Thursday, December 29, 2005

Ah, Another Winter Day To Waste, Though It Doesn't Feel That Way

Okay, what to do today? We have several options. #1. Go out to the middle of nowhere and spend time with my family, who I don't particularly like. #2. Go bowling with my sister, where the idea of putting on slicker-than-snot, butt ugly bowling shoes that don't go with my outfit discusts me. #3. Go ice-skating with my sister, which I would enjoy but still has the downfalls of coming home with bruises all over my butt (besides, the ice is probably melting as we speak, since it's so blasted warm out there. I might as well go swimming in my grandpa's pond). #4. Go to the movies with my sister (this is the best idea of all because I can't find anything bad to say about it). #5. Call my friends and family in my hometown, then sit here and bitch about being bored and having nothing to do (the most fun so far :*)). #6. Call my local friends and line up a sleepover for every night until I leave (kind of hard since my controlling parents won't allow me to see one of my best friends and another is out of town and won't be back until I'm gone). #7. Sit here and blog all day, sending instant messages to my friends (again, not much good because nobody ever gets online). #8. I suppose I could go down to Noon Moon (a local coffee shop) and chill with my homework for a couple of hours, seeing as I have a book to finish for English and a poster to finish for Health (did I metion that it's the only place that I can get some peace and quiet?) Sorry guys, I feel a little pessimistic this morning. In all reality, none of these options are bad. Maybe it's because I really just don't want to be here. Oh well, that's the way the world turns. If everything were perfect, we'd still find things to complain about.

Wednesday, December 28, 2005

I Need Some Advice From Those Who Still Read

I had people talking to me last night, trying to convice me that their way is the right way to go, religiously. I disagree with some things that their church teaches, therefore, I do not take communion there, or pray the prayers that they have raised their children with. Yet they argue with me on who is right and who is wrong, trying, it feels, to change the way I think to the way that they think, to change the belief system that I have been raised with. What should I do, what should I say to them?

Tuesday, December 27, 2005

January Cannot Come Fast Enough

I am so psyched for January! I mean December is great and everything, the end of a year, Christmas, so on and so forth, but for me, January is moving on, a chance to begin again. January weekends also bring me to the mountain for powder snowboarding, and more crashes and burns. But, hey, that's what makes it fun. January is the end of the hectic holiday shopping that occurs around Christmas. It's the end of the first semester at my school. It signifies the passing of time and reminds me of how quickly time really does pass. Here I am, getting nostalgic. Well, let's just say I've screwed up a lot this year, more than any other I think, and I desperately need a second chance (actually, more like a sixteenth chance). I've lost friends that I would have rather not lost, I've gained friends that I would probably be better off without, I've made mistakes that a typical teenage girl makes, and this year, although I may not disclose my resolutions to you as I am not totally anonymous, I am going to try my best to keep them. Oh, and another reason why January is great is the twenty-sixth marks a full year of blogging for me (not including deleted posts). I originally started this thing up so that my sister and I could talk without being eavesdropped on by our over-the-top control freaks that we call our parents. She never got the hang of how to post and since she never read, I changed my log on and password. I don't know if she reads now but back when I first began blogging, my posts really sucked. That's why some of them are deleted. When I go back and read what I've written in the past, I see how naiive I was and I can predict that I will sound just as naiive to myself in another year when I look back at this post. Well, I pray that this New Year can be prosperous for all, and that I will have the strength not to go back on my resolutions.

Sunday, December 25, 2005

Merry Christmas

So what do you think of the new Christmas issue about being politically correct that has arisen this year? My boss had me working Christmas Eve night and all the customers whom I wished a Merry Christmas responded, not with the new phrase meant not to offend, but with a jovial "Merry Christmas," further spreading their joy, found one month out of the twelve that we call our year. I, personally, have been raised knowing the true values of Christmas and why we celebrate. Ever since who-knows-when, people have been obsessed with the commercial aspect of Christmas, so that instead of the Christian holiday that it is, it has become a holiday in which people give gifts, people receive gifts, and eat this huge holiday feast, thinking about how they are going to use that new tool set, or when they are going to have time to install that new car stereo given to them by Aunt Myra. So the asshole who took offense to a "Merry Christmas" directed at him needs to take a step back and look at the reason this holiday is celebrated. It is, whether society wants to believe is or not, the birthday of Jesus Christ. The well wish of "Happy Holidays," in my opinion, can be flushed down the toilet because, it seems, no one is giving up their merry Christmases.
Another thing about Christmas is it tends to bring out the best, and the worst in some people. Everyone gets together with their families for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Tension is running high, oftentimes there is a family crisis occurring. I know that I used to enjoy spending my Christmases at home, watching movies, drinking hot cocoa, checking out your loot, ect. ect. Now that my mother has remarried, and my (wicked) stepmother has kicked me out of my father's house (now claiming that she didn't mean what she said), I spent the second consecutive year with my new family, (Mom's husband's family) and I really enjoyed it this year, along with the sweet satisfaction of telling my father that I had no desire to spend Christmas with him. It might be a hassle to run from house to house but it's worth it to spend time with people who love me for me.
Hope you all had a merry Christmas, and may your new year be prosperous.

Saturday, December 24, 2005

Who's Got The Ring and Is It the Right One?

I'm just wondering if you guys think that this story about a man finding a diamond ring in his car and this story about a woman who lost her ring sound a little like a coincidence? I mean look at the descriptions!

Wednesday, December 21, 2005

Not-So-Perfect Plans

Great conversation,
One of the best I've had.
I crave more like it.
"Call me if you ever need anything."
And call he did.
A familiar voice leaves a message for me.
The walks to work continued,
A suggestion to "hang out" was made.
I became a mall rat,
Haunting Sam Goody and Spencer's.
A previous boyfriend upset me,
And unintentional harsh words stung my friend.
After talking to an ex of his,
I became angry.
Recycled lines thawed the ice in my chest.
"I'm not trying to get into your pants..."
I didn't know they were being reused
"I'm trying to get into your heart."
We made movie plans,
Later called on account of the unexpected.
I'm grounded for not calling.
21-7-7-5= 2 days before January 3:
The day he leaves for three months.
"I won't be your whore!"
My vocal chords got a workout.
I feel I'm being used,
His new hook-up whore.
Two days pass before Apologetic Sunday.
Same voice leaving a pathetic message.
"I'm sorry."
The only two words out of his mouth
That don't seem sincere.
Another date was planned
Against my better judgment.
One where we would meet up
And go to that long-past-due movie.
I was there at 1:00 p.m.
And he didn't show up 'til 4:00!
Too late.
His loss.
I hung out for an hour,
An unidentified girl trails.
Who is she?
I'm going home finally.
He's nowhere in sight.
Skat halts,
Admitting passengers.
It's that girl again.
My heart stops, and freezes.
He's following her.
"Ladies first."
He said that to me once, too.
Feigning sleep, my eyes well.
He doesn't even acknowledge my presence!
I feel like running,
Feel like screaming,
It hurts that bad.
Like fingernails on a chalkboard.
Who is she?
Just a friend?
With long, beautiful, dark, wavy hair,
And brown doe eyes,
A perfect waist,
Willing to wear a dress,
A good sense of humor,
With a talent for conversing?
Sounds like his perfect woman.
He introduced me as his girlfriend!
"Testing it out," he said,
On his cousins.
He claims
He doesn't want to get attached;
Doesn't want me to get attached.
Confesses he already has.
Or is it a lie?
I know I am.
My head is pounding,
I can't think about this right now.

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Grounded, and for Stupid Reason

Let me just say this: I hate being grounded. What I was grounded from kind of defeats the purpose anyways. I got home one night about eight and my mom says, "Where have you been?" even though I had told her the night before that I was planning to hang out with C.R. and get my bus ticket to visit S.A. After we did a price check on bus tickets, C.R. insisted that he take me to get something to eat. On the way to this place, we came across his cousins, to whom he introduced me as his girlfriend, for the pure interest in my reaction. I had none until later, but that is not relevent to this story. Jerry's, the place that we were going to eat, had two burritos left. Lucky us. So we take off to C.R.'s aunt's house and hang out there for awhile. The evening progresses and I find myself in a strange woman's house, playing with her children, and at the same time, telling C.R. that I'm ready to leave him there because I'll be grounded if I don't get home soon. He finally tells his family goodbye and we catch SKAT home. As he's getting off, he says, "Call me when you get home." I agree to call and then I get home, only to find my mom pissed off, sitting on the couch, ready to ground me for one of the three weeks that C.R. has left here before he leaves for boot camp. 3x7= 21 days left. 21-6 days that I have to visit my father= 15 days left. 15-7 days that I was grounded for= 8 days left. 8-7 that he will have to spend doing Marine stuff= 1 day. I have one day left to spend with him, simply because my mom forgot where I said I was going. I didn't have access to a phone at his cousins house, because if I did, I would have called her. But, now it's over and I'm free again. Praise the Lord!

Monday, December 12, 2005

Race Mixing

I have a friend who is planning to go into the Marines. He is leaving this town the third day of the year 2006. He is insanely handsome, kind of tall, has an awesome sense of humor, and happens to be attracted to me. My feelings are likewise. Oh, and one more thing... He's black. African-American. Negro.
He and I are pretty into each-other, however, some people (namely my biological father) object to people of mixed races to be together. Needless to say sarcastically, I am SOOO excited to tell S.A. about C.R. I already have his predicted reaction playing through my head; "He's black?!? You're dating a nigger?!?" My mother doesn't really care. She, like her parents, has taught me that the Constitution is correct: all men are created equal. What difference is there between us except for the fact that his body produces a bit more melanin than mine does?
If I still have my readers, I would really appreciate your opinions on this issue of race-mixing. Is it wrong? What are the logical reasons that a white girl shouldn't be with a black boy? And vice-versa? What are the logical reasons that they should? I know what I think is right but, as always, I would really like to see another's point of view, especially if it is opposing mine.

