So much has happened in my lfie since I last posted a real, essay post.
And there's so much to blog about in life.
I could tell you about how I saw a sign for a $5 sandwich right enxt to a sign for a $5 phone, and how weird I think that is, or how odd it is that pretty much all the guys who do theatre are gay, or why theatre people are so judgemental, and yet so much more accepting than everyone else.
There's so much to write about, and so little time.
So, instead, I'll write about.. writing. And about how writing is a lot like giving speeches.
When you give a speech, you usually know who you're talking to. You can hear them, see them, feel their breath and their eyes, and almost smell them. The same really goes for writing, if you're good at visualizing. If you know who you want your audience to be when you write, you'll do well. I usually write for myself, or I write for a specific friend (nowadays, *ehem* Chris *ehem*) or I write for my English teacher, who will never read this blog, ever, as far as I know. Or I write for CJ or the unnamed creepy old guy who I'm sure peruses every blog.
Also, when you give a speech, you usually have it either already written down, or in your head. Hopefully you don't just walk into a public speaking position and just... improvise it all. The same thing happens in most writing. You go to open your blog/Word document/notebook, and you usually have some idea of what you're going to say. Of course, a large amount of it gets made up in both cases. The wording isn't quite right; you think of a fact or tidbit you like and want to add in (did you know that 88.6% of people believe anything if it has a percentage in it?) and in it goes. Who cares if it doesn't exactly follow your outline?
Enough of my rambling. I would say thanks and I love you all, but, it isn't in my script.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Snape drawing.
These are some photos of a drawing I did of Severus Snape for art class. He's supposed to be in funny colors. Something about complementary colors and shades or something. All I know is I got to do Snape green.
Harry Potter Poem.
I promised you this poem a loooong time ago, and here it is.
Severus
A tall man approaches, thin, lean.
Dark hair, greasy, shoulder length.
Long black cloak floating in the wind
As he stalks past the bookstore windows.
Severus Snape?
A short little girl scampers up, nervous, excited.
Curled hair, bouncy.
Beautiful silk purple dress robes swishing
As she giggles excitedly and bounds towards the man.
The electric lights of the bookstore flicker.
Buzz of excited Harry Potter fans fills the air.
A cold wind swooshes through the alley,
Fluttering posters and bringing aromatic scents:
The tang of ink and the glue that binds books.
Pine scent of hot, red, sealing wax.
Sweet, smooth smell of tea and coffee, highly sweetened.
Addicting, enticing aroma of slightly melted chocolate
Mixed with the light, rough whisper of wood shavings
From the wand stand.
Face uplifted, eager, crusty with face paint scrawling out
“Snape is Good.”
Face down turned. Calm, collected, pale. Severus’ doppelganger.
Sneering, raised eyebrow.
The girl mutters, voice squeaking,
“I believe in you, Professor Snape!”
The slow measured voice responds.
“I hope I am worthy of your trust,”
As he glides away, black cloak fluttering,
Bat like.
Severus
A tall man approaches, thin, lean.
Dark hair, greasy, shoulder length.
Long black cloak floating in the wind
As he stalks past the bookstore windows.
Severus Snape?
A short little girl scampers up, nervous, excited.
Curled hair, bouncy.
Beautiful silk purple dress robes swishing
As she giggles excitedly and bounds towards the man.
The electric lights of the bookstore flicker.
Buzz of excited Harry Potter fans fills the air.
A cold wind swooshes through the alley,
Fluttering posters and bringing aromatic scents:
The tang of ink and the glue that binds books.
Pine scent of hot, red, sealing wax.
Sweet, smooth smell of tea and coffee, highly sweetened.
Addicting, enticing aroma of slightly melted chocolate
Mixed with the light, rough whisper of wood shavings
From the wand stand.
Face uplifted, eager, crusty with face paint scrawling out
“Snape is Good.”
Face down turned. Calm, collected, pale. Severus’ doppelganger.
Sneering, raised eyebrow.
The girl mutters, voice squeaking,
“I believe in you, Professor Snape!”
The slow measured voice responds.
“I hope I am worthy of your trust,”
As he glides away, black cloak fluttering,
Bat like.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Busy.
