Introduction


Hey. I'm amazed you've stopped to take a peak! I'm sorry to say that my blog is full of negative, atrociously positive, philosophical, or otherwise stupid posts concerning my thoughts, feelings, and every day life. But what the hell! If you think it's great, then I think you're great. Got it?

Dec 4, 2012

Screw it.

I really really loathe teachers.

I hate the projects they think will benefit us, when half of us only bullshit it.

I hate that they choose to give these bigass projects the week before Christmas break.

I hate school.

I hate that I want so badly to pursue the hardest school to get into.

Why can't I be happy with an office job?!

I want to go to sleep and never wake until Summer.

I hate life right now. A lot.

Dec 1, 2012

Once upon a time, I began to hate Christmas...

The best moments in my life aren't the laughs you share with your friends, or looking into the mirror and seeing beauty for once. No, the best moment is when it's 1 AM and I fall into my bed, eyes just about to close. The weight of the world seems to be heaved off your shoulders and slowly crushing another person while your fears and worries fade away into sleep.

It's like an orgasm, but lasts a bit longer and has dire consequences the moment your brother brutally awakens you.

Imagine, floating in a sea of silky smooth fabrics, cotton-cloud pillows, and a warmth no heater could ever give you. Now, imagine that multiplied by a thousand! (I know it's not possible, but when you're on this drunk, sleepy-high, anything is.) That's how my bed feels in that gracious moment.

The moment lasts a few minutes, and then you roll to your side, realize you're not covered by enough blanket, cold is creeping in, your face is smashed against what seems to be a hardening pillow, and your hip is digging into the not-so-soft mattress you once mistook it to be. That's how my life is all the time, not just when I'm sleeping.

You see, I have these small moments of happiness, and then the next thing I know, I'm accompanied by a pinched, angry-faced reality saying, "Wake the hell up! You get to go to work and get pickle juice spilled all over you!" I'd very much rather have blood all over me.

Lately, reality has been a bit more harder on me than it needs to be. I got to stick my hands in a cadaver, and my god was it awesome! I was happy, satisfied, sure of what I want to do when I grow up, but the moment I boarded the bus to go home, depression slithered into my shoe and delivered its acidic bite.

I feel like I have nothing exciting to look forward to, save for the day my 16 year old body is soon defined as 17 year old body. But a birthday is a birthday. I might get cake, maybe a present or two (for no reason, I might add, except having been born), and then that random Thursday night will be finished with smug pre-calculus homework. Awesome.

I suppose there are a few movies I am looking forward to; Les Miserable and The Hobbit. But to be honest? They're just movies. Nothing that would really affect my life in any way. Except that I super seriously really want to see both of them super seriously bad.

I know what you're thinking. "What about Christmas? Aren't you excited for that?"


No.

Let me tell you why:

Once upon a time, there was a family of seven living on a below-moderate family's annual income. Wait, I think that's all you need to know!

Just kidding. It's mostly the same Christmas music that is played over and over every stinking year!

It's also the annoying bell-ringers that stand in front of Walmart with monotonous faces saying, "Donate! Sharing is caring!"

At the family Christmas day party, the grandparent's offspring have to rotate in a circle who's giving to whose family. Ex: My family would give to my mom's brother's family this year, and then next year, give to the next in line. (Sort of like what we're doing with my immediate family.) I find it stupid, because we have to buy something for the whole family or for each family member, as well as our own Christmas presents. It's stupid.

I could hate Christmas because of  those painfully bright Christmas lights I have to squint at when I drive by at night.

Better yet, just the fact that it's night time at six in the stinking evening.

It could also be the snow, the junk food, the sweets, the fattening of my body, the dis-motivation I feel about running, the obligation I feel to buy everyone I love presents when really only my love is what they need...

I also don't really like hot-chocolate, so I feel people might have an uncontrollable disliking for me in that sense.

I don't look very good in hats. Sorry if you beg to differ, but I don't.

Also, I've gained an increasingly long-lasting hate for Walmart during the holiday seasons. Or any store, for that matter. 

I'm beginning to grow annoyed at the religious aspect of Christmas too. First of all, it's WINTER break for public school, not Christmas. That's something Tyler's horribly ex and I somehow agree on. I'm sorry, but there are non-religious, Muslim, Jewish, etc. people and all kinds of other religious people that aren't Christian or Catholic.  I'm sick of hearing the nativity story all the freaking time. I'm sick of cute, Eve-like angels everywhere preaching, "Choose the right!" I won't ever say these things out loud, but that doesn't mean I have to like any of it.

I especially don't like having to sit on that halitosis-drenched, grandpa-smelling, cheesy jingle bell ringing Santa Claus they bring every year to the family Christmas parties. It makes me shudder to just think about it. It's the same every year!

"Ho ho, you're getting bigger! What do you want for Christmas this year?!" Translation: "My god you're too fat for my old grandpa legs. What is it you've been begging your annoyed parents for this year?"

I usually try to respond with a witty comment or make it so personal that he begins to feel awkward because he barely knows me. Translation: "FML".


I do enjoy, however, throwing snow balls at my brothers and sledding down adrenaline-induced hills of steep heights.

Mistletoe, perhaps, might become a favorite if I suddenly become a normal girl this season.

I also enjoy soup, blankets, slippers, pajamas, and making ornaments for the tree. Those aren't too bad.

And...Transiberian Orchestra is awesome. 'Nuff said.

I admit, receiving presents you like is pretty fun. (Okay, seeing the look on others' faces when I give them something is endearing too.)

 Most of all: Winter break, the only longest break we get during a school year where I can write, sleep, watch shit, and earn a crap load of money with hours I don't normally get with school in my way.


I hate the term "Merry Christmas!" I've heard it so many times in my young young life. TO YOUNG to have heard it so many times, one would think.

Pinterest is getting increasingly difficult to tolerate, since it's overrun by follower's disgusting posts of Christmas everything. Why the hell is St. Patrick's day so left out?

The only people I'm buying presents for are:

Rachel
The brother I'm supposed to give to
Mom and Dad
Almond and Gary (Or maybe I'll make them something pathetic, trying to be amazing)
My secret Santa assignment at work

To my friends, and everyone else who thinks they're important to me; you'll get something. Probably like a poem from the heart or a paper snowflake or something. 

Sorry, but I have a future and a laptop to save up for. Has my negativity made it too late to say that I still love you guys anyway?

To cut to the chase, I will say only this: This is the first Christmas in my life so far that I've lost all enjoyment and excitement for. I will guarantee you, this Scrooge-ish hate will disappear one day. If not now, then some day.






Afternote:

I just realized that A Christmas Carol's message is about not being greedy and donating some of your money to the helpless. (Yes, I've lived my life not knowing this.) It bothers me to know that I don't really care about being selfless. If one is to be selfless, he'd be selfless the entire year, and not just during Christmas time when you're selflessly trying to buy everyone else's love. Duh.

Nov 15, 2012

Iambic Pentameter; repetitive, like my life in a sense

Although you claim reality is one
Idealism is twice now where you're wrong
According to you she is no such fun
But her love is what drives this lonely song.
If you believe that her lips are so dull
Imagine a luster in place of them
Remember you not, the stories of ol'?
They turn a small rock in one like a gem.
Reality verses Ideality
Splits us into a division, I say
Ideal is the more likely pretty
While realism defines this day.
When they differ so widely to view,
The similarities are none too few.

This is a sonnet I wrote in response to one of the many sonnets Shakespeare has written. He was basically describing how her features aren't like the sun or silk or beauty, rather he would describe them in the most realistic manner he could muster. Well, why can't reality and idealism morph and be used equally to create a realistic fantasy?

That's basically what I do every day of my life. Just saying.

I'm not very superb at poetry. Heck, I barely know how to use those weird iambic pentameter things with regular speech, let alone rhyming AND organizing AND symbolizing. Geez. It's too much. I usually just wing it when I write poetry. Then I end up struggling when it becomes a real requirement. The thing is though, even if they aren't that good, I still feel this sense of accomplishment and relief when I've finally figured out how to let the words out in an acceptable, organized way. I don't feel hectic or crazy. It actually requires me to think about what to write rather than write it out and be satisfied with what I have. I cherish the words more.

But I do like to write prose as opposed to poetry, because with poetry, no matter how silly it is, there's always a message you need to convey within it. With prose, you can write the most intense piece of a story, and that's all it will be: a story. It doesn't HAVE to have a message at all.


I'm supposed to read poetry from the Renaissance in my literature book for English, but honestly? I don't want to do it. Because I have to write summaries and immitations and quickwrites after I'm done. It's lame. I don't have that much time. I don't have the patience to sit down and read it or understand it. I'm too excited about test scores, and the cadaver lab, and Trace being able to come with, and understanding Chemistry, and having to write write write my book. Ugh. Please, people. Is there no free time to myself anymore?