Sunday, December 04, 2005

Lessons in Compassion

The Lord sent my mom and I a gift and a lesson at the same time on Friday night. Mom had come to pick me up from work at 10:30pm and we were driving home, heading towards the back roads. Just before we reach the railroad tracks, the arms came down and the lights were flashing, the tell-tale signal that a train is on it's way. The train gets halfway past us when it stops, dead in the middle of the road. After sitting there for about five minutes, we realized that this train wasn't moving anytime too soon. So mom flipped a U-turn and we head back through town. As we're passing a local grocery store, my mother, all of a sudden, yells, "Oh my gosh, a kitten!" and swings the car into the parking lot of said grocery store. I jumped out of the car and ran to pick the kitten up. His hind legs pathetically hung limp. As we drove home, the kitten purred the whole way. Mom and I both believed that we would have to euthanize this cat, that it wouldn't get a second chance at life, so when we arrived at the house, Mom layed some towels in an old dog carrier and we placed the cat in it, leaving the cage on the table so my dog would leave it alone. After I had gone to work the next morning, I forgot about the kitten for a short period of time, that is until my mom came to pick me up again. My day was rolling along wonderfully and I was telling my mother about it when she told me that Chance, or so she had named him, had a second chance at life. Neither one of us did anything with that cat, thinking that we would end up taking care of him in the end. Mom knows that God put Chance on that street corner, knowing that we would pull over, intending for us to learn that our compassion must not have conditions. We must show love and care for everybody and everything that might come our way, whether their social standing is less, they are of a different race, or are quite shabby looking. I know that I learned a lesson last night and I hope to recieve more like it.

Thursday, December 01, 2005


So today, during fourth period, we were just sitting in class, minding our own business, when suddenly a student looked out the window and exclaimed, "It's snowing!" It was only a few flakes, and they weren't even sticking, yet everyone flocked to the windows immediately, almost as if it were the second coming of Christ. Although we may be in high school, that doesn't take away the amazement and wonder that we express at the first snowfall of the season. I guess that it helps that we were in math class, allowing the unique shapes of the flakes to be ingrained in our brains. M.V. started singing Christmas carols, I started getting REALLY excited, and for the rest of the period, none of us could pay much attention. It's a good thing that we had already learned how to do most of the stuff. I think that it is completely and utterly astounding that every snowflake is different. As the period went on, the snowfall became heavier and heavier, the snowflakes getting bigger and bigger, and yet, they still weren't sticking, to the dismay of a certain individual who just happens to be writing this article. When I got home from school, T.L. told me that the snow isn't going to stick, yet by the hour, it has gotten deeper and deeper. I keep praying for a snow day so I can ride up to Baker or Stevens with one of my friends and practice my snowboarding skills. Those of you who know me, I know why you're laughing. As for those who don't, I suck at snowboarding and everyone knows it. Yet I keep trying, continuing to fall, simply because I love the snow. I hope all you guys out there who are reading this, stay in touch with your inner child and do something you love to do with that same childish enthusiasm that my classmates and I showed earlier today.

Saturday, November 26, 2005

Sorry Guys

I seemed to have hit somewhat of a writer's block but I'll have rid myself of it by next week. Sorry your weekly entertainment has stopped momentarily and thanks for the support.

Thursday, November 24, 2005

Things we are thankful for

Jesus Dying For Our Sins
My Family
Family Time
My Friends
The Yummy Food That Is Cooking
Our Houses
My Rights as a Human Being
Our Health
Our Senses
Our Animals Like Maxi and Hannah and Daisy
Our Talents
Our School
The Teachers
The Oceans, Lakes, Rivers, and Streams
The Mountains
The Snow
The Holidays
Our Toys
The Ice-Skating Rink
The Weather
Videos and DVDs
The People That Help Us
For Transportation

My little cousin Kayla helped me write on this Thanksgiving Day. I am thankful for all the loving people around me and the fact that I have the ability to make my own choices. I thank God that I am here at my "new" Granparents' house rather than at my father's parents' house, although Grandma does make the best pumpkin pie. I'm glad that my friends support me and that I can have intelligent conversations rather than showing my blonde side (that supposedly is accompanied by a low IQ). On this Thanksgiving Day, I slept in (another blessing from above because I never get to sleep in). After I was up and running, figuratively speaking, we drove down to my grandparents' house where I spent my time competing for the highest score on a video game with my little cousins and teaching K.Z. how to blog.

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Ordinary Girl In an Extraordinary World

So, I consider myself somewhat ordinary, nothing too exciting about me. It's the same girl who has gotten up every morning at six to the same Staind song, walked to the same bus stop every morning since seventh grade, gone to all the same classes since September, and gone home every night, simply to do homework and go to bed at the same time every night. Some wonderful things happen, but only over a period of time... like the trip to France. Some days are awesome, some days are horrible, yet I make it through every time, which is, in essence, why I am still here. You see, I made a choice, way back in sixth grade, that I wanted to live. I have never contemplated suicide since then and have lived my life with the expression "Carpe Diem" imprinted in my mind. I think back to my middle school years and wonder, How did I get to be the person that I am today? I used to be SO popular and I knew everyone in my grade. I look at the person I am today, and nobody talks to me anymore. Have I just changed to be more introverted or have I realized that my friends aren't all that cool? My high school career may be going just the way I want it to. Even though I might appear to be un-original, I still hold high hopes for myself. Not many people know that I want to teach English in France. Not many people know that I excell in math and science. Not many people know that I can be extremely crazy when I want to. Not many people know that I help pay bills and buy groceries because my lame-ass father doesn't pay the child support on time.
I had a really good conversation with a girl that rides my bus today. I found out that she plays basketball, and that she has a brother and a sister. She found out that I work at Eddie Bauer and that I like to snowboard on my days off. I guess my main question to the world is why are people so wrapped up in their own lives that they don't stop to talk to the people that appear to them as "simply ordinary"? Why do we not take an interest in people that we don't know yet and make them our friends? Maybe I'm just "tilting at windmills" but I believe that if we all started taking a little more time out of our days, we could not only meet more people, but make them close friends, and, in essence, make the world a smaller, more secure, place to live.

Monday, November 21, 2005

A Little Philosophy for You

"You can pick your friends, and you can pick your nose... But you can't pick your friend's nose!" Bah dah bum bah!

This is a quote from G.A. via G.B. transferred to me and M.T. on the way home from Baker yesterday. The snow was icy in the morning but later on in the day, it was slushy because of the beautiful sun. Thank God someone finally told me how to turn on my new snowboard. On the way back, M.T.'s fingers got smashed in-between the glass of a mocha bottle and a Sobe bottle. "Everything goes over M.T.'s head, because he's so short!" His handwarmers were defective. Then there was the guy that was running the equipment check who was TOTALLY hitting on me... I'm not sure if that's good or bad. In my book, (which obviously isn't a good one for reasons that will be disclosed in the next sentence) it was an awesome day. However, I woke up this morning, (after not hurting a bit last night) and groaned. Long, loud, and with passion. I seriously ache today. M.T. gave me a bunch of shit about it at school and started poking me really hard because he knew I hurt. But he's apologizing right now so I guess I'll forgive him. I can't wait until January... Winter Ride, BABY!!! I'm going to kick some ass this year as a boarder!

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

100 Years

"I'm 15 for a moment
Caught in between 10 and 20
And I'm just dreaming
Counting the ways to where you are
I'm 22 for a moment
She feels better than ever
And we're on fire
Making our way back from Mars
15 there's still time for you
Time to buy and time to lose
15, there's never a wish better than this
When you only got 100 years to live
I'm 33 for a moment
Still the man, but you see I'm a they
A kid on the way
A family on my mind
I'm 45 for a moment
The sea is high
And I'm heading into a crisis
Chasing the years of my life
15 there's still time for you
Time to buy, Time to lose yourself
Within a morning star
15 I'm all right with you
15, there's never a wish better than this
When you only got 100 years to live
Half time goes by
Suddenly youÂ’re wise
Another blink of an eye
67 is gone
The sun is getting high
We're moving on...
I'm 99 for a moment
Dying for just another moment
And I'm just dreaming
Counting the ways to where you are
15 there's still time for you
22 I feel her too
33 youÂ’re on your way
Every day's a new day...
15 there's still time for you
Time to buy and time to choose
Hey 15, there's never a wish better than this
When you only got 100 years to live"

In my opinion, this song by Five for Fighting is very true. We don't realize that we don't have that much time to live our lives. Like me; I can't believe that I am already the age that I am. I know that I'm not that old but a year passes quickly. My mother has raised me with some good morals and phrases to live by. One includes "Carpe diem." The meaning of these few Latin words to me is "If you died within the next hour, would you regret not having done it?" That's how I ended up with my first boyfriend. When you die, what do you want to have accomplished? What would you want to be remembered for? What would you want to be considered your greatest accomplishment? I still don't know my answers to these questions and even though I regret the results of some of the choices I have made, I don't regret the person I have become as a consequence.

