This Year's Reading

So, the statics for the average amount of books consumed by men and women in the US are easily described as pitiful. I have read more books then the average man and woman combined. Don't get me wrong, I don't always read long, intemidatingly sized books. In fact, my taste in books is sporadic at best. I indulge in the "young adult" section. I dabble in "classics". I adore "horror". I find "mystery" intoxicating. I have been known to occasionally dip below my reading level, into something simple. I find that to truly appreciate literature, you can not contain your self to one genre, one reading level, or one store. You must sample every flavor to be offered, and every cafe that serves. You will find some you love, and others you find deplorable. But how can you recognize one, with out knowing the other?

One thing has been annoying me lately though. Every time I go to buy myself a new book it seems the authors must throw in romance. I will get excited reading the back of a book, thinking "fuck ya! this seems epic!" in till reach the spot in the summary where they have some corny line about some romance. I don't mind romance, but it is not necessary in every book. 

Anyways, here are the books I have read this year, (so far) in chronological order:

1.   The Other Boylen Girl by Philippa Gregory
2. Lush by Natasha Friend
3. In the Forests of the Night by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes
4. Interview With the Vampire by Anne Rice
5. Blue Lipstick concrete poems by John Grandits
6. The Kinfe of Never Letting Go by Patrick Ness
7. This Full House by Virginia Euwer Wolff
8. Paranoid Park by Blake Nelson
9. Beauty by Robin Mckinley
10. The Road from Home David Kherdian
11. Bounce by Natasha Friend
12. Loser by Matthue Roth
13. Vibes by Amy Kathhleen Ryan
14. The forest of Hands and Teeth by Carrie Ryan
15. Bound by Donna Jo Napoli
16. Dead Girls Don't Write Letters by Gail Gilrs
17. What I saw and How I lied by Judy Bluden
18. Vandal by Michael Simmons
19. Jessica's Guide to Dating on the Dark Side by Beth Fantaskey
20. I wanna by your Joey Ramone by Stephanie Kuehnert
21. Hard Love by Ellen Wittlinger
22. Beastly by Alex Flinn
23. Daughter of Venice by Danna Jo Napoli
24. I.D. by Viki Grant
25. Quaking by Kathyrn Erskine
26. If I Grow Up by Todd Strasser
27. Night by Elie Wiesel
28. The Vampire Lestat by Anne Rice
29. Phantom by Susan Kay
30. Grimm's Grimmest by The Grimm Brothers
31. Everything Sucks by Hannah Friedman
32. Med Head by James Patterson and Hal Friedman
33. Push by Sapphire
34. How to be a Real Person (in just one day) by Sally Warner
35. Name me Nobody Lois-Ann Yamanaka
36. Montmorency by Eleanor Updale
37. Memoirs of a Teenage Amnesiac by Gebrielle Zevin
38. Notes from the Midnight Driver by Jordan Sonnenblick
39. The Trap by John Smelecer
40. To Search of Mockingbird by Loretta Ellsworth
41. The Secret of the Rose by Sarah L. Thomson
42. Token of Darkness by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes
43. An Abundance of Katherines by John Green
44. Suicide Notes by Michael Thomas Ford
45. Blood Roses by Francesca Lia Block
46. "The Crucible" by Arthur Miller
47. How the Hangman Lost His Heart by K. M. Grant
48. Best Foot Forward by Joan Bauer
49. The Poison Eaters and Other Stories by Holly Black
50. Go Ask Alice by Anonymous
51. The life of a Star by Kelly Easton
52. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
53. The Catcher In The Rye by J.D. Salinger 
54. Alice's Adventures In Wonderland by Lewis Carroll
55. Though the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll
56. Gingerbread by Rachel Cohn

Next book I'm going to read is The Death Chamber by Sarah Rayne

Grotesque Evil

I think I need to stop watching TV all together.

As I sat on my couch, aimlessly surfing though channels, I found something so horrendous, and atrocious, I feel like a monster just talking about it. And not a cute adorable one either. More like the ones where they are people, and for whatever terrible reason you feel like screaming and bitch slapping them into the next century.

This form of child cruelty came in the form of a show call "toddlers in tiaras". It is a beauty pageant for toddlers, where it seems like the point is to not only make one's child look like one of those creepy ceramic dolls, but also torture the poor children. As an added bonus, there children will undoubtedly have more issues than Lindsey Lohan by the age of fourteen.

It is one thing if a child is old enough to think for themselves, and decided to go into one of these (deplorable) pageants, but throwing a four year old into one? What the hell type of parent does that? All the "stage moms" tell the cameras how they kids just love to do these things. My four year old nephew loves to climb and jump off of highly unstable items, but we don't let him. Just because your kid "loves" something, doesn't make it right. Your sixteen year old kid can love weed and orgies in your bed, but you are most likely going to make it clear that it is a no-no, right?

Apparently someone also needs to explain that these tears, screams, and bratty behavior does not equal love. There kids are shouting, and screaming the in till they get on stage, and then IF they win they will be happy for about 10 minutes, before reverting back to normal.

