching out my front window, peering over the sill and keeping a tally of how many people either don’t notice the coin, or spot it and leave it (gasp!) and how many people jump on it and start scrabbling at its edges and try to pry it off, to no avail, and then straighten up and toss back their heads and strut off pretending the incident had never even happened. It’ll take up the whole morning, probably, searching for good quotes, laying down trails of chalk spelling them out, gluing a coin to the ground, then retreating to my window to look on and chuckle. Then, I’m going to walk to Leland with a stopwatch and pedometer, record how many steps and minutes it took to get there, then return and walk back, record, come back home, walk back to Leland, record, and so on until I have a considerable amount of data to work with. I’ll average out the amount of steps and minutes so that when school starts up again (shudder) I’ll know exactly what time I need to leave for school in the morning in order to arrive just as the bell rings. I’m gonna have to start all over again: last summer I did this with the middle school on two different days, and got it down to a science. I calculated the average and found that in order to arrive at 8:10 exactly, I would need to leave at 8:06. I usually got there either on time or a minute-or-so late, which didn’t matter because I’d always make it to class before the final bell.
Today was a slower day. I woke up at quarter to noon, no lie. (It’s the first day of summer-- I deserve it, right?) After a shower, I biked over to my grandma’s house to walk her dog for about an hour. Then I moseyed around her neighborhood and the one next to hers a little on my bike, riding down the streets and deciding which house I liked best on each street. After a while I returned home, ate a late lunch of cantaloupe cubes and leftover steamed broccoli, and walked to the library with my sister. I promptly shoved several girl-books into my sack, you know, those ones about a girl who goes to school and, I don’t know, gets in a fight with her friends or something, develops a crush on somebody, deals with some type of queen bee/mean girl person, and then works it all out by the last chapter. The literature equivalent of a chick flick. I devour those things. They’re perfect light summer reading. I picked up some books more stimulating to the brain just to make myself feel less guilty, then bought a mango Italian soda at the cafe while my sister browsed the DVDs and music.
I went home and made teensy hamburger patties from a package of ground beef, then sliced up tomatoes and onions and stuff and made a salad. We were going to have “sliders,” my mom had said as she handed me the ground beef, as in “fun-size.” Both of those terms are hers, not mine. I just shrugged and headed to the grill. I don’t like hamburgers, but these thingies were actually delicious. I made very skinny little patties and put a lot of pepper on them before grilling. Plus I slathered mine with Dijon mustard and piled on a whole bunch of pickles and onions. AND I made cantaloupe-flavored frozen yogurt for dessert which I am very proud of because I didn’t even use a recipe. :) I just plopped vanilla yogurt and diced cantaloupe in the rarely used ice cream machine and hoped everything would turn out well. Which it did. It tasted like cantaloupy yogurt.
So anyway, this post is from yesterday. I hopped onto the computer really quick today to post this. Just a reminder, I’ll be gone from the seventeenth this month to July 3rd. I’ll be home just in time for the Fourth of July, which is obviously not celebrated over there. I just hope I’m not jet-lagged. I’ve never had jet-lag before because of my never having left the time zone-ness, so I’m kinda worried. Is it scary? Does it kill you?

Magic Eyes

2009-06-11T07:46:00.000-07:00

Okay, I found a blog quiz thing on a different blog SO I'M GONNA DO IT NOW OKAY! Some of the first questions are kind of awkward but whatever.

have-you-ever

1. Ate Crocodile?
Yes

2. Slept in a different bed?
Yes- hotels

3. Made out in a movie theatre?

Noo...

4. made out with 2 different people in one night?
Noo...

5. Thought your cousin was hot?
No

6. Been in love?
No

7. Slept?
Yes

8. Eaten a hamburger?
Sadly...

9. Gone over the speed limit?
It's not like I've ever driven a car or anything.

10. Painted your room?
Yes, but only one wall

11. Drove a car?
see answer to question 9

12. Danced in front of your mirror?
YES

13. Gotten a hickey?
No

14. Been dumped?

15. Stole money from a friend?
No

16. Gotten in a car with people you just met?
Yes... at safe organized events. You know, those organizer mom-people who go like:
*checks name sticker* "Okay honey, you're in Group B, so you'll be riding with Mrs. Brown, over there with the blond hair?"

17. Been in a fist fight?
With my sister :D

18. Snuck out of your house?
Kinda-but-not-really

9-lasts

1. cigarette:
Eeeuck.

2. beverage:
Water, last night.

3. kiss:
Never

4. hug:
I don't remember...

5. movie seen:
Hotel Rwana

6. cd played:
Something by the Beach Boys that my mom put on.

7. song listened to:
Lifesize by a Fine Frenzy

8. bubble bath:
Forever ago.

9. time you cried:
I don't remember.

25 questions

1. Where were you 3 hours ago?
Asleep

2. Who are you in love with?
My cat.

3. Have you ever eaten a crayon?
I tasted it, but I didn't eat the whole thing...

4. Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?
Yeah

5. When is the last time you went to the mall?
Last weekend, I think. Or maybe the one before that.

6. Are you wearing socks right now?
Yep. With flamingos on them. :)

7. Do you have a car worth over $2,000?
Aren't all cars worth that much...? But anyway no.

8. When was the last time you drove out of town?
Salinas, a few weeks ago.

9. Have you been to the movies in the last 5 days?
No... haven't been since I watched 17 Again.

10. Are you hot?
No it's morning right now... I'm cold.

11. What was the last thing you had to drink?
Water

12. What are you wearing right now?
Clothes.

13. Do you wash your car or let the car wash do it?
C. none of the above

14. Last food that you ate?
Toast

15. Where were you last week at this time?
Either eating breakfast, brushing my teeth, or blogging.

16. Have you bought any clothing items in the last week?
No... none in the last YEAR!

17. When is the last time you ran?
Yesterday.

18. What's the last sporting event you watched?
Few weeks ago, my sister's softball tourney.

19. What is your favorite animal?
Penguinsmicecats

20. Your dream vacation?
...is gonna happen! Sightseeing in Europe.

21. Last person's house you were in?
Mine. In fact, I'm still here.

22. Worst injury you've ever had?
A scrape. From falling out of a tree. It was a rather large scrape. But nothing very serious.

