We all deny a truth in our lives. Everyone. I can't make a list of truths we deny, because there are so many, but I can tell you what I've been denying.
Relationships and a chance to connect with another person is obviously very crucial to growing up, since you can't avoid it no matter where you turn. There will always be someone who suddenly notices you and for a long time, they're the only person you can even focus on.
It doesn't matter if it goes somewhere.
It doesn't matter if it goes wrong.
What matters is that you got close enough to get a taste, and that's how I'm feeling right now.
Because I doubt we'll ever eventually go out. We're just friends. And I think he trusts me more than his self-acclaimed best friend. He said it himself that I was a relief from the stereotypical girl, and that I was so much easier to talk to. I've become his confidant! And only within three days.
Three days.
A long Friday night with Teekaa, a short trip to the mall Saturday night, and a long Sunday of American Horror Story. All virtually with him. All with him.
Yes, I really like him. A lot.
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 17, 2013
Life. Whatcha gonna do about it?
The world revolves around the sun.
What a sun. I could only imagine the narcissism that comes with such a responsibility.
You know, if those cheerleaders in my pre-calculus class think they're the center of everyone's lives, then they don't know what they're thinking if they ever have a chance to be a big burning ball of hot gas.
There are many people in this world who bug me, but I learn to deal with it. I'm incredibly sweet and nice to people at work, and I figure if I become a Wolverine Embassador, then I'll be able to get leadership recognition for Medical School and experience working with many kinds of people. All I have to do is learn how to deal with those stupid people, and the first step is to accept the ditsy cheerleaders with their heavy mascara and leggings-for-pants.
Oh, may I interject?
LEGGINGS ARE NOT FREAKING PANTS!
I can see more of your freaking ass than I've ever wanted to see! EVER.
Anyway.
I went to a UVyou days event at the university for the Science department. I really enjoy science. Mostly biology and anatomy and stuff. Of course, I am majoring in Art, so...
I got a lot of free stuff there tonight. Like a T-shirt with an ECG graph on it. It's pretty sweet. And I won an electric toothbrush through a drawing from the dental hygiene department. Also pretty cool. There was this guy who's been graduated from high school for a year or two, and he was totally hitting on all the girls tonight.
Well, that, or just being his weird, socially flirtatious self.
I can only go once to this thing...but even so, I hope there's the slightest chance I could win that $200 book scholarship, since I plan on going to UVU after I graduate.
Ugh. That's not for another year and a half! I'm so ready to go to college!
I know, I'm super bipolar when it comes to the grow up and don't grow up situation. I want it to be both ways, which inexplicably means this wish is never coming true.
I'll survive. Like I do. Every day.
You know what bugs me the most? Relationships. People at high school think they can't survive without someone to cling to like scared little puppies. And don't get me on the whole "I need sex" thing. It's pointless, not an excuse for your irrational behavior, and completely stupid until you're positive of the person you want to have sex with.
I mean, seriously.
I hate that I keep obsessing over what a guy might think about me, even though I don't want a relationship at this time, and I sure as hell don't WANT to care about what others might think of me because of this decision I have made. Oh how confusing my logic is. I apologize.
But really.
Relationships are stupid. I only like novel romances or movies or stuff. Not real life. It's stupid. Gross, even.
And the dirty sex jokes. I'm sick of them! My friends all have to crack at least ten of them every day. Why? Where does this get you in life? WHY?! Why do it? Who are you trying to impress? Or scare away, for that matter...
And everyone is being really dramatic. Bray won't talk to us because Kaeli and Tyler got mad at him for choosing other friends over us.
To be quite frank with you, I don't blame Brayden for finding new friends. I toy with that idea every day, except for the part where there are no other friends I'm willing to hang out with since they're all scary molly mormons or freaky drug-induced bums.
Eh.
Life. Whatcha gonna do about it?
What a sun. I could only imagine the narcissism that comes with such a responsibility.