I'm not ready to grow up. That's the problem here. Having no free time to myself is going to be a normal thing when I become a doctor and work 12 hour shifts in the hospital. I have to get used to it. But I just don't want to right now, because I'm so not ready to do that yet.

AHHH!! Cadaver lab! I'm so stoked.

I have to be at the buses by 5:30, miss all of school, and be back late at night. WHOO!!! USU here I come!

Nov 4, 2012

So maybe I'm a bit too excited about it

I've been dark and depressing, recently. I apologize for that. I've been bitter that everyone has gotten more attention than I have, but you know what? It doesn't really matter. I have a lot of things that not everyone else has, and I have an imagination that will keep me from succumbing completely to the reality of living here.

After a long period of severe writer's block, I've finally come up with the second plot to my novel. Yes, I still have to rewrite my first book, but sometimes I get sick of it. I'm stuck on chapter ten because I have a hard time describing fight scenes. (To be honest, I get a little bored with it.) So I've looked towards book two, which hasn't been written at all. It's going to be epic.

Okay, there's actually not much to talk about. I'd be kidding myself if I thought I could write a long entry about philosophies concerning writer's block. I'm just distracted, restless, and hungry. Yes, hungry.

Nov 2, 2012

Fixating on the inevitable

I'm quite frightened of the vigor and quickness people have suddenly obtained in reading my blog. I mean, honestly? I pictured this site as a barren desert with hidden words buried in the sand, no one there to find them, no one there to know. How often do people truly read these words? I figured nobody cared enough about me to know what's going on in my life. To me, it seems like everyone else's lives are more important.

I mean, there are aspects of the blog that would clearly push people away. Other than myself, how many people do you know that are obsessed with elephants? I probably repulse people with my foul language as well, but as you should know, I cannot swear on Facebook for goody family members ruin my fun, so I channel it through here. Sometimes I just want to write a blog post with the F-bomb in every other line. (Completely stupid and unnecessary, I know.)

What really miffs me is the fact that all my friends latch on to the only gossip-driven, juicy stuff I reveal. Of all blog posts to read, why the last one? I'm shocked no one has read my abortion one, or about the dreaded hand washing of dishes. Seriously, people!

It's okay, I forgive you now. To be quite honest, I don't care who knows. I don't care if Trace ever finds out, or if Parker magically realizes I exist, or if Halofom is somehow informed about my spilling secret. If I wanted to keep it to myself so badly, I would never have written the entry.

Don't you notice a pattern, though? Teenagers grip the romantic possibilities that others spill, but they could care less about the more important aspects of life. It's only natural, don't feel bad. Some of us, (yours truly) is just a different breed of teenager.

Think of it this way:

Arabella (work with me here, it's hypothetical) has been showing signs of pathetic-ness in socializing with the male gender because her grades, her interests, and her hobbies aren't as common as others would think. Her friends listen kindly to what small complaints she has about every day life and repetition, but none really take to heart what she says.

Then one day, Arabella finds hope after a guy has been smiling at her more than usual. She doesn't feel like she can tell her friends straight out, because most of them have strong opinions about appearance, social status, and attitude. This guy is a little bit on the opposite end of the spectrum, but she still would want to give it a try.

So she lets out her feelings on a piece of paper that she thinks no one will ever find. She hugs it to her heart, and then she stuffs it in her backpack.

That paper falls out.

Her friend walking behind her picks it up and reads it. Later that day, her friend embarrasses her in front of all the other friends, shocks her that they've all read that piece of paper.

What she realizes, however, is that they only care about the juicy information about her possible attractions. If she were to have left a piece of paper with her cherished fiction writing on it, her friend probably would have read it, said it was pretty good, then moved on with her life.

Interesting, isn't it?

There are only a few things that really wake us up when it comes to friendship. You get so caught up in the routine of each other's actions, personalities, feelings, etc., that you don't pay attention to the little changes. If I were to say "I want to commit suicide", then there would be a huge, booming reaction from everyone around me. Positive and negative. If I were to say I'm feeling sad, then they'd feel concern for you, listen to what you have to say, have nothing to say or help with, and move on.

Not everyone is perfect. No one can say the right things. I'm not saying you have to shape up and change your attitude towards me. Actually, I prefer less attention drawn to myself. I love you all for who you are. If what you were doing really tore me down, I obviously wouldn't be friends with you.

Sometimes, though, you all have your little quirks. That's not a bad thing. It means you're a human.

Nov 1, 2012

The harmonious ring of teenagerdom

There's this guy in my English class. His name may or may not be Trace Ingram, and he's pretty damn attractive.

But it's not his handsome features or lovely eyes that get my attention. It's the fact that in the few times we've spoken to each other, I learned that he has an interest in anatomy and physiology like I do! He even showed me this cute little ipod surgery game.

He's so perfect.

But he clearly is into Sam Matthews, who sits in the same aisle I do. They make eye contact all the time, and a week ago she and Trace were pretty much acting like they're a couple, so I figure, oh well. I'm sure he's mormon too, as well as a football player. There's no way that someone like me could ever have a chance.

I know, that little phrase was a total cliche. Who cares? It's the truth. Whenever he's there in class, I can't ever concentrate. He looks at me a lot, so I'm paranoid all the time when I'm not looking at him. I constantly make sure my profile isn't facing him, because I really hate my profile.

Contradicting, however, is the fact that I don't want anything to ever happen between us because I can only imagine how much drama could be associated with it. And he probably wouldn't be accepted by my very...biased and judgmental friends.

There's also this other guy in my US history class. His name is Parker, and he's a very quiet person. I mean, I almost hardly ever hear him speak, but he's handsome and mysterious and something makes me want to be his friend. He took the same bus I did last year and I got on the first stop, he got on one of the last stops. So peculiar...he always made eye contact with me every morning. It could have been unintentional, but it happened, and it just has me so fascinated.

Then there's Halofom. Hal, for short. I always pictured Hal to be an old cowboy's name or something, but Halofom is in my journalism class. We make eye contact a lot too. He's obnoxious sometimes, but very sweet when he talks to me. He even wanted to try shooting paper into the trash can with his left hand, failed, and looked really embarrassed afterwords. I was his editor for a month, and he listened intently to anything I would say. I really like him.

All of these guys...I'd love to go on a date with, but never just pair up and call it 'boyfriend'. I don't want to have to deal with any heartbreak associated with relationships right now. Tyler's going through it slightly with Ryan because Tyler's sister and I both think that Ryan's taking advantage of Tyler sexually and already had given him an STD. I know, very blunt, but true. Very very true....Sigh.

If only boys would be braver and more willing. :(

This is why I can't wait for college.

Oct 29, 2012

Whereas my heart remains untethered

There's no way around the excruciating pain of living an ordinary life. Most days I just breathe and do what I am expected to do. There's no conflicting feelings about an assignment, there's no question about what I have to do at work. I experience a life full of routine and utter boredom in what I do every day.

Did you know that I dream--be it night dreaming or day dreaming or just fantasizing--nearly 40% of my school time, and nearly 90% of my free time? I can't afford to let my mind wander while I'm at work, but if I could, I would.

The weird thing is that even dreaming has become dissatisfying in my need to feel unique. My dramatic friends have begun to take over what little time and space I have for thinking. It's all about the relationships.

Tyler's starting to finally act like my best friend again. Thank god. I've been worried that maybe our previous relationship ruined things, but I'm glad to see that wasn't the case. I mean, I understand his disattraction to the female gender and all, but he doesn't have to feel like he can't ever touch me in a best friend sort of affection. I mean, for god's sake, Brayden and Kaeli are all over each other but there is absolutely no such physical or romantic desire between them whatsoever. I want that between us, but Tyler's too busy dividing ANY physical interaction he could ever muster with his new boyfriend, Ryan.

Ryan's a vegan. Strict vegan. He won't touch products that have ANYTHING coming from animals. Not even Burt's Bees chapstick. Because it comes from bees. Bees are apparently animals... He's way cool though. I really like him. Except for the part where he's slept with a few people and may or may not be giving my best friend STD's....

Kaeli's been....everywhere regarding boys. She's broken up with Tyler K., dated three other guys within the past few weeks, sworn off dating, missed Tyler, dated more, etc etc. This is sort of a sensitive subject for me, considering that she gets a ton of guys all over her the minute she breaks up with Tyler, and I've been single for basically a long time and not one normal guy has wanted to even take me on a date.

Instead, I get Brody, who's into me again, Sebron, who's creepily there, watching, waiting, Brett, who can only ever just be my awesome friend, and that Kaleb guy who I met at homecoming and is severely hated by ever inch of Junior's short little body. I haven't seen him much lately, and I doubt Kaleb really does like me like that. I'm just trying to point out that no mormon guy wants to take me on a date because I'm probably really intimidating, that I can't flirt worth my life, and that I probably scare a lot of boys away. Sometimes I feel like I don't throw myself out there enough, or that I'm not pretty enough to get other guys' attentions. Maybe.