Hellloooo. I'm sure you get tired of hearing it from pretty much every blogger on the net, but, sorry I haven't posted in a bit. Rehearsal and school and AAAAAHHHH!
I'm just feeling a bit frazzled. I have hardly any time for myself, and it's getting to me. I identify as a person who needs a couple hours of alone time to be centered and focused and healthy, and I don't have that now.
Blogging is all very good and nice, but it isn't the same as just having some time to sit and talk and think. It's more like another commitment.
So, I may not be blogging again for a bit. I mean, I absolutely love expressing myself and just talking and talking and talking to myself in my own little world, but, I can do that in real life, too. DOn't get me wrong! This blog is nowhere near over. I'll probably even type again this month. But it won't be as regular as it has been in the past.
Gracias.
I'm just feeling a bit frazzled. I have hardly any time for myself, and it's getting to me. I identify as a person who needs a couple hours of alone time to be centered and focused and healthy, and I don't have that now.
Blogging is all very good and nice, but it isn't the same as just having some time to sit and talk and think. It's more like another commitment.
So, I may not be blogging again for a bit. I mean, I absolutely love expressing myself and just talking and talking and talking to myself in my own little world, but, I can do that in real life, too. DOn't get me wrong! This blog is nowhere near over. I'll probably even type again this month. But it won't be as regular as it has been in the past.
Gracias.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Photos.
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Well, as you can see, today I did some amateur photography... some of my amazingly awesome stripy fuzzy knee-high toes socks, my adorable cat, my amazing monster necklace, my neighbor, the swingset, the climby thingy, the creepy mural by the park, our feet, and our walk home. And all that jazz. All I can say is that I should probably keep my day job. Well, if I had one, anyway.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Cycle.
I'm fine. I'm fine, I swear.
Fine, but busy and stressed and tired and on edge.
You see, rehearsals for the show I'm in, Sound of Plaid, started this week. More specifically, Monday night. And so, my new schedule now goes something like this:
6:00-6:30 Wake up/be dragged from bed, groaning and whimpering by an irate mom who has already been up for 3 hours
6:30-7:00 Get dressed in school uniform, put on shoes, pack theatre bag with change of clothes, a bag of cereal, $10, a pack of gum, my jazz shoes, my purse (complete with phone, ipod, etc.) 8 Tiger's Milk bars and my laptop, and pack lunch.
7:00-7:10 Eat breakfast, which usually consists of a couple of pieces of veggie sausage, possibly a spoonful or two of apple sauce, the last dredges of some leftover pasta/soup/Spaghetti O's, and maybe some cottage cheese. I'm still not very awake at this point, and everything looks equally disgusting to eat.
c
7:10-7:20 Run around the house in a frenzy, packing up my backpack and last minute studying for any tests that day, maybe reviewing my lines or songs.
7:20 Leave for school.
7:20-7:40 Quietly complain and worry to self about various items, often including but not limited to school work, tests and quizzes, flamenco class, learning my lines, orthodontics and teeth, getting into high school, and final exams.
7:45 Get to school and go to my locker. Get books and head to advisory.
7:50 - 3:00 School. No duh.
3:00-4:30 Go up to Study Hall and After Care to do as much homework as possible before rehearsal.
4:30-4:50 Mom picks me up and we drive to rehearsal, often stopping on the way to pick up Starbucks and/or Subway. If we don't, I dine on Annie Chung's boxed soup noodle heaty thingies. I worry the entire way that we'll be late.
5:20 We arrive at rehearsal, 10 minutes early. Right on time. A wizard is never late, nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to. (;
5:30-9:00 Rehearsal. No duh.
9:10 Dad picks me up late, again.
9:10-9:40 We drive home.
9:40- 10:30 I get ready for bed, alternatively reading and writing in my blog (*ehem*) and then rushing to get ready in the last five minutes before bedtime.
10:30-11:00 Go to bed, first lying there for a while worrying.
11:00- 6:00 Sleep, hopefully.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
Fine, but busy and stressed and tired and on edge.
