Dear Bloggie, It's Been A While......

Dear Bloggie,

     I know by now you probably thought that I had stopped blogging. In truth, I've been dying to get back to it. May was the best month of my life (OK, maybe life, but definitely this year) and June is going good and dandy as well. In May I was tech crew for my school's production of Anything Goes (which was amazing, the set itself was phenomenal). I was thinking about going to the cast party, but then it sorta got canceled. You see, the girl who was hosting had the type of parents that don't care if you drink, do drugs, or have sex. Personally, if I held a cast party it would be filled with ginger ale, pizza, and chips because there is no way in hell my mother would let me have anything of the other things above at a party. But this girl's parents would (may I include that the girl is only a sophomore). I wanted to go for the high school party experience, not for sex or drugs. Though, is I'm being honest, I probably would have drunk some, but not a lot because I don't really know the cast and I don't want to be known as That-Sloppy-Drunk-Freshman. 

    But sadly one of the cast members parents found out about what would be at the party and threatened to call the police so it was cancelled at the last minute. It was sorta re-scheduled at this junior named Jordan's house, but he lives all the way in Avon so many people didn't want to go. Plus, sex, drugs and alcohol was not going to be tolerated by his parents at his party so I'm guessing that's why many people didn't want to go. 

     Still, I got to drink that night anyway. We (the cast and crew) had gone out to eat at this restaurant down the street from my school after the last show. One of the girls at my table had ordered a virgin strawberry daiquiri. Somehow, her order must have gotten mixed up at the bar because when she took a sip, it was not virgin. She passed it to the other people at our table (two freshman girls I'm friends with and this sophomore I had made friends with during the show) and we all took a sip and let me tell you, the it was strong. She drank like half of it by herself, but after a while she stared to feel really buzzed so me and this guy named Gordon (both of us who had ordered our own strawberry daiquiris in hope that they would also be alcoholic, but we had no such luck) split the rest of hers into out own cups. He went first and put a lot so mine lost the taste of alcohol after a few or more sips. Still, I was happy. My first high school drinking situation. It made me realize I am growing up and I'm starting to experience new things. Some I'm going to turn down (drugs like crack, heroine, acid, all things I WILL NEVER TRY), but there are things that I will do. Like drinking and I'll probably try weed by the time I graduate. I do go to hippie school after all. Either way, I'll try to make good choices, ones that I won't look bad an think "Wow, I was an idiot. Why did I ever do that!?"

    There are plenty of more things that happened in May and I haven't even gotten to early June, but I'll save that for another day. 

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.

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

Life Plans & My Crazy Schemes

Dear Bloggie,

   I'm the type of person who has a life plan. Really, I've had one for years now. Probably since I was eleven or twelve. My plan was get into GHAA (that was added last year) and have a good four years (hopefully have a publishing deal as I leave for college), then get into Columbia or NYU and meet my dream guy there. After college (all six years because I need to get my masters), we would travel around the world before returning to NY.

    We would  get married by the time I'm 28-29 and then honeymoon in Paris. Around 32 I want to have my first child. I want to have about six children (I've got five of the names picked out; I need at least three girls and two boys, the sixth can be either or as long as it's healthy), so they would be close in age. After my first child we would move back to Connecticut  or Massachusetts or maybe even up-state New York. All I know is that I don't want to raise my children in the city and I would just LOVE to live in a small historical town. Like books and TV are always portraying New England to be.

    The public school system in the city isn't the best, so that would mean I would have to either put them in Catholic school or expensive private schools. I'm OK with catholic or private school when you're younger, but I want them to experience public high school like I am.

    Basically, I have a dream and I want to reach it. Of course I want to be a published writer, so I hope that after having my children I can be a stay at home mom. This way I could be part of their lives and have time to write. And with the money I would have coming in from writing, would hire a maid. I like to cook, but cleaning is a job that you basically couldn't pay me to do.