With Brody being my ex, I'm really hesitant about him. Mainly because we've tried it already. I mean, I want OTHER guys to notice, not the ones in our tight little misfit group. At the same time, I don't even want to go on a date, because I'm just too busy with school work and real work to even consider taking time away from my friends to go on a date with another guy.

You see how utterly horrible I am when it comes to making decisions about guys? Sigh. I should just give up, stay single, and never have any kids while saving lives.

Nah, he'll come. He'll be older, I'll be older, more can be done, more time can be spent, and more meaning can be played into the relationship. High school boys are immature, gross, and obnoxious. So there.


You know, it's a hard, routinely life. Sometimes I get so sick of it.

There are times when I cry for no reason. No reason whatsoever. Sometimes I can't make myself smile, and my friends' concern only bothers me more. I can't pinpoint a reason as to why I have to cry in my room before I go to sleep. I just don't know why. It's been going on for a week and a half now, almost two weeks. I find myself laughing and having fun with my friends, but then the next minute, I sink into a low emotional state and retreat into my thoughts.

People aren't sympathetic either, nor do they care about what they say around me. "Oh, I've had a miscarriage." "I have too!" Yeah, well, good for you. I'm a virgin who tried dating a gay guy.

Sometimes the situations at home can be really demanding too, or just the depression that floats from Almond to me to mom to me to Almond and back around. Mom's MS, Almond's SADD, my....nothing? Annoying brothers, annoying dad, constantly messy room, nothing to ever eat.  Not much sleep. It all adds up.

But I can usually handle these things. Easily. I did it just find last winter.

I don't get what's wrong. Not really.

Oct 3, 2012

Plowing Through the Muck

The longest word in the dictionary is irrelevant, useless, and extremely stupid. 


I've complained about it before, but I'm just now realizing how frustrating it's become. Jay Allen, my Human bioethics instructor, took us on a hike up the Mount Timanogos trail. We came to a stop after a while and he looked at us and said, "44 years I've been a climbing this trail. After a few times of climbing it, you begin to get bored. You have to find new ways to entertain yourself while you hike."

The cool thing about my teacher is that he doesn't tell you random things for no reason. Though I'm skeptical most times, there are moments when I make the connection between the commonplace statement and my life.

There are moments when I find myself delving into a state of depression because of the useless efforts I put into an entertaining lifestyle. The way I live my life right now is the trail we hiked. I live the same aspects of it over and over again. My routines never cease. I try too hard to find a side show or a "story" to follow when the trail gets boring. When I find one, I get so caught up in it, that I discover I've lagged behind and can't get back to the front of the group.

For a while I was ahead of the game, hiking far ahead of everyone else. I wasn't distracted. I worked, but I fit in social time as well. What I didn't expect was the abrupt stop on the trail because another hiker decided to leave me by myself. It set me behind, and then I was attacked by more interferences.

Now, hiking alone, I'm left behind, struggling to find the peace in the trail without paranoid thoughts clouding my vision.

I put my current problems into an analogy, because I honestly don't feel like writing out the details of everything that's going on. 1) I would sound like a sobbing teenager, and 2) I don't really want to relive all the emotions I've just recently been feeling about my life.

What I will say is that mine and Tyler's friendship hasn't been the same since June 12th. Ever since we broke up, he's found refuge in Kaeli's arms and I've lost hold of that small connection only he and I shared. They talk to each other more, they hang out with each other more, and they even park next to each other in the parking lot like immature preschoolers. Ever since Kaeli and her ex-boyfriend broke up, Kaeli's been clinging to anyone she can, and that person is Tyler.

It's frustrating when I walk behind them, alone, half-listening to them talk. They'll turn around and wonder why I'm walking behind them and not next to them. First of all, four people in one line takes up half the hallway space, and secondly, they'd just be giggling about inside jokes that I wouldn't know anyway.

What happened to the simplicity of friendship in ninth grade? It was the best of my teenage years because I shared it with the best of personalities one could ask for. Now that Kaylynn is gone, and Brett is half-there, and Kaeli is always just there, things have been lonely and difficult.

I have to keep telling myself that the choices I'm making today are going to affect my future career, so I have to be careful and smart. When my friends sluff class, I stay in school and take the practice ACT. When my friends go to the mall all day and goof around, I'll work and earn money to put into savings for college.

It'll all work out in the end. We all have to make sacrifices in our lives to reach our destinies at one point. I'd rather do it now than later.

Sep 24, 2012

Broken Hearts, Broken Wings

I'm not painfully heartbroken. I'm not suffering a major blow to the emotional compartment. I'm just...slightly hurt and really depressed.

I knew it was coming.

I knew what I had gotten into with the relationship.

For some people, dating their best friend is perfect and wonderful and they end up happily married with children and happiness.

For others, the idea only lasts four months. 

I can only say now that I like the ideas of dating guys, but not going steady with one. Go on several dates with several different guys, you know? We're young, we're free, and we're susceptible to overwhelming emotions.

Of course, with every relationship I've been in, I've been the one to end it. It's different when you're on the other end. It's wholly different, and really humbling.

My problem  right now is being around him at school with our friends. I conclude that it's easiest to just not look at him, but then I feel like I'm being hypocritical to my own standards of dis-awkwardness. Then I have to look at him, smile at him, and then watch him look away from me.

I've realized that I'm handling this quite well with my art. Ever since I participated in the Chalk the Block festival in Riverwoods, Provo, I've felt a need to draw with chalk, draw chalk pictures, draw pictures, do something artistic. It makes me feel so much better. I don't know why.

I don't have many people to tell my problems to. The friends who are in the group itself won't keep anything I say to them to themselves. They're bound to tell him what I had said, or how I feel. I don't really trust them anymore.

And Kaeli, my only girlfriend, doesn't even show that she cares. She's been talking to Tyler more than to me. So now I feel so alone. So outrageously alone.

But that's fine. I've always been alone. I'm used to it.



Kudos to Julia, my lovely partner in crime, moral supporter, and color blender. :)  It was good to have an extra hand to shave away upon asphalt.


 The completed product. Julia colored the 28 for me. :)

Aug 24, 2012

Let's just all die, now.

I don't even know anymore. I feel so....conflicted.

I got a text from Holly (An old childhood friend) saying she was with Erica.

Erica.

Why does this piss me off so much? That Erica suddenly disappeared last year and then pops up with Holly, a completely unfamiliar yet so freaking familiar part of my life who wants to know every little dirty secret I could ever possibly tell? That I had to learn about their joining schools together through two hallway skanks while walking back from picking blackberries during my Human Biology class?

I don't know. I feel selfish, controlling, impossibly angry that Holly gets to meet up with Erica and I don't get to see her again.

I think most of it was because the two girls told me, "Yeah, Holly and Erica are out in the parking lot right now!"

And I was in the middle of stinking class.


I'm working all week again. All week. Except Monday. I feel indifferent about this one.


Tyler. He's....I don't know! I don't know what happened, what's going to happen... Our nice little summer fling...it was only a fling, I guess. He's reverted back to friend mode. Fine. Whatever.


I'm so tired. So exhausted. There's so much to do. Work, School, School work, Running, Reading, Writing, Driving, Buying.

Fuck.

There. I've held that word in all day. For Tyler, for mormon kids, for my brothers, for school atmosphere. I've held it in long enough.

Ryan's making dinosaur noises and talking to himself. Figures.


What am I going to do with my life? I mean, I know WHAT I'm going to do, but I mean it in a nonsensical sort of way. What am I going to do with the life I have now, the life that keeps throwing shit at me, at my friends? My puny, busy, pathetic life?

Brayden is so freaking optimistic and amazing. He hardly shares his own problems, and when he does, he's so nonchalant about them. It's like his father almost strangling him in a drunken stupor means nothing compared to my boyfriend problems, or something. I feel so bad...

I feel selfish.

I feel sick.

I feel exhausted and horrible.

But life doesn't stop for you.

Aug 20, 2012

Abortion, Politics, and my Obvious Frustration

Abortion is a heavy subject to almost everyone out there. But me.

Is it because I'm so heartless and cynical inside?

I guarantee your fondness of me will disappear after I take the time to reveal a little piece of information about me.

I pretty much gave away the topic with that very first word. Abortion.

It's an interesting line of thinking, to put it lightly. It's straightforward and regrettable. It's heartrending and painful. Though if you look at it from my perspective, it's a choice. No politician has the right to tell us whether or not we can do such an act to our bodies. It's OUR body. It's not theirs. They might believe differently, they might be disgusted by it, and that's okay, but when they start to interfere with someone else's choice, then things get heated.

I look at things with a lot more logic than most people do. I'm more about the facts. In the earlier stages of pregnancy, the only thing that matters is that it lives and grows. But so does every other cell in your body. Hell, we cut off all kinds of skin cells, hair cells, bone cells, etc, for our own beauty. That's all the child is when it starts off. A cell.

We women have 2,000 of those ready to go whenever we want.