You see, rehearsals for the show I'm in, Sound of Plaid, started this week. More specifically, Monday night. And so, my new schedule now goes something like this:
6:00-6:30 Wake up/be dragged from bed, groaning and whimpering by an irate mom who has already been up for 3 hours
6:30-7:00 Get dressed in school uniform, put on shoes, pack theatre bag with change of clothes, a bag of cereal, $10, a pack of gum, my jazz shoes, my purse (complete with phone, ipod, etc.) 8 Tiger's Milk bars and my laptop, and pack lunch.
7:00-7:10 Eat breakfast, which usually consists of a couple of pieces of veggie sausage, possibly a spoonful or two of apple sauce, the last dredges of some leftover pasta/soup/Spaghetti O's, and maybe some cottage cheese. I'm still not very awake at this point, and everything looks equally disgusting to eat.
c
7:10-7:20 Run around the house in a frenzy, packing up my backpack and last minute studying for any tests that day, maybe reviewing my lines or songs.
7:20 Leave for school.
7:20-7:40 Quietly complain and worry to self about various items, often including but not limited to school work, tests and quizzes, flamenco class, learning my lines, orthodontics and teeth, getting into high school, and final exams.
7:45 Get to school and go to my locker. Get books and head to advisory.
7:50 - 3:00 School. No duh.
3:00-4:30 Go up to Study Hall and After Care to do as much homework as possible before rehearsal.
4:30-4:50 Mom picks me up and we drive to rehearsal, often stopping on the way to pick up Starbucks and/or Subway. If we don't, I dine on Annie Chung's boxed soup noodle heaty thingies. I worry the entire way that we'll be late.
5:20 We arrive at rehearsal, 10 minutes early. Right on time. A wizard is never late, nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to. (;
5:30-9:00 Rehearsal. No duh.
9:10 Dad picks me up late, again.
9:10-9:40 We drive home.
9:40- 10:30 I get ready for bed, alternatively reading and writing in my blog (*ehem*) and then rushing to get ready in the last five minutes before bedtime.
10:30-11:00 Go to bed, first lying there for a while worrying.
11:00- 6:00 Sleep, hopefully.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Happy Easter?
I didn't think i would be all sad and stuff ALREADY. I thought it would be at least a week after having such an excellent time. But I guess I should have known it would happen when I walked home and dear mummy was sitting in an armchair, staring at me. Apparently the counter was still dirty and my stuff was all over the kitchen and my elastics were in her onions and she was NOT MY MAID!!!!
I had just walked in the door; my neighbors had just gotten chicks and we went over to play with them, and then we came back to my house to dye eggs (which I was in the process of doing when they told me they got chicks), and then we played egg toss and made brownies and lemonade, and did a lot of other things. But apparently scouring all the dirty dishes and wiping the counter and putting away all the materials wasn't clean enough.
And then the power went out.
So, everyone was mad- my dad was mad about the power and busy trying to put it back, my mom was mad about me and about the power and who knows what else, and I was sad and grumpy and scared because everyone was screaming at me and I wanted to get out of there, fast.
So I went back in my room and went back to hermitage mode. But I wasn't allowed to stay there long. Nooo. Mom and Dad and yelling and washing dishes and bleh.
And I just want to stay in here and type and listen to music for ever and ever and ever.
I never want to leave, ever again. And I want to see my new friends again, and I want to be hugged and loved and reassured and I want to cut right now. But I'm not going to, because I'm over that. I'm over that, and I'm not going to do that ever again. And people I've never met tell me I'm strong, and to stay strong, but I don't feel strong. I feel weak and I feel tired and I feel all fluttery. And I feel like the next person who says anything to me is going to either get a full on fist fight or is going to drown in my tears.
Happy Easter to me.
I had just walked in the door; my neighbors had just gotten chicks and we went over to play with them, and then we came back to my house to dye eggs (which I was in the process of doing when they told me they got chicks), and then we played egg toss and made brownies and lemonade, and did a lot of other things. But apparently scouring all the dirty dishes and wiping the counter and putting away all the materials wasn't clean enough.
And then the power went out.
So, everyone was mad- my dad was mad about the power and busy trying to put it back, my mom was mad about me and about the power and who knows what else, and I was sad and grumpy and scared because everyone was screaming at me and I wanted to get out of there, fast.
