Oh Hey, Nice To Meet You 2010..Wait, Where Are You Going? Come Back! COME BACK!!!!

Dear Bloggie,
    Where has the time gone? Can you believe that 2011 is just hours away? I mean, it seems like just yesterday that we were saying goodbye to 2009 and welcoming in 2010! And now it's almost GONE!

    I started blogging about a year ago. Be it, it was towards the end of January, but January none the less. It's amazing how much can change within a a year. What I'm grateful that hasn't changed is that I still have my friends. I was scared to leave eighth grade, but in the end I had to. Years ago, I watched a movie named Big Fish. I love this movie, definitely in my top ten. The title is quite interesting, isn't it? Big fish? What the heck does that mean? Is there fishing? I know you asking your self these question. (OK, probably not; but pretend for my sake please? Thank you.)

     To be a big fish in a small pound means that your expectations and desires in life are higher or larger than where you're currently at. You're meant for more. The man in the movie, was born into a small town, but he was always more then that town. He was successful and he dreamed big. He was the big fish. It been shown in studies, that if you keep a goldfish in a small tank, it will never grow very large. It will stay a small fish. But, if you transplant that goldfish into a large tank, it will grow to be a big fish so it fits it's new surrounding. It will have the room to be more.

     Middle school was that small pound. It was great and I loved it, but I couldn't stay there forever. To stay in middle school forever would be to limit myself to that small tank. I had to be transplanted, like a goldfish. That doesn't mean I'm a big fish right now. I like to think of high school as a medium sized tank. Seeing as I'm still a small fish, the medium sized tank is good for now. It'll give me the room and space that I need to become a medium sized fish. But one day, I will also have to leave this tank. I will make my final journey into the ocean.

     It's vast and seems to be limitless. I can may get lost in it, others sure have. I might find myself running back to my medium sized tank, or even my small fish bowl from time to time. But in doing so I will only discover the undeniable truth; I have grown too big for the fish bowl and medium tank. What seemed big for a small fish, will prove to be tight and constricting for a big fish.

     I believe very much that I will be a big fish. Somewhere out there there lies the key to my ocean, my future. I'll find it one day, but first I need to grow. A small fish in a big pound may very well find that it wasn't ready for it all yet. So I'll wait until my time comes to leave my tank and swim into the sea. I'll say goodbye to middle school and 2010, and all the memories, good or bad. I'll always have them, but I'll have to let go and let them be my past. You can remanis over the past, but you can't live in it.

   So goodbye 2010. I'll miss you. You've meant a lot to me, to all my friends, but I'm sue 2011 will too. Today I was hanging out with Cat. I'm extremely scared of escalators because I almost fell up one and down one when I was younger. It has to have been over five, maybe six years since I have ridden one. Today I did. I owe it all to Cat. She helped me over come that fear. Well sorta. I did have a mini panic attack going down. (Seriously, I was hyperventilating and grabbing on for dear life, but I made it down alive.) In the end, the best thing about moving from one tank to another is having a friend there to help you transitions. Yeah, my friends may not be in my side of the tank, but they are still in it. And the visits are always bound to be fun. Now, because I'm writing this at 1:03am on New Years Eve morning, Happy New Year Eve everybody. Hope you all have a good New Year's Day, and a great year after that.

       ~Libby

P.S. I'm tired of going by Libby, time to go by my real name. Hi, I'm Ariana. Sure you were expecting that to be my real name. It's not the most common, but it's nice if I say so myself.

    ~ Ariana

Review: Withering Tights by Louise Rennison

Title: Withering Tights
Author: Louise Rennison
Series: Misadventures of Tallulah Casey Book # 1
Genre: Young Adult, Humour and Romance
Pages:351
Rating In Kisses:

4.5 Kisses

Synopsis: The misadventures of Tallulah Casey…

Hilarious new series from Queen of Teen – laugh your tights off at the (VERY) amateur dramatic antics of Talullah and her bonkers mates. Boys, snogging and bad acting guaranteed! 

     Picture the scene: Dother Hall performing arts college somewhere Up North, surrounded by rolling dales, bearded cheesemaking villagers (male and female) and wildlife of the squirrely-type.

     On the whole, it’s not quite the showbiz experience Tallulah was expecting… but once her mates turn up and they start their ‘FAME! I’m gonna liiiiive foreeeeeever, I’m gonna fill my tiiiiights’ summer course things are bound to perk up.

    Especially when the boys arrive. (When DO the boys arrive?)
Six weeks of parent-free freedom.
BOY freedom.
Freedom of expression…
cos it’s the THEATRE dahling, theatre!!

How I Heard About It: I actully first heard about this book shortly after graduation. I had come back to visit SBS and was in the computer room, when I decided to go on Louise Rennison's website. Her UK one, not the American one. The American one really sucks. Even the Australian website is better than the American one. Quite depressing if you ask me, but back to the point. I had gone on her website, when I noticed she had another book coming out in July! Sadly, it has yet to come out in American. Hence the reason my mother had to import it. 

First Impression: I was very sure it would be a lot like Georgia Nicholson series. Funny and bonkers filled to the brim with characters that you wished were your best friends and some characters that were. And of course boys. Lots and lots of boys and snogging. And an owl. Because it's on the cover. (I'm starting to think Louise Rennison has a owl fetish of some type.) With the end of Georgia Nicholson, I expected this book to be as funny if not more. 


Full Impression: Don't get me wrong, I loved this book, but it could have been more. After such and hilarious and utterly mad series that the Georgia Nicholson series was, I had very high expectations. It's not that this book didn't meet them, it just didn't meet them all at the pace I would have preferred. The beginning was a bit slow. The jokes were not the Laugh-So-Hard-That-You-Roll-Off-The-Couch funny that I expected. But, by page thirty-something or forty-something, I was getting really into it and laughing like a mad woman. I know what your thinking, thirty/forty-something? That's pretty far, isn't? Not really, the lettering is big for each page because the book is quite massive in size. Not page size, but height. I wonder if it's just a UK book binding thing. 


