Sunday, June 27, 2010

I’m A Bigger Shame to All Feminist than Taylor Swift

Dear Bloggie,
I am a shame to all feminists out there. I really am. I thought I was a good feminist. I believe in equal rights and pay for women. I am Pro-Choice (even though personally I could never have an abortion) because I believe a woman should have control of her body and be able to make the life changing decision to be or not to be a mother. I even read articles and stuff like that so my knowledge on feminism can be greater! Except for my love of Taylor Swift music, dream of being or feeling like (the later being more rational thinking) a princess, and having no problem taking my husbands name someday when I get married (I don’t really like my last name or I wouldn’t change it when I get married) I thought I was a pretty damn strong feminist. Well, for a fourteen year old feminist.

That all changed today when I made the greatest fool of myself. At least I was alone when I did. What happened was I was logging onto my email about ten or so minutes ago when I noticed it said I got a friend request on Facebook. Guess who friended me? I’ll give you a hint; I was supposed to tell you about him today anyways. Yep, my new crush (Dulian Progonati) friend requested me. Of course I almost jumped for joy, then tabbed the page and went on Facebook in 1.5 seconds.

The only thing was I had heard he had a girlfriend, but that was back in September. At the age of thirteen (he’s a year younger than me) most people aren’t in relationships that long, but I had to check. So I went on his page and checked his info. The problem is that I have my language set to Pirate English, which is funny, but hard to understand. So being a overly romantic twit I am, I changed my language to normal English (actually it I changed it to English UK, but it’s still the same so I don’t know why they give you the option between English US and English UK) and went back to his profile so I can see if he has a girlfriend. This is what I saw (I took out his siblings and birthday part for his privacy):

About me
Basic info Gender: Male

Relationship Status: Single
Interested in: Women

Looking for: Friendship
A relationship
Religious views: Albanianism

As you can imagine I was relieved, but at the same time I felt so stupid. I totally had a freak-out (a happy freak-out but that’s not the point) because I guy I’m crushing on friend requested me. It’s not like he asked me to marry him or something, he just simply asked to be Facebook friends! And now I feel like a stupid girly girl. I mean, I’ve always been girly, but I swore to myself I would never again act like a moron because I like a guy after I got over Brennan Graham, the guy who I crushed on from third to sixth grade. Though he had made it extremely clear he didn’t like me and had actually treated me kinda bad, I only got over him after he graduated from eighth grade (he was two years older than me) and I never really saw him again.
I only admitted this to Serena and maybe to my guy friend Corey (we had been three way talking on the phone a lot in the beginning of 7th grade, one of those times we revealed secrets to each other. I don’t remember it was then that I revealed this secret) that I kept on liking Brennan even after he was paid by two girls in my class (I forgave them pretty quickly, and decided never to bring up that subject around them again for the safety and mentality of all involved) to ask me to dance. I thankfully had turned him down because I didn’t have the nerve to dance with him. When I later found out he was paid, I was furious. But what can I say, he’s hot and I fell for him again. This time secretly.

So you can see how my experiences with guys in that past have caused me to be more rational. I can like a guy, but the second I start acting like a love sick moron it’s just sad. I’ve obsessed all this week over the fact that he says hi to me everyday at camp (he works there with me as a junior leader) but actually freaking-out just because he friend requested me? That’s sad. Especially since he friend requested my cousin Brandon who also works with us. I doubt that means he likes him! I’m living in the mall of patheticness, I know.

P.S. The picture I included is of Dulian, but then you probably already guessed that.

Saturday, June 26, 2010

Hi, I’m Libby Shaw

Dear Bloggie,
Sorry, it’s been a while but I started work this week at Camp Courant and I have been busy. Well, busy sleeping that is. Almost everyday when I came home this week I took a nap until dinner. Hey, I deserve it; I’m a really hard worker at camp. It’s funny, if any of my past teachers saw it they would have though I was switched or fell or wasn’t feeling well since I’m like the opposite at home and school.

Now, the point of this post…actually there isn’t any real point; I just wanted to share with you that I have a new penname. Well, not a new one, just a second one. My nom de plume (penname in French) right now it Carrie-Ann Crow. Yeah, Carrie isn’t my real name. My real name is…well that doesn’t matter. :)

What does matter is that I’ve come up with a new pseudonym: Libby Shaw. Yep, that’s it. What happened was that Carrie-Ann Crow sounds mysterious and dark – something that you would expect a supernatural writer of being called. But right now I have writers block on Incandescent so I’m working on COAOP (Confessions of an Optimistic Pessimist) which is not a supernatural book. So I decided to make another pen name. I like Libby so I looked up a last name and decided Libby Shaw sounded nice together.
This is going to be a quick post so I’m just going to add that my friend Cat is obsessed with Spencer Reid, a character from the show Criminal Minds.
Here’s a picture of him looking all scary and mysterious