Saturday, November 12, 2005

Sometimes The Things That Need To Be Said Are Best Expressed With Other's Words

"I'll go wherever you will go."
"It's been awhile since I could call you."
The line repeat inside my head,
And on the radio.
"I wanna stand with you on a mountain,"
"He loves her, defintely maybe."
These are the songs we agree on.
"Listen to your heart, when he's calling for you."
"When you've only got 100 years to live."
The song is wrong.
There is no more time for me.
"I almost loved you,
And almost wished you would've loved me, too."
Lost love is the new theme.
"We belong together."
"I'm searchin' for some kind of miracle,
I've waited so long."
You may have treated me like crap
Blamed me, even
For our friendship's demise,
But I still miss you.
"I'm not listening when you say

Tuesday, November 08, 2005

Time Wasted

Four and one quarter years gone
And I'm finally moving on.
One million chances
Have been given.
One million tears
Have been cried.
I've lost a companion
And so much more.
But was he ever sincere,
Did he ever really care?
My tunes will help me through
Remembering the times
He treated me like nothing.
Yet I stayed with him.
He became my best friend.
A million more chances were granted.
It ended on a horrible note.
I think he lied.
I'm convinced that he lied.
But he doesn't lie,
He simply deceives.
He gave me false hopes,
Kept my dreams afloat.
A phone call, an email
Angry words fill a page.
My pen's finally writing the truth.
Words become increasingly angry
On my part and on his.
A conversation meant for paper
Ends in harsh tones of voice.
I need someone in my corner.
The salt stains my paper;
One million one, one million two,
One million three, one million four.
Soon I'll be done crying.
Soon I'll be done remembering.
Soon I'll be done waiting.
Soon I'll be done taking risks
Because they always let me down
As their grand finale.
And these four years wasted?
They won't matter anymore
Because I'll have finally moved on.

I really should have listened to my mom: I do deserve someone better.

Friday, November 04, 2005

Snow at Baker!

We finally got the snow that was expected for last season! Yay! Opening day is November 8th and none of us skiers or snowboarders can wait. I am seriously excited! Check out how much is there!

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

What Hurts More, The Truth or a Lie?

Update: The drama level in my school has risen to an all time high. First of all, S.S. "lost" the baby. I can't confirm this and I can't deny this because I don't really know if she was pregnant to begin with.
Let's start with C.G.'s side of the story. She tells him she's pregnant. He believes her for about two weeks before he starts doubting her story. So, what does he do? He buys a pregnancy test for her to take with him so he knows for sure. He doesn't tell her about it. Monday comes and she tells him that she lost the baby. He, of course, thinks she's lying about the whole thing and tries to get her to fess up. She doesn't and any argument that he makes, she counters with an argument that doesn't make sense (at least not to him). He still thinks she's lying and plans to break up with her but everytime he tries, she walks away before he's done talking. He talks to me at lunch and tells me that he's thinking about going back to his state of non-emotion. I told him, "If you don't express emotion, you can't love your friends." He said, "I know. I won't." Our conversation ended there and was picked up again after school. I brought up that last snippet of conversation and he confirmed that he wouldn't love his friends. I asked him, "What do you call this then?" He goes on to say something (I wasn't really paying attention to what it was because I was a little upset) and then, noticing the look on my face, asked me, "Are you alright?" I looked up. "What should I say? I mean, I know what you want to hear but I don't know what to say," I replied. "I don't know but something's bothering you, I can tell," he said, "I would think that I should be the one hurting here, not you." The tears are welling at this point and I'm trying to hold them back, but it doesn't work. The one thing that I never wanted him to see he has finally saw. He gets this look of sympathy on his face, which, to me, is the worst part. He steps toward me with his arms open and I let him hug me, deciding to hug him back. We're best friends, you see. He tells me that maybe he'll change his mind.
Now let's take S.S.'s point of view. She gets pregnant and tells C.G. She and him are together a little over a month after she knew. She trips over the stairs and other stuff multiple times while setting up for and during the choir's haunted house. "A little gray and black thing shows up in the toilet a couple days later." She talks to T.F-B. and apparently, his girlfriend had the same problem. So, S.S. tells C.G. she lost the baby. He brings up arguments, trying to prove that she lied. She wants to break up with him, and yells at him today, I don't know what over. She walks home with me, telling me her story all the way. She says she's broken up with him today. Hasn't happened offically yet. I tell her, finally, what's wrong and start crying all over again. I tell her that for the longest time, I hated her. She says, "There's more to the story than you're telling me." I give her my history with him and she blames it on herself and says she'll try to make it easier on him so we can be together and we could be happy. I know it won't happen. Everybody thinks that we'll end up together but I think everybody's wrong.
Now, let's look at my perspective. I don't know if she was pregnant or not. I don't know if she lost it or not. All I know is that losing a relationship with my best friend hurts like hell, and I don't know what I'll do about it if he give up emotion again. Like I said before, every man (except my step-dad) has let me down in my life. I don't want this to happen again with C.G. but it just might. I don't even know if he really cares about me. Maybe he never really did.

Sunday, October 30, 2005

Remember Backstreet Boys?

This is just too funny!

Check this out!

It's too good!

Saturday, October 29, 2005

To Stand or Not to Stand...

The other night, I was in an argument with my mother. I had told her that I no longer stand for the pledge at the beginning of school, and naturally, she was appalled.
The way I see it, if the government is taking away our constitutional freedoms, why should I stand? I mean, let's look at what this is saying to us:
I pledge allegiance to the flag
Of the United States of America.
And to the Republic for which it stands
One nation, under God, indivisible,
With libery and justice for all.
Mom asked me, "Do you agree with this?" My answer is yes. However, the way I see it, liberty means freedom. If the government is taking away the rights that were laid down in the Constitution, (the Patriot Act) such as our right to privacy (a.k.a. the government can't search or seize anything in our homes without valid evidence of anything illegal going on), or the freedom of speech (which will probably be going next, thanks to our lovely President Bush), then what is the point of standing? I hate to say it, but America, the country that we all adore, is going to hell in a handbasket.
Mother's argument to this is that since my great-grandfather fought in WW2, I need to stand to honor him and the other U.S. soldiers.
Counterpoint: there are other ways to honor the men who help keep this country free, such as keeping a shadowbox, Veteran's Day, ect. It's not that I don't support our troops, it's that I don't support how our government works. And if we aren't careful, our beloved government will turn out like the one in 1984, by George Orwell. For those of you who haven't read this book, I suggest you do.

Big Brother is always watching us.

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

Racism, Sexism... Blondism?

So, today in English, we were discussing prejudices against other races, other ways of thinking, and the way other people look. Ms. H. believes that it isn't right for anyone to joke about anything that relates to people being different. I agree with her... to a degree. I believe context has a lot to do with it too. Ms. H. was including blonde jokes as well. If a niece or nephew of hers says something that may be inappropriate in another situation (like the "black" jokes in "Guess Who", starring Ashton Kutcher).
Although I agree with Ms. H. I also disagree in a way. As most of you know, I am a blonde. I have never dyed my hair and I laugh at all blonde jokes. I think they're funny and people say I tell them better than any brunette would.
So you see, there is a happy-medium where these puns, comments, and jokes mesh, blending the appropriate with the inappropriate right in the middle. On the one hand, I think it is horrible to call someone a generalized nickname, reserved for people of the same-pigmented skin. On the other, I love hearing new blonde jokes. There is a time and a place for everything and I certainly hope that you have the intelligence to tell the difference about when these things are okay and when they're not.

I am SO gonna try this next time I order pizza... You should too

Make Ordering Pizza Fun!
* If using a touch-tone, press random numbers while ordering. Ask the person taking the order to stop doing that.
* Terminate the call with, "Remember, we never had this conversation."
* Tell the order taker a rival pizza place is on the other line and you're going with the lowest bidder.
* Give them your address, exclaim "Oh, just surprise me!" and hang up.
* Use those bonus words in the conversation: ROBUST FREE-SPIRITED COST-EFFICIENT UKRAINIAN PUCE.
* Tell them to put the crust on top this time.
* Sing the order to the tune of your favorite song from Metallica's "Master of Puppets" CD "Chop your pizza on a mirror!" "Master! Master! Put pepperoni on my pizza!"
* Do not name the toppings you want. Rather, spell them out.
* Put an extra edge in your voice when you say "crazy bread."
* Change your accent every three seconds.
* If they repeat the order to make sure they have it right, say "OK. That'll be $10.99; please pull up to the first window."
* Ask if you get to keep the pizza box. When they say yes, heave a sigh of relief.
* Move the mouthpiece farther and farther from your lips as you speak. When the call ends, jerk the mouthpiece back into place and scream goodbye at the top of your lungs.
* Say it's your anniversary and you'd appreciate it if the deliverer hid behind some furniture waiting for your spouse to arrive so you can surprise him/her.
* Belch directly into the mouthpiece; then tell your dog it should be ashamed.
* Order two toppings, then say, "No they'll start fighting."
* Use expletives like "Great Caesar's Ghost" and "Jesus Joseph and Mary in Tinsel Town."
* If he/she suggests anything, adamantly declare, "I shall not be swayed by your sweet words."
* Wonder aloud if you should trim those nose hairs.
* Start the conversation with "My call to (pizza place), Take 1, and...action!"
* When they repeat your order, say, "Again, with a little more OOOMPH this time."
* After ordering, say "I wonder what THIS button on the phone does." Simulate a cutoff.
* Ask if they're familiar with the term "spanking a pizza." Make up a description to go with the term. Ask that this be done to your pizza.
* Say "Kssssssssssssssht" rather loudly into the phone. Ask if they felt that.
* Teach the order taker a secret code. Use the code on all subsequent orders.
* Mumble, "There's a bomb under your seat." When asked to repeat that, say, "I said 'sauce smothered with meat."
* When they say "Will that be all?", snicker and say "We'll find out, won't we?"
* Order with a Speak-n-Spell where applicable.
* Dance all around the word "pizza". Avoid saying it at all costs. If he/she says it, say "Please don't mention that word."
* Have a movie with a good car chase playing loudly in the background. Yell "OW!" when a bullet is fired.

I got this as an email and thought it was absolutely hilarious... so I posted it of course. It's just one of those things.