Why would you subject your child to such "beauty" treatments, which could easily be come illegal if the government looked into them, because they are cruel and unusual. They spend hours upon hours on these little kids hair, pulling, frying, and coating in so much hair spray that everyone in the room will undoubtedly have lung problems at some point in there life. Or they stick these FAT wigs on them, which is equally unpleasant. Then, have putting enough makeup on them to make a prostitute jealous and then shove these fake teeth in there mouths, that I know are unpleasant to wear.

When you think about it, these kids are going to turn out fucked up as shit. Most of them started these hellish torments at three (or earlier), and will keep doing them in till there late teens. Imagine the effect that has on the mind, being told that you need pounds of makeup, your teeth aren't good enough, your body isn't right, and you’re not talented enough, on top of always being compared to other girls, from that young of an age.

On top of it most of the kids a bratty as all hell. 

And what type of parents subject there kids to that? They are toddlers. They should be in preschool, and playing outside, and making friends, not being coached in every category of there life.

Dear lord, our world is fucked up.

Chocolate is meant for happiness.... bastards.

So, I am appalled to say today I watched.... A chocolate competition.

It was awe inspiring how they could sculpt chocolate to such heights, and carve them into such magnificent figures. There cakes, and small treats looked like small bites of heaven. All together, it was an unbelievable thing to see people create such glorious works.

Yet some how everything seemed tainted. Who thinks of chocolate as a competition? When I think of chocolate, I think of the malt balls at Easter when I was little. I think of york patties my grandma used to buy all the time. I think of every birthday cake my father has ever made me. I think of simple things, things that I rember in my childhood. Things that could repesent innocents.

I know it is weird to get so worked up about something so stupid, but I was pissed the entire time while watching it. Why would anyone think it is a good idea to use something that is meant for happiness to create competition? What the hell people. Stop it.

Now, here is a better question... Why didn't I turn the channel?  

Sorry for wasting your time.

I could tell you about how I have to take my mom to Borders tomorrow so she can learn how to use her e-book dealy, and how we will spend the day together, including breakfast (which I find odd). But I won't.

I could tell you how I am going to go clean my room as soon as I am done with this. But I won't.

I could tell you about my mother's mysterious mood swings, after I spent my day shopping with my sister at the  mall.  But I won't.

I could tell you about my Christmas, and how we went to my sister's for dinner and her in-laws were oddly pleasant (I think they were border line-tipsy), or how I fell asleep on the couch for four hours ( but it is ok, because my dad did too) after an unnecessarily large breakfast  that always comes after opening presents in the morning, which I had to wake up at an ungodly hour to do so. But I won't.

I could tell you about my Christmas Eve, where I dominated in Monopoly (which my mother will not admit) after a dinner of BBQ-ed chicken and me, my mom, and my dad opening two presents each, at the end of a day where we all got along with one another for long periods of time (which I found refreshingly delightful). But I won't.


In fact, I don't think I will tell you a whole lot of anything in this blog.

How was your Christmas?

Thinking?

I think. I know.... that's unbelievable right?

Specifically, I think I'm going to learn to cook, at least edible food, since I am 17. I should know how to do that... Don't you think?

Any suggestions?

Life's Bitch Slap.... to my face

So, I am morbidly depressed. Well, that is an exaggeration, but I am sad none the less. Would you like to know why?

Most European countries seem to be more... fun. Everyone my age there, seems to have exceedingly impressive hobbies, and in general, be smarter. British people get to walk around with those sexy accents, and say all of those delightful words. Italians just seemed blessed. Switzerland has amazing chocolate. And Norway... well I don't really know much about Norwegians my age... so they are mysterious. Plus, there counties have higher standers, therefore they are always seem to be smarter.

Normally I don't give damn about this, but it has been rubbed in my face lately. And when you mix that with the fact that is live in a sad little excuse for a town, just about anywhere seems twice as fun. I know this is highly illogical, but that is how my mind happens to work.

Nothing else seems to be prudent at the moment.

So I found out last night that my Best Friend's boyfriend's friend (did you keep up with that?),  as TayLor put it, "wants my nuts". While this is mighty flattering, it is very odd. We have only met once, I only said hello to him, and I was beyond awkward.

Want to hear an embarrassing story about me? Of course you do, because you enjoy seeing my pain.... bastards.

When we were at TayLor's boyfriend's house, they were sucking face so instead of sitting there being awkward, curled up and fell asleep. Then, I was awoken by TayLor SCREAMING at me, and her, her boyfriend, and 3 other males, whom I did not know, just standing there. Staring at me.

This is my life. Isn't it a joy?

On the bright side I got a fabulous new shirt from my friend Claudia. Claudia, if you are reading this.... I... I love you. And I'm going to wear The Shirt tomorrow. :))

It is this pretty blue color with black zebra like stripes on it :))

My Current Thoughts

Dear mother in lord, I haven't posted on here in DAYS... well more then days, but hopefully you have already deciphered the true meaning of "in DAYS". If for some reason you didn't, and my expiation was necessary. get off my page. Now.