She’s going to get “married” to him wearing a royal blue dress while he wears a powder blue tux. I asked to be the Best Woman so I get to wear a magenta tux with a black undershirt, top hat, and cane. Our friend Ange is going to be the Maid of Honor and wear pink. I know, my friends and I are crazy, but I wouldn’t want it any other way.
Carrie & Libby

P.S. I have a new crush…but I’ll talk about that more on my next post

Sunday, June 20, 2010


Dear Bloggie,
I was on Urban Dictionary one day when they had an advertisement for a clothes site called Snorg Tees. The site has really funny shirts so I’m begging my mom to get me some for high school. I can't get all the ones I like though, they coast about 20 each, but by now these are my favorites (I just saved the middle part of the shirt, so image a shirt with the image/words on it).

(This shirt also comes on the color cranberry – the shade I would get it)

Crazy Driving Grandpas, Dream Homes, & an Obsession with Meg Cabot

Dear Bloggie,
As promised I’m back to writing properly and normal like – well as normal as ever. So today is Father's Day as you all know. I hope you guys all celebrated and treated your dads really well. Since my life is a little empty in the father front, I celebrated it with my grandfather. My grandfather has always stood as a father figure in my life, even if maybe not the best of them. To say the least he’s a real character. I swear he’s going to get us in trouble one day with his driving skills. He’s one of those people who are a lousy driver but still likes to curse people out. Normally he curses people out in Portuguese, but even then many of the words (like son of a bitch, bastard, ect.) sound pretty much like they do in English. Normally when he does this I laugh, but sink into my seat just incase.

Still, despite his antics, I love my grandfather and I know he loves me. Mom still tells me how I’m the reason her and my grandfather started talking again. When my mom found out she was pregnant with me and told my grandparents, my grandfather was furious. He’s kinda old fashioned so, even though she was 32 and it’s not like she got pregnant young or anything, he saw her as disgracing to the family when she had me out of wedlock. That anger and disgrace lasted until he held me.

After my mom had me she caught and infection – she had a C section and unfortunately the doctors messed up a bit – so a nurse would come to the house to check her out or something. One day they needed my grandmother’s help with something so my grandmother went into the living room and had my grandfather hold me. Up until then he was still in anger/disgrace so he hadn’t paid to much attention to me, but as soon as he held me the disgrace melted away. I was a cute baby. Don’t know what happened.

I still remember watching cartoons with him when I was little – the old ones like Looney Tunes, not the sucking ones they have today. That and I used to help him out in the garden and sit on his lap. He might not show that much feeling – many Portuguese men don’t, they act like compassion is a disease, that’s why I’m never marrying a Portuguese guy, most become grouchy with age – but I know he cares. He just shows it in his own way, yelling is his favorite. I still remember when he yelled at my mom for not wearing a coat. She’s a grown woman but still he acted all father like. Maybe he should have done it with less yelling, but it’s a family thing, were loud and fantastic yellers.

I also have a confession to make; I’m obsessed with Meg Cabot. She’s like the awesomest writer ever. From all the writers who I dream of being in their place one day, Meg Cabot is on the top of my list. She’s really understands teenagers. I can barely even describe how much I admire her! I love reading blogs, so of course I keep up with her blog. She’s actually part of the reason I started my own blog.

Last but not least: I found my dream house. So yesterday I convinced my mom to drive around Old Wethersfield, a part of Connecticut that is made up of almost entirely old houses ranging from before colonial times to early 1900’s, some more modern houses mixed in here in there, but not many. I just love this area so much. Towards the end of the area is the cove, but now that I think about it I mentioned this all before since it’s basically the backdrop for my story Incandescent. Well we were driving around when I saw this old house. I remembered it from last time, but I hadn’t gotten a close enough look. This time I got a picture.

Right now it’s a bed and breakfast, but hopefully by the time I’m married and starting to have children, it will be up for sale and I will be able to raise a family in it. I just love the house. I already can imagine turning the side house (most likely the maid’s quarters or a garage back in the day) into my writing office. Since I want to have many kids (5 to 8) I’m probably going to need my own quiet area to write in. I can just picture my life in this house and let me tell you, I like what I see... :)

Hopefully God will answer my desperate and untiring prayers and let this house be for sale when I start having kids and moving out of New York and back to Connecticut to raise them (as my dream life would go).

Saturday, June 19, 2010

Incandescent Chapter 1 & 2

Dear Bloggie,
So these are the chapters. Hope you like them. please comment if you read this. I could really use the criticism so don't be nice for the sake of not hurting my feelings or something.

Chapter One

The priest’s voice becomes white noise in the back of my mind as I listen to the steady beating of rain against the stained glass panes.