Saturday, October 22, 2005


So, my mom wants to be a photographer. Just last night we were sitting here, trying to come up with names for her new business. The one that we finally decided on is Remembered Moments. Here's a sample of the kind of pictures she takes... Me on the beach near where I live.

Friday, October 21, 2005

Shit Happens

It's a fact of life. You know, if you think about it, shit happens all on its own... or so certain people seem to think.
I, however, refuse to believe this lie. I think that the phrase, "shit happens," is plainly an excuse for the actions of some inhabitants of this God-forsaken town.
T.F. gets a piece of some lass's ass while I'm gone over the summer. Oh yeah, shit happens.
I fall off a horse and get kicked out of my father's house, the words "She's never coming back," reverberatingin my ears. But, you know, shit happens.
One of my best friends gets his girlfriend/fiancée pregnant and stops talking to me. Wow. Shit happens.
So many people in my life have used that excuse but it really surprised me when C.G. said it today. With an air of anger in my voice that was easily heard, I replied, "You're not the first asshole to say that to me."
All this idiom really is, is an excuse for consequences that are the result of a choice made by the user of it. Sure shit happens. On the contrary, it only happens on account of the choices we insist on making. For this reason, I can assure you that my car will never sport a bumper sticker that reads, "Shit Happens" for spouting excuses for my actions is NOT my way of living life.

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

Hats Off to the Smart Ones

Okay, you know you're good when you can pull off a one hundred percent on an essay with a thesis that you think is utter bull-shit.
Example A: The School's New Food: Good Or Bad?
When I wrote this paper for health class, I picked a point that I originally agreed with. However, it was only when the paper was returned with a big, fat "A" on it, that I realized that what I had written, I didn't believe for an instant.
You also know you're good when you can make valid supporting statements for a debate taking place in English class.
Example B: The debate over the thesis statement over Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream" speech. You know, the term "Honors" is only used to make the teens in these classes sound smart. A better name for the class would be "Analyze-The-Hell-Out-Of-Any-Piece-Of-Writing-We-Give-You Class."
You further know that you're good when a teacher whom you positively DETEST (and vice versa) gives you top marks on a test you took, raising your grade by a few percents.
Final example: Today's test, third period, scored 102% and raised my grade by five percent.
As much as I like reveling in having awesome grades, I can't stand being the smart one. I mean, everyone turns to you for the answers and then you don't get anything in return. If you don't feed them the answers, then they don't like you. It's a lose lose situation here... but I do get the satisfaction of knowing that I worked for my 4.0.

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

Toute le Monde Faites les Erreurs Stupides Mais Beaucoup des Personnes sont Stupides

Okay, so everyone makes stupid mistakes sometimes. And all those stupid mistakes ALWAYS come back to bite you in the ass; it's Murphy's Law. Like, M.T. riding his bike in front of that car, C.G. fucking S.S, and me, kissing T.F. Everyone gets what's coming to them in the end.
Many people that make stupid mistakes (the majority actually) have an IQ of anywhere between zero and sixty. For those of you who have an IQ near this yourselves, this mentality score is NOT good. However, there are the intelligent people who knowingly make these errors, all the time (like me). What makes us think that this is a good move? Why does our conscience tell us that what we're doing is wrong, and yet we do it anyways?
Because we want to, that's why. You can't get an explanation more simple than that. When we are in a situation that could cause us pleasure or that is stressful, therefore causing you to lose your common sense, you choose what comes to mind first, not want you think is right.
If you are like me, doing these stupid things so often, you don't even think anymore, you and I both need to step back from our lives and take a closer look on what the wisest choice is.

Monday, October 17, 2005

I was right...

I say I was right about Homecoming this year, however, it didn't happen the way that I predicted. Yes, everything was different, and yet, it had nothing to do with C.G. I found myself looking hot while dancing with A.B, K.S, R.B, N.A, C.G, S.S, "Gabe", and S.S. (aka the person who is supposed to be my nemesis). The DJay was worse than last year and they played many of the same songs over again throughout the night, excluding the one that was most important to me. I requested it twice, only to find that they didn't have it. Naturally, I was upset. So I did what I do best: exercise. To keep from looking like someone who's completely insane, I grabbed T.F. and told him to come walk with me. We took a lap around the track, and in that lap, I came to find out many things, first of which, he had been broken up with earlier. Our conversation went something like this:
TF: So, what did you bring me out here for?
Me: So I wasn't walking alone because I would look insane if I did.
TF: S.K. broke up with me. It was over some stupid "He said, She said..." thing about me talking crap about her. If I'd known this was going to happen, I wouldn't have come tonight.
Me: So are you going to shove me up against a wall and make out with me, now that you're single again? (my voice is just dripping with sarcasm)(Make note. Comes into ironic play later)
TF: (yells) How shallow do you think I am to just do that? Can't you see that I'm hurting right now? Why can't people see that?
Me: Casper*, I'm sorry.
TF: So what's wrong with you tonight? Did you get broken up with, too?
Me: For your information, I haven't had a boyfriend since M.T.* and I broke up.
TF: Is that why you're so pissed off tonight?
Me: No. I know this will sound petty compared to your distress but they don't have my song. It's important to me that they play it and they don't have it.
TF: Why is it your song?
Me: It's not just mine. It's mine and someone else's.
TF: Whos? Your's and M.T.'s*?
Me: No.
TF: Who then?
Me: Crazy's*
TF: Oh my God! You're in love with Crazy*!
Me: Was. Was in love with Crazy*. His screwing S.S. is like the final slap in the face saying, "You never had a chance. You never will have a chance."
TF: I can't go back to being myself since S.K. broke up with me. I can't be the free, single, go-lucky guy that I like to me. Just like I couldn't when we broke up.
Me: We were never going out, Casper*.
TF: Yes we were.
Me: No we weren't. You never asked. I never said yes. We weren't going out.
Me: What really happened over the summer? You only told me so much but I want to know the whole story.
T.F. goes on to describe in great detail that someone spiked some tea with shrooms and before he knew it, he had already drunk half of the tall glass they handed him. Apparently, he had to have his stomach pumped because he O.D'ed and then found out that he had gone pretty far with a girl he had just met.
Me: What is the longest that you've stayed clean?
TF: Two months, when I was with you.
Me: So what would you do differently if you had another chance with me?
TF: Not be an asshole and try harder to make it work.
Me: Why were you so surprised that I could dance?
TF: Because you never told me you could shake your hips like that.
Me: Because I can't. But you've seen me walk.
TF: Yeah, but that isn't "drop it like it's hot" dancing.
Somehow, we ended up kissing. He pulled back first and asked me, "Why are you doing this? Are you doing this because you miss me or because you miss Crazy*?"
Me: Because I miss you.
He kissed my neck a few times and I added, "Also because I'm cold." Then I flipped the question right back at him; "Are you doing this because you miss me or because you miss S.K.?"
TF: I miss you.
We kissed again.
TF: I feel guilty about kissing you just now.
Me: Why?
TF: I don't know if I want to do this yet. I want to be sure I'm over S.K. before I get together with you again so I don't lead you on.
Me:(with an edge) Fine. You go home and think about it and call me when you're ready to talk.
TF: Peanut*, wait. You're not pissed at me now, are you? I just don't want to lead you on like I did before.
Me: So you didn't mean it last time, then? You were leading me on? (said with a somewhat raised voice)
TF: No, it's not like that. I just don't want to hurt you-
Me:(yelling now) Just answer the fucking question, Casper*! Did you or did you not mean it last time?
TF:(sincerely) Yes, I meant it. (pause) I think the dance has ended.
Me: Well, we'd better go back in then. (I take his hand to go inside)
Then we kissed again and before I knew it, we were on the dance floor, kissing, with R.B. taking a picture. I just can't figure out why or how this happened so fast. I can't figure out what to do, what to say, nothing. I don't even know how I'm going to see him anymore. (Just for reference, T.F. and I "fooled around" last year at the end of the year. We had agreed to be "just friends" because I was leaving for six weeks over the summer. We had also agreed that when I got back, we would date. However, he fooled around with another girl over the summer and told me about it (thank God) so it never happened).
So, you tell me... sweet or sour? Should I give him another chance or should I be a cold-hearted bitch?

*real name used in actual conversation.

Monday, October 10, 2005

Homecoming 2005

This year, Homecoming is changing. For the better? For the worse? I don't think anybody really knows that it's becoming insignificant. Maybe it's changing only for me. All I know is that the majority of the girls and H.S. are going out to Midnite Expressions in the juniors section of Macy's, or to JC Penney's, to buy their two hundred dollar, Cinderella dresses, while the few nonconformists go out and buy unique clothing items that somehow mesh well with the formal attire theme. Then there are the classics; the girls and guys who dress in the classy styles to look like models and movie stars. I would classify myself into this third category. But this isn't how Homecoming has changed. No, this is how it's remained the same. Every year, Katie and I prepare together. Every year, we stay overnight at the other's houses. Every year it's the same music. Every year it's the same dark gym, guys groping girls in every corner. Homecoming is having fun with my friends and dancing to every song. Crazy and I dance the same song together every year. Only this year will be different. This year we will have a monster that goes by the name of, "C.G. screwed S.S. and knocked her up (Crazy, if this offends you, let me know and I'll delete it). Now I feel like we're worlds apart. In essence, it's the final slap in the face that tells me that I never had a chance, that I will never have a chance. I wonder what to say, I wonder what to do. You said once that I have a comprehensive voice... well, so much for that. I wonder how to help you through this but I don't know if I can. Our dance tells us over and over again that we're just friends. Close friends, but only friends. All that's happened to us within the past four years has kept the emotion raw between us.
When I met you in seventh grade, you were a great runner. We shared cross-country and track. You spit in my face and called me "Moddy." I made copies of your flier for that party at your place. Sharing choir in eighth grade; you were one of the only male singers. Still are, come to think of it. :) Rubbing your soft hair after the eighth grade water-slides. High school started and you pulled the group together. You had your girlfriends and I had my beaus. We became friends and shared numerous classes in sophomore year. I'll never forget making my first character and not listening to Mr. T. confuse us about Thoreau. You finally learned to trust me; I asked you everyday. You helped me through my summer in France and at Shane's. I figured S.S. was just another girl who wouldn't last. But now you two are getting married. You told me in an email that you loved me, then having J.M. inform me of you and her in the park (ouch!). I was so angry. Things got better and you told me you couldn't make a choice, if one of us were dying, who to save. That pissed me off, too. I hated yelling at you over the phone, through my tears; I felt so guilty. I found out that you were human, no longer a virgin, making stupid mistakes. I was angry once again. You let me cool off, never yelled back, never got angry. Once again things got better. Then she tells me she's pregnaut (major shock, literally). She plans to keep it and you've ruined your dreams of going into the military. At least she'll keep you safe. Like I said, I have no more reactions. I've run out because I don't care anymore.
This is how Homecoming's changed. We're just friends, and neither of us wants anymore, or from my point of view, anyways. I'll always be here for you to talk, to listen; whatever you need. But promise that we'll always have our dance.