So, my mother is irrational as shit. Someone in the universe has deiced to piss her off, (whoever you are, you should know you are an asshole. Fuck your shit.) so unlike a coherent, or even sane person, she not only refuses to admit she is livid, but she makes everyone in the house highly uncomfortable since we all have a slight fear of her for one reason or another. Everyone is in fear of not being cheerful towards her (or too cheerful), or looking at her since it is likely she will interpreted it as a defiance (or not making enough eye contact), or even breathing the wrong air. As you can tell, you will not win. Someone will have her rage turned on them. Its just a waiting game now. Since I prefer not to be grounded for no apparent reason, I have hidden myself upstairs all day. Now I am free to use the computer, which is sadly located downstairs.

Would you like to know what I woke up to? My dad lecturing me, since he had to sit there and listen to my mom complain about the "attitude" I've had for the last two days. Before last night, when I got home (she was already asleep) and today, I hadn't been home since 7:30 am Friday. Does anyone see something wrong with this picture?

In other news.... On sunday (afternoon) me, and my best friend went to our friends house and spent the night. Here is the summary of it, in order: bumming around her house, me feeling awkward and out of the bubble, eating pizza, straightening my hair, panty shopping at 10 pm (or in Europe time 22 ... ish... i think?), looked at Christmas-lights, visited this person I didn't really know, hung out at her house some more, I felt like a cow...and the realized I was no longer afraid of Jenna... that's it.

So, before we went to her house, I had to go to church, because my best friend's mom makes her go, so there aren't  many options. Any whos, back to my point. So this guy behind be kept twitching like a mofo, with his feet on the back of my chair, which you could clearly see was not a pleasant position for him to sit, since his mother was behind me, and he was on the left of her. And he had short legs. Just to further annoy me he kept snapping his gum like he though he was a Vally Girl. Someone needs to tell him that it is FAR beyond rude to SNAP gum in god's house, god damn it! While this kid, who looked to be less than a year younger then me, was having me seriously contemplating braking the whole "thou shall not kill" thing, in a highly creative manner, his mother was glaring at me, like she knew what I was thinking. She obviously didn't understand though, because if she did understand, she would have slap the annoying out of her offspring. So, if my life wasn't sucking enough at this point, the preacher (or is it pastor?) was telling this lame story about loss and how to deal with it, and in it this kid's grandpa died. Just the way he was talking made me miss my grandpa, who is dead. Like REALLY REALLY miss him. The part I think was funny was I had this hella big urge to email him, and tell him how BAD this story was that the preacher man was telling. But I couldn't. So I start to tear up, and this old lady sitting next to me apparently thinks I just found jesus, which was awkward as shit. All the while I think my best friend was sleeping next to me. Oh god.... I am so going to hell....

Anyways, I am done talking about my "weekend".

Vanity is supposedly a sin....right? If so, can someone explain why there is an entire WALL mirror in the Ladies' bathroom? Shouldn't that be a no-no?

Fun fact: Your heart is the only part of your body that doesn't need the brain. That's how someone can be brain dead, but still, in the physical sense, still be alive.

Also, I'm thinking of getting a live journal. I'm not sure though. What do you think?

News from my life.

So the universe has deiced to give me a loud, and clear "fuck you, shithead!" which is rather rude of it. Isn't it? Anyways, it has forced me to question everything, which is a lot to take in at once. Can you imagin everything you took for a fact, fiction, or you were unsure about crammed into your head? All at once?

It hurts. Thank god I don't have any more friends, or just in general know anyone else, because it is highly likely that my head would explode. Well, that might be a dirty lie, since with these explosive thoughts, I have somewhat adopted a new attitude which, oddly enough is very laid back, and clam. Not as in I have calmed down, but my mind has. I will think of all these thoughts that are messy, sticky, or gooey, and I just kinda shrug and give it an "I can't fix it so I might as well roll with it" actions. The oddest thing is, when I can change it, I do. It's so weird. So really, my head would just cave in on itself, which could be equally ugly. Becouse who really wants to see my mushed brain mixed with skull chunks, the gut-sy remains of my eyes, and an obscene amount of brown hair?

I guess I don't mind this as much as the annoyingly optimistic out like that is clinging to me like a plague of sorts. I used to be the most upbeat pessimistic person in existence. I would tell you a horrible out come of something, yet make it sound chipper. It was a gift! I want it back!!

Anyways, it is physically impossible for me to get a job, so I am pepetually broke.
Chemistry is harder then shit. I guess it wouldn't be that bad, but I learn by someone doing a couple example problems, but my teacher doesn't believe in that. Also, he has serve ADD, so we talk about multiple things at once.

Also, I have recentlly read the most amazing line ever. I didn't finish the blog. I didn't even scan it. But I will go back and read it later. Here's the line:
"I have a strange urge to read about gay guys and eat cupcakes. ... must be that time of the month."
It's from
http://lettuce96.blogspot.com/

Well, my feet are cold, so I'm going to go try to slip into sleep. Wish me luck. 

Oh, and I promise one day I'll post my 369 writing. Its just an intimating blob right now, since I didn't really date much of them. awesome right?