So I went back in my room and went back to hermitage mode. But I wasn't allowed to stay there long. Nooo. Mom and Dad and yelling and washing dishes and bleh.
And I just want to stay in here and type and listen to music for ever and ever and ever.
I never want to leave, ever again. And I want to see my new friends again, and I want to be hugged and loved and reassured and I want to cut right now. But I'm not going to, because I'm over that. I'm over that, and I'm not going to do that ever again. And people I've never met tell me I'm strong, and to stay strong, but I don't feel strong. I feel weak and I feel tired and I feel all fluttery. And I feel like the next person who says anything to me is going to either get a full on fist fight or is going to drown in my tears.
Happy Easter to me.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
People to People.
I’m sorry I haven’t written anything all week, but I’ve been at this People to People program, and you had to pay for the WiFi (not quite so lenient and sharing as the Friendliest Airport). And anyways, I was SO busy. We usually didn’t get back to our hotel room until 9 or 10, and then we had room checks and then showers and then journals (assigned) and getting ready and talking with our roommates and then about 2 pages of reading and by then it was midnight!
But I must say, this was probably one of the best weeks of my life. I had an absolutely amazing time. I can truthfully say that I don’t think there was a bad or mean or rude person there. And there were over 200 kids! I would do it again in a heartbeat if I had the chance. I just wish it was about a month longer… it’s so sad that I have to leave all my new friends! We spent so much time with each other every day, all week (6 am-10 pm, daily, for 5 days; you do the math), and now we will probably never see each other ever again. Ever.
I wish there were more people like them at my school. Everyone was friendly and accepting and chatty and willing to share and talk about things you were interested in if you felt left out. There were just so many examples of great people all week- people would move over if you didn’t have a seat, give you some change if you had no money to buy lunch, share their candy with you, hug frequently, laugh often, listen to other people’s music even if they hadn’t liked it before, visit a particular exhibit in the museum you were in if you were interested in it (*ehem* gemology), change the subject if you found it awkward (*ehem* religion), dance and sing a lot, encourage you and others, compliment each other often, make up nice nicknames, text you often, walk with you and talk with you, and just generally be nice. Always. You can always talk to these people- you don’t really have to worry about them judging you, to an extent; you don’t have to worry that a debate will turn into a fight or personal attack. (I debated whether or not a banana was really yellow or not for about an hour with one boy- I said it was, especially on a rudimentary level, and that it was important to be able to have a universal word for an object so that people can communicate, he said that really it was just refractions of light bouncing of the surface, and it wasn’t really yellow. Eventually, I won. I don’t know how that happened. I’m pretty good at debating, apparently.)
Not once during the week did I feel like anyone had a hidden agenda, or was laughing or talking about someone behind their back or anything. Not once. Everyone was amazing, and I will miss them all horribly.
I wish there were more people like them. We were all crying when we left each other last night, and everyone was hugging, multiple times. And I had to leave my roommates, who were probably the best roomies and some of the best people on the entire trip. One of my roommates (from Costa Rica, actually) called me “My Little Puffy Thing” and pretty much sat on me all trip (that sounds kind of gay, but it wasn’t, I swear). The other one was a gorgeous, amazing, quiet girl from Florida who my other roommate called “My Quiet Puffy Light,” for some reason. And I called the girl from Costa Rica “My Big Puffy Sue.”
Best roommates ever? You bet.
Best people ever? Yepp.
Best friends ever? Of course.
Best trip ever? Do you even have to ask? YES, and no, of course not, what do you think?
But I must say, this was probably one of the best weeks of my life. I had an absolutely amazing time. I can truthfully say that I don’t think there was a bad or mean or rude person there. And there were over 200 kids! I would do it again in a heartbeat if I had the chance. I just wish it was about a month longer… it’s so sad that I have to leave all my new friends! We spent so much time with each other every day, all week (6 am-10 pm, daily, for 5 days; you do the math), and now we will probably never see each other ever again. Ever.