You know, if those cheerleaders in my pre-calculus class think they're the center of everyone's lives, then they don't know what they're thinking if they ever have a chance to be a big burning ball of hot gas.
There are many people in this world who bug me, but I learn to deal with it. I'm incredibly sweet and nice to people at work, and I figure if I become a Wolverine Embassador, then I'll be able to get leadership recognition for Medical School and experience working with many kinds of people. All I have to do is learn how to deal with those stupid people, and the first step is to accept the ditsy cheerleaders with their heavy mascara and leggings-for-pants.
Oh, may I interject?
LEGGINGS ARE NOT FREAKING PANTS!
I can see more of your freaking ass than I've ever wanted to see! EVER.
Anyway.
I went to a UVyou days event at the university for the Science department. I really enjoy science. Mostly biology and anatomy and stuff. Of course, I am majoring in Art, so...
I got a lot of free stuff there tonight. Like a T-shirt with an ECG graph on it. It's pretty sweet. And I won an electric toothbrush through a drawing from the dental hygiene department. Also pretty cool. There was this guy who's been graduated from high school for a year or two, and he was totally hitting on all the girls tonight.
Well, that, or just being his weird, socially flirtatious self.
I can only go once to this thing...but even so, I hope there's the slightest chance I could win that $200 book scholarship, since I plan on going to UVU after I graduate.
Ugh. That's not for another year and a half! I'm so ready to go to college!
I know, I'm super bipolar when it comes to the grow up and don't grow up situation. I want it to be both ways, which inexplicably means this wish is never coming true.
I'll survive. Like I do. Every day.
You know what bugs me the most? Relationships. People at high school think they can't survive without someone to cling to like scared little puppies. And don't get me on the whole "I need sex" thing. It's pointless, not an excuse for your irrational behavior, and completely stupid until you're positive of the person you want to have sex with.
I mean, seriously.
I hate that I keep obsessing over what a guy might think about me, even though I don't want a relationship at this time, and I sure as hell don't WANT to care about what others might think of me because of this decision I have made. Oh how confusing my logic is. I apologize.
But really.
Relationships are stupid. I only like novel romances or movies or stuff. Not real life. It's stupid. Gross, even.
And the dirty sex jokes. I'm sick of them! My friends all have to crack at least ten of them every day. Why? Where does this get you in life? WHY?! Why do it? Who are you trying to impress? Or scare away, for that matter...
And everyone is being really dramatic. Bray won't talk to us because Kaeli and Tyler got mad at him for choosing other friends over us.
To be quite frank with you, I don't blame Brayden for finding new friends. I toy with that idea every day, except for the part where there are no other friends I'm willing to hang out with since they're all scary molly mormons or freaky drug-induced bums.
Eh.
Life. Whatcha gonna do about it?
Jan 10, 2013
The teacher with eyes like a dead fish's needs to die
I feel as though I should give you an update about the Christmas holidays, since I haven't written anything in a long while.
It was shit.
I got a blanket, a murder mystery dinner party hosted by Almond, and...ope. That's it.
I get to pay for my own cell phone.
My parents still owe me $200.
It's January all over again and school is being a jackass to me.
You know how I wrote that hate post about Christmas? Either Karma wanted to make my negativity come true, or I was right not to expect anything.
Have you ever felt so infinitely superior to the peers around you, yet so insatiably small? Almost as though you could be floating on a cloud of awesomeness while all the little teenagers crawl about your feet, begging to be granted the same glory you pertain while at the same time being equal in size and completely alone?
Well, sometimes, I do.
The feeling is more so the idea that I'm separated on an island, thousands of miles away, yet still able to see them, while I look to my future. Let me try again. There's a red line dividing me and the rest of American Fork High, and while they all look at one another or to the short future, I'm looking away, and towards the long term future.
I feel this every time I feel like I'm making progress in life. I've decided what my senior year will be like. I'm going to a UVU college day opportunity to research my options. I'm being proactive about it, optimistic as humanly possible.