Creeper be creepin

So, sistting here in class is rather dull. There is nothing to do, and this guy Shelby is being is creepy as shit. Thanks Shelby. Question.... What band should I download? I need new music.....

Crush .3

This person....
Bill Kaulitz

Is a beast of a man.



He has a twin, who is also quiet attractive. He hails from Germany. He once had hair of epic proportions. He has (unknown to him) been undressed many a time in someone's mind.

less then three

I love thrift stores.
With a passion.
<3

Today...

I realized I'll never marry a man, or even take the relationship serious, if he has never cried in front of me.

I had the urge to bleed today. Not sure why. (no, I have not lost any blood today, nor will I.)

My tummy is beyond full, due to corn overload.

Buses are highly unpleasant.

I accidentally left the house 10 minutes early, since the clock was wrong.

An old lady told me I have pretty eyes today.

Damn Pretty People

Have I mentioned being the ugly friend sucks balls? Now, I 'm not saying I'm ugly. I'm alright I guess. I not ugly, but I am far from pretty. You get the picture?

All my friends are beautiful. Take my best friend for example. She is tall, blond, skinny, and has stunning legs. My next closest friend, who is also blond, is tiny as hell, and just in general, dazzling. The next friend in this line up, has shockingly spectacular eyes, hair that is amazing no matter what she does to it, and a nice figure. Do you need another example?

Did I mention that they all have boobs that are bigger then mine? Or that most of my friends get hit on by anything with a pulse?

This isn't even mentioning there personalities, which are also superior.

I guess this is just bugging me more then normal since by family has been implying I'm a freak for not dating more then normal lately. I guess they are right, since I'm almost 17, and I have never dated. Of course it could have also been the girl in my chemistry class who was bitching about not being able to get a date to homecoming, when her looks ranked up there with all my friends. She has no idea how close she got to being bitched out. I mean, if she really just wanted a date all she has to prop out her chest and bat her mascara coated eyelashes, and she could easily get three invitations from guys in that class alone.

Really, what she meant to say was, the specific guy she wanted didn't ask her so she is pissed off. As a result she makes comments like that in front of someone who would have to do naked back flips across the school campus to get half the attention she gets, just by breathing. (God forbid she asks the guy out herself. Or perhaps he has a girlfriend. Or he is just chicken shit. I don't really know, nor do I care to.)

Anyways, it's just pissing me off more then usual. Perhaps it's because I can't shake these thoughts with a "fuck it" attitude, like I do to everything else I don't like. Or it could be they are making me depressed. Or it could just be that I have too much pent-up sexual tension. Or it’s the fact that not one god damn male on this planet thinks I am worthy of dating. Who fucking knows?

All well. Nothing I can do about it ... right?

Ps. I'm still doing the 365 days. I've been doing it old school, and just writing it down on paper. I might type them all up this weekend.

Day 11 -- 9/7/10

30 feet below, the same woman stood, watching me. Her clumsy attempt at hiding was not only pitiful, but rather distracting.

Doesn't this lady have something else she should be doing? Going to dinner? A movie? Fucking her boyfriend? Or girlfriend? Hell, she could be out fucking a goat, and I wouldn't care. But she's not, so I do. 

Looking up from my sketch, I gazed down at her failure attempt at hiding. 
"Are you planning to stand there all night, or are you going to say something?"

Shit, he saw me.

She seriously thought I couldn't see her? It is possible that she lives in a complete world of illusions?

"What gave it away?" her creamy voice questioned.


"Well, for starts your shoes are the color of a hooker's lipstick, your not miss quiet, nor did you cover your entire body with that bush, which appears to be poison oak.”

FUCK.

"I knew that." She snapped.

It's funny how someone's physical voice can be so different from there inner voice. I mean, Miss Morgan's physical voice is a creamy substance, that swirls about the air, and tries (any you get the feeling that it more often then not) seduce you, while her inner voice is gruff, and slightly smoky, like the feeling you get when you stand slightly too close to a campfire for too long.

"Alright then. So, are you just creepy in general or so, or do you have something you would like to say.

This kid is demanding.

365--Day 10-- 9/6/10

My father has to go to AA meetings. My brother has to go to anger management. I'm stuck going to therapy. Somehow my mother miraculously fell though the cracks. You see what I mean by this lady being on top of her shit?

So, Miss Megan Morgan sentenced me to an unknown amount of time with some, most likely, old, balding man sitting in a chair asking me "How do you feel about that?”. If you can't guess, my parents weren't exactly thrilled about our sentence, and the blame landed directly on me, yet again. As soon as my brother was out of sight, by father let it fly.

As if life didn't suck hard enough at the moment, Ms. Morgan is attempting to follow me, which not only is she not equipped to do, but she is failing miserably at it since, she is not just bitching unnecessarily loud, (in her mind of course), but I don't think she has ever been off a paved road. Also, she is wearing hooker red heels.

Why is she following me anyways? Shouldn't she be driving home, thanking god her family isn't as fucked up as mine?

Christ, this kid moves fast.