    The characters are all memorable relatable. The most unique character to me was Honey, one of Tallulah's new friends. I found myself sorta relating to her. Not because she was the most experienced in the boy department or because she was the most physically matured of the group (I wish I could relate to those things *sigh*). Instead, I related to her because she had a lisp. In her dialogue (and whenever the other characters repeated her words) all her "s" came out like a "th". Example: I don't think I can go a whole thummer without boyth." At times her dialogue can be a bit of a challenge to understand, but it was defiantly funny and made the character. 


    I also love the characters of Cain, the rock star bad boy in town who writes ridiculous songs and has no problem snogging and dumping any girl within his reach; Ruby, a wise ten year old who becomes Tallulah's "fun-sized friend" from almost the very beginning, and very much like a little sister to her by end; Charlie and Phil, two boys sent to Woolfe Academy for Young Men after an incident involving a science lab and a small explosion; and Alex, Ruby's hot older brother who is all hot in his hottie-hot-hotness. 


    And of course we can't forget the our protagonist Tallulah. She's 14.5, knobby kneed, and corkless (I'll let you find out the definition of corkless for yourself). She isn't quite like  Georgia, but as Georgia Nicholson's younger cousin, she wants to be. She considers Georgia to be all mature and wise like. Obviously, just telling you that lets you know that she's bound for trouble. My favorite trait of hers is her crazy Irish dancing gene that she inherited from her Irish side of the family. Whenever she is nervous and in the spotlight, she turns to Riverdance. Very funny, very funny indeed. 


Cover: I love the colors of the cover. Very fun and girly, perfect for the story. Though the owl freaks me out a bit...

Dislikes: The fact that the first thirty or so pages are sorta slow and not as funny as they could be. I wanted to the book to open and end with a bang. I got the funny bang at the end, but not necessarily a bang in the beginning. I WANT MORE BANG!!! 


Final Thoughts: It's a wonderful, light hearted read that relates to a certain part of us all. Louise Rennison has a knack for getting into the mind of a teen and giving us lovable stories that make us think of our own crushes, weird families, and horrible embarrassing moments. Her writing style can be quite simple and is very telly not showy(which is what writers are supposed to not do), but it works for her perfectly with the story and Tallulah.  I would say the level is a bit younger than Georgia Nicholson, but is a great book none the less. I'm looking forward to book two. Oh, and I'll always remember one thing. "A boy in a hand is worth two in the bus."


    ~Libby 


P.S. I will never be able to think of hiking socks in the same way again. 

Cover Evolution

Dear Bloggie,
    Today I made a new cover for C.O.A.O.P. I was looking over all of them when I decided to make a post out of it. I'm supposed to be writing a book review for Withering Tights since I finished it last night (really this morning since I stayed up until 6am reading), but I'll do that tomorrow. I promise. Sorta. Now onto the covers!

Cover 1

I know, it's the saddest excuse for a cover. Ever.

Cover 2

This was the first cover I had ever made that I really liked. I had this one up when C.O.A.O.P. first became know around Inkpop.
Cover 3

And OK cover that a girl who goes by "The Beaver" on inkpop made me.


Cover 4

I really loved this cover. It was made by a guy in Inkpop named Kyle.

Cover 5

First full cover I made for this series. At first I really liked it, but as time progressed I started feeling like it was too unprofessional.
 

Cover 6

Last, but not least, my new cover!

The Coney Island postcard, cotton balls, and silver star are all things that have meaning in the book. The two pictures, I must admit, are not random pictures off the internet. I know a girl named Julianna who looks A LOT like how I pictured Angela Ellis, so I went through her Facebook pictures and ended up finding those. They worked perfect with the story so I used them. She'll never know and in the end it's really no different then if I found random pictures of people I don't know and used them. I had too Add Angela's cat Sheba to the cover, so I put her in the corner, watching quietly, ready to pounce. The character of Sheba is actully based off a cat my mom  had in her 20's that she tells stories about. It wasn't a very nice cat. But it had it's reasons. It's quite a funny story actully, but I won't tell you in my blog, all will be relieved in the story. If I ever get back to it. I will eventually, maybe after the New Year before I start back up on Becoming. Or maybe I'll work on booth of them at the same time. We'll see. 

   That's all the time I have for today folks, but come back tomorrow when I'll have a review for Withering Tights up. Sore sure. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully. 

        ~Libby

The Viking Wedding of My Dreams

Dear Bloggie,

  

    Christmas is almost over. How sad. Poo.

    I know I just posted earlier, but I was reading Wuthering Tights when I thought of something that I decided to post about it. So I was reading it (I’m around page 30 something since I didn’t have anytime to read until I got home from my great aunt’s) when Louise Rennison gives us a description of Tallulah Casey, the protagonist. She has brown green eyes, and dark drown hair. Oh, and she comes from Irish ancestry. Suddenly, just like that, I started to understand this character. Why you ask? Because the description reminds me of Cat!

    I just love it when writers create characters that remind me of people I know. I create characters off of people I know all the time, so when writes make characters that remind me of the people in my life, I feel a bond to them. Like maybe we have friends that are similar. Maybe one day my life will turn out as successful as theirs.  

    Of course, though Tallulah reminds me of Cat in looks, I don’t know yet about personality. I have to read more to find out. Besides, Cat will always remind me of Rosie, one of Georgia Nicholson’s friends. Rosie is the craziest of the group and very funny. In my heart, I will always hold out hope that Cat will find herself a Sven and have a Viking Wedding (the type of person, not the team). Reality wise, even if Cat ends up in England and finds herself a big, tall, Norwegian who has a love for furry shorts, blowing his horn (…), and crazy disco dancing (not to mention a semi-fetish with Vikings; but I was never clear if it was Rosie, Sven, or Georgia that really loved the Vikings thing), I don’t think she would ever have a Viking inspired wedding.