I’m tired and restless seeing as I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in almost a week. Someone in the crowed lets out a shrill sob. I clench my fits and bite my lip, holding back the anger; they have no right to cry. They didn’t hold her frail hands and pretended everything was going to be ok. They never watched her go from energetic to lifeless within a matter of weeks. They sure as hell weren’t there as she inhaled her last breathe.
If anyone should be crying it is my father, but even he doesn’t deserve it. He wasn’t there either.

I glance over at my Dad sitting besides me on the pew. His lifeless gaze is on her coffin as if they were the only two in the room. He doesn’t cry or even pout, but instead his face stays in the same apathetic demeanor he has carried for the last fifteen years of my life. I can feel him shut down; I’m losing him too.

This wasn’t how it was destined to be. Mom wasn’t doomed to contract cancer, especially terminal cancer. She was supposed to watch me grow up, cry when I left for college and on my wedding day, coo over the grandchildren I would give her. She was meant to live.

Why didn’t she try? Why did she give up so easily? Why her? Why, why, why?

But I already know the answers to half those questions. It was too late. The cancer had already progressed past the point of no return. She didn’t believe the experimental treatments would work. She said they would only make things worst.

I focus on playing with my thumbs, anything to make me forget why I’m here. Suddenly a tear drips onto my hand. I hadn’t even realized I was crying, but as the hot salty tears slide down my cheeks I can’t seem to stop. I beg myself to be strong, but I can’t find the will. I was strong for her, but now it doesn’t matter. I’m wheezing, unable to catch my breath. My chest is sizzling, it’s just too much.

Before I can react a manicured hand slips through mine, giving it a light squeeze. Crissy looks at me, her eyes saying she’s there, she understands. She doesn’t. Her parents are sitting two rows behind us healthy and alive. But still, her hand warms my clammy palm. My sobs turn to dry heaves before ending. I don’t look around at the multitude of eyes that will be filled with pity. I don’t need their pity.

I think of the countless things that are about to change. I’ll never again hear her laugh or see her smile. I will never be awoken to birthday pancakes or be comforted when I have a nightmare. I will never have her shoulder to cry on when the world seems to be against me.

Life without her is worthless.

I push back those dark thoughts. She wouldn’t have wanted it this way. She would have wanted us to move on and be happy. But what do we have to be happy about? My mind becomes a movie; fifteen years worth of film flip through until I hit play on my favorite.

“Mommy! Mommy! Look!”

My screams echo through the empty beach. I run towards my Mom, pointing at the slide and pulling her with me. She laughs and follows. I climb the slide, my bravado suddenly disappearing as I peer down at the ground. I’m stuck at the top. Too scared to climb down, but also too scared to slide forward.

“Mommy…?” I whimper.

“Baby, you can do it!” my Mom encourages.

I gaze onto the ocean. The waves and the shore collide with a deafening roar. I know those waves are ten times more dangerous than the slide I am so intimidated by, but still I feel the longing to swim in them.

My mother’s face takes on a giant grin and I know that my own must look determined. I sit down, grasping the hot metal for dear life. I hesitate. I think about telling my Mom I’m not ready – that I’m only three and have plenty of time to work up the courage. However, at the same time I desire more than anything else to make her proud. I want to show her I’m a big girl that can swim
and go on slides.

My mind is made up. I glance towards the ocean one more time before letting go. It goes by quickly. Before I know it I’m being lifted into my Mom’s proud arms. She spins me around as we giggle.

“Mommy, I did it!” I boast.

“Yes you did! You’re my big girl.” Her voice is full of bravo but her eyes are sad.
I nuzzle my head into her neck, inhaling her sweet flowery scent. “Don’t worry Mommy, I’m not that big. I’m not leaving you.” I don’t know why, but those seem to be the words she wants to hear.

“Oh, I love you baby. I’m not leaving you either. I’m right here forever and always, I promise.”
“Forever.” I echo as she carries me towards the house we rented on the beach for the summer.

Crissy squeezes my hand again as the organ begins to play. Mass is over and it’s time for my final goodbye. I’m not ready. She promised she wouldn’t leave me. She said forever and always. Forever isn’t over yet, this isn’t fair. We made a deal, I wouldn’t leave her if she didn’t leave me. Why did she have to go? Why?

I can feel the dry heaves beginning again as I descend the church steps. Two vehicles catch my eye. One is the limo Dad rented for us, the other is a hearse. I shuffle into the limo immediately before I can see anymore.

The burial goes as planned until they lower the casket; Dad begins to cry. I bury my nails into my palms and ignore him, looking at everything and anything besides him or the coffin. Then I see something.

There, on the other edge of the cemetery under a willow tree, stand two creatures. The first has an avocado completion, its pointy chin, large pure onyx eyes, and a dark long mane giving it an alien like appearance. The other has the same dark eyes and tresses, but its skin instead a frostbitten blue. Both creatures were startling and beautiful. Hideous and breathtaking. They are the makings of dreams and nightmares.