I wish there were more people like them at my school. Everyone was friendly and accepting and chatty and willing to share and talk about things you were interested in if you felt left out. There were just so many examples of great people all week- people would move over if you didn’t have a seat, give you some change if you had no money to buy lunch, share their candy with you, hug frequently, laugh often, listen to other people’s music even if they hadn’t liked it before, visit a particular exhibit in the museum you were in if you were interested in it (*ehem* gemology), change the subject if you found it awkward (*ehem* religion), dance and sing a lot, encourage you and others, compliment each other often, make up nice nicknames, text you often, walk with you and talk with you, and just generally be nice. Always. You can always talk to these people- you don’t really have to worry about them judging you, to an extent; you don’t have to worry that a debate will turn into a fight or personal attack. (I debated whether or not a banana was really yellow or not for about an hour with one boy- I said it was, especially on a rudimentary level, and that it was important to be able to have a universal word for an object so that people can communicate, he said that really it was just refractions of light bouncing of the surface, and it wasn’t really yellow. Eventually, I won. I don’t know how that happened. I’m pretty good at debating, apparently.)
Not once during the week did I feel like anyone had a hidden agenda, or was laughing or talking about someone behind their back or anything. Not once. Everyone was amazing, and I will miss them all horribly.
I wish there were more people like them. We were all crying when we left each other last night, and everyone was hugging, multiple times. And I had to leave my roommates, who were probably the best roomies and some of the best people on the entire trip. One of my roommates (from Costa Rica, actually) called me “My Little Puffy Thing” and pretty much sat on me all trip (that sounds kind of gay, but it wasn’t, I swear). The other one was a gorgeous, amazing, quiet girl from Florida who my other roommate called “My Quiet Puffy Light,” for some reason. And I called the girl from Costa Rica “My Big Puffy Sue.”
Best roommates ever? You bet.
Best people ever? Yepp.
Best friends ever? Of course.
Best trip ever? Do you even have to ask? YES, and no, of course not, what do you think?
Chat.
OHAI. Are you still here?
Well, if you’re going to stick around, you may as well climb off that soap box. This is MY blog, remember? I’m the one who rants around here. Well, not really rants, but talks to herself. Isn’t that right, my precious? Yess, my precious. We will kill the fat little hobbit and take it back. *Gollum. Gollum.* *ehem* Anyways…
Since, as I have no doubt mentioned before, I don’t have many real life friends who I talk to on a regular basis, I find myself going more and more frequently into chat rooms and the like. This is no doubt unhealthy, and I’m exposed to a lot of trash, but, truthfully, didn’t I know about it all already? I grew up in the world, after all, not some little McMansion in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nannies and babysitters and instructors and tutors and the like, as were most of the students at my privileged private school.
But back to chat rooms.
A large percentage of the people who frequent chatrooms are desperate, annoying, almost illiterate jerks who can’t put four words together. Almost all the rest want to roleplay or give people advice. The very smallest percentage are people who can actually communicate and want to chat. I like to think I’m part of this group. This makes chatting rather dull. Conversations usually go something along the lines of these:
Other: asl [Note: This stands for age, sex, location. ]
Me: 14.female.Middle Earth
Other: …
Other: hi
Me: Hey.
Other: wats up
Me: Oh, just chatting with a complete stranger who just asked me what’s up.
Other: …
Other: can i spank you
Me: Only if you don’t mind me calling the authorities and getting a restraining order against you for harassment.
Other: ….
Other: wanna chat
Me: If I didn’t, would I be in a chatroom?
Other: haha yeah I guess
Me: So….
(some time passes)
Me: What’s your favorite flavor of jam?
Other: ….
Other: you’re an ugly little ****
Me: Really? I didn’t know.
Me: Funny how this gets away from me sometimes.
Me: How did you find out?
Me: Are you stalking me?
Me: Creep!
Other: (goes off on another long rant full of curses)
Me: Get you gone, you minumus of hindering knotgrass made!
Other: (more swearing)
Me: Thou painted maypole, I am not yet so low as to sink mine fingers unto thine eyes.
Other: (more swearing)
Me: Avada Kedavra.
