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?

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.