Their gaze interlocks with mine for but a moment before I hear Crissy whisper my name. I pear at her and notice she’s motioning towards my hands. I look down, having forgotten that I am holding a Violet, my Mom’s favorite flower. I step forward and throw it onto her casket, whispering my final reluctant goodbye. When I glance towards the willow, the creatures are gone.

Chapter Two

Everything is energy. No time, no space. No skin and bones hold me together, but still I can see, taste, smell, and feel. My senses are heightened. I taste the bitter tang of darkness – crawling under my skin, trying to grasp my core. I feel the scorch of light as if I were the sun itself. The sweet smell of spring hangs in the air, invisible breezes tickling my bare cheeks.

I sense everything. The flow of breathe and spirit mixed with the flutter of skirts as we dance in a ring. I feel at home here, in this limbo between the real world and the spiritual plane. I’m nowhere and everywhere. I can be somebody and nobody. The supreme powers which govern the world course through my veins. Suddenly my vision becomes lucid – just in time for me to be propelled into utter darkness.

“Ever?” calls a familiar voice as I follow it into the shadows. Just as I begin to believe that the darkness is endless the ground disappears sending the world crashing.

“Miss Moore!” This voice is shrill, hanging only an octave lower than a scream unlike the one that had first broken through my dream. I raise my head off the desk, quickly wiping away a drop of drool as the class breaks into a fit of laughter. Crissy shoots me a look of pity, her eyes promising to slide me a piece of gum when Mrs. Hoyt isn’t looking. Whenever I’m stressed or embarrassed I chew gum, I guess you could say it soothes my nerves.

Mrs. Hoyt’s bird like stare continues. Her crimped blonde hair gives her the mad scientist impression while her beady stare is reminiscent of a vulture watching its prey before it swoops in for the kill. She’s holding a yardstick in her hand, her rigged posture forewarning problems for me. It’s not like this is the first time I’ve fallen asleep in her class therefore I understand her anger, but she wasn’t exactly sympathetic the first time either. I guess I kinda respect her for it though. With most of the teachers I’m treated like a fragile china doll. It’s all “Be careful what you say around her, she may cry.” or “Don’t push to hard for missing work, she might snap.” or even “Ohh you’re tired? Maybe you should go home and rest.”

Still, as Mrs. Hoyt stares me down, not caring that I’ve been having a hard time sleeping since the funeral seeing as the house is so quiet. Or that my dad took off the afternoon of the funeral because he couldn’t even take time away from work for his own daughter. No, Mrs. Hoyt doesn’t know those things – not that she would care. All she knows that I, Ever Moore, dared fall asleep in her second period Spanish class and now must be publicly humiliated as punishment. In her eyes it doesn’t matter if I’m “fragile” or that I’m scared and alone. All she cares about is that if I ever by chance go to Spain I will be able to explain to them how to set a table or that I want to eat flan. Who the hell would want to eat flan any way? It’s soft and wet and swishy and it feels like inners.
“Mrs. Hoyt? Sorry to interrupt but we have a new student I would like of you to meet.” Principal O’Brian says, unknowingly saving me from Mrs. Hoyt’s wrath. I can still feel her beady eyes burning into my skull so I keep my head down as he continues. “Class, this is Kellen le Fey. He just moved here from Chicago. I hope you all make him feel welcomed.”

A current of energy runs through the class – the new student has caught their attention. Next to me Crissy shifts in her seat, reaching into her backpack for her emergency lip-gloss. Mrs. Hoyt’s gaze finally leaves me as she skims the classroom for an empty seat, once again her gaze resting where I sit. “Welcome Mr. le Fey, why don’t you take a seat in the back next to Ever? You can borrow her book for now; maybe she’ll finally concentrate on her work instead of daydreaming.”

Upon hearing my name I grudgingly pear at the new kid, my jaw almost hitting the desk as I lose complete control of breathing.

He’s undeniably gorgeous with onyx black waves that fall just shy of his shoulders, his perfectly sculpted face giving him a godlike air. A loose lock cascades before of his shinning dark green eyes, long thick lashes making his every blink appear as if it were the flutter of a butterfly. Clad in jeans and a black shirt and jacket stands a long, lean and dare I say sculpted body. He smiles, his brooding eyes sparking with amusement as someone in the class lets out a wolf whistle.

“Dibs!” Crissy whispers almost too low for me to hear never mind anyone else, but still he looks toward our direction, a cockiness now in his step as he walks down the aisle of desks. I sink into my seat looking the other way, the contradiction of his shy eyes and the smug smile instantly turning me off. Or maybe it’s just because – as Crissy likes to remind me – I have social issues and tend to shy away from the remainder of humanity.