   This is my life. It's simple, but it's a full life complete with two different worlds to live in (historical small town and busy and fast paced New York), many children (which would hopefully lead to many grandchildren), travel, and most importantly love. I just want to give my own children everything I don't have right now for myself. I have a loving mother, but I wish I had a dad. I want to be strangely and freakishly normal. Yeah, it sounds odd, but wanting to have a crazy family that keeps life entertaining while still being the normal Mom, Dad, and kids, is what I want.

 (Downtown Amherst: Doesn't it just look so cute and quaint?!) 

   But now I'm thinking about changing things around. I'm starting to consider going to Hampshire College in Amherst, Massachusetts. It's a smaller college than NYU or Columbia, located in a college town where most people there are under thirty. Plus, according to my awesome Aunt Carla who know allot about colleges,  it's a very creative college which is what I want.


   She was telling me that I should probably do four years in a small school for my bachelors so I can get more one on one with the professors (meaning I would be able to fine tune my writing) and then, if I  want, I can go somewhere bigger like NYU or Columbia for my masters. I think that sounds wonderful. I love Massachusetts and would love to live there for a while. I just don't love Boston. I went there over the summer and hated it.

   Now that I'm in high school I have to really start thing about my future and what I want from it. And the scares the shit out me.

~XOXO,
       Libby

Movies & Other Distractions

Dear Bloggie,

    As someone has reminded me (*cough, cough* Cat *cough, cough*) I’ve been needing to update my blog. It’s not that I have nothing to say -- trust me, that will NEVER be an issue; I come up with random blog posts in my mind all the time -- it’s just that I’ve been too lazy to actually type it. But since I’m having a rather good day, I might as well.

   First off, as you may have noticed, I have redone this blog up. I preferred the only template, but it just wasn’t giving me the freedom I wanted. Now I have been able to add reactions and other pages -- two freedoms a premade template was not giving me. The tabs are simple and understandable. I have one tab for Home (where you are reading this), one tab for Current Projects (where you can find story ideas that I have put some or plan to put some work into; this tab is up, but not totally done. Still, there are projects posted there so check it out), Contact (where you can find information on how to contact me for whatever reason), and one labeled C.O.A.O.P (which will change as my most current projects change). Any story I am seriously working on will have it’s own tab.

   So now onto the real updated part. My life as a high school has been normal for the most part. Well, as normal as life at an art school can be. This guy I know named Hayden showed up in a dress today. The dress was borrowed from a senior who made it, and it was worn over his usual attire of skinny jeans a and a T-shirt, but the effect was still there. Specially when he went to the bathroom and stuffed the top. He tried to stuff it with paper, but it didn’t work. So instead he stuffed it with his socks which made it appear as if he just had one big breast instead of two separate ones.

   Now, onto the overly high school news. Jonah told this girl named Kayla who told my lunch table that he like this girl named Sarah (we call her Sarah Starfish). She’s the one with the ukulele. But according to Kayla, though Sarah Starfish considers him a dear friend and is even the one who has brought him out of his shell, she has no romantic feelings for him. Which, though it is mean, is good news to me. Sarah is pretty, nice, and fun/crazy. If she likes Jonah back, well I have no doubt that I will never have even the slightest chance with him.

   Today, as sometimes I do, I was able to watch a movie. I watched The Young Victoria, and am now watching 9, an animated movie about a rag doll that awakens in a post-apocalyptic future holds the key to humanity's salvation. I loved The Young Victoria. To begin with, I just love Emily Blunt and then there is just the fact that Queen Victoria is one of my favorite royals, second only to Queen Elizabeth the 1st.The movie was great and was filled with wonderful actors. I give it a ten stars out of ten. Between the acting, dialogue, settings and stage, and costumes, that movie was just plain brilliant.