Tuesday, October 04, 2005

False Impressions

What do you do when you are led to believe something that is apparently untrue? You are led to believe by all evidence that this thing is true. All parties involved have body language telling you, Yeah, this is what we want. This is what's going to happen. And then they turn their backs. They tell you, "No, I don't really want this. Just like S.A. didn't want me to leave that night. And N.A. isn't looking for a girlfriend. C.G. says he didn't see any reason not to screw S.S. (except the obvious to the rest of us all). People who you think you can call your friends are constantly lying to you, hiding their true appearances, their true colors, their true thoughts. So what can you do to stop this deception? Absolutely nothing. You can't force your best friend to tell you what's going on at home. You can't make that cute senior like a lower classman like yourself. However, you can change your own life. You can stop pretending to be something you're not, start telling everyone how you really feel when they ask you, instead of just "fine." You can tell people the truth, not how they want to hear it, but how it really is. The only thing stopping you is the fact that you'll hurt their feelings. And you know, maybe you will, but I can guarantee that they would rather have injured emotions than be lied to. Believe it or not, we are all hiding behind masks. Masks that show us how others want to see us. Stop putting people under false impressions and start speaking the truth. Remove the mask that's hiding the real you and maybe, just maybe, our friends will remove their shields so we can see their face, scars and all. If someone takes the first step in becoming brutally honest, slowly, we will all have our secrets uncovered and have nothing left to hide.

Sunday, October 02, 2005

Daddy's Girl

Daddy’s girl, I used to be
From birth until about grade three.
I grew and grew to understand
The guy I called “Dad,” was not a man.

I learned the cause of the divorce
“Abuse,” Mom said, “was the driving force.”
As I matured, becoming a teen
My father controlled me, making me mean.

I wrote several letters, made a threat or two
Stating that if changes weren’t made, hell would ensue.
Naturally, he undermined my ability
And I reacted with added hostility.

I visited him there in Eastern Washington
Wasting the days with his daughters and son.
He read my letters, journal, and email,
Without reason, besides the fact that he’s male.

All this continued throughout the years
Only causing vows and tears.
I guaranteed I would leave when I turned eighteen
And only return with a mincing machine.

I began to think of ways to ruin his life,
Turn his kids into terrors who would cause him great strife.
My sister pitched in ideas to assist;
You see, she doesn’t like him any more than a cyst.

He threatened us for not conforming
He didn’t know that we were brainstorming.
We never put any plans into action,
But somehow I found myself in a chain reaction.

My family went horseback-riding one day
I saw myself galloping, in an out-of-body way.
My stirrups weren’t high enough
And my landing was rough.

But I raised the stirrups and remounted the horse,
It started galloping again of course.
Again I fell off, and hurt my neck and back,
I’m pretty sure I heard it crack.

Shane and Brenda gave me some meds
When Mom found out, she nearly called the feds.
My friend took me to the emergency room on Mom’s orders
Which overstepped Shane’s set borders.

He came to take me home after I was x-rayed
But Mom was coming to get me, so I stayed.
He came back with the parenting plan
So I was forced to return home with the man.

As I packed my bags that night,
Brenda told my mom that I was a fright.
“All she does is make the rest of us miserable.”
Apparently I am quite unstable.

So I wrote another letter
This time, offering a visitation that would work better.
He still hasn’t replied to what I said
Probably remembering that night with dread.

Overall, I like staying here more.
The only bad thing is my unseen siblings, whom I adore.
I will always love the father that was mine.
However, his actions towards me are not so divine.

Saturday, September 24, 2005

A Rose By Any Other Name Would Smell As Sweet

What's in a nickname? I don't know about you but I have been called a number of things in my life, some nice things, some, well, not so nice. At work, you can hear the intercom phone ringing in the fitting room. If you pick it up, and D.C. is working, you'll usually hear, "Hey fergie, we need you to ring." On the ski slopes, hanging out with K.S. and M.T. you can usually hear them calling after me, "Hey Kamakazi, are you okay?"
In my opinion, a nickname isn't just something incredibly out of the blue; It holds a piece of who you are. Like Kamakazi. When my friends call me that, I tend to get a little crazy on my skis. Or Ah Man. Mr. Acosta's little nickname for me captures my last name, and even though I hate the name, I love it when people refer to me by it.
In each nickname, a little bit of my attitude lives. Fergie is reclusive; Blondie is, well, blonde; Kamakazi loves to be crazy, if not a little insane. Shortie looks up to everyone, and Gullible falls for other's words.
When people ask you for one word that describes yourself, what do you tell them? Interesting? Sexy? Intelligent? Challenged? My answer is "How can I pick just one?" How many people are living in you?

Monday, September 19, 2005


The other day, I was in line, waiting to check out at the grocery store when an unnamed tabloid caught my eye. It displayed Rene Zellweger and Lindsey Lohan on the cover, sporting titles like, "Look at Lindsey's new curves" and, "Trouble in paradise? An inside look at Kenny Chesney and Rene Zellweger's breakup". Do the people who write these awful things about our celebs not realize that their All-American idols are people too, and have the same rights as us, stating that we shouldn't exploit the hell out of them?
Now, I don't know about you, but I know quite a few people who act just like these columnists, who tell the bogus stories about "So-and-so's alien baby". These people, it seems, have no intelligence. And it doesn't stop there. No, they spread out to other peoples' lives, telling eachother about their best friends' being abused, their pregnant teenage daughters, their drug dealing sons. You could almost swear that these women are still in high school, where their drama would equal HUGE popularity points, gaining them acceptance into the Upper Crust.
So what would you do if you were on the receiving end of a piece of this juicy gossip? Would you turn to the person closest to you and pass on the disturbing tidbit? Would you squash the rumor and tell that person to talk to someone who cares, or to mind their own business? What would you consider to be the right thing to do in this situation, and an even more important question, would you do it?

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

How Do I Take This?

About an hour ago, I had my heart ripped out of my chest, thrown to the ground, and stomped on repeatedly. It all started after the last bell rang for the day. I had to finish a group project in the library this afternoon with a few of my classmates. Well, I saw S.S. on the way there and followed her out by the buses to wait for C.G. with her. C.G. finally comes hobbling down the front steps and I avert my eyes from them to avoid witnessing the hug/kiss that the two share when parting and reuniting. Hence, five-inch stiletto number one.
I take off to meet my group members in the library, but nobody showed up. So I head down to the intervention specialist's office and she gives me some pamphlets that should help me out with the project. I needed to see if I had any stuff in my locker that I needed to take home and down the hall, I see C.G. and decide to go talk to him, since we haven't had a ton of time. I get there and am not so shocked to discover that S.S. is still with him but she looks pissed. She leaves to go inhabit "her spot" by the side of the school and C.G. tells me that it was Casey, not me, that made her angry. I follow C.G. to hopefully give some comfort to S.S. but somehow, the conversation led to her sleeping with him, and whether or not she was planning to. She gave me this look that said it all. Then C.G. and S.S. kiss without warning. I get up and tell them that I'm leaving, heart stinging from the sight. C.G. says, "What? You go and ask that question and now you're leaving?" I replied, "Yes, her face told me everything." and I spun around before he could say anything or read any emotions that my mask might not be covering. He's always said I suck at hiding it. Steel-toed boot, number two.
I'm planning on catching community transit to get home and as I'm walking past the other stop, T.M-F. saunters up to the guy waiting there with his new fuck-buddy. Probably the one that he used when I was away at my father's and abroad. This time I want him to know that I'm hurt. "Hey!" I yell. He turns. "Is that your new fuck-buddy?" I question. He, of course, nods his head. I think he was just disregarding how I feel. I mean, you don't screw around with someone like me and expect them not to get attached. That's just not how it works. Introducing heavy astronaut boot number three; the boot that most made me feel the rocks on the pavement, the other cracks in my heart from other occasions, some deeper than others; the fact that no one is perfect, like the glass from broken beer bottles; the heaviness of the realization that everyone has the opportunity to add another crack, especially your friends.
So tell me, how do you keep letting people in? How do you keep trusting if everyone is capable of breaking you? We all know that it will happen eventually, so what are we waiting for? Why do we still feel, even though it hurts bad enough that we're numb? C.G. was right. Heaven isn't here.