23. Have you been in love?
Yes. With a feline.

24. Do you miss anyone right now?
Yes

25. What is your secret weapon to lure in the opposite sex?
WHAT

very-interesting

1. Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 18, and find line 4.
systematic, can be correlated with geographical re-

(the rest of the word is "regions," by the way. Don't wanna leave you hanging, there :])

2. Stretch your left arm out as far as you can. What's there?
Air.

3. What is the last thing you watched on TV?
Chopped. A week or two ago.

4. Without looking, guess what time it is:
(I continued the post from this morning, so it's later now)

4:40

5. Now look at the clock. What is the actual time?
4:55

6. With the exception of the computer, what can you hear?
Dryer.

7. When did you last step outside? What were you doing?
About an hour ago, to pick up my glasses/go to the bank/ get a haircut.

8. Before you started this survey, what did you look at?
My cat.

9. What are you wearing?
Wait... didn't you already ask this?

10. Did you dream last night?

Probably, but I don't remember any of them.

11. When did you last laugh?
Two seconds ago. I was trying to think of the last time I laughed, and then I remembered and it was funny so I laughed again.

12. What is on the walls of the room you are in?
A map, painting copies from Seattle, clock, picture frame I made with my sister in like fifth grade, painting copies from Ikea, and watercolors from childhood.

13. Seen anything weird lately?
Yeah, YOUR FACE.

Just kidding.

That was a really bad joke.

14. What do you think of this quiz?
The questions repeat themselves a lot.

15. What is the last film you saw?
Speak of the devil.

(That's not a film, by the way... it's just that I JUST SAID THERE WERE REPEATED QUESTIONS AND THEN LOOK HERE'S ANOTHER ONE.)

16.If you became a multi-millionaire overnight, what would you buy?
If the idea is unlimited money, I'd donate a bunch of it to help starving people in developing countries.

And THEN I'd go buy a whole bunch of clothes, probably, and also a trip for my whole family to go to Spain. Also maybe a beach house in Santa Barbara.

17. Tell me something about you that I don't know:
I have different hair now, and also glasses. I'll show you later.

18. If you could change one thing about the world, regardless of guilt or politics, what would you do?
I would get all the poor starving homeless people into homes with food and also get rid of this whole "economic crisis," plus I'd make it less expensive to travel and give the Native Americans their land back, and the animals too, and turn every resource into a renewable resource so we wouldn't have to worry about depletion, and I'd stop global warming.

If it's only one sentence, it's only one thing, right? :)

19. Do you like to dance?
No.

20. George Bush:
This is not a question. And he's literally history now.

21. Imagine your first child is a girl, what do you call her?
Sunflower is she's blond, Esmerelda if she's brunnette.

22. Imagine your first child is a boy, what do you call him?
Darn-it-I-wanted-a-girl.

23. Would you ever consider living abroad?
OH YES.

24. What do you want to say to God when you reach the pearly gates?
What's the "pearly gates?"

1-word answers

1. whats your name spelt backwards?
ynneJ

2. What did you do last night?
Sleep

3. The last thing you downloaded onto your computer?
Personas for Firefox

4. Have you ever licked a 9 volt battery?
Huh?

5. Last time you swam in a pool?
About a month ago

6. What are you wearing?
Oh my Zeus!!

7. How many cars have you owned?
Ningun.

8. Type of music you dislike most?
Stuff like Coldplay and Snow Patrol... generic guitar/drumset/boy's screaming-singing voice stuff.

9. Are you registered to vote?
No.

10. Do you have cable?
You mean like TV? I think so.

11. What kind of computer do you use?
Mapple. (I never know whether to call it a Mac or an Apple, so.)

12. Ever made a prank phone call?
Yeah.

13. You like anyone right now?
No.

14. Would you go bungee jumping or sky diving?
¡Claro que si!

15. Furthest place you ever traveled?
Florida

16.Do you have a garden?
Who doesn't?

17. What's your favorite comic strip?
Garfield

18. Do you know all the words to the national anthem?
Just the first verse.

19. Shower, morning or night?
Mornin'.

20. Best movie you've seen in the past month?
Well, I only watched one-and-a-half movies in the past month. They were at the same quality-level or whatever, but I only watched half of National Treasure and I watched all of Hotel Rwanda. So, I'll just say Hotel Rwanda. (Geez, how many times have I had to mention that movie in this quiz?)

21. Favorite pizza toppings?
Pineapples and olives.

22. Chips or popcorn?
Chips=bleh. Popcorn=meh. So, I'll say popcorn.

23. What cell phone provider do you have?
Verizon Wireless.

24. Have you ever smoked peanut shells?
What?

25. Have you ever been in a beauty pageant?
Why would I?

26. Orange Juice or apple?
Apple.

27. Who were the last people you sat at lunch with?
My dog.

28. favorite chocolate bar?
Those little dark chocolate Ghirardelli squares filled with raspberry goo.

29. Who is your longest friend and how long?
Uhhhhmmmmm I actually don't know.

30. Last time you ate a homegrown tomato?
Yesterday. From the garden. In a salad. With balsamic vinegar.

31. Have you ever won a trophy?
Yeah.

32.Favorite artist?
Alison Sudol. (A Fine Frenzy)

33. Favorite computer game?
Dropple

34. Ever ordered from an infomercial?
No, but dreamed about it.

35. Sprite or 7-UP?
Wait, aren't they the same?

36. Have you ever had to wear a uniform to school/work?
Yeah.

37. Last thing you bought at Walgreens?
I'm more of a Long's Drugs kinda girl. But I actually do remember, it was in Arizona, and we bought a pack of marshmallow Peeps.

38. Ever thrown up in public?
No.

39. Would you prefer being a millionaire or finding true love?

Millionaire

40. Do you believe in love at first sight?
Eh... I guess it could happen, but eh.

41.Can exes just be friends?
Yes.