But sometimes, very occasionally, I come across some people actually worth carrying on a conversation with. And most of those people are reading this right now. <3
Well, if you’re going to stick around, you may as well climb off that soap box. This is MY blog, remember? I’m the one who rants around here. Well, not really rants, but talks to herself. Isn’t that right, my precious? Yess, my precious. We will kill the fat little hobbit and take it back. *Gollum. Gollum.* *ehem* Anyways…
Since, as I have no doubt mentioned before, I don’t have many real life friends who I talk to on a regular basis, I find myself going more and more frequently into chat rooms and the like. This is no doubt unhealthy, and I’m exposed to a lot of trash, but, truthfully, didn’t I know about it all already? I grew up in the world, after all, not some little McMansion in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nannies and babysitters and instructors and tutors and the like, as were most of the students at my privileged private school.
But back to chat rooms.
A large percentage of the people who frequent chatrooms are desperate, annoying, almost illiterate jerks who can’t put four words together. Almost all the rest want to roleplay or give people advice. The very smallest percentage are people who can actually communicate and want to chat. I like to think I’m part of this group. This makes chatting rather dull. Conversations usually go something along the lines of these:
Other: asl [Note: This stands for age, sex, location. ]
Me: 14.female.Middle Earth
Other: …
Other: hi
Me: Hey.
Other: wats up
Me: Oh, just chatting with a complete stranger who just asked me what’s up.
Other: …
Other: can i spank you
Me: Only if you don’t mind me calling the authorities and getting a restraining order against you for harassment.
Other: ….
Other: wanna chat
Me: If I didn’t, would I be in a chatroom?
Other: haha yeah I guess
Me: So….
(some time passes)
Me: What’s your favorite flavor of jam?
Other: ….
Other: you’re an ugly little ****
Me: Really? I didn’t know.
Me: Funny how this gets away from me sometimes.
Me: How did you find out?
Me: Are you stalking me?
Me: Creep!
Other: (goes off on another long rant full of curses)
Me: Get you gone, you minumus of hindering knotgrass made!
Other: (more swearing)
Me: Thou painted maypole, I am not yet so low as to sink mine fingers unto thine eyes.
Other: (more swearing)
Me: Avada Kedavra.
But sometimes, very occasionally, I come across some people actually worth carrying on a conversation with. And most of those people are reading this right now. <3
Washington
Another post today! I’m getting back on track. It’s all this extra time I have in midair, I suppose. But I probably won’t be able to post much once I get to D.C.
Apparently the days are going to be pretty packed, and of course I didn’t bother to check out the itinerary much. Mom says I should just follow what everyone else is doing and hope they DID read the directions.
She also says that I should make some friends this week, because they’re all probably friendless nerds, too. She gives the best advice.
My grandma just told me to behave and not do anything she wouldn’t do. So, that means I’m not allowed to walk further than ten feet or buy anything under $100 or listen to anyone under the age of 40. Or approve or be supporting of anything her grandchildren do.
Not that I’m complaining. I love them all very much, and I’m glad to have them. I would be very, very upset if I didn’t have my grandma to yell at me and criticize me and doubt my beliefs, no sarcasm meant.
I really should be practicing my lines for drama right now, but it’s a little hard to learn a script in an airplane without bothering anyone. And I don’t want to. I finished reading To Kill A Mockingbird and a lot more questions than were assigned, what more do they want? It’s spring break! Do they really think we have no life? I know they all have lives. My mom’s a teacher; I never believed teachers just spent all of break in the supply cupboard or anything. But apparently they believe that about us students. We actually want to have fun, relax, enjoy ourselves over break. Same goes for weekends. It’s only middle school after all; isn’t it supposed to be fun and inspiring and enjoyable to learn and go to school at this point, not tedious and difficult and exhausting? Am I supposed to have no social life due to the large amount of school work?
Ah well. That’s what long plane flights across the country are for, I suppose.
Apparently the days are going to be pretty packed, and of course I didn’t bother to check out the itinerary much. Mom says I should just follow what everyone else is doing and hope they DID read the directions.
She also says that I should make some friends this week, because they’re all probably friendless nerds, too. She gives the best advice.
My grandma just told me to behave and not do anything she wouldn’t do. So, that means I’m not allowed to walk further than ten feet or buy anything under $100 or listen to anyone under the age of 40. Or approve or be supporting of anything her grandchildren do.