To: C.G. You Know Who You Are

Everyday, first period
And lunch.
We sit together
Yet we're miles apart.
I wish I knew your thoughts.
Things aren't the same
You say everything is "fine,"
But we don't talk anymore.
We used to get in-depth
Simple-minded topics
Is all this is composed of,
Are you lying?
To me,
To yourself,
To the world?
Been pondering your advice
The comment on my blog.
I might take it and date N.A.
But what if I crave more?
Someone to make me happy
Until the apocalypse.
I can't watch you with her.
I glance away when you kiss,
When you hug.
I notice that you can't
Look me in the eyes
When she is present.
Do you think it hurts me?
Four years is a long time, Love.
But seven months is eternity!
You won't choose me next
And we both know it.
I challenge you
To choose someone else.
I don't blame you for trying
To place some distance between us.
How many years will pass
Before the "fucking hard times" pass?

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

He's How Old?!?

So, yesterday, I was working and after everyone left, with the exception of Stephanie and me, a guy came in to shop our awesome sales with two women in tow, as well as a girl and a boy about my age, and a guy who appeared to be about twenty-six, judging by his face and the numerous tattoos on his biceps.
The group starts to make a pile at the register, shopping all the sales rounders. Everyone brings something up, and there is a lot of stuff for an unseen guy, named Joe.
Every time someone said something was for Joe, the whole group started ragging on him. I said, "Man, you guys must not like Joe very much." They would assure me, "No, no, we love Joe." Then the tattooed guy piped up that Joe was single and they all gave me that conspiring glance. Everyone started talking him up to me, saying how great he is and how he's such a sweet guy, all the while, giving me that look.
I asked, "How old is Joe, exactly?"
"Oh, about thirty-nine, forty, maybe," Tattoo Guy responded.
"And do you have any idea how old I am?"
They size me up, trying to guess how old. The woman finally asked, "How old?"
I told them. Everyone looked taken aback and finally someone said, "She's a youngin!"
They all gave eachother this look that could mean nothing but I never would have guessed that age.
Tattoo Guy finally turned to me and said, "Well, Joe needs numbers, so can we get yours anyway?" I have a good feeling he was just messing around though.
Turns out the older man owns a dental office in Lynnwood and the two women as well as the MIA Joe are his employees. The kids my age are his children and Tattoo Guy is his godson. Don't you love feeling older? I'm told the feeling goes away after thirty years old.

Thursday, September 08, 2005

Try This On A Telemarketer

The phone rang as I was setting down to my anticipated evening meal and, as I answered it, I was greeted with " is this Wilhiam Wagenhoss" not sounding anything like my name, so I said who is calling?

The telemarketer said he was with The Rubber Band Powered Freezer Company or something like that and then I asked him if he knew Wilhiam personally and why was he calling this number.

I then said off to the side, "get really good pictures of the body and all the blood" then turned back to the phone and advised the caller that he had entered a murder scene and must stay on the line because we had already traced this call and he would be receiving a summons to appear in the local courthouse to testify in this murder case.

I then questioned the caller at great length as to his name, address, phone number at home, at work, who he worked for, how he knew the dead guy and could he prove where he had been about one hour before he made this call.

The telemarketer was getting very concerned and his answers were given in a shaky voice. I then told him we had located his position at his work place and the police were entering the building to take him into custody, at that point I heard the phone fall and the scurrying of his running away.

My wife asked me as I returned to our table why I had tears streaming down my face and so help me, I couldn't tell her for about fifteen minutes. My meal was cold, but very enjoyable.

I recieved this in an email. Those of you who know me, you know why you're laughing harder than the average person. For those of you who don't, I used to be a telemarketer myself. Have a good one.

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

The First Day of School

Yeah. You know what I'm talking about. That chilly day at the beginning of September when all kids, ages 5 and up, gather their paper, pens, pencils, backpack, ect. and head for that big brick building that some look at like a prison. Children grades 7 and up dress in their flyest fall clothes and board buses, or hop into their new cars, keys in hand for some. Everyone arrives at school in the allotted time and the bell rings. For elementary students, there is one teacher and one teacher only for the whole year. Most middle schoolers find themselves wandering around the halls, looking for the classes they were assigned. The high schoolers, in some cases, got to choose the teachers and classes they want so they already know where they're going. Hallways are packed, as well as counselor's offices. You want to drop a class because it's too hard. You have a missing period. You can't stand the teacher who's teaching the class. Regardless, the first day of school (and often the day before) is chaotic. For some, this is their element. For others, they feel lost and somewhat stupid. The higher grades recieve books, and lockers to house the books, as well as assignments that are to be completed by the following day. Students meet their new teachers, and dish to their friends later about the ones they like, the ones they don't, and the classes that are time wasters. Lunchtime rolls around, and like usual, the lunch ladies rob you and your parents of all your free cash for a meal that's known as "meatloaf surpise". Girls get together and gossip. Guys get together and eat... girls and guys get together and make out. Yum yum... "Your saliva tastes delicious!" Hell continues, teachers hand out their class syllabus, and before you know it, it's time to go home. "Have a great day, children," the 1st grade teacher gushes as she helps her kids onto the bus. High-school teachers call out last minute assignments and reminders as you walk out the door, slinging your bag over your shoulder. Friends wave good bye to eachother and you head home to do your homework and chores. You fall into bed that night, only to wake up eight hours later and do it all over again.

Sunday, September 04, 2005

Definitely Maybe

I met a girl named Tara,
And she lived in the heart of America,
She liked black caddies,
Listened to Puff Daddy,
Danced until her legs were sore.
She worked around the corner,
At a diner with a grouchy owner,
And her boyfriend's shady,
Dates another girl named Katie,
He loves her,
Definitely maybe.

Don't think I can take it,
Wake me when it's over,
Seems so far away,
I wish that it was closer.
I see her everyday,
I'm too scared to go over
Wonder what she'd say,
I barely even know her.

How much longer?
Will this keep getting stronger?
I wonder what she's doin' when I'm singin' myself to sleep.
He's a faker,
So see ya later,
I wonder when you'll realize that you mean a lot more to me.

I saw you in the hallway
when my last class was just over
it was friday
school was out tonight
everything seems to be alright
I said yo are you going to the party at the cove she said he's picking me up at six again and i dont wanna disappoint my boyfriend.


And she's starin' at his picture hangin' in her locker
She's tellin' all the girls about all the things that he bought her,
I saw what really happened all those times he went for water,
When we were at the movie theater watching Harry Potter.
He had his hands on,
Every single girl he laid his eyes on,
Hate to break it to ya,
He's a pylon,
And even when he kissed her,
He was lookin' over starin' at her sister.


I met a girl named Tara,
And she lived in the heart of America,
She liked black caddies,
Listened to Puff Daddy,
Danced until her legs were sore.
She worked around the corner,
At a diner with a grouchy owner,
And her boyfriend's shady,
Dates another girl named Katie,
He loves her,
Definitely maybe.

-F.M. Static

Monday, August 29, 2005

My Day Off

This is how I spent my Monday. I went to work. Well, not to work, but to shop. In essence, I put on a fashion show for my co-workers, then blew $150 on 6 shirts, a sweater, a pair of pants, and a down vest. And yet I saved $128 from my employee discount. All I have to say is WOW. That night, one of my friends called me up and asked me to go ice blocking with her and her youth group. "Sure," I said. Before I knew it, I was sitting on a block of ice at the top of a hill in B-ham, getting ready to slide down. Needless to say, by the time we were done, I was wet and cold, and my butt was extremely dirty and hurting. It was fun though. And funny as hell! We had lots of people that go to Western, stopping to watch us make complete idiots of ourselves! You should try it sometime...

Friday, August 26, 2005

Roses and Chocolate: A Woman's Best Friend

My day went wonderfully. It started out on the bus, of course, when a good guy friend of mine got on at the local grocery store, dressed in a suit and tie, holding a couple of grocery bags; One containing roses, and the other containing Hershey's Hugs and Caramel Kisses. The man who got on behind him asked him if I was the lady and Nate, of course, said yes. We walked around the mall until my shift was supposed to start. The woman running the newspaper kiosk even asked us if we were engaged. He escorted me to work and about ten minutes later, he came into my store and presented the roses and candy to me in front of all my co-workers. Then he took off. The rest of the day, I was higher than a kite. I have no romantic feelings for this guy, but it was still a nice gesture. Thinking it through, it's starting to look like this guy has feelings for me. I mean, a dozen red roses, Hershey's Hugs and Kisses? I talked to him tonight and he admits that I'm one of the four that he would consider a relationship with. Insane. I didn't think that I'm the type of girl who a guy would want as a girlfriend.

Thursday, August 25, 2005

Work, The Crazies, and The Witnesses

So, I was on my way to work yesterday, after seeing a few of my friends at registration, and some little boy walks up to me in a nice, blue suit and tie, carrying an old, worn Bible and a piece of paper. I had my headphones on but when he approached me, I listened up. He started preaching to me about the end being near, the suffering is almost over. He even quoted Psalms out of the Bible. And this whole time I had two questions in my head: What religion are you and how old are you? Did I mention the fact that this boy looked to be younger than ten? He hands me the piece of paper and says, "Here's something for you to read on the bus," and walks away. I turn the paper over, hoping to find a sign of what religion the boy was and find the Jehovah's Witnesses address on the back.
Boy, do they train them young these days.
The ride in was uneventful. Thank God I didn't see my stalker.
After about an hour, I head into work. Like I had predicted, Kendra was working. Also as I predicted, I only had to work with her until five. That's five hours of my shift but I wasn't complaining because that's not a lot. Orlando was also there and we had a new girl named Alex, who, by being hired, had broken the name pattern. Listen to the names before Alex was hired: Vanessa (who quit two weeks after she was hired), Kendra, Delana, Jessica, Jessica (This isn't a typo. There are two Jessica's that work at this retail store), Tia, Zorah. Orlando is the only guy that works there so it's not a big deal. Then there are the managers: Stacey, Stephanie, Tami... notice the pattern yet?
But anyways, Tami gave me a surprise that day; I was getting register trained, which explained why Orlando and I were scheduled together. Zorah was coming in later but once she came in, Stacy got Orlando and I busy with the registers. Then Orlando proceeded to flirt with Zorah, yet it wasn't sickening, but insanely entertaining. Orlando left and Zorah took her lunch. That's when Stacey figured out that I am crazy. I started talking to her and myself and she could never tell when I was talking to her or myself. So she gave me a bunch of shit about it.
"What? Are you talking to me or to yourself?"
"I was talking to you Stacey. I'm not insane."
"Yeah. Whatever."
All this was said with smiles on our faces. Most people don't love work, but I think my coworkers and I all make it fun.