42. Who was the last person you visited in the hospital?
Grandma.

43. Did you have long hair as a young kid?
Sorta.

44. What message is on your voicemail machine?
Ugh I don't wanna go check.

45. Where would you like to go right now?
Rome.

46. What was the name of your first pet?
Ditto the goldfish whom I bought for twenty-five cents.

47. What kind of back pack do you have, and what's in it?
The normal kind. And school stuff.

48. Last incoming/outgoing call on your phone?
Incoming: my dad. Outgoing: my grandma.

49. What is one thing you are grateful for today?
Good health.

50. What do you think about most?
My Europe trip, and also what it would be like to live with no food and no money and no family.

So that's that. Now, as I stated up there^ as a response to one of the questions, I got new glasses and new hair. Wanna see wanna see?Y-e-a-h, so, that's that. Also, today was the last day of intermediate school. Figure I better have that on this post somewhere. It was weird walking to school knowing this was the *last time* I would take these steps, and entering my classes knowing this was the *last time* I would pass through those thresholds. Well, maybe I'd go back to visit my teachers, but it was the *last time* that I would belong in the microcommunity inside. It's so weird though, because it doesn't even feel like summer right now. As soon as I stepped outside of the classroom when the final bell rang, I was expecting to feel a jolt of excited energy, or at least a whoosh of relief, but it just felt like walking out of a classroom on a regular old day, going home to do chores and walk the dog, then eat dinner and fall asleep. Just waiting for summer was more exciting and fun than summer itself. It's like a wrapped birthday gift, with endless potential: there could be anything inside. As soon as you tear off the colorful paper and discover what's inside, all of the exciting rush of what could have been inside is gone. But that's probably because I haven't even done anything yet, and it pretty much has been like a normal school day with the exception of early dismissal. I hopped on my bike to kick off a summers-worth of long rides through both new, unfamiliar neighborhoods and trusty tried-and-true trails.

The people who are going on Blackwood's trip to France get to leave tomorrow, lucky ducks. I have to wait all the way until next Wednesday. Bleh.

But now, I can actually see Europe without the fuzzy curtain that usually hangs over my vision. The strength of my vision prescription tripled with these new glasses. (I'm not even exagerrating right now... the optometrist person told me.) God, the world looks so weird. Everything looks so up-close and three-dimensional. Things seem closer than they did before, and I can read road signs from far away. I have magic eyes.

The Final Chapter

2009-06-10T14:52:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow is
the last day of school and then
school's gonna be over
and then
you know what's next?
SUMMER
and
EUROPE
and
BLISS
and oh my taquito I am going to explode from excitement. I never really get so-called "spring fever," but "summer fever"...? Oh yeah. And this year, I am ready for it more than I ever have been in my life. Today the rest of the eighth graders went to Great America to stand in lines and sizzle in the sun. Me and a bunch of other people who decided not to go sat in a classroom and watched a movie. It was fine-just-fine, except I didn't really know anybody except Matt and Mikaela, and I don't actually know Micaela really, and Matt ditched halfway through. I created a masterpiece-ful work of art as well. I was drawing a giraffe, but then I didn't have room for the neck so I had to draw the neck and the head sprouting from the bottom of the page while the body was at the top.Like so. I wrote "to be continued" next to the cut-off body so as to justify the head poking up from the bottom.
The next few hours of my life:
6:00 Walk to my mommy's classroom, shove wriggling kids into their Jack and the Beanstalk costumes, lug props into the cafeteria, arrange finger foods on a cafeteria table, and herd bumbling family members into the caf and get their butts onto the seats in front of the stage.
6:30 Sit back, relax, and watch adorable first-graders sing Jack and the Beanstalk songs off-key and mumble lines into microphones.
7:00 Clap for the talented performers, then subtly nudge people outside with the promise of delicious finger foods to shove into their faces.
7:05 Fold and pack the costumes, disassemble props, drag everything back to the classroom, hand out little bags of "magical" jelly beans to the performers while cracking mild Jack and the Beanstalk jokes. "Don't let your mom throw those out the window, now!" "Those are most certainly worth that cow you traded for them!" "Better make sure to not drop those, or a giant beanstalk will grow in your yard!" (Read the play or book or something if you don't understand the listed wisecracks. If you're familiar with the story they're real knee-slappers, lemme tell you that.)
7:30 Go home. Make dinner. Eat dinner. Sleep. (next day...)
8:05 Leave for school.
8:15-1:00 Last day of school, suckas. I'm bringing a camera to take pictures of people because all the cool kids bring a camera to take pictures of people.
Then it's pure freedom. I'll probably dance and smile in joyful lust for a while, then realize that I am very bored. I'll have six days until Europe. I hope I don't pee my pants waiting. That would be unpleasant.

2009-06-08T13:35:00.000-07:00

Today the eighth graders practiced for promotion. That means we marched in neat rows up the quad steps, then sat in folding chairs while the principal muttered into a microphone. He held it too close to his lips. I don't know about the rest of them, but all I heard was a bunch of spit ejecting from his mouth. Anyway, that somehow took 'till eleven thirty. I went home and ate a waffle and carrot sticks for lunch. It is so wonderfully sunny today. I just had to go for a bike ride to the lake. But now I'm back, and of course I just have to write a blog entry.
Still amazed that summer's here. Almost. How long will these next three days drag on? I am nine days away from the plane to Europe, ten days away from the hotel in London, our first stop. What I just realized is that Mrs. Goldman, with her broken leg and all, might not be able to go to France! :O She was planning to go on the trip with Blackwood, but if she can't even come to school I doubt that she'll be able to board a plane, you know? I feel bad for her. If my Europe trip were to be snatched away for one reason or another, my heart would shatter. X3 <-- and THAT was supposed to be a broken heart, but came out really retarded. Here, I'll go make a google image search and put a picture on my desktop, and upload it and resize it and hope I don't faint from exhaustion in the process.There you go. A broken heart.
So anyway, I added a chatbox in the sidebar. I tried to make the colors correspond to the background of the blog, but as you can see, they were more off than I'd guessed. At least the thing is green, right? Right? Yeah so, feel free to pop a message in there. I think I put something there yesterday, but I kind of forget what I said. Probably something along the lines of "HEY LOOK i has chat thingie now!!!" Because I am so intelligent.
By the way, I just realized that I put the wrong link for the post "Melancholy phantoms eye our skins" Look up "Rangers" by a Fine Frenzy for the right song. There's actually a multitude of phrases in that song that make no sense. I love it.
I have an eye appointment today. I'm so excited. I'm gonna get new glasses, ones that actually get rid of all the blurry fuzzy stuff that clings to things in my vision. My old glasses don't really work anymore. When I put them on, the blurriness is diminished, but not gone completely. I want to get cool square thick-rimmed ones, with like, red frames or something. They'll make me look smart.
So. I'm going to go do something productive now.