Once you get attached to the baby, feel the baby, love the baby, that's when it starts to seem inhuman and terrible to kill it. That's when the mother makes the decision. Does she keep it, go into debt, change her life around, raise it, then regret life? Or does she let it go, continue with her original plans in life, and have one later when she's completely ready?

Granted, if someone aborts a baby just for the hell of it, then that is sick, wrong, and shouldn't be awarded brownie points in life. 

I'm only supporting abortion because it doesn't effect anybody else but the mother and the child. So why does everyone have to get so caught up and angry about it? Why do we have to choose sides? It's just as "important" as caring about that bent page in a book. I don't really care about abortion so much as I care about the extravagance that is made because of abortion.

First the colors of our skin, then what sex we are, then how we choose to share our love between sexes, then how we can take care of our own bodies? Next we'll be on marionette strings and flopping around like animals, bending to the wills of men we ourselves voted for.

Why does this world have to be so conflicted, so screwed up? I guess I shouldn't say that. No life, no world, no society or people can truly be normal. Normal is only a casual word to describe petty things. Normality probably doesn't exist. Maybe that's why it's so easy to be...weird.

Listen to me. You see what trying to pay attention to politics does? She shouldn't have to.

Aug 13, 2012

The Last Week of the Vacation

Well, for my last week of summer, I'm working every day.

Thursday is his birthday! :D His present is so close to being finished. Just a few more preparations, and voila! I'm sure he'll love it.

All summer I've been stressing about my grammar English Packet. Good news! I finished yesterday morning. They estimated 15-20 hours of work. I used 4 hours. What a wonder I am! (Did anybody else sing Scar's "Be Prepared" song when they read that last sentence? I did...)

I have yet to do some school shopping. This coming Saturday I get off work at three, which is the most rarest occasion ever! So at the end of the week, it's off to Gen X clothing, Rue 21, Plato's Closet, and a store that has many nice pants, for my last pair ripped several weeks ago.

I lied. I have another pair of pants, but they're too tightly skinny, and I can only wear them with boots during the winter after my legs get skinnier.

My plan for this school year?

Run five times a week. Three in the mornings before school, two in the evenings. I'll have to learn to take showers in less than ten minutes. Good luck to myself! When I say run, I don't mean six million miles. Maybe just two or three, depending on the morning. It's my resolution to getting in shape and staying there for the school year. If I make this a hardcore habit, then it will follow me into my college years, and thus further until my adult years are established into a fit program.

This also means I have to eat better. Meaning: no more sensuous sandwiches. :( Or at least, I can't have all the sauces I put on, the pastrami, or the white bread. Wheat, ham, roast beef, MAYBE turkey, I don't really like the turkey there, oil and vinegar, and jack cheese. Ha. This will be great! I also need to figure out what I should do for breakfast. If I run in the mornings, I need to have some kind of energy supplier. A granola bar before class, maybe? A few quick eggs on Tuesdays and Thursdays?

This means I'll have to wake up extremely early and go to bed extremely early in order to keep my sanity. I'll probably stock up on melatonin for the first few weeks just to get me asleep, because lately, I've been up til one and awake by 10:30.  Not very good for the school schedule.

Everything will go according to plan so long as I end up getting this car I saw yesterday. 1990 Honda Accord, 210,000 miles on it. Automatic, so the transmission is getting a little sketchy. My mom predicts it has another year on it, which is just enough time for me to save up for a newer, better car. I'll have transportation to school and home and work, and that's all that matters right now. Time is running out. So I gotta get our mechanic over there to check it out!

Cosmetically, it's 20 years old. But I figure if I can't find a cheap paint job, I'll have fun priming it and spray painting it to my heart's content. Because after I use it, I'm selling it for parts. Maybe one of these days I'll be the one with the KSL ad. Hahahah!

Tonight I'm going to make sure my mom has her payment plan set up, and that I'm registered for school. I have until the end of the week to get my textbooks, and if I don't, I'm screwed. Tuesday and Thursday are the only days this week I can possibly do it. I close every single day this week. ARRGG!!!!

I also need to get my little surprise over to Pepe this week as well. I'm thinking tomorrow just before I leave for work. She needs to know that I miss her, and that I regret pushing her away from me. I made her something extremely awesome. :)

Aug 9, 2012

So boycot Love, detox just to retox...

There is always an exhaustion that consumes us at the end of the day.

Though no one may notice it at times, or it appears in very unexpected ways, this exhaustion eats away a microscopic piece of our willpower little by little.

For me, that exhaustion is repetition.

There's always this moment in my life when I feel I am closest to what could be a heaven in the after life. That moment, ladies and gentlemen, is the floating, fleeting space between deep unconscious sleep and comfortable awakening.

In that moment you feel nothing but bliss. There's no worry about routine, no battle between wits and emotions. There's no need to analyze every passing glance you receive. You need not worry about working your muscles and physical exhaustion--it's regenerated and ready.

But most importantly, there are no thoughts that cloud your mind and keep you twisting in your sheets with anxiety. It's simple, really, but it's the only escape I seem to have anymore. Even retreating into my fantasies has begun to feel stressful and tiring.

The cons to living this peaceful time is the sudden rush of thought that swarms your mind the minute you become fully conscious you're even having that moment. The sick doubts you have every day, the oncoming hate you feel for car shopping, the ceaseless worrying about him and his thoughts and feelings...it's as though you never experienced the peace at all.

I shouldn't be complaining. I have everything I ever need right now. Yet I still manage to feel this small, angry monster scratch and claw its way to the top. I'm going to Lagoon for heaven's sake! I have no need to get down and mopey about life.

I admit, I believe most of it stems from a relationship I've tried too hard with. More and more I manage to convince myself that being single is the way to go for the rest of my life! It seems so enticing, though you do get lonely every once in a while. Who was I kidding? Thinking I could manage to be my best friend's girlfriend? It won't work out, especially with the way he feels right now. It's not me, I assure you. I know perfectly well I've done nothing. It's him. I feel he's fit to just be my comrade in arms, my shoulder to lean on when I feel weak, and my friend who's there to listen when I need him too.

He's not someone I can fully imagine having a make out session with, and I guess I should have thought about that deeper before I let the relationship carry on.

As a teenage girl who's tried to keep this from bugging her, it still disappoints me. It stems mostly from the fact that everyone else has someone to love and "be" with, while I wander alone, completely incompatible with other guys because of my thoughts, my feelings, my somewhat big mouth, and my controlling attitude about relationships.

The hardest part about all of this is that I have to battle my emotions, outwardly show that I am indifferent to these pressing feelings, and prove to adults all around me that yeah, I am mature and I am smart when it comes to stuff like this. I know what love feels like. My parents don't give me enough credit. They think I don't know what it is. They think what I think I'm feeling is "Oh he loves me, so I'm going to love him back then makeout and have sex and fuck up my pretty little life!" When really, it's "I love that he waits, that he's patient. I love him for who he is, for how he treats me. I love him with all my heart, and if he were to choose to walk away from me, I would still love him, no matter what."

Yet they don't believe me.

"You're too young to know what love is."

They speak the truth in some ways, but in others, youth and inexperience has nothing to do with the power of emotion, so long as one is capable of that emotion. They think along the lines of marital love, of the love you feel physically. Of course I don't know what it is to love physically or have love for it. Of course I don't. But I do know how to love, what love is. I think that is all that matters.

Talking about all this love has me feeling like I'm writing a romance novel. Honestly, it's another element that leaves me feeling exhausted. There's so much to think, so much to analyze when it comes to romance. I often just wish for a simple life without the dramas of he's and she's.

Is that too much to ask for? I already have to work, clean, learn, impress, sleep, eat, act, laugh, smile, anger, play, think, feel, and repeat. I only want to end the torment.

Jul 24, 2012

Happy Tuesday! Well...er...

I still have to take a shower for the day. I've got two hours to make that happen.

But first. I want to get up to speed on how quickly my summer has been deteriorating.

I'll first begin with a whacky, almost disturbing video that I found just the other day. Ready for this? Here we go.



Okay, so this is awesome. The tune gets stuck in your head.

Now, on to other business. The last chalk drawing I showed you guys was of Rapunzel from Tangled in a weird dress. Yes? Well here's some more for you:

















I'm so proud of Kuzco the Llama!!! He's my best so far...though Simba was pretty hacking good....

So um. Yeah, I slept in until 11, dilly dallied until 11:30, slipped on the computer around 11:45, updated my blog around 12:00, and then wrote what I have so far at 12:08. My day is now half over. You see, in two hours I will be walking to the bus stop, taking the bus, and thus proceeding to working for the rest of the afternoon and evening. Then I will come home and let my night life consist of coloring in an anatomy text book, possibly reading, or sleeping. Impressive, isn't it?

Don't even get me started on the fact that I haven't begun my grammar packet for school...

Aww Kuzco. He's so cute!

Jul 22, 2012

The peers I live with these days...

A girl on facebook wrote:

"you must give up the life you planned in order to find the life that's waiting."