But every story has its antagonist.
I've been so busy looking towards my future that I stopped looking at the present. It's the end of the semester and my lowest current grade is a D+.
Oh sweet Jesus, I never done any harm to people to deserve this!
I've done other things, like guiltlessly wished a death fifty times to one specific girl in my U.S. History class. But that's a discussion for a later time.
Did I ever tell you about Mr. Lind's English Honors 11 class and his point system for grading? I'm not quite sure I did, and if I did, I'll make the rant quick. Basically, he thinks he can put 100,000 points into our grades on Skyward. (Which can't be done, so he substitutes with 999 points 10 times.) And that's per term.
So here I am, earning my lovely project points and doing everything I'm supposed to be doing to reach 100,000 points this term two, and Mr. Hot-Shot-dead-fish-guy Lind comes around and says, "Hey, I can only give you 30,000 points of project writings. The rest has to be the assignments I gave you that I'm just now saying are required. Hah. Sorry." So now he's only given me 61,000 points when I earned 98,000. Why haven't I gone to get it up?
Sort of impossible, considering he chose this very week, the week right before the semester ends, when all work has to be graded and in on Monday night at midnight, to go indulge himself in sunshine, coconuts, geckos on the ceiling, and pretty sunsets in Hawaii. Our only resource is to email him. He said that while he was gone, he would check our emails. I've sent him two emails. One of which angrily states that I didn't like his point system and that I'm not happy he chose to go to Hawaii this week. And my grade still hasn't been changed.
I wish upon him the curse of eating too much fat food at Hawaii and getting extremely fat so that he will be very depressed and quit his job and leave us with a better teacher. That, or kill himself. Which ever one works best.
That was a shameless wish I'm never taking back.
I write some pretty mean, contradicting things on here. Controversial, in fact. I'm warning you guys right now, the minute I have to sign up for something that will change my life for the better, and those people go about the internet searching for things I've done or said, this blog will be deleted. Heh. It has very rude things. Bad words. Irrefutable loathing of dish-washing. Insufferable damage to the hearts of the intended people I mean to offend. Things like that.
I also want to take the time to be angry at my financial literature teacher, Mr. Spencer.
Okay, so I don't take notes during class, and anything businessy and mathematical he drones through his mouth goes right over my head, but that doesn't mean that I don't know my stuff!
Well I don't. But that's beside the point. Half of the semester final he gave us today was about insurance. Insurance that he didn't teach us AT ALL this year. Things that were from first term that we've all forgotten were on there too. I probably failed that test epically, and I'm pissed about it.
And to wrap up everything I've just barfed out to you, this inability to have A's this term is the antagonist to gaining a reputation on my transcript for future colleges. Frankly, I'm stressed and angry, and very glad the semester is changing in two days. I'm tired of Journalism and Financial literature, and I'm waiting for the counselors to not be booked so I can talk to one of them about my teachers.
Ahhh. You see? I'm so angry that my normal stylistic and beautiful writing is jarred and cluttered today, and might as well be a slur of text that no one will read anyway.
Worst of all.
My friends are moody as shit, my favorite and most memorable great grandpa more is in the hospital sick with pneumonia, Rachel's going on a mission in less than a year, and I'm nowhere close to financially ready to be a grown up going to college...
Thus begins another wave of impending depression that crushes my chest and leaves me unable to breathe.
It was shit.
I got a blanket, a murder mystery dinner party hosted by Almond, and...ope. That's it.
I get to pay for my own cell phone.
My parents still owe me $200.
It's January all over again and school is being a jackass to me.
You know how I wrote that hate post about Christmas? Either Karma wanted to make my negativity come true, or I was right not to expect anything.
Have you ever felt so infinitely superior to the peers around you, yet so insatiably small? Almost as though you could be floating on a cloud of awesomeness while all the little teenagers crawl about your feet, begging to be granted the same glory you pertain while at the same time being equal in size and completely alone?