I<()>I

This girl is a failure.

2009-06-07T15:54:00.000-07:00

I failed the project. I felt like jumping off a cliff.
But as I sat there mourning and staring desolately at the PIV, at the B burning a hateful zouo into the screen, wondering how all my effort could have amounted to something so lowly, it occurred to me that getting a B on a project was not a huge problem compared to all the tragedies of the world. There are people starving in Argentina. There are men with wives and children getting kicked out of their houses because they can’t pay the mortgage, and end up on the streets. When I went to Mexico, there were little kids everywhere peddling gum and trinkets for money, or just plain begging because there was no way otherwise to get it. There are little kids in China working under horrible conditions in factories making Happy Meal toys and getting paid two cents an hour. Some people in Africa dig holes in the dirt and sleep there simply because there is just nowhere else to go. There are alcoholic mothers who come home late at night, drunk, and beat their children until they wail and bleed when they see they haven’t gone to bed but were instead sitting in the moonlight waiting for their mommy to arrive.
Earning a B on a project? Not so bad. As much as I tried to look at it that way, though, the burning shame of failure was nestled into my gut and there to stay. I guess we’re all going to fail sometime or other. It’s part of life, right? I should accept that I suck at everything and will never do anything right. This project just proved it. My consolation is that I still have an A in the class, and an A in all the rest of them. But on this project, I have a B.
Ugh. I'm going to continue this post in a few days or so. Assuming I don't go hang myself on a curtain cord. (Just kidding!)
Okay, the continuation, as promised. I've been kind of busy with construction stuff. For the last few days I worked on assembling and building the vanity for the bathroom, and also "caulking." Caulk is this weird rubbery stuff that you squirt and smooth over edges. Whatever it is, my daddy says I'm an expert at it. And my daddy don't lie. But today, I had free time, so I went TOILETRY SHOPPING! Yeah. I walked to Long's and bought a super-cute little deodorant stick that's like, two inches tall, and also some Exfoliating Power-Clear Scrub, to be decanted into a smaller container. (Which is soap to be slathered upon the face, to prevent acne.) I wanted to buy a cutesy travel-size sunscreen, too, but they were all quite expensive, and I needed money left over to buy oriental chicken salad at P.W. :)
Anyway, I constructed a packing list, then kept adding things in the margins, so I rewrote the whole thing. But then I still kept adding on, so rewrote it again. Did you know you're only allowed to bring one quart-bag's worth of liquids with you? I found that out on the TSA website. I couldn't even fit all my little soap-bottles and stuff in there, after a good fifteen minutes of rearranging and cramming. Bleh. I still have more packing to do, though: I'm not going to put in the clothes until the last minute, because I might want to wear them. plus, there're some things I need to mooch off my sister. (I don't have seventeen day's worth of clothes... not even ten day's worth! Eek!) I should have bought something at Long's to bribe her with. Oh well. Maybe I'll go again another day.
So anyway, sorry for not posting for so long. I feel guilty, but caulking is importanter, right?

Melancholy phantoms eye our skins

2009-06-04T07:47:00.000-07:00

I don't what that means. The title, I mean. It was in this song, which I listen to... often. Very often. I don't particularly like any of those individual words, "melancholy," "phantoms," or anything, but they sound nice all strung together in that order.
Blarg. This would be an appropriate time to get to the point, but un-surprisingly, there isn't one. I could list some countdowns here: Eight more days until the end of school, twelve more days until I board the plane and take off for Europe, nine more posts after this one until I reach the big one-oh-oh. (One hundred.) Promotion dance is on Monday, I think. So, four days. I don't know when the ceremony is, but now I have to wear a medal to it. I was given some sort of eighth grade student achievement-type award yesterday, and now I have to wear it to promotion ceremony. It's blue and yellow. My dress is pink. *cue mighty clash* The entirety of next week is full of non-academics. Us eighth graders dance, practice walking across stages, walk across stages, and go on rides at Great America while the rest of the school takes their finals. I haven't made up my mind whether or not to go to Great America yet. I have to decide before tomorrow morning... when I leave for school... because that's when the money for the trip is due.
Oh yeah. I'm in trouble for not mentioning Billy here on the blog. Hi Billy. Okay, done.
I haven't talked about what is major buzz at school: Mrs. Goldman went to see the Wicked play in San Francisco, and fell down the stairs on her way out. She twisted her leg-bone (pebula?) and snapped it in two places. Ouch. I feel bad for her, but also almost a teensy bit happy that she isn't here. ^-_-^ <-- That's a devil face, by the way. The pointy things are horns. And it's red. Because the devil is red, I think. Anyway, this means that a sub hovers in the corner of the classroom while we do whatever. Today me and a bunchload of other people vandalized Goldman's chalkboard with random doodles and messages, then erased the evidence before the bell rung. I think we should have left it there. It was all rather interesting to look at, in a smudgy chalk dust/misshapen scribbles kind of way.

Blarg.