Um.

Okay.

(**** <--- Enter bad word of your choice here) that.

First of all, allow me to point out the fact that if you don't go along with your plans, then you're screwing yourself over the moment you enter college. Just saying.

Also, the way she just randomly posts that suggests she's "proud' of her ability to sound wise. It's not wise. It's stupid. Who the hell gives up their plans to visit close friends and just 'waits' to see what happens that night instead?

You don't just have a plan to be successful in life and then give it up to conveniently find the true life for you. What a stupid idea.

I'm going to be a surgeon. I'm going to be rich.

Oh but wait.

I'm going to throw all that away and live with my parents until I find 'the life that's waiting'.

It's probably going to consist of failure and cold cereal.

Jul 16, 2012

Most frankly put, being gay is NOT A SIN.

You fucking homophobes. There. I said it. I'm angry, and you all need to know that.

I mean, even if you aren't a homophobe, you're still an asshole for thinking that a gay couple is suddenly going to ruin your life.

I want to pull my hair out right now! I'm just so mad at the people who condemn someone for being gay without getting to know them!

I hate the influence religion has on this world. I think that's where it's mostly angering me.

And that goes for ANY religion, not just Mormonism.

Religion has started wars, crusades, persecution, fights, narcissism, and judgment.

Hitler thought Christianity better than Judaism.

Romans sacked cities in the name of "God".

Joseph Smith was slaughtered and humiliated because he started a new religion.

There are constant arguments and fights online and all over the world about religion in general.

The bigger the churches get, the more "dominant" and "all that" they become.

And GOD FORBID we all get along instead of waltz around and say, "Oh my gosh, she's athiest." "Oh my God, she's mormon." "Oh my Buddha, he hasn't reached Nirvana." "OH MY HELL HE'S GAY!" 

Why does the color of our skin, personal beliefs, and how we love have to get in the way of how we all live together?

When someone has a sufficient answer to this problem, talk to me. I need something to bitch about.

You know, Brett, you're an inspiration to everyone! ... Okay, maybe just me.

I had a mini panic attack last night when I realized that we are officially half way through summer vacation. Life is rushing by faster than I would like it to be. I blame Tyler. :) Every moment spent with him I find lasts forever, and then is gone within the second. This summer has been romantic, busy, relaxing, and disappointing all at the same time.

My disappointment stems from the most self-hating reason I can ultimately think of: I haven't written substantially at all this summer. Since June 13th, I've kept with myself a confidential journal and compilation of letters to Tyler that only he and I can read, and it's kept my thoughts and my doubts contained and controlled. I haven't, however, written one chapter for my novel, nor have I written two pages for a short story. Not even one. The three times I've forced myself to try, I sat staring numbly into space, my mind and my thoughts whizzing about my head sporadically.

Lucky for me, I happened to stumble upon something earlier this week. I regret to say that I have no idea where I read it, or when I found it, where, why, etc. BUT. I specifically remember receiving the message and taking it to heart. Basically, someone said that 90% of the time, the writer is staring off into space, thinking wildly of other things than actually writing. I think that's how it is for me. Because this blog is an excellent example of this. My last post was a month ago! It took me a month to think of something else to write about, while during that month I did god knows what.

Today's credit in getting me to write something goes to my friend Brett, whose admittedly dark and negative blog inspired me. Who would have thought? I've been searching for my long lost inspiration for a very long time, and only just now finding it within the depths of words written almost nonchalantly from a very good friend.

The only obstacle facing me is the restlessness I feel everyday, and the shifts I need to cover at work. How I look at my days is much more different than how my days really are. For example, I see ten percent of my day being slept through, then two hours consumed by facebook and wandering around like a ghost. Another two hours in just my usual mini-adventure in getting TO the bus stop, then taking the bus to work. Most of my afternoon and evening is spent working, and then I come home and ten percent of my night lift is used reading, sleeping, or writing to my boyfriend in a pathetic little composition notebook recently used for my pathetic Health-class notes.

In reality, what free time I have is spent doing absolutely useless things, and then the productive things I do is consumed by work.

That's why when I have a day off, I do everything in my power to make sure I do or hang out with someone worth hanging out with. Does that make sense? I'm sure it does.

That's all that I feel I have to say for this particular post. I have more to say for today, since I just barely earned back my want to write write write. I'm going to begin a brand new post though, because it's its own topic. 

Jun 13, 2012

New Love

Have my dreams finally come true?
Am I in love with my best friend?
He's my friend for a reason
He's there because he cares.
I've lied through my teeth,
But never to him.
I trust very few
And him with my heart.
We met through courage
And grown ever since,
Only to love each other more.
This love isn't blind,
I've seen it coming for a time,
It's not rushed,
It's not petty.
Rather, it's valiant,
Bold,
and Good.
I'll love him now and forever,
Even if the worst comes to worse.
It took strength to come to terms,
Bravery in him,
Acceptance and Confidence from me.
It's a story-book love
One a girl often dreams
For me there's no fantasy
The dreams become reality
It must be the same for he
who is so much like me.


The last time I posted about love was when I danced with Brody at a stake dance once upon a time. It was in the middle of winter, a happiness I thought I needed. Now looking back and comparing with how I feel now, I convinced myself to love him, to get caught up in the illusion of being a girlfriend. He asked me with a card trick, something clever and cheesy, and I appreciate things like that, but in the end, what really wins me over is the courage it takes someone to just tell me what they've felt.

I took time to write a specific post about how I've been coping with the limited friendships I have. I tried to see every view point. And at one point, I wrote about a small fantasy I have, to just fall in love with my best guy friend and have him fall in love with me. I don't know if the gods became good to me, or if luck has the upper hand, but the way life has presented itself lately has become so fortunate. Mostly because Tyler and I were able to come out to each other about our feelings for one another.

I've denied myself over and over that I had a little 'crush' on him. I always told myself that he was just my friend and that there couldn't be another way to feel, but my subconscious had other plans.

To make the story short, I once dreamed I had fallen in love with another guy at school, and by the end of my insane dream, Tyler was there, watching with yearning and jealousy. I didn't think that meant anything. At first I thought it was just a jealousy for the loss of time spent together. After last night's phone call, talking to Tyler and figuring things out, I just now realize how completely bizarre and psychic my subconscious is. That's only a minor revelation though.

The only thing I truly care to say today is just so: If I had never leaned across my desk and poked Tyler in the back on that first day of school, things might have been completely different. That, or fate would have found a different way to pull us together. I can't help but wonder that if his sister had kept him at Pleasant Grove High we would meet only later in our lives, like in college, or at a football game, or even in the emergency room. 

I don't know if this is truly how Kaeli and Tyler Keetch feel about each other. All I know is that this doesn't feel like a simple teenage relationship. I've always loved him, and more so now that I know he likes me. I don't plan on getting sexual though. I can't even fathom that idea right now. I just...love him. You know?

May 23, 2012

Summer

I fail epically at remembering to put sunscreen on my easily burnable skin. As summer progressively creeps upon us Utahns this year, so does my random urge to draw with chalk, wear short, unflattering shorts, run around the University Mall like a maniac, and run until my shoes come apart.

Weather has been odd lately. Just Monday it was 90 degrees and I thought I would have died from heat exhaustion. I longed for the coolness of winter. Then today comes along with stormy clouds and cold winds, and I immediately wanted the hot weather back.

Currently I'm suffering with the dramas of Rhinitis, or as you normal people like to call it: head cold. I know it's just a simple cold, but every minute it wears on I just want to strangle myself or replace my head with some other healthy head so I won't have to deal with this.

The most bothersome part of the cold is actually the sinusitis. I hate having to be constantly active in order to keep my nose clear when I'm supposed to be sitting still in class. The longer you sit still, the more time your swollen mucus linings have of multiplying and slowly seeping through the nasal conchae to clog up your air passage.  You would think you could just blow it out and it would all be fine, but that little microzombie (aka VIRUS) that possesses your epithelial tissues is reproducing faster than you can grab a tissue.

Today is my only day off from working this week, so I have to use this precious time wisely, but instead my body decides to let undead organisms in and weaken me for a good three days. Do you know how frustrating it is when you have so much do to and you have to suffer through the headache and nose in order to it? I would have been fine in doing it on a normal day.

Apparently you can't just plug your nose and breathe through your mouth the whole time. At one point you need to swallow that accursed saliva.

I keep telling myself I have to take more pictures of my life so I'm not lacking in adventure when I'm older, but when I tell myself this, I am sorely reminded of my half-broken camera from the early 00's, and then the dream fades and I shuffle enviously through other facebooker's sophomore year photos. Even if I tried, my friends would all be so afraid of the camera, and it would sadden me even more. That is why I am planning on getting a car this summer, saving up some money, buying a camera, and dully documenting all of my junior year, or at least when I can remember. That way if my friends don't want to be captured on camera because they don't look presentable that day, I will teach them to look presentable every day so they have no fear of photos and facebook. It's full proof.

