Saturday, March 27, 2010

I am rather obsessed with PostSecret :]

Mae - "The Sun and the Moon"

[Absolutely beautiful. And it's probably the only 7 1/2 minute song I actually have the patience to listen to regularly.]


˙˙˙ʍouʞ ʇ,uop I

1. I feel like my life is a whole bunch of waiting for something exciting to happen. My friend and I printed out a picture of Justin Bieber with photoshopped-on snakebites yesterday and tacked it to the recycling club's bulletin board. It was the highlight of my day.

2. I sit next to a druggie/pothead in my health class. And he's actually pretty nice (but a tad sketchy). And knows way too much about illicit substances.

3. I saw a girl in school yesterday whose younger brother died almost two years ago. Her married pseudo-Catholic dad had been caught with illicit drugs and a prostitute in a sketchy hotel just last Friday. Everyone in the school knows now. I don't know how she was able to get up this morning.

4. Since the new track season started, my confidence has boosted at least 18.4%

5. I'm went to a surprise party yesterday and it was lots of fun! YEE! :]

6. All these shitty colleges have started to send me shiny brochures adorned with grinning ethnically diverse post-teenagers, "urging" me to apply "for the chance to win a $250 Visa gift card!". Yeah, I don't think so. And each and every one of the letters have my name spelled wrong on them.

7. For some reason, lately I've realized how much I don't want to grow up. People say it all the time, and you don't really realize what it means, but I think I'm truly afraid of what is to come.


Saturday, March 20, 2010

Grizzly Bear - "While You Wait for the Others"

[I'm on a bit of an indie kick, as you can tell.]


Friday, March 19, 2010


[English narrative handed in yesterday morning... and a true story]

Rayne-bowe” she confidently labeled her crooked-looking drawing in her crooked-looking handwriting.
“That’s not how you spell it,” I said.
Emily frowned. “I don’t care,” she said while continuing to write haphazardly in the black crayon she was gripping. She was documenting a witches’ spell that we wanted to try during tomorrow’s recess. We planned to use a magic wand that I had recovered from the playground the day before. Emily told me that every spell we did absolutely needed to involve rainbows, but I think she just liked drawing them. I let out a long sigh and pretended not to notice the other misspellings she was making.
I turned and squinted at the bright sun, its warm rays thawing the playground of any and all traces of winter. It was an unusually warm spring day, and it had already put the entire elementary school in summer-mode. Half of the kids that came to school that day had already traded in their boots for jelly sandals and flip-flops, even though going outside without a jacket would have been unthinkable just last week.
Toot toooooot!” the recess aid’s whistle sounded. Two whistles meant that recess was over and we had line up at the door immediately. Or else. We all obediently scampered over like trained dogs, ready to go to lunch. I snagged a spot in the line next to Stefan, my Other Best Friend, so we would be able to eat lunch together. I waved hello and he returned the gesture with a gap-toothed grin.
The recess aide, Miss Miller, had been staring at her clipboard for a good amount of time and we had already become antsy. She turned to say something inaudible to the other recess aide, Mrs. Berry. Mrs. Berry was much pudgier than the other recess aides, and we would always say things like, “Mrs. Berry’s a berry!” We thought that it was the wittiest thing ever, considering her berry-like shape.
Impatiently, I began to rock back and forth on my heels, watching satisfyingly as the pink lights on the side of my shoes glowed each time that they hit the pavement. It took a good amount of convincing on my part to get my mom to buy me the velcro-strapped sparkly shoes. “But all the Cool Girls are wearing them!” I remember whining to her as if it was actually a reasonable argument.
Mrs. Berry and Miss Miller didn’t look like they were going to let us in any time soon, and the rest of Mrs. Clark’s class and I had already become bored. I began to let my eyes wander, and I suddenly spotted a stray piece of blue chalk on the sidewalk. I quickly jumped to snatch it before someone else could. Chalk on the playground was the equivalent of gold, and it was important to treat it as such if you weren’t lucky enough to grab a piece at the beginning of recess.
Out of boredom, I began to shade in one of the red bricks on the side of the building. I watched as the small crevices filled with the dark blue dust and I had nearly filled in the entire brick before I was interrupted.
“Kay, did you do that?” I heard a voice ask sternly. I whipped around and looked up to see Miss Miller. She had her hands on her hips, clearly trying to look authoritative. I nodded quickly, unsure of how else to react. She scowled and scribbled something on her clipboard. She was a grumpy one, that Miss Miller.
I shrugged it off and shoved the chalk into the front pocket of my overalls as the class finally began to slowly file inside the elementary school.