Not that I’m complaining. I love them all very much, and I’m glad to have them. I would be very, very upset if I didn’t have my grandma to yell at me and criticize me and doubt my beliefs, no sarcasm meant.
I really should be practicing my lines for drama right now, but it’s a little hard to learn a script in an airplane without bothering anyone. And I don’t want to. I finished reading To Kill A Mockingbird and a lot more questions than were assigned, what more do they want? It’s spring break! Do they really think we have no life? I know they all have lives. My mom’s a teacher; I never believed teachers just spent all of break in the supply cupboard or anything. But apparently they believe that about us students. We actually want to have fun, relax, enjoy ourselves over break. Same goes for weekends. It’s only middle school after all; isn’t it supposed to be fun and inspiring and enjoyable to learn and go to school at this point, not tedious and difficult and exhausting? Am I supposed to have no social life due to the large amount of school work?
Ah well. That’s what long plane flights across the country are for, I suppose.
Dork.
Hellloooo there.
I am currently in a plane, leaving the Happiest Airport on Earth. Since the plane, regrettably I’m sure, doesn’t have free WiFi, or WiFi at all for that matter, I’m typing this in Word and then copy pasting it onto my blog. Don’t worry- by the time you read this, it’ll be up already.
Being an unaccompanied minor, unofficially, I am, well, unaccompanied. Which is fine, as long as you’ve got a window or aisle seat and aren’t squished between two huge, chubby, sweaty old men. Which I’m not. In fact, I was very kindly given a window seat when I asked the woman at the front desk, and made sure to mention that I throw up if I can’t look out the window. So, I’m sitting by the window, looking out at the huge white plane wing and the little puffy clouds and the browns and golds and greens and yellows of the fields below. And I think that’s the Mississippi River RIGHT NOW.
I feel like a real dork, though. I have to wear this ugly, too big maroon shirt with a huge logo on it and these tan pants, not to mention the fact that I had to go to the bathroom twice due to the fact that I drank both a large chai (my absolute favorite drink ever, as you may have guessed) and a Coke- (they didn’t have Dr. Pepper, my second favorite drink, unfortunately. So I had to ask the two people between me and the aisle to get up and get out, twice, and then race bowlegged to the tiny, cramped, OCCUPIED bathroom. And I’ve spent about 3 hours of this flight reading and answering the school assigned questions about the book while listening to classical music and eating vegetable crisps. It’s like I’m almost asking for someone to beat me up.
But there’s not much I can do about that. I can just hope that someone doesn’t want to beat me up, because I don’t have my pepper spray.
I am currently in a plane, leaving the Happiest Airport on Earth. Since the plane, regrettably I’m sure, doesn’t have free WiFi, or WiFi at all for that matter, I’m typing this in Word and then copy pasting it onto my blog. Don’t worry- by the time you read this, it’ll be up already.
Being an unaccompanied minor, unofficially, I am, well, unaccompanied. Which is fine, as long as you’ve got a window or aisle seat and aren’t squished between two huge, chubby, sweaty old men. Which I’m not. In fact, I was very kindly given a window seat when I asked the woman at the front desk, and made sure to mention that I throw up if I can’t look out the window. So, I’m sitting by the window, looking out at the huge white plane wing and the little puffy clouds and the browns and golds and greens and yellows of the fields below. And I think that’s the Mississippi River RIGHT NOW.
I feel like a real dork, though. I have to wear this ugly, too big maroon shirt with a huge logo on it and these tan pants, not to mention the fact that I had to go to the bathroom twice due to the fact that I drank both a large chai (my absolute favorite drink ever, as you may have guessed) and a Coke- (they didn’t have Dr. Pepper, my second favorite drink, unfortunately. So I had to ask the two people between me and the aisle to get up and get out, twice, and then race bowlegged to the tiny, cramped, OCCUPIED bathroom. And I’ve spent about 3 hours of this flight reading and answering the school assigned questions about the book while listening to classical music and eating vegetable crisps. It’s like I’m almost asking for someone to beat me up.
But there’s not much I can do about that. I can just hope that someone doesn’t want to beat me up, because I don’t have my pepper spray.
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