  One thing that I love about Queen Victoria, is that unlike Queen Elizabeth, she was able to balance out her love life with being a great queen. Queen Elizabeth gave everything, and got almost nothing in return. I feel bad for her since she had been in love, it just was that she could not marry him because of his unpopularity. She chose her country over love. I will never have to make such a drastic decision, but I just hope that my life will be balanced like Queen Victoria’s, not like Queen Elizabeth’s.

   9 has been a little dull up to this point, but maybe that’s because I’m not really paying attention. Tomorrow is the last day of my visual arts rotation. Next Monday I start Technical Theater for three weeks. I’m really excited.

   Well, that’s about all the time we have for today boys and girls, but don’t worry, I’ll post again. I love blogging too much not to :)

 

~XOXO,

     Libby

 

P.S. Tonight begins the new season of Criminal Minds. I heard on a radio advertisement that Tim Curry will guest star on it. Ever since seeing him one The Rocky Horror Picture Show, I have totally loved him. In I think he’s a good and funny actor sort of way of course. Check out The Rocky Horror Picture Show if you haven't seen it, it’s awesome. :)

We Remember…

Dear Bloggie,

    Today, as you go on your way, remember those who died on September 11th, 2001. Nine years ago. I can't believe it. The thought that it has been nine years is almost as unbelievable as the thought that it happened at all. The thought that people could be filled with so much hate that they would hijack four planes and fly two of them into the World Trade Center. The thought that they would fly the other into the Pentagon. The thought that the passengers of fourth plane were able to stop the plane, sadly instead crashing into a field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania. These are thoughts that belong in a action-packed horror movie, not the news. Not history.

   So today, I ask you to remember. I don't care your American or not. I don't care if your , Christian, Jewish, Mormon, or Muslim. I don't care if your white, black, tan, yellow, red, purple, green, or blue. I don't even care if your skin is a rainbow. I don't care about any of the things that make us different.

    What I do care about, is what makes us the same. We are all people. We are all human. We all feel and hurt and love.We all have our faults and we all have our virtues. We have people who care and love us. We are alive. But on September 11th, that final category disappeared for 2, 296 people (including the 19 hijackers). Who loved and hurt. and felt. Who had families who loved and cared for them. Who were all people. All human. But now, nine years later, are no longer alive.

    We remember that day as a tragedy. But still, look at photos of September 11th and what do you see? The Twin Towers on fire. Fire fighters and rescue workers trying to save people, to at least find the bodies so the victims can be properly identified. But there are photos that aren’t as popular because they show how truly horrible that day was. One of them being “The Falling Man”:

 

 

   To be so desperate that the only way you have any shot at living is to jump. To know that there is no way your going to make it, but you could either wait for the flames and smoke to take you or jump into the cool blue sky. There is a video I was watching on YouTube called “9/11 The Falling Man”. It was not only about the person in the photo above, but also about the 200 people who jumped to their death that day. One man was talking about his wife who worked in the South Tower. He had called her at work and they were able to talk and say their goodbyes before she went to try to get out. They found her body outside her building. Not to say she couldn’t have fallen by accident, but in reality he even said she most likely jumped. But imagine, being stuck in a hot and smoke filled building. Wouldn’t you jump? To fly through the cool crisp air. To say, “I’m not giving in. I won’t let the smoke kill me.”

    These are the people we should see and remember. The people were trapped and desperate. These should be the photos we see, not only America coming together. Because, it wasn’t only Americas who died. It was people on trips form other countries. Business trips, family vacations, you name it. People in the planes, people in the buildings. They were there too. They were not Americans, but they were human.

   So again I ask, remember them. No matter what country your from, just stop and imagine what these people went through, all of them. The jumpers, the people on the four planes, the fire fighters and rescue workers, the people at the Pentagon, and the people who died of smoke, fire, and the Twin Towers collapsing. And, most of all, remember their families. The family members who are haunted by their unsaid goodbyes, and the family members who were forced to say them too soon. The children who lost their parents, and the children who lost their lives. 