I drew Rapunzel from Tangled on my driveway, only to have her half washed away by the sprinklers the next.

The thing with drawing huge pictures on a slanted driveway is the face that when you stand at a certain angle, some parts look bigger than other parts when they really don't. It's perspective. That is why optical illusionists are successful when it comes to chalk art. I have yet to learn something like that, and when I do, I probably won't be very good at it. So I'll just stick to drawing simple figures.







I'm planning on drawing something else when I know my fingers are completely healed and I have time to do it. When you draw with chalk, to get that smooth, solid look with the color, you have to blend the chalk dust into the cement. It's very rough on your fingers. I've basically rubbed three of mine raw from doing Rapunzel in one sitting. (And I used up all three of my yellows :[ Which is very sad.)

I really miss seeing my Superman chalk drawing. He was the first legitimate drawing I've ever done, and he turned out amazing. But lo-and-behold, there's always something new to draw.

May 10, 2012

What's up with me? What's up with YOU?

This is new. Very new. A new way to type out my big long, pathetic posts. Oh well.

I've currently been indulging in a little series introduced to me by my lovely aunt Almond. Every time I spell the word "aunt" I can't say "ant". I have to say "awnt", and then it results in me spelling "awnt".

Recognize this picture?

It's Dexter. From the series Dexter.

(It's rated NC-17 for mature adults and for mormon teens who don't want to be corrupted.)

I finished the end of season 4, and to be fair to all those who haven't/are seeing it right now, I will say nothing about what I saw except that someone dies and it's not cool.

My mom watched the last episode with me, so she was sitting next to me while the final scene went down. I noticed her looking over at me every once in a while, but I didn't care. What I saw before me on that TV screen was pure horror. It triggered some kind of destroyer of composition within me and I broke down under the pressure like an unsaturated fat breaks down to glycogen.

Whether it be the lack of crying I've done in the past few months, the pathetic-ness of my weak and puny soul, or the legitimacy of my reaction, I started with a few leaking tears, then ended with an Advil PM to stop my hyperventilating.

Between the two, I vaguely remembered the utter rage and hurt I felt when I learned of this mysterious character's death. My hormones were either out of control or my feelings for characters and stories were. I sobbed as though someone real in my life (like my dad or my uncle or something) had died. My mom kept telling me it was just a story, they were just characters.

Two people, my mom and someone else whom I don't recall, both told me that I didn't have to worry because the actress wasn't dead. Well duh. I know that.

There is something people need to know about me, and that is just this: I have this problem, nature, if you will, of being introduced to (or creating) a character and finding a small little latching point where my feelings will attach and follow through to the end. My novel isn't completed, and that is why I am still obsessing and attached to the characters in my novel. It happened with Supernatural as well, where I began to obsess over Dean, Sam, and Cass until I reached the end of Season 6 (since i couldn't go on until season 7 comes to netflix). The sudden attachment peeled away slowly, more towards the back of my mind.

Now Dexter has come into my life, and the writers keep throwing shit at him as he progresses along with his Dark Passenger.

They're real to me. I know it's all fiction, but they are all so easily defined and complex that they're like a normal, exciting person to watch and follow and feel with throughout the entire story. It's my only chance to relax and insert myself, to wish for only a moment that maybe my life could be as exciting as this.

So now I have justified my reaction to Rita's death.

Apr 18, 2012

There IS a sun behind that raincloud over your head, you need only take a looksee!

I think best when I walk alone. I do a lot of this now-a-days, because of the car-less situation. I don't mind it at all! I love the exercise, and it does give me time to think, to retreat inside myself and hide. My days are wild and crazy, going from one thing to the next without a break, (at least during the days I work) so when I try to sit down and think, all I want to do is vedge to my heart's content online or watch movies like a mother or read or do something that doesn't take much effort after I do my homework.

I bring this up, because on my way to work I walked and thought about my day and my mood and my behavior concerning my mood. I mainly wondered why I think such dark, crude thoughts when I feel like dark storm clouds are over my head. I wonder why anyone has to be so mean when upset? I also wonder why most people have a raincloud when there is so much to look forward to in this world!

The two superior women in my life are emotionally unstable sometimes and find the more pessimistic side of life. My mother is always so depressed and all she ever wants to do is just go out. It's understandable, but sometimes it can get a little irritating, especially when I almost never go out and all my plans revolve around homework and work.

Today my little brother wanted to go to a Hope of America concert as a volunteer, and begged my mom two days in advance. She wouldn't say no, of course, but her attitude towards it worried me a little. Eric, especially little Eric, never asks for much, and he never goes out. Inconveniently, my mom was going to go out today, of all random weekdays. I just don't understand why she can't reschedule and go out tomorrow and dedicate today for Eric? I don't get why she has to fuss and complain about it. I understand she needs to know more in advance, which is a little bit of Eric's fault, but he doesn't grasp that concept yet, and he needs a break.

Of course, most of this hostility comes from the situation at hand; a situation not easily curable in this moment in time. Our family of seven: two full time adults, a part time teenager, and four hopeful boys weaving their wants to visit friends into our schedule are all demanding at some point the use of a car. We're down to one car, since our precious mini-van disappeared with a tow truck after leaking radiator fluid. The situation is pressing, our financial situation is struggling, and my parents aren't handling the stress very well at all.

My role in all of this is to just work work work and save save save for my own car. That way they won't have to worry about me getting to and fro. My mother could use the car as well, sometimes, and then the tension would lessen considerably. The problem is I'm still 1,500 dollars away from this dream with a father who stubbornly thinks I'll have it in three months and a mother who keeps insisting that I don't have to worry, she'll buy a car.

And yet, with all these heavy burdens on my shoulders, I'm taking it all in much better than my mother.

My dad picked me up from work tonight and on our way back, he talked about our friend Almond having a stressful time with work, and my mom being so depressed. I looked over at him and said, "Well, that's why I'm here."

"Thank God for that," He said, and we punched knuckles.

I have a feeling that this determination, this optimism will carry on even through college and all those upcoming knots in the neck when I'm a surgeon. I'm positive that I won't end up like my mom because I'll be doing something I love. I don't get depressed easily, and when I do, it's only just a bad day. I wouldn't even consider it depression, because there's always someone in this world who will make me smile and ignite that chain reaction of crazy inside me...no matter how I feel.

I think the most important thing for everyone to know right now as we pull out of the winter blues and into the summer fun is that life is too short to look at it in black and white. Eat a little bit of ice cream, gain a pound or two, exercise a lot, and labor through the struggles with a smile on your face. There's no better feeling than happiness.

Apr 11, 2012

Spring Break, Half way done! :(

I've made beautiful creations so far this weak. Absolutely divine. All you do is take a little bit of driveway, a little bit of chalk, and you put them together to make art. I'll show you.





I've managed to keep a steady stream of masterpieces coming. I started Easter morning, and ever since, I've churned out one every morning. I have no idea what I want to do tomorrow. I'm ever so slowly running out of chalk, which is absolutely heartbreaking. I wish I had more colors too, but red, green, blue, yellow, and white are fine. At least they get me somewhere.

Apr 5, 2012

The Absolutely Random Update

I can't stress enough to you how much school work I have to deal with. It's a little ridiculous, considering there's not many assignments to do as there is studying and test-taking. I'm only a little bit stressed. My digestive system test is huge, and it is on Friday before Spring Break, as well as the auteur test in Film class, and an almost annoying vocabulary quiz. We have to spell a scientific word for "black lung". I think it's

Pneumonomicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis or something like that. No, I'm pretty sure that's it. Anyhow, when on earth are we going to use this in our live? Of course, I will, because I'll be a doctor and stuff, but for a normal person's average vocabulary. I can hardly spell the word, let alone pronounce it. I'm going to give you a candy if you can pronounce it correctly.

Other than that, spring break is coming up, and I have no idea what I'm going to do. Until I get to work tonight, I will have no idea what my schedule will be like work wise. A part of me hopes Monnica (My boss) hasn't realized that Spring Break is next week, and that I don't get any lunch shifts, but I wouldn't know. I think her daughter might be on the same school schedule as I am, which would suck, because I want to have a warm spring break with sidewalk chalk, sun bathing, and ... cleaning?

Right. I get to clean all week, which will just be so fantastic. I will also have a bunch of homework I'll have to deal with, since I've got a research paper due in English soon. It won't be awesome.

I got a new belt, and usually I'm not a belt-wearing kind of girl, but I decided that I need to hold my pants up, otherwise they'll fall off. My belt keeps getting caught on the chair in this weird desk. It frustrates me.

So I have this love for the blog Hyperbole and a Half by Allie Brosh. The problem is, she hasn't updated in several months. It's already April, and there isn't one post in 2012! It's disappointing me. So I decided to write her a fan letter! I'm tempted to just copy and paste it onto here for all of you to read it, but I'm already half-embarrassed that I sent it to her alone. I'm sure she's gotten some pretty stupid fan mail, but I don't know. My letter was pretty cheesy.