Tuesday, August 23, 2005


It's like Alex Hitchens says: "Any man has the opportunity to sweep any woman off of her feet. He just needs the right broom."
Has any guy ever considered the possible reasons why a woman wouldn't want to fall in love? Well, there are the obvious ones, like her career, another (fake) guy, or maybe it's just not a good time for her. But you know, the real reason runs deeper.
I can walk down Main street every day and count at least five couples holding hands, holding eachother or making out. Maybe not on the same streetcorner, but they're all there. Then I think about all those girls who are single, like me, who are lonely, unlike me, who are seeing these same couples, wishing, hoping, praying that they will find a guy like that. It doesn't matter whether the guy treats them like crap, just as long as they have something to do on a Friday night.
The truth of it is, women don't want to fall in love because of men themselves. I know from personal experience that it hurts to fall in love. Divorce rates are increasing, breakups are common, people are looking for their true loves, and sometimes they find them. But for most people, I don't think it exists. I think Mr. Right is a faulty character that women who don't know what they want, come up with just to have something to hope for.
The way I see it is, if a woman can work her way through college, find a well-paying job, be self-sufficient, and have a few true girlfriends (maybe a guy friend or two, as long as they don't fall in love with them), they are set for life. People come and go in your life and the best you can do is try not to get hurt. It's hard as hell but it can be done.

Now, let's look at it from the guy's point of view: he's out there, looking for a piece of ass, maybe to make a baby or two. Now, if he's a nice guy, he'll stay with his wife. The chances? Slim to none. There are a few good guys out there. And the assholes make it horrible for the good guys. They don't have a chance! If someone could tell me, please how a nice guy is going to sweep me off my feet after all the men in my life have hurt me, and make it convincing, I would be ready to try again. The most I give? One shot, then I'm done. If the men can't see the "Fuck off. I've been hurt too many times by other men just like you." stamped across my forehead, they must be blind.

The truth? Falling in love hurts too damn much too be worth it once you hit the very hard cement ground.

Sunday, August 21, 2005

Tons to Tell

Are you ready for this? Well, to begin with, I got kicked out of my father's house (a blessing in disguise). My mom found out about my back and neck hurting after I fell off a horse and she called up one of my friends in Moses Lake and requested that they take me to ER because she knows my father won't. So I go to ER, my mother drives the five hours to come and get me, Shane makes a scene in ER just before we leave and I forget a lot of stuff at my father's house, including my pictures from France. SUCKY. So I come back to the West side and I spend most of the next few days in a pill-induced coma and came to the realization that Vicoden gives you some extremely screwed up dreams. When I'm finally awake enough to call people, the first person I call is my soon-to-be boyfriend (not anymore) and I ask him if we're still planning to be together. He then goes on to explain that "shit happens", just as I thought would happen. That same day, I have an interview to go to at Eddie Bauer. The next day, Tami, one of the managers, calls me and tells me that they want to offer me a position, despite the interview that (I thought) sucked. The next day, Katie and I go to see "Must Love Dogs" and have a really good time. I start my new job as a sales associate the next day at 8:30am. I got grounded shortly after that for going to see Charles, Morgan, Shauna, and Jesse. On Saturday, the thirteenth, my grandma and I drive the piano back to her house and my mom and dad are already there. We bring the piano in and the next day pick up the stuff at my father's house that I left behind. We take off up to the pass and our car ends up overheating. Turns out that it blew a headgasket. Grandma and Grandpa catch up with us and call a tow truck to tow our car to Stanwood. I get home at ten pm and call Charles after checking my email.
We talk about a ton of sensitive subjects, some including, Shane, Tyler, Charles' relationship with Shauna, and our "relationship". He finally admitted to me that he likes me in the same way that I have liked him for four years. That's a 1/4 of my life! It's funny how fast things can change. Five days later, I am extremely angry with him and I call him up and start yelling at him about lying to me about what happened between him and Shauna in the park. I totally freaked on him, the poor guy. And when I broke down and started crying, man, I really must have scared him. We start talking civilly and I tell him through my continued tears that I just want it to stop hurting. He tells me that in six years, he'll come to find me so we can get married. He had told me in an earlier email that he loves me and I finally said it back to him. But you see, this love isn't the romantic kind. It's the kind that just tells someone that you're there for them... that you care. I worked last night and it was quite funny because Delana and I talked about a ton of stuff too. Like Shane, love, boys, and doing the right thing. I aquired a new nickname too: FRG (pronounced furggie). Fitting Room Girl. Hers is EeeeeOoooo for Easy One. She thinks I have turret syndrome. A couple weeks ago, Charles invited me to his brother's wedding. It's today and even if I could find a ride, I wouldn't go. I don't want to suffer watching Charles and Shauna grope eachother until dusk, while I sit, paired up with someone who's trying to grope me, whom I don't like. In other words miserable.

Saturday, June 11, 2005

On Breaking Up

You know, after a couple of more than a month breaks up, nothing's the same. It doesn't matter if the break is friendly or not, and wether you have decided to be friends with your significant other is no factor. You don't talk to eachother, and when you do talk, it's awkward, or you fight. You can't stand it anymore and you just want to tell that guy/girl that you're sorry, but you can't stay friends anymore. But you keep trying to make it work as friends. But it seems that every time you put it together, even if you use superglue, it just falls apart again. And there's nothing you can do about it. Then you find someone new... someone totally great. Your ex gives up, knowing that trying to communicate with you is all in vain. I wish I could say that you and your new guy/girl live happily ever after but that's not the way it works. The cycle of breaking up is just that, a cycle. It continues circling forever.

Thursday, June 09, 2005

First Kiss

Isn't it just funny how these things happen? I mean, first you're doing something TOTALLY innocent with a guy you're crazy about (like skipping down empty halls), and before you know it, you're in an intense moment when it feels like nobody and nothing exists in the world but you and this guy. He's looking into your eyes and you're drowning in his. If he's shy, he'll ask first. And then you find yourself in his arms, your lips pressed to his with absolutely no idea what you're doing, and a fear that you'll screw up. Someone pulls away and you both smile, your breaths taken away by the sweetness and surprise. And even though it's your first time, he tells you you're a great kisser, that he can't even tell it's your first kiss. And you know what? You actually believe him because it's the perfect thing for him to say.

Tuesday, June 07, 2005

Big on trust

Those that know me know I need people to trust me in order to trust them. Well, today, one of my best friends (who has a hard time trusting) finally told me he trusted me. This after being friends for four years. I am so happy that he feels that he can tell me something and know that I won't turn against him. Thanks, Charlie...

Wednesday, June 01, 2005

Then and Now

Looking back,
I recall that at every formal,
That we both attended,
The last dance has always been ours.
I think not.

I love hearing your strong voice,
Singing your solo.
It gives me chills.
It stung so much,
When you told me to shut up.
I really think you're good.

I know that you have trouble,
Trusting people.
But what I want most,
Is for you to trust me.
I won't hurt you.

I talk to people.
Everyone thinks,
We're going to get together.
Everyone thinks,
We'd make a good couple.
Everyone thinks,
The relationship would last.
We are the only ones,
Who beg to differ.

You said once,
That I hide my feelings well.
You may not know it yet,
But my 7th grade crush,
Well, it's back.

Thursday, May 26, 2005

What Goes Through My Mind

I know that most high-schoolers are self-conscience about what people think of them. You walk down the streets in town, you walk down the halls at school, and you see people watching you. Maybe it just starts as a little thought in the back of your mind...What do they think of me? How do they see me? As the day goes on, you keep pondering these same questions. Eventually, they grow into something like, What would it be like to have been raised by my best friend's parents? What would my life be like? Who would I be dating? What would I think of me if I was him/her? I know, I know. Maybe I'm just weird for thinking these things, but doesn't it make you wonder...?