Well, sometimes, I do.
The feeling is more so the idea that I'm separated on an island, thousands of miles away, yet still able to see them, while I look to my future. Let me try again. There's a red line dividing me and the rest of American Fork High, and while they all look at one another or to the short future, I'm looking away, and towards the long term future.
I feel this every time I feel like I'm making progress in life. I've decided what my senior year will be like. I'm going to a UVU college day opportunity to research my options. I'm being proactive about it, optimistic as humanly possible.
But every story has its antagonist.
I've been so busy looking towards my future that I stopped looking at the present. It's the end of the semester and my lowest current grade is a D+.
Oh sweet Jesus, I never done any harm to people to deserve this!
I've done other things, like guiltlessly wished a death fifty times to one specific girl in my U.S. History class. But that's a discussion for a later time.
Did I ever tell you about Mr. Lind's English Honors 11 class and his point system for grading? I'm not quite sure I did, and if I did, I'll make the rant quick. Basically, he thinks he can put 100,000 points into our grades on Skyward. (Which can't be done, so he substitutes with 999 points 10 times.) And that's per term.
So here I am, earning my lovely project points and doing everything I'm supposed to be doing to reach 100,000 points this term two, and Mr. Hot-Shot-dead-fish-guy Lind comes around and says, "Hey, I can only give you 30,000 points of project writings. The rest has to be the assignments I gave you that I'm just now saying are required. Hah. Sorry." So now he's only given me 61,000 points when I earned 98,000. Why haven't I gone to get it up?
Sort of impossible, considering he chose this very week, the week right before the semester ends, when all work has to be graded and in on Monday night at midnight, to go indulge himself in sunshine, coconuts, geckos on the ceiling, and pretty sunsets in Hawaii. Our only resource is to email him. He said that while he was gone, he would check our emails. I've sent him two emails. One of which angrily states that I didn't like his point system and that I'm not happy he chose to go to Hawaii this week. And my grade still hasn't been changed.
I wish upon him the curse of eating too much fat food at Hawaii and getting extremely fat so that he will be very depressed and quit his job and leave us with a better teacher. That, or kill himself. Which ever one works best.
That was a shameless wish I'm never taking back.
I write some pretty mean, contradicting things on here. Controversial, in fact. I'm warning you guys right now, the minute I have to sign up for something that will change my life for the better, and those people go about the internet searching for things I've done or said, this blog will be deleted. Heh. It has very rude things. Bad words. Irrefutable loathing of dish-washing. Insufferable damage to the hearts of the intended people I mean to offend. Things like that.
I also want to take the time to be angry at my financial literature teacher, Mr. Spencer.
Okay, so I don't take notes during class, and anything businessy and mathematical he drones through his mouth goes right over my head, but that doesn't mean that I don't know my stuff!
Well I don't. But that's beside the point. Half of the semester final he gave us today was about insurance. Insurance that he didn't teach us AT ALL this year. Things that were from first term that we've all forgotten were on there too. I probably failed that test epically, and I'm pissed about it.
And to wrap up everything I've just barfed out to you, this inability to have A's this term is the antagonist to gaining a reputation on my transcript for future colleges. Frankly, I'm stressed and angry, and very glad the semester is changing in two days. I'm tired of Journalism and Financial literature, and I'm waiting for the counselors to not be booked so I can talk to one of them about my teachers.
Ahhh. You see? I'm so angry that my normal stylistic and beautiful writing is jarred and cluttered today, and might as well be a slur of text that no one will read anyway.
Worst of all.
My friends are moody as shit, my favorite and most memorable great grandpa more is in the hospital sick with pneumonia, Rachel's going on a mission in less than a year, and I'm nowhere close to financially ready to be a grown up going to college...
Thus begins another wave of impending depression that crushes my chest and leaves me unable to breathe.
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.
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.
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!
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.
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.
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