2009-06-02T20:01:00.001-07:00

I am having trouble constructing a topic sentence for this blog entry. I keep starting sentences, and then deleting and rewriting, deleting, repeating. And, as it stands, I really don’t have any idea what I’m going to talk about.
I went to a retirement ceremony for Miss Stephen today. She had cancer, but she seemed to be in pretty good condition. (God, I sound like I’m talking about a used car or something.) She’s moving to Texas to be close to her family. There was a “royal ceremony” where the principal gave her a crown. And a staff thingie. And a robe. And roses. And a diamond necklace. Then we were all invited to join in for a rousing chorus of an Ode to Miss Stephen. I moved my lips a little bit and wished more people were singing so I could too, and people wouldn’t notice my voice sounded like a strangled goose because everybody else’s voices would overlap (was that the right word?) it. A bunch of retired principals and a handful of former colleagues went up onstage and read very touching prepared speeches off 3X5 cards. After all the people aloof the stage finished up with their praise and memories, occasional mild jokes and moments of stifled sobs, we were directed to the refreshments station thingie. The line was a thousand miles long. I skipped out on standing around for an hour amongst pocket-tissue-carrying old ladies and hungry little children and went to go help my mom in her classroom instead. Then I came home and washed windows, consumed salad and cantaloupe for dinner, and came up here to write a blog entry. I’m going to have to leave in about an hour, though. There’s a meeting tonight in Mrs. Kalman’s room to discuss Europe. Gweesht! I don’t know what the heck that was. I’m just trying to convey excitement here, know what I mean?
Okay, let’s talk about scary movies. WHAT’S THE POINT? Movies should be a pleasurable experience. I prefer to look at attractive people singing and dancing and having clever little conversations than grimacing at a half-dead guy with his eyeballs gushing out of their sockets, moaning and getting blood all over the place. Does it really make people feel nice inside to see people with their heads torn off and the neck-bones glinting while somebody else wails and starts shooting people? Is it a fun experience to watch somebody get sliced open with a chainsaw? Movies are supposed to be entertaining. The human race must be very sick if we enjoy those sorts of images. Why watch that when you could be watching Hilary Duff flirt with some other attractive being in front of her locker, or Vanessa Hudgens dancing through the halls of a school and singing a cheerful tune? Pretty images are just so much more enjoyable than ugly ones. It’s just the way logic works.
I can’t think of a smooth transition to the next subject, so I’ll just skip that part and move along with whatever else there is to say.
Oh yeah... school is like, done. There are only ten more days left, and I’m through with two of my finals already. Only Spanish and language arts left, plus a simple project for science. (Wait, I think I already talked about this. Oh well.) Thursday is the last testing day, and the rest of the year (One week) is full of nothing. The nothing-ness has already seeped into social studies class: for the past two days we were permitted to sit and chat, or read, or draw, or whatever. Yesterday I created a masterful piece of artwork. Today I listened to Beethoven and watched Steven screw around with dominoes. Which reminds me, I should bring my iPod tomorrow. Not that it’s really mine: it’s my mom’s hand-me-down, scratcheyd Shuffle, which I loaded up with NINE whole songs. Thirty percent of them are in different languages.
So anyway, I need to go now. Well, not really, but I’m gonna go anyway.

Hello Alyssa!

2009-05-31T20:49:00.000-07:00

I figured I should dedicate one of my blog entries to you. Here it is. And the comments thing on your blog still doesn't work!! Ugh!! I'll just e-mail you my comments, I guess. :)
The end of the school year always comes so suddenly. I yearn for summertime all year long, but when it finally comes I start scrambling to preserve the year, wanting to stay in touch with this person and that person, sad to know I might not ever have any more classes with so-and-so. This year, some of my friends aren't even going to the same high school as me next year. I might never see them again. *sob*
Two weeks. Those weeks are going to fly by in a flurry of final exams and special eighth grade/promotion events. In seventh grade, laying in the gym with all the girls from P.E. on the second-to-last day of school, we talked about how fast the past year had gone by. I don't feel the same this year. I think summer has come at just the right time this year. Eighth grade dragged on and on and on. And on. But for some reason, I want the last few carefree days to stretch out a little bit longer. The textbooks are in, there's no more homework, the final testing is over, and there's not much to do but watch videos in class, practice for the promotion ceremony, and spend lunchtime strolling in the early summer sunshine. I can't daydream about those days yet, though: I still have finals in front of me. Rusnak's final is just a simple project, so no worries there. Navarro is bound to be easy. I really don't have to worry about P.E. because I have Morninweg, and since that horrible project was Goldman's final, the only ones left are math and language arts. I don't think language arts will be too tough, though. I'll study that and math, and hope there're no epic failures. (Darn. I just used one of pop culture's gimmicky catchphrases. It was an accident, please forgive me.) Then it's off to Europe. I hope I don't explode from excitement. And theeen I'm gonna take painting or maybe sculpture classes at Cindy's Art Studio, that place by P.W. It'll be either another thing for me to suck at, or a chance to discover a hidden talent. I'm leaning towards the former. Leaning so far that I'm starting to wobble, and then toppling over with a splenderific crash. Yeah. I will probably suck at first. But maybe I'll learn, you know? Hopefully. That's why I'm going in the first place.

Bookshelves can roar?