But I swear that as he takes his seat, if I pear from the corner of my eye and concentrate, I can see another side of him, gleams of light hiding beneath his flawless cream complexion. Nonetheless there is an error with my observation; just as fast as I catch the glimpse of this other side, it’s gone.

“Gire a la página de veinte y cinco de actividad de lectura.” Mrs. Hoyt says, class falling back into its usual pattern as Principal O’B leaves, excluding the whispers and stares that are now aimed in my direction that is. Great, Spanish has just become my favorite class.

He can’t believe it.
Finding her was easy, he doesn't even need to search the crowed of faces for hers, she’s like a light. He’s merely the moth to the flame. But at the same time he’s surprised, she’s not what he expected. She’s so human.

When the teacher assigns his seat adjacent to hers she finally peers up, her jaw dropping. He can’t help but smile. He’s been known to spur that reaction in many females, but none of them were quite as obvious about it as she is. The girl beside her calls dibs, a flush rising in her cheeks when she sees he’s watching them.

He takes his seat and is about to introduce himself personally when she looks away, building a mental wall between them. He can feel her hesitance. He’s not use to this. Most females fall over themselves to merely catch a glimpse of him, nevermind sit beside and speak to him. Just peering around the room he can sense everyone else acting as he anticipated. The females are intrigued, even the teacher. On the contrary the males are inhospitable, as suspected. When an alpha male is in the presence of beta males, they normally react with jealousy.

He’s not worried though.

She’ll cooperate in the end; she has to. No matter if she likes it or not she’s one of them. One of us.

He can sense that she’s already changing. It’s not obvious yet, but he can see her glamour wearing out. The Seelie Queen did an excellent job concealing both of their immortal sides. But she’s gone.

He catches her eye, the corner of his lips twisting into a smile. “Kellen le Fey,” he says extending his hand. She stares at it as if it where diseased before whispering “Ever Moore,” pulling down the sleeves of her sweatshirt and sliding to the edge of her seat so she can be as far away from him as possible.

Inside his ego dims ever so slightly, him not understanding what is wrong. He’s never felt like this before; he’s never felt so unsure of himself. He’s Mr. Confidence. Mr. Answers. Mr. Been-Called-Arrogant-By-More-Than-A-Few-Females.

It doesn’t matter, he tells himself.

Though his ego has been bruised he knows that no matter if she is attracted to him or not, that’s not why he’s here. She is the daughter of Morrighan. In the end she has a destiny to fulfill pass these four cold, concrete walls, not even in this world. A shudder flows through her body as if she can read his thoughts. With that it begins. The hourglass has been turned. As class drones on he can feel her humanity fleeting. The sands are slipping, sooner or later time - and sand - will run out.

Trying Something New…

so i’m trying this new way of writing
kinda jumbled and without any uppercase letters or real punctuation
except for the word “I”
'cause I type this out first on Microsoft Word
and don’t feel like going back to change it
and except for, like, commas
I like commas
they stand as brakes in my thoughts
except in real life
my thoughts are whole
well not really
but still…

if anyone could read my mind I would be in big trouble
my head is weird
but so am I, so I guess we fit together well
but lets get back to the point

this style of writing kinda awesome
like a poem
I guess

i got the idea while reading this girls blog
you know,
the depressed girls blog i told you guys about
she said that she just lets the words flow
and doesn’t bother with the rest
I like that thought

I think her name is Bethany
but she’s tying to stay autonomous
so she erased most of the evidence of her name
which is really sad
'cause now she signs off as “just a girl”
like she means nothing
like she has no name or personality

I wish I could help her
I don’t know why, I don’ even know her
but she seems nice
and sad
so I want to help her

I know I’ll never be depressed
well maybe a little
but not in the cutting or suicide way
if I ever am depressed it will probably be fake
sometimes I wonder who I am
I remember something I once admitted to Serena
that I craved the spotlight
to be center of attention
to have people talk about me
no matter good or bad
that I talk louder on certain subjects
so people can hear me
even if those subjects can be bad for me

i’ve gotten better
I don’t talk overly loud
but I still
I like attention
I’m a attention whore
I’ve come to realize this
don’t really have much else to say

I like this style of writing
but it isn’t me
I like writing properly much better
still, this was fun
sometime new isn't always better
promise to return to normal for my next post

that reminds me
I want you opinion on my story
I’m posting the first and second chapters
I don’t have 10,000 words yet
so I can’t post it on inkpop
but if anyone reads this blog
please comment on the chapters
I really need opinions

P.S. I’ve decided to add a picture of half my class. Obviously you can find me easily; I’m the overly fat girl. But…whatever…I guess. You can find me and spot Cat, but see if you can guess which one is Serena. This is the dance we had made up before on the ride to, so we had already reinstated our friendship in this picture. Neena didn’t attend the dance so she isn’t in it. But Neena was in the graduation picture so I guess there is one of her.