 

(Pentagon…)

 

( Shanksville, Pennsylvania…)

 

World Trade Center (Twin Towers)

(Before……)                                                                     (After……)

 

    ~ Much Love,

            Libby

Roots

Dear Bloggie,

So Saturday I went to a Portuguese festival in Ludlow, Massachusetts. Now, if you've never been to a Portuguese festival before I'm sure your thinking "Cool". But trust me, it's not. Yes, I love being Portuguese and all, but our festivals kinda suck. Still, they're amusing so I go to two every year. One at the Portuguese church not far from my house around late May, and one in Ludlow around Labor Day.

The festival is the same every year. I go with my mom, her best friend who I call Tia Cathy, and her two children Samantha and Brandon, who I consider my cousins. I know I've mentioned them before so I won't go more into that. Basically what happens every year is that we show up, look around at all these tents that are full of knick-knacks people are trying to sell for outrageous prices, then go up to this small hill where you can light a candle in memory of someone who has passes away. Normally we light one for my grandmother and Sam and Brandon's grandfather, but this year we also lighted one for their uncle who committed suicide almost a year ago . Sam and our mom's did that, while Brandon and I hung around talking about school, friends, ect.

One of my favorite things about a Portuguese festival is our fried dough. Most fried dough is covered in that powered sugar I can't stand, but Portuguese friend dough is covered in real sugar, which makes it ten time better. And ten times worst for you. ;)

Following the fired dough we headed over to the carnival games. I tried one if those drat games and failed at it. The first dark hit the top of the bored – at least a foot away from any of the drawn strawberries I was supposed to be aiming for. The second dart ALMOST made it, but sadly it it hit the leaf instead. Which I consider good enough but the carnie didn’t. Of course, I went on rides too. First I went on the Pharaoh's Furry:

( As you can imagine, this ride turns your stomach into a gymnast)

But that wasn’t my favorite ride. No, my favorite was the Round a Round:

(I forgot to get a picture of it, so on my way out I just took one of the park to use instead; it’s the ride I circled and put an arrow to)

And the cool thing was that the man operating the ride let me and Sam on over and over again for free. Brandon only rode once with us because he gets sick on rides that spin. *shudders at memory*

Sadly no amount of rides can make up for the music they played. But then again, when a CD cover looks like this:

(I'm too sexy for my cat too sexy for my cat/ Poor pussy poor pussy cat)

What do you expect from the music inside?

Of course we had to get some souvenirs! My mom got and old fashion baking dish:

(Is it me, or does that design look like it could have been weed in a past life..?)

And a cork decorator for a wine bottle:

(Nothing says “Getting drunk with class” like a chicken!")

While I was torn over what I wanted. First i says these, but my mom said no:

(Sadly the didn’t come with any balls or a pimp hat, so they’re not totally correct)

But then I saw this:

And just knew I HAD to HAVE it! Plus, it lights up!

(Is it me, or does this remind you of Sailor Moon too?)

There is one Portuguese song I love, but sadly they did not play it. it’s about the Portuguese island that my family come from. Thankfully, i found a version of the song on you tube. Ignore the beginning with the the strange people, I don’t know who they are. I only choose this video because the rest has pictures of Madeira (the island’s name, which actually translates to wood…)

During this song, they use traditional clothes that look like this:

(In my opinion the, the female outfit looks like a fancy table cloth)

And someone plays this instrument:

I know these things look a bit ridiculous, but when you live in a houses like this:

(No wonder Portuguese people tend to be short!)

It would be normal to dance to that type of music, with that type of instrument, and in that type of outfit, all those years ago. Now, people just do it for fun.

I hope you enjoyed getting to know a bit of my culture. Before I finish this post, I want to show you pictures of Jonah I found the other day when I was stalking—I mean browsing—his Facebook page.

(Yes, the first two look a bit feminine, so I added the third which is what he looks more like now.)