2009-05-30T17:51:00.000-07:00

*(o-o)* Who says white girls can’t make those cutesy-creepy little Asian face thingies?
Okay. Strange way to kick off a new blog entry. I’m just gonna say right now that you probably won’t be seeing as many posts as usual because of the whole having to use my mom’s computer thing, but also because the weather is just so gol-dinged nice. I don’t want to be inside tapping away in front of a computer. I want to be outside walking the dog or riding my bike, soaking up as much sun as possible before next year’s winter. Summer is so close. Two weeks, and I’ll be done with middle school and packing my bags for Europe. But I still have finals to get through. I took my math exit exam this last week and felt pretty good about it, but my mom says she won’t let me go on to the next level of math even if I get one hundred percent of the questions on the test correct. I’ve had an A just about all year, except for about a month when it was a B+. I wasn’t really having any trouble with anything math-wise this year. “Why not?” I asked. “I don’t want to repeat a class that I earned an A in.” She told me that I didn’t belong in advanced classes. I don’t want to be in an advanced class. I just don’t want to take eigth grade math AGAIN while I’m in ninth grade. But if my mom says so, that’s that. Next year, I’ll be repeating this year’s math class. Which really sucks, because that wrecks my college application. I still don’t really know why my mom doesn’t want me to advance to ninth-grade math in the first place.
I am getting an inkling that you people don’t read my blog entries through. I think that maybe you all are victims of SKIMMING. So I’m going to insert a confusing sentence here in the middle of this entry. If you are not a skimmer, then copy/paste the sentence into a comment and I’ll know who really reads my blog and who brushes over the posts quickly just to get it out of the way. Okay, here comes the sentence: The palm trees couldn’t call after that startled jellyfish because the bookshelf’s roar was so loud. There you go. Now I’m just going to go on with my next subject and pretend this paragraph was never here...
Actually, the deal now is that I have to go to school. It’s 8:01, and I still need to put the dog away and lock up the house. Just kidding. We never lock up the house. Only my dad actually has a key, the rest of us just enter through the backdoor or side door, which are always open. Feel free to break in. Relax, have a snack. But get outta there before my parents find out. :D
Okay, it’s the next day now. God, my life has been so screwed up the last few months. Because of the whole mold thing, we had to move all the junk out of my room and cram it into a teensy guest room. Since the dining room was taken by my sister, that was also where I had to live. I should have taken pictures. There were several layers of random objects strewn over the floor. I had boxes stacked three high, textbooks piled on a chesst of drawers which sat on a few plastic storage boxes. The couch in there got covered with more junk, so I resorted to sleeping on the ground. This was my world for the next few months, as mold people sucked out mold, inspection people came over to inspect, and carpet people came over to install carpet. One of the carpet guys was old. I overheard him talking to my dad: “I’m getting to old for this... I’ve been putting in carpet this whole week and my back can’t take much more. Damn, every day I do this I wish I had gone to college.” (Sorry for the profanity, but that’s what he said and I wanted an exact quote.) No lie, people. I felt bad for the dude. Have you ever had a heart-to-heart with your carpet installer? At least my dad can check that off the Life Goals list. Anyway, we had to truck everything downstairs when the carpet people finally came. I slept in the living room, sandwiched between the dresser from my parent’s room and a stack of file boxes. They finished earlier on today. The carpet is great; plushy and without a single little stain anywhere on it. It is so much better to look at than the bleak, splintery floorboards that had stared blankly at me for so long. I printed out a small picture of a Honda CRV, and wrote my initials and the date on the back. Before they laid down the carpet, I placed it on the padding. I don’t really know why I did that. I guess so that people will know what cars looked like fifty thousand years from today, when somebody else’s toilet floods and they have to tear up the carpet. Then they’ll find my little car picture, look at the date, squeal, and try to sell it on eBay under “Antiques.” (Well, that’s what I would do!) I’m taking a break from hauling furniture and boxes up the stairs right now. I’m home alone, so I can’t be generous and share the labor with my parents. I’m about halfway done... just an hour or two more before I finally have my room back.

Don’t ever take your room for granted, kids. It’s a real luxury that you do NOT ever want to lose. Take it from me: it sucks.

Cultural Fair

2009-05-27T07:31:00.000-07:00

I’ve decided that “California” really is a very attractive word. So is “America.” I’ve never considered proper nouns when choosing ugly and attractive words.
I’ve already blogged today, so I don’t have much else to say. I’m going to the Cultural Fair tomorrow. I wasn’t planning to go, but one of my friends asked me to go with her, so. There’s not much to say about that. It’s cool, and also free: you watch dancers and stuff that represent culturalness from around the world, plus you get to eat their food for free. I got a crawfish from the Africa booth last year, but never ate it. I carried it around in a napkin the whole time while its beady and STILL INTACT eyes watched my every move. It had the claws in, shell on, antlers or whatever (antennae?) poking out and everything. It did not look edible. It did not smell edible either. But for the eating-cultured-food novelty of it, I accepted it when one of the Africa booth volunteers offered. I mean, why not?
By the time I got home it oozed spoiled-meat odors and was soggy in the backside. That’s why not.
I did get some yummy nibbles, though: there was a squishy rice thing from the Japan booth, and spring rolls at the China booth. Plus I liked the Indian dancers. They get to wear these very cool colorful robe thingies, adorned with pieces of mirror and beads and other shinies. I feel so white when I go to these cultural fair things. All the other countries have such awesome cultures, food and music and all that good stuff, and here I am, American and white, with nothing defining me. Everybody else is painted a million different shades with countries full of rich history while I remain a blank canvas. It makes you feel un-worldly, going to those cultural fairs. Well, for me, at least. In fifth grade, the elementary school had a booth for the United States. The volunteers there dressed in gaudy sparkly red-white-and-blue top hats. They served samples of cotton candy and popcorn in little Dixie cups. I was ashamed. That’s my country. Look at all the other booths: India, where a woman was giving henna tattoos, Islam, where a person was writing people’s names in Islamic, Korea, where a woman taught how to fold origami figures, Greece, where they handed out olives to taste. I am hungry for some sort of ancestry from a different country. I’m sixth-generation white. That means my great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother came from Belgium. The rest of them were farmers in Ohio, including my own grammy. One of my friends, her mom was born in Egypt! That is beyond awesome. One of the girls on my former Girl Scout troop is half-Korean and half-Filipino. I’m a sheet of 12x8 white printer paper. A sack of all-purpose flour. A glass of foamy 2% skim milk. Bleh.
BUT they’re always fun anyway. I’m actually going to bring a CAMERA this time, and because I always forget, every single year, I’ve already stowed it away in my backpack. I want to take pictures of all the pretty dancers and stuff.
Guess what? I just jogged to the Safeway complex and back. My sister went to the library to study with her friend, then they both went to Starbucks. And THEN they realized neither of them had money. My sister called me and was all ‘oh please please please bring me my wallet my darling little sister and do it quick ma’am if you’re fond of your front teeth.’ So now she owes me a favor, which is a nice power for me to hold over her. I have to go eat dinner now, but I’m not really that hungry despite accidentally skipping lunch again. I really need to stop forgetting in the mornings. Somehow I manage to FORGET and then starve at school. Well, not really starve. My body has adapted, hee hee. :) My mom didn’t cook anything. She says to pick through the fridge and take what looks good. I guess that means she’d be okay with me skipping out. Augh. Why am I still here typing? I should go to bed. Or maybe go eat, I don’t know.
I wish you could instantly produce a perfect friend with a BFF-o-Matic. You know, just tap in everything you want and then let the cogs and gears make the person. And they’d be disposable, of course, when you’re done with them you could throw them away. Then you could have a friend that you feel so completely comfortable with that you don’t have to care what you say or what you look like around them. I guess that’s what true love is, though. But then, you’re supposed to look all nice for your gal/guy, so never mind. You know what sucks about society? You constantly have to play hard to get, know what I mean? If you’re friendly to a person too much, they think you’re clingy and desperate when you’re just trying to be nice. You never know whether somebody wants you to walk up to them and say hi, or keep your distance. Because what if you’re not good enough for them? It’s hard to tell who accepts you.
<~>