It was later in the afternoon, and I was happily drawing a picture of a flower using a Carnation Pink crayon from Emily’s 64-pack. Everyone always sucked up to Emily to get a chance to use her crayons, and it was mostly why she was my Best Friend. Best Friends always get first dibs on stuff like that.
I was carefully shading in one of the petals when I heard a click-clacking noise approaching my desk. I glanced over to see a pair of black pinched-looking shoes. They looked painful. “Kay,” the owner of the pinched-looking shoes said. I looked up to see my teacher, Mrs. Clark, looking back at me. She was firmly gripping her foam coffee cup in her manicured hands. She liked carrying her coffee with her everywhere, and I was always afraid she would spill it on someone if she wasn’t careful enough.
“Mhm?” I mumbled, acknowledging her presence.
“Can you come with me?” she asked.
“Um, okay,” I agreed, not having the slightest clue what this could possibly be about. She led me into the quiet hallway, her tight shoes making that click-clacking noise they always did. We finally approached an ominous-looking door at the end of a hall. I swallowed hard, remembering a few times that I had seen some Bad Kids go down there to “have a chat” with our principal, Mrs. Stern.
“Am I in trouble?” I asked. Mrs. Clark didn’t say anything. Instead, she proceeded to walk through the door and into a brighter-looking, sterile-smelling room where Mrs. Stern was sitting patiently at her desk. I noticed that her face was even more pinched than Mrs. Clark’s shoes. She had a mass of wig-like neatly combed red hair on her head, and she was wearing a black business suit. She was kind of scary, for a principal.
“Here she is,” said Mrs. Clark with a malicious smile. Crazy lady, I thought to myself.
I took a seat in one of the gray, cushy-looking chairs in front of her desk. The room had no pictures or anything hanging on the walls, and the only papers that littered her desk looked to me like death sentences for children that cut in the lunch line. Mrs. Stern laced her fingers together and leaned forward on her desk. “So you drew on the school walls?”
“Outside! Using sidewalk chalk! It will come out when it rains!” I sputtered randomly, hoping she would realize that it was just a misunderstanding or something. I had never gotten in trouble before, and for all I knew she could have the ability to take away line-leader privileges from the kids who did bad things. And that would be just plain terrible.
She frowned, apparently not understanding my pleas. “Kay, vandalism is a crime. Against the rules. Do you understand?” she snapped. I stared at her blankly, not knowing what vandalism was or why it was relevant. She ignored my confused looks and continued with her banter. “… and I am afraid that you will have to face the consequences.”
I shook myself from my dazed state. “What?”
“Tomorrow, you will spend your recess cleaning off those walls that you drew on,” she told me, ignoring the pre-crying noises that the back of my throat was making. “I’ll tell Mrs. Clark to remember to have you stop by the janitor’s office beforehand to get a bucket and a sponge.” She satisfyingly crossed her arms over her chest, and I think that she was pleased with herself.

I bolted back to my classroom, thoughts racing through my head. …Sentenced to washing off the walls tomorrow during recess? Could she have possibly picked anything more embarrassing? I could just imagine everyone staring at me. I would become one of the Bad Kids, and never get to be the line leader for the rest of my life. The gross, soapy water would roll down my arms as I reached for the parts of the colored brick wall that I didn’t even color myself. I would want to melt into the concrete. I would want to tell my mom. I would want to tear off Mrs. Stern’s stupid hair. I would want to cry.

But I didn’t, because it rained the next day.


Sunday, March 14, 2010

We knew it would happen eventually
but that didn't make it any easier

No human could ever be as lovable as you

A Day to Remember - "If it Means a Lot to You"


Friday, March 12, 2010

I pretty much like to goof of in video productions class. And yes, I am creepy.

Heyhihello! - "In Colour"


Monday, March 8, 2010


I shuffled down our steep stairs in my oversized pink slippers, careful not to trip over the stray shoes and papers littering the steps. The seven o'clock sun was softly shining through our dusty windows, as if it wasn't entirely awake either. As I opened the kitchen door with a click, I noticed him sleeping in a sort of distorted way on his hair-littered blue dog bed. I gently put my hand on his soft black pelt; checking for signs of life from him has become routine lately. To my relief, he lazily opened his eyes and stared at me almost accusingly for waking him from his peaceful slumber. I rubbed his warm ears and continued with making breakfast.
Yellow gel-filled fish pills were scattered on the tabletop, and I momentarily had a fantasy that they would be able to cure cancer. I knew better, though.

I watched my persnickety French teacher roam around the room, seeking out students to accuse of n'ayant pas leurs devoirs. I saw my friend giggle into her palm as she watched Madame Lefevre pull up her purple belly-button-high pants. Out of boredom, I began to pick at the rubbery Band-Aid on my left wrist that was threatening to fall off. "What happened there?" my friend asked. "Did you cut yourself?" she joked.
"Oh totally," I said sarcastically, pressing the bandage harder against my battered skin with a sigh.

It was fifth period wellness (don't even dare to call it health or gym-- all of my previous teachers have articulated it to be a pet peeve). I sat alone at a two-person desk, picking at the neon green eraser at the end of my worn-down pencil. The end had frayed due to my indecisiveness on this morning's CAPT test. Mike walked through the door with Gracie. She was laughing that annoying laugh of hers that would make a hyena laugh seem acceptable. Bitch.
Mike walked over to me with Gracie and looked ready to sit down in the vacant seat next to me. "Hi."
I began to open my mouth to say something, but Gracie beat me to it. "Mike! Over here," she urged, walking over to another two-person table.
Mike followed, glancing at me apologetically. "Sorry, Kay."
"Whatever," I muttered. I took that as an answer to who was the preferred friend. Bitch.
About ten minutes later, I began to read an article our teacher had passed out on the evils of technology and internet predators and sexting while I listened to my iPod on shuffle. "You never know when racy photos can end up in the wrong hands..." I read. "Wow, I Can Get Sexual, Too" by Say Anything suddenly popped on, and I tried my best to stifle my giggles. It was probably the most amusing moment of my day.