Crush of the Week 0.2

Kiro. Nuff Said.

365 -- Day 9 --- 9/5/10

Regardless, of the elderly status of the window -- which matched the rest of the house -- opened faithfully, with out a whisper of protest. Swinging one of my exceedingly long legs, out of the window, prepared me to swing the other one over three feet, to a latch on the bathroom's shutters. With a sense of experience, I grabbed the gutter's drain, which I maintain for this very feat, and slid old faithful shut. 

My feet picked themselves down the side of the house, in till I reached the bottom, which happened to be covered in a dull, backwash brown corpse of grass.

What the hell is this kid doing?

Why does it seem like it's this lady's sole goal in life is to turn my life into a hellish torment?

365 -- Day 8 -- 9/4/10

Sorry it's late. I did write it last night, but I didn't do the final touches, such as spell check, and making sure I said what I meant.... Anyways, here it is:




I have to escape. The demon woman kept pressing deeper, and deeper, causing those debauched parents of mine thought's to run ramped, not only in quantity, but in volume. Now, after what seems like a lifetime, she has finally left, but now the psychopaths thoughts fly freely, along with there words, and no amount of music can drown them out. Needless to say, she had her shit together, so our shit is now fucked. 

I slide the dainty lock into place, before shoving my only dresser in front of the door. The elderly window's paint is chipped, and the seal holds a tremendous cracked, which lets in the outside tempter, year round.

365-- Day 7 -- 9/3/10

"So, do your parents fight more then normal?"

"To me, no. But then again, I only have my own parents to compare them too. Well, at least married couples, because really, who is married any more? I mean, I can only think of two other "adults" who are married, and one couple hasn't seen each other in three years, and the others are in there 90's, so they don't really have the energy to fight. These questions aren’t really thought out are they? I mean, if they really wanted to get a truthful answer, they would at least be a tad more specific right? You have to admit that is a very vague questio..."

Good god, this kid never shuts up. What is with her?
 "Alright, I see your point. What I meant is,"

"No they don't fight an abnormal amount. And I AM a BOY by the way."

How the hell did this fucker know what I was thinking?
"I'm sorry. How did you know I thought you were a "

"Girl. You referred to me as "she" more then once out loud. I might still legally be a child, but I am not deaf." 

Holy fuck this kid a freak. I didn't say she. Did I?

Social Workers are all dicks. Also, pretty damn gullible.

365-- Day 6 -- 9/2/10

"What happened to Helen?" The barely audible crackle rose threw the floors.


Almighty heaven please let this woman be a fuck-up like Helen...

"Helen had personal matters that will take a while to sort out, so in till she is back, I will be covering for her."
These people are practically pissing themselves... what the hell…

HA! The pill-popin bitch is in rehab again. I guess it's a good thing that her husband is a judg... WAIT! HOLY FUCK SHE SOUND OFFICIAL!!!! SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT!!!!!

 FUCK FUCK FUCK!  

All these thoughts are screaming at me. And since when do we have a new social worker?! And where the hell is my brother?! I stood up, my full 6 feet and 2 inches, from worry. 

This is going to fuck with my system. God damn it.

I wonder where these kids are. Hopefully there isn't as fucked up as her parents. Poor thing.

Due to the crazy images her mind was flinging around, I was either an adorable blonde six year old, or a severally gothic 12 year old. What the hell was with everyone thinking I was a chick?!!? Also, as a fun side affect of having four different people's screaming thoughts blaring at me, I could feel the clawing of a migraine gnawing its way into my skull.




 I guess she is going to be disappointed right?

Damn right. I also think she should put some effort in finding that file. Since when are you awake?


She is going to want to have a "talk" with us.

Ah, hell.


My thought precisely.

You still haven't answered my question. And where are you anyways?

365-- Day 5 -- 9/1/10

With the safety of the headphones, I double checked to see if the large oak door was locked. After I was sure that the dull knob's lock was twisted to the right, I settled in the comfort of my bed.

Every time I think of my bed, only one word pops into my head: Masterpiece. Its black iron bars rose towards the ceiling, in an intricate weaving pattern, then one could spend hours, upon hours tracing with your eyes. Long, fuzzy body pillows, overstuffed feather pillows, tiny furry throw pillows, and a variety of soft plush-ness lined the headrest, against the wall that the bed sat against, and the footboard. Piles of blankets in an array of textures, that welcomed you into its welcoming embrace. 

Now, nestled into my nest of comfort, I flipped on my laptop, and logged into a web chat. Soon, I was "chatting".

Andrew: Asl?
Me:  Age? Didn't your mother tell you it is rude to ask someone’s age? Hmm.... let’s see.... I feel kindda straight to day, but who knows what tomorrow will hold, currently I am at home, in my bed.

Andrew had longed off.

Sometimes, I wonder why I even bother.

Though three floors, and a locked door, faint whispers stole my attention.

Who the hell is that?

What the hell....? 

Info?

The 365 days, isn't based on real life. (Thank god...)
And I am reconsidering my thoughts on this.... I think I am mentally ill after writing, for the sole fact, I can write what I am writing.