I'm really hungry. I should probably get food soon so it will hold me over until lunch, but what to get?

Mar 25, 2012

I'll do what no one will do for me, best friend

My best friend wants to write a novel. I think it's awesome, considering I love writing and want to carry out my own novel as well. I think it's pretty cool, and to back him up and to keep him inspired and doing it, I told him that I would be there for him if he ever wants me to read his work. I want to read it. I want to see what ideas he has, just as I want to read Stephen King or Oscar Wilde.

What I can't help but thinking, though, is that no one has ever wanted to read my writing. Not my friends, not even my parents really. I mean, they say they do, but I give them a chapter and they totally forget about it or they don't have time.

My cousin doesn't even show an interest in reading my novel. She's not big into reading, but I still read every little thing she writes because I love her and I'm proud of what she does. Despite what she thinks, she CAN write, and she writes beautifully. A heartbreaking thing for me to endure, however, is the loss and emptiness of those words I give to her. For me, it's a cut in my heart. 

My friends are a totally different story.

I'll finish writing a short story, and I'll be very proud of it, and then I'll go to school and give subtle hints to them; such as: "I just barely finished writing a short story that I've been working on for a while. Cool right?" Their response: "Yeah, cool. Hey, ever heard about the cheerleaders?"

So you see? My attempts are in vain. They aren't interested in the words that I poor my soul into. They say they know me, but they never will until they read my writing or they visit my blog, which they'll never think of doing unless I literally approach them and say, "Hey, I wrote a novel and I want you to read it, because if you don't, I won't consider you a good friend."

I know what you're thinking. "Why not do it?"

The thing is, I want to give my friends a chance to be good friends. I want to wait and see how many hints I have to throw out in order to get their attention. I want to know if they ever think about me. I wonder if I'm even a subject they talk about, or if I'm just there. Do they ever think, "I want to go out tonight. Who should I call? Tyler? Junior? Bray Bray? Brody?" Of course...not Mindy.

Their problems are much bigger and more important than building a friendship with me. I am going to be narcissistic for a minute and say yeah, I'm a pretty awesome and appropriate friend to have. I live by great standards, despite my atheist views and the influences I live around. And when they care more about gossip and "seizure kid" and dirty jokes than me, then it's an insult to me and my seemingly "decided" choice of high school friends.

Some of them just don't appreciate books and writing and media that really inspires. They worship, instead, music with heavy sexual content and film and video games. They have first world problems, completely oblivious to their surroundings, and they might say their minds are open, but it isn't true. Their minds aren't TRULY open. They don't consider things from every view.

The thing is, however, if I run off and get new friends, it would be the same thing all over again. Unless I advertise my writing like a glowing billboard of a hamburger, I'm not going to get spiking interest and appreciation for the labor I put into my work. So I just get to sit and nod and smile, because that's all my friends must think I do.

I'm growing apart specifically from Kaylynn, who outwardly shows her utter focus, care, and only tolerance for her boyfriend. I said before that I've done so much for her and got nothing in return, and now it's starting to really bother me. Her attitude now is even more bothersome. She just expects me to be her best friend, despite the shit she puts me through emotionally and mentally. Every day I have to smile and nod whenever she brings up Nahuel, as if it isn't a stab in my heart to know that she cares so much about him and only a tiny bit about me.

I think I'm going to stop lending her my math homework. It's seriously the only thing that I feel is connecting us now. The fact that she doesn't get her homework done and earns a grade from the work that I did is starting to wear on me. I'm stupid for letting it happen in the first place, I know, but the only reason why I continued was because there would be miracle times when I would forget to do my homework or some problems and she would have it done, and then she'd find it fair to let me do the same. Of course, that isn't often at all, and I usually feel bad after doing it.

My point for bringing this up is because of a memory I always dwell on when I think about sharing my writing with friends. Unfortunately it comes from a dark time when I was Brody's girlfriend, but it wasn't a total horror. Actually, Brody had tried to write a journalistic book somewhat about his life, and I had no idea about it until Kaylynn brought it up one time. Then Brody let me read some of it and I had found out that Kaylynn enthusiastically read it, and was waiting impatiently for more that he wouldn't write.

Amazing, isn't it? Kaylynn would read anything her messed up admirer would write, but not her best friend's writing?

Even Brett read chapter one of my novel when it was crap.

I suppose I'm just deeply hurt. For me, writing is something so precious and expressing. It's an art, and not being able to share this art with a friend because they reject it is the same as her prettily decorated nails clawing my soul. She's rejecting who I really am.

I never expected my current friends to really want to read my writing, which was why these feelings have only simmered. Just now that my best friend suddenly has an interest in pursing what I want, I'm starting to feel a tugging, almost a tearing, at my emotional composition. Now I'm beginning to wonder if I'm finally being a teenage drama queen, or if these feelings of not being close to my friends in this sense is legitimate. Either way, I'm hurt now. Deeply.

Mar 23, 2012

Who else smells Rivalry?





I'm not a die hard fan of Twilight. I respect the books, because they were the things that kept me from having a suckish sixth grade year. Although I can't seem to understand why people swarm all over the repetitive, dissatisfying romance between Bella and Edward, I can understand why most would believe the story aside from the occult worshiping and supernatural elements.

Their relationship, thanks to the movie, is slightly awkward and mysterious. There are mood swings that send weird vibes to both the main characters and the audiences who watch with horny feelings in their pants. Bella herself is unsure and suffering from teenage hormones, making her believe she has to marry him right away just so she can have that little thing called "sex".

Edward (book wise) is trying not to be the woman and separate his manly time and his relationship but failing when  his taunting need to pervishly watch her while she sleeps settles in. Thus creating a sense of realism concerning psycho feelings in an every day teenager, written oddly by a married Mormon woman. Who would have thought?

The Hunger Games, in all its grandeur, is much more wild and enticing, but concerns the same basic elements that Twilight so blatantly shares with the world. Suzanne Collins manages to write it down better and express it in a more interesting and catching sense. She has symbolism and connections that make a bigger difference in the literary world than thesaurus-using Stephanie Meyer did.

Katniss finds herself in a love triangle, being the attractive main heroine who conquers all and bad-asses everyone to hell. The two books were written by two older women with the same need to make their characters suffer from romantic twists when the characters should be focusing on more important things, especially in Katniss's case. Katniss is also a teenager, which then throws her in with Bella and their wild girl hormones.

The major differences (and with Hunger Games, there is a lot) are that Katniss has a drive and motivation to protect and care for not only her little sister, but her seemingly comatose mother who can't function correctly from the loss of her father-figure. Bella cares about Charlie, her father, but you don't see Bella striving to protect the man. He just goes fishing and Bella screams like a girl while a vampire chases her.

What both these books have in common, however, is the fact that both are extremely popular with the masses and connect personally with teenage girls of this generation. I will proudly say that I will pee my pants if I have to wait past Sunday to see the Hunger Games. I loved the books dearly.

J.K. Rowling comes in now, with her own writing style, basically what seems to be her own freaking genre of awesome, and her main character (who I want to specifically point out is a Y-chromosome, which makes the whole perspective of the book a little bit more rounded and... ungirly).

 In a short summary, Harry Potter goes through seven years of challenge without romance distracting him from his goal, and then finally conquers his all-time foe in a hardcore battle of revenge and hope. Note how I mentioned there was no romance to distract him with. There is romance, I dare say, but certainly not enough to make you roll over and throw the book at the wall. If Rowling did that, then her fans would not be fans.
 We're all about finding out what Horcrux old man Dumbledore found rather than if Ginny tries to get into Harry's pants.

There's a great deal of diversity, not in the sense of race though. I meant in age and body type, like during the Hellenistic period, when the stuck-up classical Greeks finally decided to stop being one-minded and open to old, young, ugly, beautiful, wild, and calm, instead of just young, calm, beautiful. In Harry Potter, you had the idolized Dumbledore, stooped and old but greatly admired. Then there were the waddling goblins with pinched cheeks and beady eyes, and the ugly witches, and the handsome seven-years, and the "only a baby" first years, and the stereotypical mother-looking professors and the hippies that predict the future. It's all so spread far and wide, whereas when I read Twilight and the Hunger Games, being a white girl striving to live with an open mind, I pictured (admittedly) only white people unless written otherwise.

That's probably why I like fantasy so much. Not the main reason, but a good aspect of it.

I'm now going to crush your hopeful (or hopeless) ideas of my loving Harry Potter by saying I'm not obsessed with it and that I don't feel it as strongly as I felt other movies and books. Though I might add, I cried when I realized all seven movies had come to a close and it was no longer. (But that's beside the point.) I don't (and won't) choose between those three movies/books because none of them come even close to touching that little ventricle in my heart reserved for the real favorites. (Those real favorites I might get into one day, but not today, in concern of saving other blog-post ideas when I don't have an issue I need to talk about.) Personally, the movies for Twilight are closer to touching the rotten, sinister chamber reserved for hated things than my even normal ventricles for normal entertainment. It's just a fact that since everyone loves it I gotta hate it. (Yes, I know, everyone else who hates Twilight thinks in that same exact line of thought, except for my dear Almond, who just flat out hates Stephanie Meyer and her writing.)