I saw him in the lunchroom. Forget butterflies. Try fucking Luna Moths.

It was forty-two seconds until school was over. Half the class was still obediently sitting in their seats, while the other half dared to awkwardly stand in front of the door, anxiously awaiting that monotonous bell that we dreaded half of the time. I was a part of the latter, eying the clock as I stood inches from the door. I saw Christine a few feet away, looking rather studious clutching her books to her chest. I considered Christine to be one of my "tertiary" friends. She talked to me every once in a while, but she often vexed me for one reason or another. She was talking to Lauren, one of the girls I knew from the track team. Naturally, I began to eavesdrop in on their conversation.
"What did he say?" Lauren asked excitedly.
"He said he would be too busy to be a good boyfriend," she humph-ed.
I felt myself swallow hard. I knew exactly who she was talking about. Andrew. He was the only one I knew that would have business as an acceptable excuse for not having a girlfriend. Not to mention him and Christine had become close friends over the past year, as him and I became more distant. But I knew he was fibbing. I felt a small sense of pride knowing that he didn't used to think he would be too busy for me.

Later in the afternoon, I ventured to the local health food store with my dad to buy groceries. We're not exactly health nuts, but then again, half of their products don't meet their "healthy" claims, either.
As we finished picking the shelves of our favorite foods, we wheeled over to the checkout counter. Our cashier was in his forties or fifties, and he was very enthusiastic.
"Oh, this is just excellent. Amazing dip," he said, taking the layered salsa dip from our grocery cart. "I love this too!" he said chirpily, referring to the store brand ketchup we had picked out. "You know, I used to love Heinz, and then I tried this and never went back!"
My dad nodded as he helped me pack the groceries into their recycled paper bags. I mentally debated with myself where to put the eggs.
"Oh, thank you so so much for helping to bag the groceries," he said as if "bagging the groceries" was actually code for "saving my baby from a man-eating tiger".
"Well, it's kind of a habit," my dad said. "Why? How many people don't help you bag their groceries?"
He shrugged as he scanned a can of dog food. "About 50 percent."
The cashier behind him turned around. "Yeah, like 45, 5o percent." The elderly woman he was checking out for suddenly looked ashamed that she was allowing him to bag her four items.
"What does the 45 percent that doesn't help you bag do?"
"Just watch," our cashier laughs. I imagined the cashiers exchanging annoyed glances whenever non-baggers came along. I hoped I'd remember to always be a bagger.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

You know, it seems like every friend is bound to disappoint at some point.

I was there for you when she wasn't. I was there for you when everyone's nightmare became your haunting reality. It's not the first time you've been selfish like this. I know it's nothing huge, and I shouldn't make a big deal out of it, but you knew how much it meant to me. And the worst part of it is that I've never done anything like that to you, ever, nor would I. It's just not fair.

I know I'm being dramatic, but really? I wouldn't do that to you.

Time to put on my I'm-totally-fine-with-what-you're-doing-even-though-I'm-not face.


Saturday, March 6, 2010

Today so far has been a happy day for me.
I'm not quite sure, but I woke up this morning and managed to get dressed in time to go drive to the next town over with my mom to drop off a form at someone's house. It was sunny and the air was still and it smelled like spring. It immediately put me in a great mood. The ground has finally thawed, and metaphorically, I guess I have, too. Winter always puts me in a bitter mood.
Last night was fun, too. I went out with my three closest friends to get vitamin water flavored chapstick (I know, it's awesome) at Walgreens. Afterwards, we went to a cupcake store we've been wanting to go to since we were last there, which was probably in January. We then proceeded to complain about how too sweet they were as we picked at them all the way to our school to go to the annual film festival. A good friend of ours told us to come since going would benefit the sophomore class for some reason or another. Not too many people came, but it was still pretty fun.

Have a nice Saturday :]

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Is this not the second hottest indie boy you've ever seen?

Is this not the hottest indie boy you've ever seen?

Well, officially started my CAPT testing today. :[ I think just about every student in-between the ages of eight and sixteen have the pleasure of doing standardized tests this week, actually. I actually can't complain, though, 'cause this means teachers are forced to put the minimal amount of stress upon us so we don't fuck up our test scores.

On a different matter, a very close friend of mine has been bugging me. Actually, most of my friends have been bugging me. There is not one close friend of mine that I've not been pissed off with lately. I'm not fighting with anyone, but there are just so many things about some people that annoy me. Some are copycats, some are nosy, some are bipolar, some are ignorant, and some are just plain annoying.

Sorry for complaining. I know my whiny rants are not fun to read.

"Hold that thought just for a moment
Let your heart feel numb
Now I see that this is what you mean
When you said you'd be my everything"
-Attack Attack!

Attack Attack! - "Sexual Man Chocolate"

[Yeah, try not to be turned off by the name...]



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