Civil War Day

2009-05-26T15:58:00.001-07:00

I'm so scared. I have school today. I leave in six minutes. You know what that means? I have to go to Mrs. Goldman's class. You know what that means? I'm going to find out what grade I got on the project. You already read about what will happen if I fail. So I better not. Remember that one time when I said I was going to Europe? Ever since I even heard about the trip, it's been a constant little thought in the back of my mind. Now this project has cast a dark shadow over most of my brain, and most of what I think about is what will happen if I fail the project. Will my parents kick me out? Will I pass eighth grade? Will I faint? I haven't thought about much else since I turned the project in. Maybe this is whatOCD is. My uncle has a mild case of it and could've passed it on to me. I actually had a nightmare, which felt very real. Mrs. Goldman just handed me the project inside a big binder as I walked into the classroom. I got to my desk, opened the binder, and found agradesheet inside. Guess what the grade was. An F. I thought it was real when it happened, so now I'm a teensy bit scared. What if it was a omen of some sort?

- - - -

Okay... it's after school now. And the verdict? Still unknown. We didn't even have social studies class, because it was Civil War Day. I didn't know that until second period, when una amiga informed me of the event. It hadn't been mentioned in any of our classes previously. So I'll know tomorrow whether I passed or failed. I guess I could talk about Civil War Day, then. It was kind of fun, which was unexpected. We sat around on the lawn on the far east of the school and listened to people dressed all funny talk about weapons and uniforms and cans of tomatoes. (I had brisket chili [whatever brisket is] with canned tomatoes in it once. It was good chili, but I left the squishy tomatoes at the bottom of the bowl. I was not about to place those squishy gloppy things in my mouth.) It was a sunny, sunny day today. Blinding. Burning. It felt so good after those long, cold months of extra winter when it was supposed to be spring. We've had erratic weather lately: hot for two days, then cold, hot again, rainy one day, cold for a few days, then warm, and so on. I hope the heat is here to stay this time. Warmth is nice. Humidity... not so much. That's the only thing wrong with California summers: too sticky. I actually prefer the silver-slick cool air of winter, even if it means sharp, cold temperatures. Hot and dry is perfect, like Arizona. Except Arizona was maybe just a little bit too hot. Maybe just kind of a way too much burning, scalding hot. Anyway, the big finale was a fake general shooting an unloaded gun. It was cool. Some people screamed. Somebody screamed too early.
Ha-ha.

Talk you Down

2009-05-26T07:47:00.000-07:00

I'm so scared. I have school today. I leave in six minutes. You know what that means? I have to go to Mrs. Goldman's class. You know what that means? I'm going to find out what grade I got on the project. You already read about what will happen if I fail. So I better not. Remember that one time when I said I was going to Europe? Ever since I even heard about the trip, it's been a constant little thought in the back of my mind. Now this project has cast a dark shadow over most of my brain, and most of what I think about is what will happen if I fail the project. Will my parents kick me out? Will I pass eighth grade? Will I faint? I haven't thought about much else since I turned the project in. Maybe this is what OCD is. My uncle has a mild case of it and could've passed it on to me. I actually had a nightmare, which felt very real. Mrs. Goldman just handed me the project inside a big binder as I walked into the classroom. I got to my desk, opened the binder, and found a gradesheet inside. Guess what the grade was. An F. I thought it was real when it happened, so now I'm a teensy bit scared. What if it was a omen of some sort?

