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.

Want To Hear Something Weird..?

Dear Bloggie,

Want to hear something weird? OK, here it is: I actually have readers! I know, odd. But it's true! I was checking my blog status and found out how many views I have and from what parts of the world. It really surprised me. This has boasted my confidence -- and ego -- quite a bit.

So on to the subject you all really want to hear about: High School. I can truthfully, wholeheartedly, without fear of turning into Pinocchio say, I am loving it at GHAA (pronounced as Gaw -- and abbreviation for Greater Hartford Academy of the Arts; my mom thinks it's funny that I'm using the lingo). I have met some really nice people, most of whom I believe are on their way to becoming my friends.

I met these two boys who I really like. Not like-like, but in a only friends way. I met Nick when I went for my placement exams -- I had also met Nick's friend Emily, who I just so happen to have all my morning/routine classes with -- and had liked him right away. He's nice and a "little" out there. OK, really out there, but in a good way. He's the type of person who is always happy and nice to everyone. He never shies away from the spotlight or anything like that. I wish I had his confidence. You always need one of those type of friends in your life.

The other guy is named Noah. I've hung out with him most of the day. Actually, I found out that he used to attend SBS back in Kindergarten. I even checked out the video montage that we all got on class night, and there he is in the Kindergarten class photo. It's pretty funny.

He's friends with Nick, but that's not how I met him. I met him yesterday when we got put into the same group for icebreakers. I was alone for most of lunch, but as we were going inside he called me over and said for our group to stick together. And for the most part, the people I met in the icebreaker thing, is the people I socialize with now. Of course, Nick brought friends in and others met more people, so I ended up meeting a lot people. Our table was so super packed at lunch that we needed to pull up many chairs. I have one class with Noah (American Literature Honers) and one class with Nick (U.S. History Honers) so I'm happy enough.

Towards the end of the day I met this nice girl that I really liked. Sadly, I didn't catch her name because I wasn't really paying attention in the beginning of our conversation. For all I know maybe she is meant to be my new best friend and I will never know because I missed her name! I know, that thought is ridiculous, but still.

Tomorrow is thankfully my last day of orientation and Thursday I will finally get to start on my classes. Yay! Well, my art classes since I already started on my academic classes. (Only in meeting my teachers and getting to know peoples names, not actual work.)

When I got home today I friend requested everyone I met -- that I could remember their name or find them on someone else's page. I was thinking about friending this guy named Jonah Sparrow -- I think he's hot -- but I chickened out. :(

Now it's almost 11 and I watch to watch one of my favorite shows, Chelsea Lately. I just love Chelsea Handler. I mean, when she writes a book like this (look below) how can I not?

( I haven't read it, but I am dying to)

But before I do, I recommend you listen to the song "On the Brightside" by Never Shout Never. I especially recommend that you listen to it while eating bagels that your school had provided as a welcome breakfast, one of your maybe-friends playing it on her ukulele while singing it with the help of another maybe-friend. It's an awesome experience. Not that I would know of course... ;)

~Libby

Poser

Hola peeps,
Yeah “hola” basically covers all my knowledge of Spanish even though I’ve been taking it for three years. Sad. So my last post was kinda depressing about my non-relationship with my father, so I decided to blog about something good…
I got into The Greater Hartford Academy for the Arts! Yay me! I’m still sooo excited! It has an awesome writing program which is bound to help my future, now I just have to pass 8th grade….
So I was talking to Yoda today and I finally got to check out her blog. Her real name is Cat (yeah whatever, she won’t mind if I write her name) but I will probably still refer to her as Yoda since she is so wise. Whenever I have a problem I go to her for advice. She’s just that type of person. I wish she was going to the Art Academy with me; she would so be perfect there. I feel like such a poser. I’m trying to become friends with the artsy kids, but I’ve never classified myself as “artsy” in my whole life.

I mean I’m not super smart (i.e. I’m failing math, science, if not I’m at least on the verge of failing Spanish) , I’ve never been the popular girl, or the rich girl, or the pretty girl, or even the preppy girl (though I kinda want to be). I love rock but I can’t sing or play an instrument (I tried playing the flute but utterly failed even though I took four years of it, but more for my grandfathers sake than mine…anyway the flute isn’t a rocker instrument) so I’m not the rocker.

Now I’m chasing a dream of being the artsy girl. Hanging out at coffee shops and discussing literature while snapping my fingers to poem as I call people “cool cats” isn’t what I had in mind, but more along the lines that I would go to my friends dance recitals, plays, and concerts, and then they would come see me recite poetry or read my latest novel. I want to date a guy who will write a song about me and paint a portrait of me that looks ten times better than I do because that’s the way he sees me.

Yoda is the artsy type. She can play the guitar and want to start a band; she is a great artist, and her writing skills crush mine to smithereens. She’s something between rocker/punk/artsy/and smart. She should be going to an art school instead of some preppy one-step-away-from-boarding school. I feel like a poser. I don’t really fit in anywhere. I like being unique, but what are you when you’re the unique from the unique? When you don’t have a place?
~ Ciao,
Carrie