Sadly, I don’t think anything will ever work out between us seeing as he did not accept my friend request on Facebook. :(

~Libby

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.
~ XOXO,
Carrie

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
Bringing
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...

The Best Day

Hey Guys,
So yesterday I was all excited because of my realization and determination. Well, I’m still excited! Last night I stayed up until 6:30am working on an outline of the novel so I know what is going to happen and so. For the first time I knew everything. I didn’t have one doubt except for some names, but those doubts were resolved with my baby name book that I swiped from my aunt last year and old Celtic/ Irish names on the internet.

I can feel it; this is my story to tell. I still have a lot of work to do though. But I’m not worried. Lat night (this morning to noon actually) I had a dream that I finished the book. I’m taking that as a good omen. So I decided to look up dream meaning and this is what I got.

Books

dream interpretation

meaning of dream
In our daily life, books are a source of information and a place to gain knowledge. They can be inspirational, and their messages are sometimes so strong that they change our lives. The books in our dreams can represent our memories, learned understanding, ideas, or viewpoints. They can alert us to the fact that we have something new to learn and that we should spend time on mastering new tasks. Pay attention to what kind of book you are seeing in your dream and its purpose in the larger context of the dream. Also, note reading any passages or specific messages from the book. At times the book may be pointing to new themes or purposes in your life. Pay attention! The unconscious mind is constantly making attempts to communicate with the conscious in such ways that the dreamer will recognize it without panic or denial. Superstition-based dream interpretations say that if you are dreaming of books, you can be assured of slow but steady progress in your life

Writing

dream interpretation

meaning of dream

Writing is a means of communication. In dreams it may be a symbol of communicating with others, but it mostly represents communication with oneself. If you are writing in a dream or reading someone else's writing, it may be an unconscious effort to become aware of forces or issues in life. Writing is a secondary form of communication. Speaking is more direct and less cumbersome for most. Thus, the written message in your dream may be disguised or may be less genuine than other forms of receiving information from the unconscious. You may be trying to figure something out and this might be the first step in that process.

So yeah, have no idea if this has anything to do with me…but whatever. I guess with writing I am trying to figure things out, and with it being a book it can be my view points and that I have something new to learn. The book was Ever’s story (I don’t know why but I keep calling my books by its main character’s name) so its purpose was to inform about my ideas and how I will write this book. But I think it’s the last part about books that is best. I am on a slow but steady progress in my life.

I’m still not talking to Serena, but I’ll be ok Life can suck, but high school will be better. I’m falling Math, Science, and have D’s in history and Geography. I have NEVER had grades like this before. But Friday I got an 87 on my Math quiz, and let me tell you, it felt awesome! It was ten question and I got one wrong and three points off another because I forgot to put the “x” variable in the problem. Just a stupid mistake, nothing big. Life is getting better. Yesterday my Mom brought me to Old Wethersfield. It is this old historic town in the not too far from the Silas Dean Highway.

You would never know. All the houses are historic and can not be changed so it looks like the town is frozen in different times. Some in the pilgrim times, some in the colonial times, and some in the Victorian/ turn of the century (early 1900’s). But what was really special was that she brought me to Wethersfield Cove. She said that used to be her place when she got away, and now she was sharing it with me. Yesterday was like that song The Best Day by Taylor Swift. I have had so much drama and friend problems, but in the end of the day I still have my mom. We didn’t argue or anything. I was perfect. I wrote this poem when I got home.


Thank You
Years go by
We fight
You drive me crazy
I return the favor

I’m growing up
And you’re scared
You see I’m no longer a baby
Nevertheless you can’t let go

But today
Today was good
Today life was simple
Today was with you

You showed me your old hide away
You passed it on
Now it’s mine
Or at least it will be
When I can drive

Thank you
For making me forget
For making memories
For being there when no one else was


~XOXO,
Carrie

P.S Here is my favorite quote from the song “The Best Day” by Taylor Swift.