Wednesday, May 25, 2005

Up Times, Down Times, and In-Between Times

These are the Up Times. Times when life is so good, you feel like a million bucks. You feel like the whole world is on your side, like nothing could possibly go wrong. Maybe it's your birthday; maybe you just won the lottery; maybe the radio has been playing all your favorite songs and you're looking forward to a girls'/boys' night on the town.
These are the In-Between Times. And then something horrible goes wrong, like your date gets cancelled, or your friend gets sick. Depending on how bad the situation is, you're still happy, only a little less ecstatic than you were before. Then something else happens, like you get a lot of homework that you really don't understand, or you get into a fight with someone special, and again, you feel your happiness level drop a notch. Later, you get a migraine that Advil won't take care of. An hour or two after that, you're driving home after work with a splitting headache, when your car breaks down on a busy highway and no one stops to help. After an hour, itÂ’s apparent that nobody is going to stop to assist you. So you have to walk a mile in high heels to get to a phone because your cell phone battery went dead late last night, too late for you to recharge it. Finally, you find out that your best friend has died, you have an argument with your boyfriend of two years that just might end the relationship, or your grandmother has broken a hip and you don't have the money to pay her hospital bill, and all of this just sends you over the edge.
These are the Bad Times. You try to get the invisible tiger called stress off your chest in the best way you know how but somehow, it's always sitting on your shoulder. No matter how hard you try to get it off by venting to your friends, writing in your journal, running, and taking hot baths, it just wont go away. You don't know what to do anymore and all the stress built up gets you down. When people ask you if you're okay, you just reply that you're fine and go on being depressed, even though what you really want to do is yell and scream at them about all your problems and how you aren't okay. Everyday, something bad happens and you don't believe that things will ever get better. And just when you're about to make that slit on your wrist with a blade from the kitchen, someone calls. You think about making that cut and just letting the answering machine get it because it's probably just more terrible news, but something in the back of your mind says Pick up the phone. It's important. Just as the answering machine is picking up, you dive for the phone and put it to your ear.
"Hello?" you gasp into the phone. It's the person who's closest to you, the person who knows you best; your best friend, the boyfriend that you had the argument with, maybe your mother...
"I was just calling to tell you that I love you, and to check up on you to see if there's anything that you need to talk about." These are just the words that you want to hear. That special someone comes to your house and you spill your guts (tears included) about everything, from the sick friend, to the terrible argument, the dead best friend, the injured and bankrupt grandmother in the hospital, and finally to your near death. And you try to explain that all you wanted was for something to go right, for someone to listen, for someone to give you a hug and tell you that everything will be okay. Finally, after you're all talked out, the person who cared enough to call at your moment of need, your decision between life and death, takes you in their arms and finally, finally, gives you what you've been wishing for all along; a warm hug, a helping hand, an ear to listen, and a tongue to tell you everything will be all right.
And all of a sudden, the world seems brighter. The sun comes out from behind the clouds. You can sit up straight once again because the fifty pound weight of stress has been lifted from your shoulders. The tiger has left to burden someone else and the world is finally on your side once again.

16 Ways to Maintain a Healthy Level of Insanity

1. At Lunch Time, Sit In Your Parked Car With Sunglasses On And Point A Hair Dryer At Passing Cars. See If They Slow Down.

2. Page Yourself Over The Intercom. Don't Disguise Your Voice.

3. Every Time Someone Asks You To Do Something, Ask If They Want Fries With That.

4. Put Your Garbage Can On Your Desk And Label It "In".

5. Put Decaf In The Coffee Maker For 3 Weeks. Once Everyone Has Gotten Over Their Caffeine Addictions, Switch To Espresso.

6. In The Memo Field Of All Your Checks, Write "For Sexual Favors"

7. Finish all Your Sentences With "In Accordance With The Prophecy."

8 dont use any punctuation

9. As Often As Possible, Skip Rather Than Walk.

10. Specify That Your Drive-through Order Is "To Go."

11. Sing Along At The Opera.

12. Go To A Poetry Recital And Ask Why The Poems Don't Rhyme

13. Put Mosquito Netting Around Your Work Area And Play Tropical Sounds All Day.

14. When The Money Comes Out The ATM, Scream "I Won!, I Won!"

15. When Leaving The Zoo, Start Running Towards The Parking Lot, Yelling "Run For Your Lives, They're Loose!!"

And The Final Way To Keep A Healthy Level Of Insanity.......

16. Tell Your Children Over Dinner, "Due To The Economy, We Are Going To Have To Let One Of You Go."

Saturday, May 21, 2005

Calling all fairy godmothers:

Okay, everyone who knows me knows that I detest my father with a passion. What I hate most about abusive biological parents is how they are so SELF-ABSORBED that they cannot take the time of day to talk to their child to see what they want in the way of visitations. I have tried everything from asking him to allow me to come home early, to threatening to get emancipated (which would be totally cool because not only would I not have to see my father, I would also be able to support myself food and clothing-wise, while going to school). Nothing has worked. I just can't seem to ditch this guy! Even though I am sixteen, I can't just say, "Screw you, I don't want to come over," because if I do, my mom gets held in contempt and thrown in jail. I have an appointment with an attorney this Monday to write a letter, requesting less visitation, but somehow, with the way my luck has been running, I don't think my wish will be granted (even though, in his last letter, he claimed that he wanted my opinion; a statement that has been proven untrue (if it was true, he would have listened to me a long time ago)). If there are any "Fairy Godmothers" reading this, feel free to make my dream come true, even though the odds are against me.

Wednesday, April 20, 2005

Life Can Really, Really Suck

All I really have to say tonight is BE CAREFUL. This message is for all those people out there who ride their bikes at night. My boyfriend learned two very important lessons last night: 1)Always listen to your parents. 2)It isn't a wise idea to ride your bike at night and not wear reflective gear. Miguel, if you're reading this, I was so worried about you today on the way to the hospital. He was riding his bike and got hit by a car last night on the way home from my house. I didn't hear about it until this morning and all I can say now is Thank God he's alright. Sometimes you're the bug, sometimes you're the windshield.

Monday, April 04, 2005

Restrictions and Rebellion

Isn't that what life is all about? Everywhere I go, I'm always being held back from something, wether it's saving my life or preventing me from having fun. And that's when you start to think of ways to make life hell for those you dislike. Like misplaced phone bills, and running out of Comet when you just bought some. My thoughts are evil things. Where did I learn it you ask? Well, that's one thing you get from spending so much time with your mother, who (I think) happens to be insane. She comes up with these crazy plans involving my little brother and sister that would probably get me what I wanted without getting me into trouble, if I had guts enough to try them.

Friday, April 01, 2005

April Fools!

Now that I look back on it, the one and only prank I played today (which happened to be on my boyfriend) that actually worked I now feel ashamed of. Last night, my mom and I were brainstorming what kind of pranks to play today. I came up with moving to my father's house and she came up with the part about the punishment.
Well, what happened is I wrote a note to Miguel (the poor guy on the recieving end of this trick) saying that I had lost $100 the night before (the 100 was supposed to pay for a new calculator which I had lost earlier this year). This note said that my mom had gotten mad at me and was sending me over to live at my father's and she was taking away my France trip because she couldn't trust me in France and that today was my last day at the high school because I was transfering schools over Spring Break.
Poor Miguel, he came up to me after second period and said, "I read your letter. Would your mom really do that to you?" I said that she would. We went our seperate ways and after I had told him that it was a prank, I heard from one of his friends that he was going to break up with me because he didn't want a long term relationship (I can't blame him, either). Good thing I told him.
After I told him (I was feeling pretty guilty by then) he said, "I can't believe you would do this to me. Why did you do it?" but he forgave me and I love him for it. :*)

Sunday, February 20, 2005

Brain Washing

Is it just me, or does every SWHS teacher have the incredible ability to brainwash their students? I swear, every time I get into an in-depth conversation with my classmates and teachers, I come out thinking like the teacher. Like in English, Mr. Jensen said that research papers can be written in 1st and 2nd person, despite what the Seniors there were told. And Mr. Trople... I mean, they all are really great teachers, but I get so confused when two teachers have opposing views. See my dilemma?

Wednesday, January 26, 2005


Now, let's see. I'm sure you want a name. Once, I walked up to the cafeteria woman when I was ordering lunch at my school, and told her I wanted a meat quesadilla. When she asked for my name to put on the order ("Name?"), my mind was somewhere else, and I replied "Chicken." So, for all intents and purposes, you can call me Chicken. If you've read any of my blog thus far, you can tell that I am a woman, twenty years old, will be twenty-one in May (2010). I go to a small private liberal arts college on the West Coast, which tells you.. well, it tells you nothing but the fact that I'm a student. I am studying psychology with a minor in theatre. I love to laugh, and often make word plays off of things others say. I've considered being a
comedian actually, but I probably wouldn't seem very funny if we ever hung out
(at least at first), because it takes a while for me to get comfortable. I'm currently taking a class on Russian literature, and a class on women in the arts, both by choice, because I enjoy reading and discussion of philosophy (Tolstoy and what music means/does). I have designed lights for the dance concerts at my school for two semesters in a row now, going on a third. I work for an old woman by night, and as a theatre construction worker by day. I know how to use power tools. I would enjoy cooking if I was any good at it. I read PostSecret religiously, I love dogs, I am compassionate for the homeless and abused. I do have vices (like french fries and biscuits. Yes, I am a biscuit fiend). I used to play piano, and I've always been interested in playing guitar, but have never had the money. I actually taught myself when I was younger, then my father decided that I needed to learn the right methods and put me in lessons. That lasted about a year. I am interested in photography, and all kinds of art. My mom taught me how to draw when I was too young to really be interested, but now that I'm older I've picked it back up again. It was like that with a lot of things she's taught me. I have a love of reading, and any used bookstore is my unrequited lover. I've been to France, but I've never been to Canada. I've been to five states not including the one I live in. My parents divorced when I was three, and I am an only child in that marriage. My father remarried my step-mother when I was twelve or thirteen, and she had a daughter as well who is four years younger than me. Her name is Mindy, and she's the sibling that I'm closest to. Then they had two kids. Christopher and Bailey. Then, when I was 16, my mom got remarried to this great guy. She actually met him through dancing; we had been taking lessons for three years at that point, and she wanted to practice somewhere, so she went to a country western bar with friends and that's where she met him. We're a very dance-oriented family. There are obviously more
details, but the whole thing is rather extensive. When it comes to music, I listen to a lot of different stuff. You would think I had multiple personality disorder or something. Seriously, I just looked at my top-rated on iTunes, and it's a huge spread including jazz, country, rock, alternative, pop, and Christian. I am very much a dog person. My best friend died in a car accident when I was a senior in high school.
These are the top things you need to know about me. I talk about some of them later in my blog. I understand that this is a little disjointed, and doesn't really have transitions, but really, do the basics have transitions? Enjoy reading!