Would you believe that in real life I am a semi-normal, happy person?

More tomorrow. (late tomorrow. I might not post on here, but I will write. I'm doing a both tomorrow for GSA)

365-- Day 4 --- 8/31/10

"Where the fuck have you been? I thought I told you to be home after school..." the banshee that is my mother screeched at me.



"He was most likely out getting fucked the some fucking girl." The pompous fool (my father) interrupted.



That shithead did not just interrupt me.

Oh god... I shouldn't have said that, it was probably true. What the hell is wrong with hi...

 I could feel myself involuntarily wincing at the mental image he threw out so carelessly.

"Was I talking to you douche bag? No. Now,"



Take that shitface.

"Bitch, who do you think you are talking to?" 


Whore is just asking to get hurt.

Before either one had a chance to refocuses there energy on me, I plastered my self to the wall, and slunk up the flight of curving stairs, past two different exists, down the short corridor, and into my sanctuary. 
There voices became muffled, while there inner voices continued to belt each other with silent hatred. My sanity can in a form of a sleek, over the ear cushions, which drowned out everyone else.

Not for the first time in my life, I resented god for cursing me with the "gift" of  the once a month trip the social worker came out here to "check up on us".

God, if that social worker could only hear what I hear... no. I wouldn't wish that on anyone. Thoughts are meant to be private.

356-- Day 3 -- 8/30/10

The two mile gap faded into one, and from one to a half, but with each millimeter, the air grew thicker with varying emotions of rage and thoughts of violence in till it was enough to suffocate me. Fighting the urge to turn and run, I pulled myself onwards, by the sole fact that the later I was today, and angrier they would be at me, instead of each other.

In all honesty, I couldn't tell which was worse -- there jumbled incoherent thoughts that raged with undefined anger that blared in till they passed out, or there focused thoughts, that were somewhat quieter, but by far, much more painful due to there honesty. The dull door knob faced me; almost as if it were sad I had to enter this den of putrid people, in what was once a magnificent house. Just grazing my finger tips against the coopery colored knob sharpened the thoughts I had been so desperately trying to ignore.

My husband is such a fuck-up. Why couldn't I have married Brad? He has his own business now, unlike my worthless piece of shit I'm stuck with... I mean...

God damn that woman is a cow. How the hell did I marry this bitch? All she does is complain. I swear to god if she doesn't shut her fucking mouth I am going to...

At the same moment, they seemed to realize that I had entered the house. Even though I had successfully taken off my boots, and made it to the bottom of the stairs undetected there thoughts were now aimed at me.

Look at my fucking useless child. Why the hell did I get stuck with a gay-ass son?

"And where have you been?" my mothers shrill voice raged.

My son is a fucking faggot. Wait no... I don't have a son. I have a daughter. HA!

These were sadly, the people the I shared DNA with.

 

365 Days -- Day Two --- 8/29/10

The coldness, wetness, and the wind, did nothing to hurry my pace. The rain still poured, I still walked, and my increasing dread grew stronger, and stronger. I, like most teenagers, did not enjoy going home, but it was highly doubtful that anyone else had to deal with my home life (or any other aspect of my life for that matter). Under my feet, the harsh gravel, turned into soft mud and sunk beneath my feet with a squishing noise. My trepidation grew even more, but this was nothing new. My feet steadily took me forward, as I began to sense the very air’s essence change to pure anger. Instead of being passed out, scavenging for beer, or just in general not home, they were sober, and irrationally angry.

365--Day One 8/28/10

I am starting it.
Rules:
Six sentences every day.
If I skip a day, I have to start over again.
I only fail if I give up. 

The cold rain poured down her skin as the dark sky clanged above her. The old gravel lane she trudged down was coated with a thin layer of muck, which also covered the faded jeans that concealed her calves, as well as her old, well used combat boots. She pulled her jacket tighter around her as the onslaught of water from the sky turned into a suicide bombing as sharp, ice bullets. She continued o trek onwards, to house that only held shelter from the weather, but little else. The washed out gray form of gravel only added to the blandness of the road that surrounded her -- it's surrounds were a sickly brown fields, while almost any buildings in sight was a lukewarm color. She knew that down each turn, a bright farm house in a sky blue, or sunrise yellow, awaited, accompanied with a fire red barn, and a place of refuge. That was, all the turns, but one.

Crush of the Week One

So, once a week (hopefully) I will post, the crush of the week.(Or crush worthy of mentioning.) (For reference, I'm straight.)

The Irresistible Man:

Shin

He is shy. He is quiet. He has an alternate personality. He is hot as hell. He is the man crush of the week.

The Lady Love:

Mistress Justine Cross

She is the licker.

She is strong. She is tough. She isn't afraid to beat the shit out of you, while raping your mind. Also, she is... sexually assertive. She is the Lady Crush of the Week.

Too Happy.

Oh dear lord. My last blog was depressing, and not in a "wow, her life is really pathetic" kind of way, like it was last year. This is more of a "wow. she is way to god damn perky. what is she on?" kind of way.

I'm Sorry.