    Imagine if you will, Cat walking down the aisle in traditional white wedding attire, only to meet a fiancé at the altar who is wearing the whole Viking shebang. I don’t think Cat would go for that. But then again, there are women who get married in camouflage. Both the bride and the groom. So I’ll just hold out hope for now.  

    Now back to the story. I’m quite enjoying it. It’s not through diary entries like the Georgia Nicholson series, but it’s still funny. Tallulah is actually supposed to be Georgia Nicholson’s younger cousin. At then end of Georgia’s series, Georgia was supposed to be around 16. Tallulah is 14 and a half. MYAGE!

    I enjoy reading (and writing) books about fourteen-year-olds. At fourteen you think you’re mature, but you’re really not. I only came to this conclusion when I started writing C.O.A.O.P. I had received a comment on inkpop about how Angela (my protagonist) was a bit immature, but that was OK because the person remembered being like that at fourteen themselves. Well it’s no secret that I have given Angela Ellis many of my traits. The more I thought about it, I realized that maybe I wasn’t that mature, but that was OK. At fourteen, life should be fun and goofy. You don’t have much time left to be those things.

    I’m not really a fan of fifteen. You’re no longer in that in between phase of middle school and high school. More is expected of you, but you’re not quite old enough to do much. Can’t drive, can’t really get a job. It pretty much sounds like a poop year. I’m sorta dreading March 13^th, my fifteenth birthday. But oh well. I need to be fifteen before I can be sixteen. And that is another of my favorite years.

    It’s two minutes to midnight and I want to read more of Wuthering Tights. Cheers.

          ~XOXO,
                 Libby

P.S. According to my Blogger stats, my most popular post ever is this one. Mainly because the butt sex picture brings in traffic when people Google for things like that. Is it me, or do you think it's a bit odd that soooo many people are Googling "butt sex"? For the heck of it, I'll add two other funny butt sex pictures I found. Because that's just the type of blog I run.

Even Atheists Love Christmas

Dear Bloggie,
    Hope you're all having a great Christmas, I know I am. All my close family (plus my two aunts boyfriends) were over this morning to open up gifts at my grandfathers house (located two floors under mine, seeing as I love in a three story apartment/house). Good news: I received Photoshop and an iPod Touch from my mom. Bad News: I didn't receive Ellie Goulding's CD from my Godmother. Oh well, I'll buy it myself; I'll have to import it from the UK. Oh that reminds me. While I didn't get a British singers CD, I did get a British authors book! My mom imported Louise Rennison's (the author of my favorite series ever, Confessions of Georgia Nicholson) new book Withering Tights! All the way from England! I have a UK version of a book!

    I hope your Christmas is going as good as mine is. I'm going to sync my new iPod then change so we (my family) can head off to my great aunt Madalena's house. That's were almost everyone in my family goes every year. Even though I basically consider myself an atheist, I have always and will always love Christmas. For me, Christmas isn't about gifts (though I do love them and couldn't imagine a Christmas without them), and Christmas isn't even really about celebrating the birth of baby Jesus. No, for me Christmas is about getting together with my family, eating good food, and having a good time. It's about being all around thankful for the people you have in your life and being glad that they are still there. Because trust me, as I learned with my grandmother about six years ago, you don't know how mush longer you'll have them for. Merry Christmas.
    ~Libby

Happy Birthday Neena!

Dear Bloggie,

    Today is Neena's birthday. She is the youngest of my friends so she just turned 14. Even though I don't have Photoshop right now (hopefully I'll get it for Christmas!), I decided to make her a picture like I made one for Cat back in June for her birthday. I had to use picnik, but I think it actually worked out better this way.

  
   Nee-Nee is one of her nicknames for Neena's real name. That's partially why I choose the name Neena to use on this blog. Even though the "Nee" in Nee-Nee does not make the same sound as the "Nee" makes in Neena.

    ~Libby

Mockingjay and War

Dear Bloggie,

  Sunday night I finished Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins. Yes, I know, it came out MONTHS ago, but sadly I have had very limited time to read. Plus, I think there was a part of me that didn't want one of my favorite series to end. But life goes on so Saturday I sat myself down and continued (I had only read about 40 pages into the book prior) reading. Once I started, I could barely stop.

   SPOILER! SPOILERS! SPOILERS! TURN BACK NOW OR ELSE!

   I have heard a lot of mixed reviews, but personally I loved it. Though I must add, it was a lot older than the other two. The first book was more of the physical side of war (with the exception of Rue and the mutts with the other competitors eyes) which only took place in the arena. The second had hints of  psychological warfare, but still the true danger was in the arena. In Mockingjay, it was a big mixture. What will stay with you is the mental and emotional part of war. Those are the parts that will haunt you far past the last page. Still, the amount of death in this novel is so great that I can't say it's not as big. It's far from that. The book is just one big emotional, mental, and physical journey through hell that expresses what war really is like. Finishing this book, I felt devastated, hopeful, haunted by the ghosts of all who had died within it's pages, and physically drained.

   Still, I understand what people mean when they feel that Katniss was out of character in this book. In the past novels, though angry and resentful could describe her, she had also always been strong and brave. This novel, there were points in which I thought she would never be again.

   While normally you would think this is out of character, you have to take in consideration she is only a 17-year-old. Imagine yourself in her place, still young and already having seen more death and destruction then most will ever see in their life. Your enemy has discovered how to break you and is taking full advantage of it. Countless of people have died because they knew you. Others are being held hostage and beaten and broken for the same reason. All because you are the face of a revolution you never asked for. Both your enemies and your alleys have used/are using you. Besides your family and a select few friends, you don't know who you can trust. This is the reality Katniss lives with.