P.P.S I’ve decided to also add two pictures taken at my friend Stephanie’s birthday party back in March. We weren’t really drunk in either of them (though I do look high in the one that I’m staring into the cup); it was just for the pose. They came out good in my opinion. The pictures were taken after Serena had left so she isn’t in them. Neena didn’t go. Her mom doesn’t let her go to too many things. In the “drunk” pictures (from left to right) is: Stephanie, Cianna, Angela, Marousa, Me. I kinda wish I could go back in time to that day and relive that time on. The school year still had three and a half months to go and life was looking up because Serena and I had basically just ended our second fight, believing that a third would never happen. The only thing that still hung in the balance was high school. I hadn’t known that I had been accepted into the Art Academy yet, but besides that life was great.

Monday, June 14, 2010

Vacation, Bounty Hunters, and Vampires! Oh, My!

Dear Bloggie,
This will be a very, very, very, very quick post. Today was my first day of summer vacation and it really sucked ass. All I did was: wake up, eat breakfast, read half a book (One for the Money, the first novel in the Stephenie Plum series by Janet Evanovich. The main character, Stephanie Plum, is a kick-ass bounty hunter! It’s an adult book series but whatever. No one has had sex in it…yet…), had lunch, and watched an episode of True Blood.

I have to watch the show when my mom isn’t home because my aunt told my mom it was too adult for me. I mean, I haven’t really watched the past two seasons (I’ve caught pieces here and there, but I’ve only seen like three full episodes), but after the episode I watched today I understand what my aunt means. I ended up fast-forwarding through those “parts” (emphasis on the word parts) anyway. Let me put it his way; if I wanted to watch porn, I wouldn’t watch something with vampires doing it. It was weird. But I liked the rest of the show so I’ll keep watching it. Thank God for fast-forward buttons. Amen!

Besides that nothing much happened. I’m going back to school tomorrow. It’s kinda tradition for the students who graduated to come back the following week to visit. I know, I just left school and already I’m trying to go back. To be utterly truthful, I wish next Monday was like September or something. I’m starting to get a little nervous about high school and really want to just get the first week over. Then I can go back in time and live through my summer, this time reassured or knowing what I will need to change.

Ok, this post is getting way too long. I’ll update on Wednesday on hoe tomorrow went.

P.S. It speaks a lot for a show when you look up pictures for your blog having to do with “True Blood” and a majority of them are the characters making out.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Because I Knew You…

Dear Bloggie,
Sorry I didn’t post on Friday, but by the time got home from graduation I was tired. I wasn’t going to post today, but them I remember something from graduation. My teacher had given a speech and in it she quoted a line from the Broadway play Wicked. I had really liked the line so I decided to look it up today. I knew it was about the people we know and have known, so I looked up the song list and went from there.

For some reason I was almost instantly drawn to a song called “For Good”, which after evaluation of the lyrics, I’m about 99% sure this song is the one she quoted. It’s been two days since graduation and I have yet to cry, but after listening to the song – having gone straight to iTunes and buying it after I was sure it was the song with the quoted lyrics – I could feel those emotions rising. Still no tears, but I feel like I am going to cry. You know that feeling you get inside when you sad or something and it feels like your about to cry but your eyes refuse to listen so they stay relatively dry, all the while that horrible, sad feeling rages in your chest making you want to really cry – not little sobs but loud, body trembling, almost yelling ones? Well that’s how I feel right now. I can feel that scream/sob in my throat my I can’t make it come out.

I will miss all my classmates. I’ve had mixed relationships with all of them, but at the end of the day I hate the fact that I won’t see them all again. Serena was sitting next to me at graduation and started crying. I was surprised; she and Neena kept saying they couldn’t wait to leave.

I had expected this from Neena since I have a sneaking suspicion she hates the majority of the class. She never felt like she was part of us since she was only here a year. I would never say this to her, but she’s the one who didn’t try to get to know people that well. We accepted her, she’s the one who acted like she didn’t want to be accepted and that everyone hated her from day one. I remember her talking to me on Facebook back around October, November, or December on how she thought people didn’t like her. I knew it wasn’t true, I even said so, but she wouldn’t listen.

But Serena, I had been surprised. She had been attending Saint Brigid School since Kindergarten or First Grade! Well, when she started crying I got to see the truth, she didn’t really want to leave. In that moment of my friends crying around me as our teacher, Ms. Bernaiche, gave her speech I realized something, SBS (Saint Brigid School) is home. We all hated having to get up and go learn every morning, but at least we could count on how our day would go. It was familiar. It is familiar. That’s when I came up with this simple ideal:

Home is a place you want to leave until you have to.