Perhaps I will start that 365 writing thing on here to even it out?

What do you think?

(The blog about 365 writing was about 4 blogs ago.)

My world has fliped upside down. What the hell is going on?

The answer?

Life

I am the worst player on my "team". (Tennis)

The Literary Magazine sponsor (the teacher who ran it) quit, and is moving to Tahoe, before we even had a ligament meeting.

I had a chunk of flesh missing from my leg that refuses to heal.

My arm is sore from tennis.

My Chemistry teacher is an ass .

I have to bake cookies next Tuesday for a bake sale. (It's in the 90s or plus degrees.)

But, oddly enough, I am completely happy with my life.

I love my friends.

I (I'm embarrassed to say this) like being in these clubs.

I will get better at tennis, and even if I don't, I will have fun.

I mess with my chemistry teacher's head. (By the end of every class he thinks I have some new mental/emotional problems. Last class it was bipolar.)

Life is good.

When the fuck did I get so positive?

Has my mother been slipping me Prozac? (It's likely....)

I have lost my mind, that's all.

Indeed. I have lost it. It is far beyond gone. Out of grasp. Out of sight.Out of thoughts, pots, and lollipops.

I have become... socially active.

Did you feel that? That was the Earth, which happened to stop spinning, and in case you are wondering, it is preparing itself to implode.

I have joined GSA, Literary Magazine, and the worst yet, Tennis. (Also, HOSA might come soon too -- I'm not sure.)  (I even like all of the clubs. Crazy shit right?)

Want to know something even worse? 

They are all clubs at my school. 

People expect me to have school spirit. 

I hope they don't mind being let down.

Don't pull this, I-am-soooo-deep crap on me.

I really hate all the little I'm-super-duper-deep-and-pensive people.

Ok, we all have deep thoughts occasionally, but, in case you are unaware, you are a teenager. There is no way in hell you can be that wise. Or shrewd. Or  insightful. You haven't been living long enough. It's not like your some 90 year old who has traveled the world, been in a war,  done everything exciting and and have lived to tell of it, but now you are exceedingly bitter for some regret you think of all the time that happened 70 years ago. Get over yourself.

So, I should  specify. Having opinions, or thinking deeply does not make you this type of person. There are those ridiculously rare  people who really do think deeply about everything all the time, but that is not the same. No, these are the people who point out, at every doable opportunity that they are have such deep thoughts about everything. 

Do you know the kind of people I am talking about?

And the ones who have the I'm-more-holy-then-thou attitude really, really piss me off.

To those people:

No, in fact you are not better then me, the girl who sits three seats away from me in chemistry, my German teacher, or batman. If anything, you are just a bigger douche bag.

Dreading Activities

So, I have rather shocking news.

I'm going to become socially active in school activities. Crazy right? (More like terrifying and sicking to me.)

So, the thought behind it is, I need stuff to go on scholarship forms and collage applications, so I have to seem smart. So, I am joining the Literary Club, and possibly the Academic Decathlon. (My friend wants me to join GSA, which I wouldn't mind, but I don't want to use that specific club just for an application. That seems bitchy, and morally wrong. I'm being a hypocrite, aren't I?)

In all honesty, I would have most likely joined the Literary club anyways, since it's new. Hopefully this is the club I think it is, otherwise I have no idea in hell what I am getting myself into. If it is what I think, I will be aiming for editor, so it's not just sickeningly happy stories, but we will see.

I guess since I'm not popular, or athletic, I'm stuck in the "nerdy" clubs. Only problem is, I'm not that smart.

Wish me luck?

365 writing?

You know those corny 365 day projects? Well, I secretly think they are cool. (But still kind of cheesy.) I also wish I could do one.

So, I thought about this, and came up with two plans. While one seems cooler and much more exciting, it will most likely lead to failure. So if  I do it, I would go with Plan B, so at least have a shot at completing it.

So, here is the possible plan. Since I like to write stories, I will write everyday for 365 days. I minimum of 6 sentences. And then post it on here.

Can I do it?

Should I do it?

When should I start?

That means, a minimum of 2190 sentences.

Also, some questions. Should I just add on to unfinished (98% of my stories) stories? Or stick with just one brand new story? Should I mix them? If I mix them should I say that I need to write at lest x amount of times on the new story? Or the old ones?

Will I just be wasting my time?

Will I become a half way decent writer?

Should I do it?

School?

So, I'm back in school.

I shall make a painful story short. The fight for me to be in German was World War Three.
I won.
Now, as long as I go good in this class, I won't have to take Spanish next year.


Other then that, I am liking school this year. Of course, the people who don't know how to chew gum have already started to annoy the hell out of me. It is shocking though. I only have one class with people who don't know how to chew!(Perhaps I should start a class to show people how they should chew gum...)

It could be with the fact that the Health Academy classes aren't really Health Academy. (In case you don't know, I am in this program/class called Health Academy. I might talk more about it later. EX. what it is.) We usually have a the majority of our classes together, in one big group. Last year it four out of seven classes, and in the other 3 at least 1/3 to half were made up of the same group of people.