   This book deals greatly with the reality of war. We send our troops of into the field and expect them to be perfectly fine with killing others, with seeing their friends die. But they aren't OK. Many have PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) for years. Some never recover (take Vietnam for example; Google it is you don't know what I mean). Some take their lives for what they have done. You have to be pretty messed up not to feel sick after taking another's life. Still, we expect our service men and women to be all peachy.

   In Mockingjay, Katniss serves as a perfect example for what war can do to a person. She is broken to the point that she's numb. Then, when everything is all over, they expect her to move on like nothing happen. How can she when she has seen so many die because of her. She may have not had done it herself, but it makes no difference to her. These people knew her and now they are dead for it.

   Though I am fully aware of reality, I not-so-secretly expected her to win the war, return home to her family and friends, pick between Peeta or Gale (I was cheering for Peeta) and live happily ever after. Instead, what I found was a broken girl who had lost many of her friends, her beloved sister, and was quite happy if she died. Yes, in the end Katniss and Peeta ended up together, but there was a bitter-sweetness to it. After all that had happened beforehand, her finding love seemed insignificant. Still, at the same time, Katniss needed Peeta there. She couldn't rebuild her life alone. As Gale had predicted in one of the chapters, Katniss chose the person she needed to survive.

   Gale, like her, was fire. Though he cared for her and undoubtedly loved her, he had as much fight is not more than her. After all, she had first been recognized as The Girl On Fire. Fight and fire were some of the last things she needed after war. Add in that she would never be able to think of him without remembering the way that Prim had died, it was easy to see that they would never be.

   On the other hand, what Katniss needed was a calm baker. He soothed her, was there to reassure that the nightmares were over -- or at least they were over in the conscious world. They would never be over in her dreams. Like our own soldiers, the war would never be truly over for her. But life didn't need to be all bad, she would live on and move on as much as possible, it would just take some time.

                ~ Libby

Let The Self Loathing Begin....

I've gained three pounds.

Follow The Yellow Brick Road…

Dear Bloggie,

   Yeah, I know, it’s been a while. Life has been “interesting”, as Cat calls it. I don’t see it that way, but I will NOT stop blogging, so I might as well update. Lets start with NaNoWriMo -- or the lack of it.  I know, I was so excited to start the project. I have a good idea how it’s going, I made an awesome cover, and I want to write it, but the first chapter isn’t going well. I’ve re-written the beginning of chapter one twice now (I only have 655 words by now, not including the prologue which is actually my a short story my 5th grade teacher had told me in, well, 5th grade; don’t worry, I make it clear that it’s not my story bit one that is a moral, be nice to others one that we all hear some sort of during our life) and can’t decided what to do. I want it to be perfect. My old English teacher, Mr. Marino, instilled this want to do well in me. I’m glad he did, but sometimes it gets annoying since I tend to over edit myself in my writing. I know writing needs a lot of editing, but when you’re writing your first draft you’re just supposed to just write. Like I do with my blog. But I can’t with my stories.

   On equally not-happy news, things between me and Zach will not work out any time soon. My closest friend at GHAA (we shall call her Annie-May on my blog, not her real name) really likes him. I never told him OR her of my feelings for Zach, so I don’t blame her, but of course I’m jealous and upset. Except I can’t tell her that because I’m scared how she will react. If I had told her before, she probably wouldn’t have minded, but I didn’t. She had asked if I liked anyone and i had told her know. I lied, and now I’m going to have to deal.

  Thankfully I do have other parts to my life. For example, on Monday we had our auditions. With all three rotations over (I can’t believe I’ve been in high school for ten and a half weeks now!) we chose our top two and auditioned for them. I was super nervous. I was sure I was going to fail my audition and be forced to take Visual Arts for the year. I could of course audition again in the spring for next school year, but by then I would be behind everyone. All I could imagine was failing and being so behind that no college would take me and I would end up living in the streets of New York, in the heart if Times Square, in a cardboard box begging for pennies and slowly dying from the toxic fumes of taxis/cars/buses and the sewer. I know, I’m over dramatic. But still, it seemed sorta rational at the time. Sorta.

  The point is that I sat near Zach in the beginning, but after the auditions, while people were finishing up and we were all just sitting around, Zach and Annie-May were talking and I didn’t really feel like joining the conversation. So instead I hung out with my dear friend Marty. He showed me some more of his animations and we talked about them and listened to this music until we were all told to go to out advisory groups. Marty is really good at animations. He was explaining some of it for me, and God, it’s a long and complicated process. You can see his work here. My favorites are the Dumpster Baby and the Playground one. Hope you check them out. They’re really funny. Or at least I think so.

Too bad he’s not only a visual artist, but also a half-day student so I won’t see him much anymore. We’re in two completely different buildings, even after the move in January (when our new school building will complete, making it possible for all morning students, grades 9-12, to be under one roof, and providing housing for the Creative Writing, Inter Arts, and Musical Theater departments). Still, at least I have Sierra. Remember how I mentioned her a while ago, on my lonely post? At the time she wanted to be a visual artist, but after doing a rotation through creative writing she decide she loved it and liked how she got the feeling of being a family in this department.

  As you can tell, I got into Creative Writing! I’m officially a creative writer! I still can’t believe it, but yeah, it’s true. I’m really excited. I’m trying to get into this Shakespeare class Sierra is taking. It requires a lot of reading and right now she’s the only freshman in it (i.e. it’s difficult), but it sounds interesting so I’m up for the challenge. as for now, It’s a minute to 1am and I have no school tomorrow because of veterans day. Until next time, keep following that yellow brick road and all your dreams will come true. 

~ XOXO,
       Libby

P.S. Yes, I know. I should become a greeting card writer for Hallmarks.