This is when I begin my long and boring preach about the simple, yet completely emotionally complex story plot about original folklore paranomalty and super freaking hot guys fighting evil. Cue Supernatural and its awesomeness.

Mar 12, 2012

AHH!

Those red swirly mints are disgusting! I put one in my mouth without realizing what it was.......BLECH.

Mar 10, 2012

My Entirety: Exposed

The fantasies haunt me every waking moment. They torment me in my sleep. All I ever want is a life full of excitement and adventure, and sometimes it seems merely writing about it isn't enough. 

My beloved characters, the very personal ones with a depth that no character really has when I read about them, are the main reason I twist the plots and complicate the story. They finally seem to be a part of me. My characters are the very people that I am, in multiple forms and personalities. It's a further extension of my heart, where their hearts beat in sync with mine.

I put all my aggression into a woman with a simple appearance and a complicated background; someone who I wish I could be. In a sense, my role models don't particularly come from the outside world, but from a person composed of my own admiration and standards. I've developed a character who shares the twists and tangles of complicated emotions I feel every day, the sense of duty I share with my coworkers every shift. The gentleness and quiet within me pours itself into a man who only wants what is best for his friends. Then lastly, my heroism, my strength and determination, all my tolerance for everything I wish I could be immature about, glistens within the soul of my precious McKenzie, whom takes the lead in my dramatic story of death, war, and love.

These characters define the fantasy world in which I dwell. The idea that I need to be there for as long as I can makes learning and concentrating very difficult some days. They call to me and ask me to come back and fight with them in epic wars between good and evil. It's true that these yearning day dreams complicate my life almost in a controlling sense, that if I were to make connections with music or other texts, I would almost always find a link with my own tale.

It's like emerging from a pool coated in silver; the depth of my personalities intertwined with characters and slowly growing outward from there. The story, the plot: it all relates to situations I've been in, seen, or heard about. It's a blossoming bud growing bigger and bigger as spring dances along, slowly adding to its simple beauty with layers and layers of red and pink petals. Just as my own life events seem to grow bigger and bigger, each adding a layer of experience and wisdom to who I am, my imagination and surroundings grow with it. The settings to follow within my fantasies are ones of coldness, darkness, beauty, and light. Each is different in its own ways, but the same, just as America is to me.

The shiny outer layer is the writing and the progress it takes to make this come to life within my mind. The grace and flow of my words conjoined with the utter labor creates an entirety to the story, like tying the bow after concealing, boxing, and wrapping the surprise within. It’s exhausting sometimes, just like writing a chapter of an epic tale on a pad of notepaper.

I've set myself up for the extras, the obstacles, and the antagonist, whom begins to morph into someone of high importance and thought within the story. Though I have chosen the facade of normality and goodness, there is a monster underlying the mask with chains as thick as football fields and ferocity as passionate as fire. To let this part of me out would be to destroy everything I have ever worked for, but to disregard its presence at all is to die completely.

My villainous character, in all his grandeur, obtains predilections for specifically normal objects and acquires a rather courteous and obscure behavior to everything he says and does. His utmost normality is the reason he is so dangerous and evil. He merely has a goal to accomplish, and that determination I give my heroine reflects within the villain, thus giving the bittersweet relationship structure and meaning. I build upon my strengths by adding to my weaknesses, such is climbing the chained monster's horns and reaching the angelic light above.

There is a difficulty, however, with all this complexion and verism. How on earth do I morph these feelings of romance, doom, and heroism when I live a repetitious life dealing with teenage dramas and customer service? Obviously there must be a threshold between the two realities that should shut out one or the other while I try to cope with the loss of realistic characters or missing homework assignments.

The thought of using one another to build and strengthen both myself and the two worlds would be appealing, yet condemning, for discovering the tool to make such a miracle happen is what I believe to be the real truth we all vie to obtain in this life. Everyone has their second reality they struggle with, whether that is a teenage girl's desirable cheerleader life, or an old man's wish for peace and happiness within the world. We as human beings need something else to hold on to if our very real lives crumble between our fingertips.

Mar 6, 2012

Finally, Something New!

I have more time and obligation to think while in the shower, which is why they're nice to take when you're stressed. Right now my mind is racing a hundred miles a minute and I can't write fast enough to keep up.

Sometimes when I have discussions with my parents I'm always afraid they will peer over their laptops at me and look for proof that I am a stereotypical teenager. If I have the slightest hint or reckoning that my tone is filled with "attitude" or angst, I might as well be done for.

I often blame my hormones I keep bottled up inside. I cry sometimes when absolutely nothing wrong has happened, and I always cry when I talk about important things directly with my mom and dad.

Part of it would be my individualism cracking into a commuted fracture, because the thought of mom and dad's full attention on me tends to be a rarer case than most. When I am spotlighted, I realize that I'm still the child, even after all the responsibility I've maintained to keep our household a better place. They make me feel like I don't have to hold up my head and pretend while they're the only ones with me. I have an outlet for the victimized tears of stress other than my pillow. They both became my Teddy bear I tell my secrets to. They're the ones who allow me to let my guard down and open my soul like a triptych at an altar. Although they don't understand why I cry, they let me cry anyway because a part of me wants to believe that they know how it is, deep down inside.

There are several times when I can't control it, especially during times when I want to prove I am confident and strong. I cry because I know how truly weak I am in the end, no matter how big I talk.

Rare occasions include those daring confrontations with my parents right after I watch a tear jerking film. It doesn't happen often, but the emotions it made me feel were still festering inside when I forced myself to finally tell my mother an idea I've been considering for a long while now.

I've toyed over and over with the idea. I've met and talked with girls who have done it. To some people out in the world, getting a second piercing in the ear would be an easy decision said and done. For me, it's a new adventure waiting to happen, something new and unexplored. It's frightening in the long run, just like it would be frightening to trust a city bus your first time. There are many consequences that could come form it, like serious infections, deep regrets, questions, nonacceptance in the specific community I live in, and disrespect from other certain people.

My main concern is reopening the patched wound my leaving the LDS church left in both my cousin and my grandparents. All of them believe what they believe, and they're sensitive to certain changes, though I wouldn't say they're not capable of adaptation. More so, I'm concerned by the idea that they'll start to think untrue things about me and that their respect and trust will disappear completely. I speak mainly of my cousin, admittedly, but my grandparents mean just as much to me even though I may think of them as old farts every once in a while.

I believe that everything we do as humans get some kind of benefit from it. Otherwise, why would we do it? After some careful thought and suggestions from my parents, I decided that I truly am using a new look to finally express who I am. Though I do it well through writing, no one has time to sit down and read my feelings displayed on paper to know who I am. Though I show my optimism and excitement through behavior and actions, I've heard that people think I'm not as normal as I could be. Even though I have two best friends who love me a lot, they don't know certain things about me that make me me.

An earring doesn't do what I want justice, but it symbolizes the beginning of my path to joining with my full potential in the mental and social fields of life. It's the first step I take to expressing myself to others. One look at my second earring, and hopefully people sense there is more to me than meets the eye.

There are concerns that this new accessory would lead to a series of habits, behaviors, and attitudes that would generally worry well-to-do parents. My parents brought up the idea that some people dive into the world of drug abuse and alcohol and sex when a new, more 'sluttier' look is taken on in such short notice. Though this is only for some people, not all, everyone has a right to be worried about that.

Maybe a naturally rebellious teenager girl who is constantly mad at the world, irritated by her parents, hates school and chores, worries about her appearance too much, and doesn't appreciate what she had is more liable and easier to lead into a life of the neighborhood tramp. I don't aim to sound narcissistic in any way, but my situation is different. I might care about how I look and present myself, but I love school and I love my job and I love my parents. I don't indulge in new freedoms and experiences to the point that I blow it for myself or others. I have a license, a job, and a trust that I didn't get from a cereal box, and I trust that I I can control myself and think clearly on suggestions that may present themselves later in result of my decision today.

A new hairstyle to go along with the piercing focuses more on the idea of art in your appearance. Makeup alone is fun to have and work with. I find it much more attractive than a blank face. Added to earrings and color in your hair, the same routine you follow fades and it becomes a catalyst to change and happiness in life.

I find it truly amazing how one little hole in the ear lobe can have such a giant affect in everyone's lives. Though I might have dramatized some aspects of the piercing and my boring life, I know for certain that it's not a mistake. If worse comes to worse, I'll have an infection, some 30 dollars wasted, and time to heal any regrets I might have. Though it would seem so to some people, it truly isn't the end of the world to expand and experiment on ideas.

There's always a benefit where there's a consequence.