Not so much this year. And I am liking it. The only sad part is, I don't have as many classes with my friend Stefine. (only 3) Good news is I have friends in 5 of my classes.I have one class where I know some one I can at least partner with. (so that means I'm only the awkward kid in one class!)  Even better news, is even the two classes I have with the academy, isn't like last year. It is like half the academy kids, and half random kids, because the person who usually grouped us, retired.  (I should have chemistry with the academy, but I am in actual chemistry instead of Chem A.) 


Also, German and Web Design are tied for my favorite class right now. Web design because it is epic, and German because I want to learn German, and because there is a small posse of Jrs (5 of us) whom I am friends with and we all have gooood times.

So, if you can't tell, I am pumped about school this year for a change.

If only I could do something about the early-ness...

Odd example of False Advertisment?

So, last night is was extremely tempted to buy false advertisement, and I am riddled with guilt for it.

So, I went shopping in Kmart of certain school objects, such as pens, notebooks, and a new bra. Since my white one is almost dead I deiced to go for white-- you can't usually find mind-blowing cool bras at Kmart. (I can't anyways.) So, it was down to the only two I picked up, but one made me look an entire cup size bigger. It was beyond awesome. (In case you don't know, I have small boobs, so this is a good thing.)

I was so very tempted to buy it -- it teased and taunted me mercilessly -- but I deiced against it, because it is after all, a form of false advertisement, which I really don't like.

So, with this guilt gnawing on my brain I began to think, when do I start to classify things as false? I will admit that most of my bras give a little push, but nothing crazy. I think it is just a small fib, since it isn't drastic, but would other people call that false? (Although, only a few will realize this if I don't tell them, and if they find out on there own, it better be an after-thought because they have superior things on there mind. ;)

Where do people draw the line for that type of stuff? Not just boobs, but everything in general?

Sorry for my awkward example. Well... it's not awkward for me. Perhaps only you?

Good Blogs Make Me Happy.

So, as you most likely don't know, I have been on painful quest to find a new (at least to me) blog that will bring giggles to my mouth, on this website. 

After weeks of excruciating "next blog" clicks, and viewing thousands of deceitful blogs, about the joy of parenting, raising a family, or just in general "happiness" that happens every god-damn day from having kids, (because nothing bad ever happens, with out some cute little moral ending right? Plus, babies make me nervous.) or blogs about being a wife, old, and sometimes both, I found something not just readable, but absolutely new guilty pleasure worthy, because really, it is not...."nice". (Which is exactly why I like it.) So, her (It's either a woman, or a gay guy.... some references confuse me so I can't tell.... sorry.) new blogs completely lost me, because I had not read previous blogs. So, as any person with no life would do, I looked at past blogs which were amazing. 

While, even with my lack of a life, I have not read all of her stuff, just a few, at random. So far, my favorite is a three-way-tie between "Sweeping Generalizations", "Joe and Duke", and "Leaving London". (Although I felt guilty as hell for reading it for about two hours-- it was like I had stolen a glance into someone's soul.)

Her blog is called slutever...

(The ellipsis is included.)

She is British.

Also, she is epic.

That is all for now.

Excruciatingly Happy Parents Shouldn't Always Be So.

If I see one more blog about some parents "family (aka there kids) I am going to scream.

I know you have a family. I know you are proud. I know you love them a lot. I know they make up most of your life. I am happy for you. But don't you ever think of anything else? Ever? Don't you want your recreation activity to involve something besides what you think about all day?

I can't help but think some of these people are bullshiting us. No one is always that happy with there family (children). You always love them, but that can be very different from happiness.(The same goes with spouses.) I mean if you were going to write a truthful blog, wouldn't you write the good and the bad? No sugar coating?

All these painfully happy people, who are always painfully happy make me think they are about to O.D. on Zoloft. 

Dear Mr. Anonymous,

Dear Who Ever gave my email away to various websites, 

       I have tried desperately to stay away from anything that would result in reviving unwanted spam, like so many of my friends. I never put my email address in surveys. I  never threw it out online. I never even really shopped online. I had been very successful in keeping my email mostly clean of random uselessness, that took time out of my day digging though, to find emails that mattered for 3 and a half years. 

But, for some unknown reason, you deiced to throw it out for every unrelated to me, seaming address. Like why would I need a penis enlarger? I don't have one, and I'm not dating anyone (or have a sex-life to speak of). Even if I was and I had to buy him one, I would go to a ligament store. Those items are not things to buy online. I would also like to know why do I need free day care for single moms who go to collage. While I am single, I am not in collage. Also, I do not have any children that I know of, and I'm pretty sure I would know of something like that. But what is most confusing is that Asian to Asian dating sites. Last time I counted there were 15 different sites asking me to join. In case you don't know, Mr.Anonymous, I have mostly Irish and Cherokee heritage, mixed with the rest of Europe, so I think they would notice something was amiss. 

Well, whoever you are I am sorry for what ever I did to piss you off this much. I am quiet understandably livid with you now. It takes me an half hour to get to one email that matters now. 

I will get you for this.

Sincerely,

Lizz