P.P.S. Actually, Hallmarks in one of my top five favorites stores (not sure which spot in my top five,  I just know that Borders, Torrid, and Temptations -- a hair accessory and jewelry store they have in the mall near my house -- beats it for sure) so I wouldn’t mind writing greeting cards for while. As long as that isn’t my only job in the writing world.

P.P.P.S I’m going to post the beginning of chapter one for your opinion. Am I on the right track or not? If you picked up a book in a store that began like this, would you read it? Criticism much needed, please don’t sugar coat please, that gets me nowhere. Thanks. :)

Chapter One

  “Adèle Baudelaire.” The woman behind the table smiled, searching for me on her list. She handed me a name tag, my name written in large but neat print with sharpie. A nine stood in its upper left corner.

    “The number is your group; they will be called together shortly. Find a seat and get comfortable for now. Welcome to the Academy!”

    “Thanks.” I smiled back. She seemed genuinely happy to see me. I turned away as another girl took my place. Her hair was three different shades at least, only one of them being a natural hair color. Addie, we’re definitely not in Catholic school anymore. 

    I searched the room of faces, looking for one person who wasn’t preoccupied in a conversation. It seemed that I was the only freshman at GHAA (what the school website used to refer to this school, George Harte Academy of the Arts; it was named after its first sponsor) who had come here alone, all their friends attending other schools. For the first time since I had received my acceptance letter, I was doubling thinking my choice.

    It’s too late now, I reminded myself. I turned down Northeast Catholic months ago and public school wasn’t an option. Sink or swim, I was here for the year. I just hoped it was the later.

    I found a seat towards the back out the auditorium. A girl a couple seats down let out a loud laugh. I cringed, wishing I had someone to laugh with. I don’t know how long I spaced out, but when I came back to attention a tall brunette was standing on the stage where I had just checked in. Like the other, she had a big smile on her face. Her hair was tied into two braids despite the fact that she appeared to be around my mother’s age. Still, her bright turquoise top and flower printed skirt made her seem younger.

    “Good morning! Can I have your attention, please?” The girls to my left continued laughing. It seemed that I was the only one paying attention.

    “OK everyone, I know you’re all excited, but can you please settle down so we may begin?” The talking continued.

    A woman in a tan dress ran on stage, kitten heels clicking. Unlike every other adult I had seen, she looked as if she meant business. She took the microphone out of the other woman’s hand and yelled, “SETTLE DOWN NOW! IF YOU’RE A FRESHMAN, THEN TURN YOUR ATTENTION HERE. IF YOU’RE NOT A FRESHMAN, THEN YOU DO NOT BELONG HERE!”

    The room went silent.

    “Thank you Jen.” Happy Woman took the microphone back. “Now, I’m Jillian Oliver but you can call me Jill. I’m the head of the musical theater department and as well as the coordinator for freshman arts classes. I would like to welcome you to the Academy. We are very happy to have you here. I know your all excited to begin so I’ll make this quick. Can the teachers--”

    “Freshman!” A male screamed from the door way. He had to be around sixteen at least. His light brown hair almost touched his shoulders in a hairstyle that could only be a cross between a skater and Justin Bieber. His clothes, like his hair, was a mash-up of two styles – wannabe white gangster and skater; typical teen male fashion. He just strolled in as if he owned the place, eyeing the crowed in search for his prize horse. When his gaze reached me end of the auditorium I saw it falter for a second.

The Versatile Blogger Award!

Dear Bloggie,

    I was checking my blog today, when I noticed I had gotten a comment last week. Clicking on it, it led me to Ema Winters blog, in which she awarded me Versatile Blogger Award!  I for one am very honored. You know what's funny about this all? I had actually read her blog post when she received the award, but had completely missed my name on her list of people she was awarding! Anyway, I will keep the rules if the award. 

The rules are simple:

1. Thank and link back to the person(s) who bestowed the award
2. Share seven things about yourself
3. Pass the award to fifteen bloggers who are 'versatile'
4. Inform the recipients

So...here are seven things about me(!):

1. The first story I ever wrote (as far as I know) was written when I was somewhere between three and five. It's was never completed, but in short it was about a green skinned, orange haired, warty nosed witch, who was married to a pale, black caped, with black hair vampire. I never got past that point, but when I found it I was so surprised. I had completely forgotten that I always had a love for writing. I always assumed that it began when I started to love reading in fourth grade, but this story brought back memories of a little me telling my mom that I didn't need to read books in order to like writing. Of course now I realize that to be a good writer you have to read.
2. I have attend three wonderful schools in my life. Before that I attended two Catholic schools. The first was Cedar Court School, which I attended since I was three, until it closed when I was in second grade. The second was saint Brigid School. I was there from third grade until last year, when I graduated from the middle school. Now I’m at The Greater Hartford Academy of the Arts. It’s like public school, but not exactly because you can’t just go there, you need to get into the lottery. I guess it’s a public school with a focus.
3. I had an English teacher in sixth grade that had a Boston accent. Instead of saying “garbage”, she said “gaah-bage”. When we imitated her, we would say “That’s gaah-bage!”
4. When I was three, one of my best friends was a boy named Antonio. We met in pre-school. Almost everyday we would play house -- extreme addition! We weren’t just normal parents, but instead super spies. Our baby (which was black baby doll, while he was Spanish and I’m a mixture of white and Latina; we had a very multi cultural family) was always being kidnapped so we had to go rescue it. After we went on our death-defying missions that included crossing shark/crock tanks, we would return home so I can make us dinner. Too bad in our second year of preschool (which was for three and four year olds, making us four) he started hanging out with boys and so our close friendships ended. When I was five I discovered that I had a crush on him, but by that time he was no longer attending my school and both of my best friends had started liking him too.
5. I have two cats, a girl named Coco and a boy named Cinnamon. My mom and I call Coco Shredder because she shreds any paper you leave near her. Cinnamon used to pee on the floor, but thankfully he seems to have gotten over that.
6. I love living in Connecticut even though our winters and summers seem to always go to the extremes. Our winters are bitter while our summers are smoldering. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
7. I can be very, very, VERY shy around people I don’t know. If I’m in a room with no one I know, I can seriously sit there awkwardly and hope to become one with the wallpaper. Or die. One the other hand, when I’m comfortable around people, I can be overly outgoing. So outgoing that I can be embarrassing -- to both myself and others who know me. 