I'm thirteen now and don't know how my friends could be so mean
I come home crying and you hold me tight and grab the keys
And we drive and drive until we found a town far enough away
And we talk and window shop 'til I've forgotten all their names

I don't know who I'm gonna talk to now at school
But I know I'm laughing on the car ride home with you
Don't know how long it's gonna take to feel okay
But I know I had the best day with you today

I Still Miss You....

So yesterday in class we were talking about symbolism and comparing the symbolism of a white umbrella in a short story we were reading, to the symbolism of a collection of glass pigs in the book The Pigman. The Umbrella stood for something we could not have. For material objects that as humans - and especially in American culture - we let control our lives as objects of love and affection. Think of it. I know I do the same thing, but I'd rather have designer things that I don't like and hurt me (shoes) than have comfy shoes that come from Walmart.

The pig collection stood for love that the old man in the story had for his recently deceased wife. They had collected one each year of their marriage, so in the end it represented his last physical link to her.

This in turn got me thinking about love and my own "pig collection". I have written and rewritten this paragraph, saying seven things that are my Pig collection, but it's not true. In reality I have three things that I would go into a burning building for. One is the last gift she gave me, a tea set. It got it for Easter of 3rd grade, after my aunt found it in my grandmother's closet. She had been saving it for my birthday. It's not fancy, probably didn't even coast $15, but it's the last thing she gave me, so I hold on to it. The second is a pink purse like wallet that she gave me at the beginning of 3rd grade, before the stroke. The last, and my most cherished is a little wooden box.

When we were going through my grandmother's stuff after she passed away, i found a little wooden box. My aunts didn't want it, so I was I got to keep it. Inside I put some of her jewelry, a picture of her parents (my great-grandparents), a picture of my mom and two aunts, a hand painted by my great-grandmother handkerchief, and most of all her wallet. It's old and made of leather. On the front is a hand painted face like the handkerchief, but I find it the most precious for some reason. There is about two dollars in coins inside, but I can not nor will I ever be able to spend it.

I still miss my grandmother even though it will be five years in December. I know it's not right, but I think I might have cared more for her than my mother. She was like a second mother to me, except she never nagged or yelled, she just cuddled and made me feel batter when I was upset. It's hard without her, my family sorta broke after she died. My aunt moved out after getting a job at Trinity college, and now at the University of New Hampshire. My other aunt, well I guess things are almost the same with her. My grandfather has a girlfriend now, but that's not really a bad thing, though my mom acts like it is. But I guess the biggest break was my relationship with my mom. After my grandmother's death things changed between us, and not for the better.

~XOXO

Carrie

Life With Serena, Neena, Luke, and Yoda

So things aren't going well. My friend and I are still not talking, but I have decided it is ok. I mean, I will always wish things hadn't ended this way, but truthfully I think she is acting like a five year old. She calls me bitchy and jealous, but really I think I like the other girl better, the one who I used to think was trying to steal my ex best friend. You know what, lets give them names (not their real ones) so I can call them something. Let's call my ex best friend Serena, and the new girl Neena. And why don't we just call that guy I like Luke and the friend that gives me advice Yoda because she is so wise.

I wonder how my life will go on from here? I wonder if lunch is going to awkward for any longer? I wonder if high school will be ant better? I wish life had an easy button like Staples has in those commercials. That all you had to do is push the big red button and magically your life will fix itself. But in life there are no easy answers, though if there was I would be the first to find it since I'm always looking for it.

I didn't have much to say but I'm trying to procrastinate since I still have to do my health packet and health project, so I decided to blog. I don't know where my life will take me tomorrow. Tomorrow for all I know Serena and I may be besties again. I don't know where I'm going or who will or will not join me for that journey, but I can say one thing for sure. I will write. When the world is down I will write. When everything falls in place and I experience those few moments of bliss, I will write. Because writing is all about memories. Good or bad.

~ Carrie




Life's Road