- - - -

Overdue Post

2009-05-25T17:44:00.001-07:00

This first part is from long, long ago...
Today in sex ed, we learned How Not To Get An STD. And were also instructed to Always Use a Condom. And in “drug ed” we learned why not to smoke, why not to drink, and why not to use marijuana. The teacher said that the commercials are lying: drinking this beer or that vodka isn’t gonna help you hook a hottie. Darn. We also learned that if you drink too much, you get drunk. And if you get drunk, you can’t drive and you feel funny. Plus also drugs and alcohol kill brain cells. I can’t help but think of all the people who have screwed up their lives completely by getting STDS and doing marijuana. They have stinky itchy crotches and pass out all over the place and walk around dizzily, barfing into the bushes when nobody’s looking. That is not a pretty picture to be engraved into my brain. And I just carved it into yours. Sorry.
Okay, it’s a few days later right now. I haven’t blogged for a long, long time. It’s because of that Goldman project... I’ve been using up every square inch of my time on it. I want to turn it in early for the 20% extra credit. I think I’m going to make it, since I only have one more feature and the table of contents to complete. (It’s a magazine, by the way... yeah.) Another reason I’m not blogging is that my dad used his fancy-dancy parental filter to block the Blogspot website. Said I spent too much time blogging. I don’t know if this post will never make it onto the blog, or if it will in a few weeks or months if my dad changes his mind.
Again, it’s a few days later: Thursday. I finally, finally finished that project. But at a cost: it chipped away at my immune system and sanity. I lived off of black coffee and spent many hours at the computer researching and typing furiously long into the night. The ominous taps of the keyboard were the only sound echoing against the silent stretches of darkness surrounding me. Okay, that makes me sound as if I were in a deserted cave. With Wi-Fi. Anyway, I should feel complete relief, but all the stress and pressure of getting the gold-dinged thing done has been converted into unsure, unsteady, nervous worries that I will fail. Which will mean that I Am A Failure Who Has No Friends And No Future and Nothing To Love And Live For. If I fail this project, I am going to seriously consider committing suicide. I will die of shame anyway. If I fail this project, my head will turn into a potato and I’ll shrink until I’m two inches tall and my feet will melt into a thick gooey flesh-juice and my bones will be replaced with sponges, and then I’ll shrivel up into a crinkly, crackly nothing and let the wind blow me into pieces and carry me a thousand miles across the ocean. I’ll float up through the stratosphere and find some other life-sustaining planet, one where I will thrive as its only resident and be a Success. As the years pass I will slowly forget that I am a Failure and maybe, just maybe then I can ride the winds back down to Earth. It’ll take years to get over the failure of such a huge project, though. If I fail, the next time you see me I’ll have wrinkles.
That project made my life hell. It was such a huge amount of work, and I should have known I didn’t have the capacity to finish it all in under two weeks. But I always spring for extra credit no matter what. If I fail, there’s no point in having earned the extra credit, because... I failed.
Now that I think about it, I fail at life too, know what I mean? I mean, I am really a very ordinary person, and I wonder why anybody wants to be my friend. I don’t have anything about me that is special. Some people have these secret talents, like, I don’t know, they can SING! Or, oh man, they can really DRAW! Or they can write these really fantastic POEMS! And some people have outstanding qualities. You know, some people are just outgoing and perky, oh man they’re so FRIENDLY! And others are just so perfect perfect hair face perfect teeth eyes perfect perfect skin perfect they’re just so PRETTY! Or they always have the answer, work’s always done in a flash, god those people are SMART! I’m this dull gray area in a roiling crowd of great personalities and talents. I’m okay in school, mostly A’s but with a B+. I look like a doodle of the general girl. You know, a few sweeps of the pencil equals shoulder-length hair, two dots for eyes, a little dash for the mouth, done. I’m nice to people and people are nice to me, but I’m not so incredibly super fun cool funny cute outgoing helpful caring and so on. I can’t do that pretty lilting thing with my voice (I think they call it ‘singing’) that most girls can do, and I don’t play the acoustic guitar. I’m not the captain of the lacrosse team, and I don’t volunteer at the soup kitchen in my free time. (Actually, that would be fun, but that’s beside the point.) I am this little fuzzy smudge of nothing. If I fail this project, I officially fail at life, and that smudge evaporates and disappears. I really don’t want to fail, because it’s gonna be hard finding another planet that sustains life.
Anyway. I’m glad I could post this, finally. I’m on my mom’s computer again. It feels so weird to have gone so long without blogging. In my pre-blog days, I would write in a “journary.” (Journal+diary= journary, get it, ha ha, not so funny but hey it seemed clever back then. I made it up when I got to the second notebook.) I have five of them now, dating from sixth grade to the present. (I don’t really count my fourth- and fifth-grade ones.) I used to think I was so lame for writing in a notebook and calling it my diary. That is just so fourth grade of you, I’d always think. But now I remember why I journary’d so obsessively. I devoured page after page the last few days. I could write whatever I wanted without having to know any old person could stumble across it online, including my peers who could judge me. Sometimes I edit parts out on my blog, but not so with the good ol’ journary. And in the journary, I could lie. I could say that I got beaten up at school. And I did. I could say I almost drowned in a raging river of rushing aich-two-oh. And I did. I wrote whatever I wanted until the pen ran dry and the pages ran out, then it was on to the next notebook. (Actually, the pen still had ink. But I think the whole ‘pen-running-dry’ thing sounds nice.) I use plain notebooks and nestle them in with old schoolwork so nobody suspects what they might be. Oops. I just broadcast that to the Internet. Oh well, it’s not like any of you are ever going to break into my house at night and steal them. And who knows, you might accidentally pick up an old math notebook instead.
Okay. I’m gonna click the “Publish Post” button now. After two weeks. It’s finally happening. All right, then. Here we go... *click*

God, I'm so sorry.

2009-05-21T17:54:00.000-07:00

I was trying to upload from my phone because my dad banned the Blogger website from our computer. I got on my mom's computer and I see all this gibberish on my blog. Sorry, sorry, sorry. I won't be able to blog for a very long time, not until my dad changes his mind about banning the site.

Footsteps

Tumblr

I caught a lizard, and you didn't!

This is a title

Are all these surveys boring you? Sorry. This one is kind of boring.

She is addicted to surveys.

Please.

Just a couple things

I guess this post is mostly about cooking, so I'm going to put that as the title.

It's between afternoon and evening. Hmm.

I wonder

What's wrong. What are you doing. What is my purpose. What is a rooster?

Look this up: Nudiustertian

Discover me

Flies and other little things

Candy corn

Unspeaking things.

I am a little starfish and I need the sea to thrive.

Shouting out loud.

To be in love.

Splitting a face in a wonderful place.

Bird

Weeds and Bacon

A multitude of lightbulbs illuminating

The Valentine's Day post, early.

Capturing beautiful things

It was wet outside today.

Snow springing from my palm

Dying

Self-induced heresy

My own oafish self.

Maximum home enhancement.

What do blind people think people look like?

Reach for sky, don't assume it's too high.

BACK. *poof*

GONE. *poof*

The Grand Fiasco.

"Life," said Piggy expansively, "is scientific, that's what it is."

The werewolves looked like kitties!

"Ew! Broccoli is so good!"

Or are we ashes and wine?

Sanna Croose.

Clever trick

T-shirts and Tutus

My single solitary guide...

Ick.

Another quiz, yay!

Fan of Pandas

Considerella went to the ball.

Here comes the first flash of May

...for only $4.99/month!

Two Weeks

This is my life.

It's the first day of school.

Screenies

Canada mints!

I ALMOST DIED!!

What would happen...

DUDE IT'S LIKE RED AND BLACK!!

Emmett

Donner Lake

Old post, sorry... I lost my USB stick.

Stuff

Short Little Quickie :)

Three Days in the Life of a Person

100th Post

Every time

Europe, Part 1

I'm in Europe!

My plane takes off at 3:30

Summer

Magic Eyes

The Final Chapter

This girl is a failure.

Melancholy phantoms eye our skins

Blarg.

Hello Alyssa!

Bookshelves can roar?

Cultural Fair

Civil War Day

BACK. poof

GONE. poof