Now, I don't have 15 bloggers to give this award to (sadly), but I do have 14...so 14 bloggers who are versatile(!) :

1. Evie J - Peace, Love, and Books
2. Kristia S - OxKrisTeeAuhOx
3. Cat - Cat's Blog
4. Keary Taylor - Keary Taylor 
5. SM Johnston - Down Under Wonderings
6. Leigh - Leigh Fallon 
7. Rose. Whyte. - Just Remy
8. Stormy J - Peace, Love, and StormyJ
9. Sarah - Sarah Serentipity 
10. Jen - Write, Read, and Love! The Thoughts of a Young Adult Author 
11. Neisa - Straight From The Horses Mouth 
12. Alexis - The Seduction of Alien Tears
13. Paige W - The 828
14. Paige D -Writer's Rambles 

Go follow these people above. NOW! Again, much thanks to Ema!

~XOXO,
         Libby

Weekend Update With Me

Dear Bloggie,


    So my diet is going pretty well. I mean, except for this weekend. What happened was I had my junior leader meeting on Saturday. We had a photography class at U of H (University of Hartford) from 9am to about 1pm, then we all went to Six Flags for Fright Feast. One, Fright Feast was a BIG let-down (plus people were acting like idiots and I somehow managed to trip over a tiny rock and hurt my ankle -- I've been limping since Saturday night now-- which just made things crappier), and two, there is, like, no healthy food at Six Flags. The healthiest thing is a salad, which given that their only dressing choice that I would like with it is ranch, makes it not so healthy. I've been replacing ranch with French dressing, which is a lot less calories.


   In the end I ate a grilled chicken wrap -- it's lettuce with two strips of grilled chicken on top, ranch dressing for taste, though I guess I shouldn't have added the ranch. I already had a bagel with cream cheese and a bottle of Coke earlier. Basically, Saturday was a no diet day. Sunday wasn't much better because my mom surprised me by making buttermilk pancakes since I had mentioned a couple days before how I haven't had them in a long time. My initial reaction was to turn them down -- I'm quite proud of myself for that -- but I couldn't because she made them specially for me. Thankfully, I walked around A LOT at Six Flags, so I only feel half guilty.


   There is one things I want to add before I go. I was eating lunch with my group, when I looked over and saw this sad, lonely, old man. He was sitting there by himself, food resting in front of him as he peered off into the distance with a cheerless look on his face. It appeared as if he was waiting for someone. Wife, kids, grandkids? Who knows. We were in the eating area for over thirty minutes at least, and no one showed.


   I pointed this out to the girl I was sitting with, Annalise, and she, like me, got all sad. He just looked so freaking lonely. We wished we could just go over and talk to him. Of course we couldn't; for all we knew he could have been a perverted, pedophilic, rapist. We have no way of knowing.


  Still, I wish the world was just a good place filled with people who are just straight forward with their intentions, all of them being good intentions. In that world, Annalise and I could have gone over to him and talked, either keeping him company until his family/people he was waiting for showed up, or at least talking to him and finding out why he was by himself. Poor old man. This is a good reminder on why you should treat your grandparents nicely. Remember that.


~XOXO,
       Libby

Boys

Dear Bloggie,

  I wish boys knew how much control over a girl's heart they have. I mean, I'm might be all feminist-y, but that doesn't mean I don't like guys and don't fall hard for them. As much as I STRONGLY DISLIKE Fergie, I find that my life is similar to her song "Clumsy". I mean, I'm never not liking. I always have some crush or another. The only thing is that I never truly get over someone either, I just start liking someone else. That doesn't mean I don't like the other person, it just means that they are no longer my main like. Please don't think this sounds shallow, I'm only 14 and a half; I don't even know myself, never mind my heart.

   All I know is that I like a guy. His name is Zach. He's the one I wrote the Crushing poem for.

I personally think he's hot, except for the little moustache that teen guys always  love to grow, just to prove that they can.

   According to his Facebook profile (I friended him), he's actually 15. He must have stayed back a year somewhere along the line, but whatever. He's both a musician (i.e. the guitar above) and an artist. I've seen some of his drawings, and wow, he's good. My dream guy can draw and play an instrument -- preferably the guitar and-or piano. I also wanted someone who could write me a poem, but two out of three ain't bad. And I'm only just getting to know him, maybe he can write.

   I really like him, but of course he has one problem; he's not over his ex-girlfriend. I mean, he really thinks she's the one. But she broke up with him over a rumour and left him heartbroken. As a friend, when she came up in conversation I of course was all "She'll come around, don't worry!" Inside though, I was dying a bit. I was telling the guy I liked that his ex will come around. I hate irony.

   I mean, for God's sake, she plays the trombone! No offensives to anyone who plays the trombone, but come on! The trombone is a disgusting instrument. Serena played it for a year and I remember there is a part of it that your spit get's caught in and that you have to drain. I'm losing to that!

    Being my stalk-ish self, I went on his page to see what his ex looked liked. After seeing this picture (and clicking on her profile and seeing that she plays the trombone), I've come to the conclusion this is her.