We all wanted to be anywhere else until it came down to the time we really did have to leave our beloved home/school. Now we are all going in different directions, even the ones who are going to the same high school. Life is a road. We should all be thankful for the people who join us on that road, even if it is only for a short time.

P.S The graduation photo is really my class. I'm in the back behind Cat and my friend Angela (she's sorta my inspiration for Angela Pearson, now named Angela Ellis after I decided I didn't like the last name Pearson enough for my character), you can't really see my face, but you can see my arm. Serena is next to me and Neena is next to her. I was thinking about telling you their real names, but I've decided not to. :)
P.P.S Cat moved her blog to Tumbler. I thought about doing the same, but I like it better here on blog spot. :)
P.P.P.S I now have two followers (one is actually clicked to follow, the other is Cat who just reads it) so I'm sorta happy. I had clicked to see who the person who follows me is and I saw she follow some of the same people I do, leading me to believe she found my blog on Inkpop. Well I checked out the blogs she follows and I don't, and found this cool blog. Well not so cool, as interesting. It's a bit depressing, but I like reading it. Anyone who reads my blog should check it out. The girl seems nice but she's really deep down in it and seems to have alot of problems with her mom. Either way you should check it out.
P.P.P.P.S Here is the quote from the song that my teacher quoted.
I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I
believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you...

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Talkin' 'Bout My Generation

Dear Bloggie,
I know I said I was only going to blog on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, but I knew if I didn’t blog today I wouldn’t blog about this tomorrow. So I had logged into my computer and was on Yahoo when an article caught my eye. The blurb went like this:

What to call the newest generation
After baby boomers, Generation X, and millennials, the latest group is looking for its moniker.

Since I’m only in the beginning of my teens I was interested, knowing this must be my generation. According to Wikipedia “Generation Z” are all people born between the mid/late 1990 to about now, 2010. The article was ok, but the comments were harsh. They called my generation lazy and stupid. They think we’re all knocked up teens who sit on our asses all day. Well this pissed me off. So I also commented:

"I can’t believe some of the comments on here! How “Generation Z” are lazy kids who don’t want to work and would rather watch TV and play video games than read or learn. I happen to love to read. Actually I just finished off a book right before logging online. Yes, I have a cell phone, a lap top, I watch TV, play video games and a have an iPod, but I have survived without any of those things. Just recently my cell phone got stolen so I survived perfectly fine without it and I can't find my iPod charger so I haven't listened to my iPod in forever. The only thing I might have a hard time living without is my computer, but that’s something most people have a hard time without, not only my generation. Most of the people I know (my friends and other people around my age, I’m 14) are like this too. Yes, we're pretty tech savvy and love gadgets, but we're not idiots that can not function without technology. I consider us a good balance.

The only problem we face is that our economy has been so freaking screwed up by past generations that we might all end up in debt. To get a decent job you now need to have attended college for at least four years. Well with prices around 30,000 and more a year how are we supposed to pay for it? Say all you want about my generation and how lazy we are and so on, but we weren’t the ones who damaged the plant (oil spill, global warming) and caused major problems with the economy. But still we’re going to have to suffer big time. My mom is a Generation Xer and half the time I know more about world events and the problems that are rising than she does."

The past generations have screwed us over with all the problems they caused and we’re the ones being criticized? Are you kidding me? This is bullshit! I think it’s time the Generation Xers and Yers take a long look in the mirror because they are way off base. They cause the problems then condemn us because we don’t know how to fix it? Hello who’s the adult here? 1) We’re still teens and kids; we’re not done growing up yet. And 2) Why do we have to fix your mess, why do we have to suffer? I think it’s time the older generations stop talking bad about us and actually try to fix the world so we have a better future than the one it looks we’re going to have.

All this got me thinking about this old song by The Who called My Generation. I think the song sums it up best, even though it was about the Baby Boomer generation, otherwise known as our grandparents’ generation.

People try to put us d-down (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
Just because we get around (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
Things they do look awful c-c-cold (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
I hope I die before I get old (Talkin' 'bout my generation)

This is my generation
This is my generation, baby

Why don't you all f-fade away (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
And don't try to dig what we all s-s-say (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
I'm not trying to cause a big s-s-sensation (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
I'm just talkin' 'bout my g-g-g-generation (Talkin' 'bout my generation)


What Do a Fat Girl & a Moped Have In Common?

Dear Bloggie,
So recently I have chosen to write on a schedule. Well post on you, not write my story. I’ve tried working on my story (well stories since I’m also working on Confession of an Optimistic Pessimist, not only Incandescent), but every time I go to write I end up nit picking so much that by the time I’ve written two sentences it’s been over an hour. Yeah, that's no good. But I’ve come up with a schedule to post on my blog. I’m going to try to post every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I’m pretty sure I can keep up with it, except for maybe on Fridays. If I don’t post on Fridays I’ll defiantly write on Saturday.