   Obviously he doesn't have anything against chunky girls which really works in my favour. At the same time, my self-esteem just went down. If she doesn't have the best personality EVER, I'm going to seriously cry. Not to be mean, but she's geeky! And she's not even prettier than me. Yeah, she's still skinnier than me, but take away my weight, and I am so prettier than her. I'm also funny and nice and I can be the best girlfriend ever! But he is totally still in love with her.

   If he only could see that while he's crazy for a girl who has moved on, he has a girl totally crazy for him. Grrrr, it's not fair! I was looking for a song that fit my mood when I found this. I put is as my Facebook status while he was online. Not that he would ever know it was geared towards him. These are my favorite lines, the ones I used for my status.

If you only knew that I think about you

In a kinda secret way

I say kind of 'cause well it's obvious

I must be feeling these things 

Too bad you can't tell 'cause 

If you only knew

It would be a dream come true

Standing next to you

And I might go insane to know

That you feel the same as I do

If you only knew...

~ "If You Only Knew" - Savannah Outen

~XOXO,
         Libby

Chanting Myself For Motivation

Dear Bloggie,


    I'm going to lose weight. I'm going to lose weight. I'm going to lose weight.


    I'm telling myself now, not just hoping. I'm tired of being fat. I want to be able to look at myself in the mirror and totally be comfortable with my body. I'm not saying I hate myself right now, no, I don't have that bad of a confidence, but I feel like my weight holds me back.


   Any ounce of shyness I have, resonates from my weight problem. I'm always scared that people are going to judge me for that and not for who I am. I mean, I'm crazy and can be a bitch (does that make me a crazy bitch? Have to sleep on that startling conclusion...) but I'm also crazy loyal too. Which is actually bit of a bad thing, as seem by anyone who has read about my friendships problems on this blog.


   The point being, if I were skinnier I would be more comfortable. If someone doesn't like me -- in a friendship and/or a romantic way -- I want it to be because, well, they don't like me. Not that they are all "She's that fat girl." No, I'm tired of that. 


   OK, to begin with weight lose is a lot easier said than done. According to internet/Doctor-y things, my weight should be between 127 to 141 is I'm average to medium framed, or 137 to 155 if I'm just big boned. I'm not sure which one I am seeing as the only time in my life that I was skinny to average was when I was a baby. By the time I hit two, I was already packing on the pounds. Still, when your two it's cute to be chunky. You have a Pooh belly, as my mother used to call it. When your 14, it's NOT cute AT ALL. 


    Taking this all into consideration, I've decided that my ideal weight is 130. That's how much I want to weigh. Considering what my weight is, I have a long way to go. I'm not going to say how much I exactly weigh, but to be happy enough with myself by my 16th birthday, I have to lose 100 pounds. Yes, you read that correctly. 


   The summer before seventh grade I was at camp with Serena and we were part of many programs. One of them was called Healthy Choices. That summer, I lost about 10 to 15 founds in six weeks. And that was with only exercising three or four days a week. If I work out from Monday to Thursday, when again on Saturday, I think I can meet my goal. 


   Of course I have to eat healthy too. I mean, I can work out for ten hours at the gym (I like treadmills, those bike things, and stair steppers, plus my mom's best friend and her daughter -- I've mentioned them before, my Aunt Cathy and Sam -- are thinking of joining a Zumba class, and they have invited me along), but if I eat stuff that is totally unhealthy for me, I might as well do nothing. I love salads, really I do. So that's a start. I also love cherries and green grapes. Now, if I could only eat  more of those foods and none of the foods that are fattening, then I can get somewhere. 


   Wish me luck. Tomorrow I officially start my diet. Let's hope it works. 


~XOXO,
            Libby

Laughing At Life

Dear Bloggie,

  I was checking Meg Cabot's blog before going to sleep when I read about a site (and book) called Mortified. It's a site (and book) compiled of pictures or diary entries written by people when they were younger about things that were embarrassing then, or are now to look back at. Check it out, it's extremely funny. What's even funnier is the readings they have up on YouTube. I seriously laughed until it hurt.

   With that in mind, I decided to look through my own diary to see if I had anything I could summit. I found two things, a poem about a former crush, and a diary entry from 5th grade about a girl I hated with a burning passion.  Let me tell you, what hurt and was dramatic back them, now is as funny as hell. I wrote the poem in 5th grade about my crush, and at the time, the man I was sure I would marry. Because, you know, it was true love. The whole soul mate thing. :)

Without further ado, I present my masterpiece (exactly how I wrote it on the page)

Basketball + cute

Really cute and funny

Ever so cute

Nothing but cute

Nice and cute

Always cute

Never not cute

CUTE!

  Yes, I was a master poet even back then. I'm not sure what I had in mind with the "B". I mean, what does basketball have to do with anything? I don't even like sports! Now, onto the diary entry. The beginning is about a serious thing, but by the end, trust me, it's just...EHHH! Just read. :)

(Again, I'm coping everything off the page -- thoughts, misspellings, and all. Enjoy.)

                                             EVIL = Megan

                             4/15/07                            4/16/07

                           11:24 p.m.                         12:15a.m.

Dear Dee,

   On Saturday Zach B's dad dies. I found out on Monday 4/9/07. Sam, Brandon, Tia Cathy, my Mommy, and I whent to the wake. When we got there we saw EVIL. Sam and EVIL whent to hang out in a romm. EVIL hates me and I hate EVIL. Well, me and EVIL got into a fight and she called me names. I steped on her foot and I told her when we die I will de in the list that says that that pearson might go to heaven or might go to hell and she be in the begining of the list for hell and whe sh dies she will go to the front of the line.  Think she will become the Devels Queen there and he will tell Jack the Ripper (Side note: At the time I didn't really know who Jack the Ripper was. All I knew was  that he had killed people and wasal together considered a bad person bad.) that whan he did had the same amount of evil in one of EVIL'S finger. Sam told me that she thought I was unforgiving and that I had a stone cold heart. Me and Sam made up later at Stop and Shop. I really hate Megan = EVIL. You would  too. The six graders thin she is dumb. The fith graders thinks she is dumb! 

                                                                              Sincerly,

                                                                                         (My Name)

   

   Obviously I didn't like Megan (and that my spelling and grammar skills were atrocious). Though I guess stepping on her foot and saying she's the Devil's Queen (not to mention the thing about her having more evil in a finger, than Jack the Ripper possessed in his whole body) was a bit over dramatic....? Nah, if you knew Megan you would know I wasn't far from the mark.  

  She was always a bitch to me and truthfully, she treated my cousin Sam like crap. I never understood how Sam put up with it. Still, if I ever argued with her or stood up for Sam, Sam would always take her side. These scenarios were my inspiration for Missy in C.O.A.O.P. and how she is treated like crap by Sabrina (girl who is mean to Angela in the beginning of the novel, during the shopping scene) but still chooses her over Angela because she's desperate for her friendship, whatever the coast. 

   So now it's late and I have shared with you an embarrassing antidote, so I'm going to bed. I'm definitely post more entries when I get the chance. Goodnight. 

~XOXO,

         Libby


P.S. I just realized this is my 69th post. HAHAHAH! Sorry, my mind is dirty. It's weird, but I've come to see that kids who go to Catholic school have dirtier minds than public school kids. Isn't that ironic? :)

Inspired By The Count Himself

Dear Bloggie,

   One of my all-time favorite movies is The Count Of Monte Cristo. It all starts with an uneducated, innocent and painfully naïve clerk’s son named Edmond Dantès who finds himself betrayed by his best friend, a rich man named Fernand Mondego. Fernando, despite his wealth, power, and suave, is not happy with what he has. Even worse, he is extremely jealous of Edmond for being happy with what little he does have. So, as a way to not only remove the source of his jealousy, and to take Edmond’s beautiful, kind, and smart fiancée, Mercedès Iguanada, he has Edmond thrown in prison for treason.

 

   I might be spoiling it a bit, but I might as well tell you just a bit more. After years of imprisonment, he finally was able to escape (with the help of a dear friend, and in an interesting way).  A few chance encounters (meaning an awesome fight, a couple years of being a pirate, and whole lot of money) later, he become the Count of Monte Cristo. Rich and educated -- both in the mind and in his fighting skills -- he is no longer naïve. Instead he is hell bent on revenge for what Mondego and his accomplices have done to him.

 

   Though I have heard the movie is the not the best version of the book, and that it is actually quite different from the original story, I can’t help but love it. It takes place in the 1800’s, which is my favorite century EVER! I swear, if I couple go back in time, I would live in 19 century Europe. Mainly England and France, with the occasional trips to places like Italy, and Greece, and Ireland, and Portugal, and Spain. Maybe even Germany, it was good back then. OK, so I love Europe as a whole. Well, I love western Europe, anyways.

 

   So onto why I’m talking about this. After the Count becomes, well, a count, he throws a lavish ball, inviting anyone who is anyone to meet him. Including he enemies, of course. The invitations he sends out are just breathtakingly beautiful. The theme for my sixteenth birthday (only about a year and a half away!) is a masquerade. When I saw the invitations I was stunned; I want them. But how and where do I get them? And really, shouldn’t I be thinking of other things like losing weight (a lot of weight) so I can fit into a beautiful ball gown.  I mean, I found this site that makes gowns for Sweet Fifteen’s (or Quinceanera as the Spanish say) and Sweet Sixteen's. They have my size, but I don’t want to be the fat girl in the beautiful gown. No, I want to be the beautiful girl in the gown which is beautiful, but can not compare to her beauty. OK, so maybe that’s taking it a bit far, but the point is that I want the dress to compliment me, not be what people see, saying to themselves “Wow, that dress is so beautiful. Too bad it can’t make her more beautiful.”

 

  I’m not saying I want to a stick or look sick. God no, I think those models that are size 00’s are too skinny. But I would love to  definitely be under a size ten, basically around six and eight. That means, that for my body type ( I am bigger boned than most, like Jordan Sparks or Khloe Kardashian, except -- sadly -- without the super model height) I should be somewhere between the 130’s to 150’s. I’m 5’5, almost 5’6 so I can pull it off easily. Maybe I’ll finally get an ass, unlike the flat thing I have right now.

 

   Basically, I’m asking, does anyone have any diet tips? The gym won’t let me sign up until I’m fifteen (which I am SO doing when I turn fifteen), but until then I need help. I’m looking for more on things that are healthy for me to eat. Excise isn’t easily attainable for me, so I’m hoping that eating well and getting excise on Fridays during my three hours of dance classes (they serve as my gym credits at an art school) and my daily walk up and down stairs, through the campus to the Commons Building where I have lunch, then back to the main building and up the stairs again to class, will be enough until I turn fifteen. I would tell you my weight, but I’m not sure what it is. The last time I weighed myself was mid-summer when I had that ear infection and had to go to a walk in clinic; my doctor was closed seeing as it was a Sunday, but I was in too much pain not to go. They needed to get all my health info, so they weighed me. Let me tell you, I’m not proud at all. Even worse, I know I’ve gained weight since.

 

   I’ve been eating salad at school either once or twice a week, depending on how unappetizing the food sounds. My school is not know for it’s cuisine. I really like salad, but only romaine and/or iceberg lettuce. Add ranch and I’m good. Add in that my school also offers deli mean with it and the salad is awesome. Deli meat turkey on it tastes a lot better than it sounds, trust me, I know food. The only problem, with the weather cooling down, I want something warmer. So I brave the cafeteria food, even though it looks disgusting, is ehhh, and is probably not very good for you. Life is conflicting.

 

~XOXO,
     Libby