So why don’t we discuss the title of this post: What Do a Fat Girl & a Moped Have In Common? I’m almost done with reading a book called The Earth, My Butt, & Other Big Round Things by Carolyn Mackler. It’s actually a pretty good book; I plan on writing a review for it when I’m done. Ohh, that reminds me. I just finished reading the second book in the Immortal Instruments series, City of Ashes by Cassandra Clare. I’ll write a review for that also, maybe this weekend since I already have planned what I’m posting on Friday. But that’s a subject I’ll approach later in this post. Now back to the title.

The girl in the book (Virginia Shreves) is overweight (not as overweight as I am, but only the people on the Biggest Loser are as overweight as I am) and lives by the “Fat Girl Code of Conduct”, rules she made up after hearing a joke on the radio that goes like this:

Question: What do a fat girl and a moped have in common?
Answer: They’re both fun to ride, as long as your friends don’t see you.

I know, ha-ha funny. I’ve heard this joke before on TV or something, and I guess I never really thought much about it. Maybe I even consider it kinda funny. But while reading this book it really got me thinking, it’s kinda true. Not many guys go for fat girls, but it’s more because of their looks than the girl’s personality. That also got me thinking about the “Fat Girl Code of Conduct”. Here, I’ll post it:

1. Any sexual activity is a secret. No public displays of affection. No air-kisses blown across the cafeteria. No carefully folded notes passed in the hall. No riding the moped in public.
2. Don’t discuss your weight with him. Let’s face it. You both know it’s there, so don’t start bemoaning your body and pressure him into lying, i.e., “What are you talking about? You don’t look fat at all.”
3. Go farther than skinny girls. Find ways to alert him to this, such as sluty comments prepped into the conversation. If you can’t sell him the body, you better overcompensate with sexual perks.
4. Never, ever, ever, ever, ever, push the relationship thing. Everybody knows that guys hate discussing relationships, so make it easy on him. Same goes for dates to movies and dances. Bottom line: Let him get the milk without buying the cow.

So that is the “Fat Girl Code of Conduct”. I know it sounds sluty and easy, but I really made me stop and think, I am the cow. What guy really wants this *makes motions to her body*! Yeah not many unless he gets the perks and doesn’t have to tell anyone. I won’t follow all of them, but I will most likely follow the majority. I won’t do the public displays of affection (unless he wants to) and I defiantly won’t discuss my weight. Hell, I can’t even discuss my weight with my own friends. If I did it would go like this.

Friend: I’m so fat!
Me: No you aren’t your sooooooo skinny. Are you kidding me? I’m fat, your not.
Friend: …

I’ve actually had many conversations with friends that were like this, awkward silence. It’s not like they can say I’m not fat, when hello, I am. I can only imagine how awkward it would be to have this conversation with a guy who I want to/ have made out with!

I don’t think I could follow number three though; I don’t have the nerve to be that perverted with guys I like more than a friend. I can joke around with guy friends, but not guys I like. I feel too weird about it. Number four maybe, but I’m not sure. I like giving people the “I don’t give a shit” attitude, but I really do. I’m sentimental and a hopeless romantic. I love watching romance movies and have seen the Notebook more times than I can count. I don’t believe I could truly pretend that I don’t even know him during the day and then make out with him at night. I’ll probably hurt more than it’s worth.

This post was supposed to be short but then I got carried away, so why don’t I finish up by telling you what I’ve been planning for the past week or so. This blog is getting a makeover. This Friday, before my graduation you’re going to see some changes. Yes, my life is still at a crossroad, but it’s time I choose a path. If you live your whole life at a crossroad, there is no point to living.

Sunday, June 6, 2010

Happy Birthday Cat!!!

Dare Bloggie,
So my friend Cat (a.k.a Yoda) has asked me to keep blogging, so I here I am! Since she’s the one encouraging me to blog, I have decided to make a very special post for her. So here it is….

(No the girl does not look like Cat, but I thought the picture was cool so whatever)

Yes, its dear Cat’s birthday today. I got her a gift (I wont write in down just in case she reads this today) and I have written happy birthday on her Facebook wall. I hope she’ll like the gift. I have this weird phobia of getting someone a gift and them not liking it. I was going to get her a gift card to her favorite store, but when I checked out the process I realized it would be a waste. It costs almost $50 bucks just for a shirt! I had already had gotten he other things so my mom said it had to be twenty or under. Yeah, twenty dollars could barely buy her a bracelet.
Plus I made this really awesome picture of her on Picnik.

Yeah, I know you’re jealous of my mad computer skills. Oh yeah, I’m awesome, I’m awesome…

Yeah…enough of that… Ok so we had a write a essay in English class on the quote “what’s past is prologue”, and did mine on my life. I was going to post it, but not today. Today is Cat’s day. I hope she’ll like the picture, I had fun making it.