Thats it, June 2011

I know I didn't post on June 9th, but I needed a break. Well deserved, I might add.
And this final blog post isn't going to be easy to write, I have so much to say. A year of torment and humiliation and stupidity and fun all summed up in a few paragraphs. That's no easy task.

In some ways the year went by extremely fast.
In terms of science projects and upcoming movies, it was so fast.

But if I think about beginning band being right next to my Algebra class, and them getting better throughout the year. Or the neighborhood dogs weaning their barking when I came by because they saw me every day and knew who I was, then the year was treacherous and long.

It was an unpredictably big year for me. My parents split up, and I've seen some of the strongest people I know loose their footing but keep dancing. This was the last year I will spend in school with my best friend, Issy. And the first year with Kenzie, who I can only hope will become a close friend.

No I didn't smoke, or drink or have sex. I didn't beat out my nemesis or join the popular click. But I learned so much more than algebra and geography. Humans, middle schoolers in particular, are a strange race. And I think understanding why they do the things they do has just replaced my goal of looking like a Nicholas Sparks character.

Do I feel different?
Do you feel your new age on your birthday morning? No, I feel like I see people differently now, some stayed the same though. I feel like looking at the future now is actually much harder than it was at the beginning of the year.
I think that's what 8th grade, this year in all, as taught me the most.
They future is never going to go exactly as planned.
So maybe I'll end up a screenwriter or go to Stanford, or maybe I won't. I can hope, and I can work for it but life has a way of changing plans and I don't know yet if we should really try to change them back or not.

Messing with life doesn't seem like the best plan.

I still have four more years of planning and gosh, even more after that. I'm way too young to be able to say where I will be at 30, or 25, or 20.

I can, however, keep my head up and enjoy all that I know for certain is coming my way. Like high school, and this summer!

And I can look back and see my school, not as a prison in disguise, but a truly impressive accomplishment. I can't say middle school didn't change me, but I can say I didn't let it change me. Understand? It did what it did, but I didn't do it to myself, and If I'm not mistaken I'm still pretty awesome.

That's all I have to say about that.
Until next time, at the 9th Grade Observer.

Does your mom wear Crocs?

1 day left...June 8, 2011

The unofficial guide to surviving middle school. (These may be recycled, sorry)

Don't have a bag half your weight or greater.
Excessive emoticons are repulsive.
Be around things and people that make you happy.
Don't tell jokes you don't get yourself.
Don't let someone who isn't a teacher teach you any Spanish words.
Beware the mid-door poles and mats.
Hold on to your pencil at all times.
Don't say abbreviations like their words. Except btw, pronounced b-t-dups.
Know at least one rapper and one of his song titles.
Get a catch phrase.
Don't swear, because you have no idea how many times I have seen my friend slip up and crash and burn and other bad adjectives.
Sit on the darker side of the cafeteria.
Always have your hand raised in PE, just always.
Don't correct your teachers. They don't tend to like it.
In order to get to class faster find a way to go through a 6th grade hallway, they always run everywhere so its generally easy to pass through what with them all being long gone.
Don't ever encourage someone to play 'Whats in your bag?' unless your positive all the freaky stuffs out of yours.
Do not take your favorite stuffed animal with you on the first day of school, people react poorly to that.
Make sure the sound is off on your phone before you show anyone the video of you dancing to Love to love you.
Find a video that makes you happy, mine is Love to Love you by Donna Summers. Google it. Now.
Don't ever google blue waffle.
Learn the names of the Jersey Shore characters. For reference of course.
Remember that most 8th graders favorite movie has Will Ferrel in it so keep conversations below intellectual.
Refrain from using words like correspond and barren or parched.
No one looks good in blue eyeshadow. Less is more.
Don't quote Star Wars in public. People laugh now and then post mean things about you on FB later.
Don't be disappointed if you aren't invited to a party. Your invite was probably lost with all your Birthday cards in the mail.
Don't carry around Simon and Garfunkel lyrics in your back pocket.
And I think most importantly, but often most over looked...
Don't wear Crocs.

2 days left...June 7, 2011

Here's the deal. And I know I sound like Howie Mandel ,but seriously. Throughout middle school I have had people who support me and people I look up too. Those two groups are essential.

My parents and a few choice friends are people I could really go to through all 3 years. And my idols, though unaware of the notebooks I have tracking their every more (I love you Ellen....,) guided me through a lot of it too.

Don't underestimate the power of influence. Hugs before drugs, kids.
I was inspired and heavily influenced by the favorite TV characters, actors and television personalities. They kept me in check. And perhaps it helped that I didn't have idols like Paris Hilton and Brittany, because then I'd be bald and have a sex tape.

Then again that seems to be working out for them right?

So here's the tip- Get a support group, not like my AA meetings, but kinda and don't be afraid to look up to people, except you Croc wearing mom.

My celebrity idol is Blake Lively (you too NPH, you too) and aside from the recent nudes, shes bright and fresh and fun and has a cheerleader attitude minus the pom poms and idiocy. Offense cheerleaders. I watch her interviews and I think, I want to be able to make people happy like that, and to have stories to tell like that, too! I see her and shes beautiful (you too NPH, you too) and I want to look like her.

Its something to work for, something that isn't a grade or a new friend. Something for ourselves. And having something like that could make all the difference in middle school, especially 8th grade.

Finals went alright today, and the count down is on '2.'
I'm scared and excited. My mom says that's what makes us young, having the combination. So I'm not putting it out, because despite what you may think because of my 'older' crushes, I value my youth!

Does your mom wear Crocs?

3 days till the end...June 6, 2011

The 8th Grade Observers 4th to last tip of the day...

Everyone who comes into middle school is on equal playing fields. From the moment you get up on that first day of school to the time you get off the bus you could be a scene kid, or popular, or a stoner or a brain. 

The problem is you don't have that big of a say in the whole matter. You can dress how you want and act the part, but you've been cast as soon as you step through the double doors. And somehow that's okay. 

Eighth grade is different. The people know you, even if you don't know you. The teachers have already whispered their judgments in the teachers lounge and the object is no longer simply to fit in, as it was above, when it didn't matter what you were as long as you were something. 

This time you want to be cool. Its a different game with the same, stale players. And the rules can't really be manipulated. You can't take  off your glasses and let down your pony tail and turn into Reese Witherspoon. And walking down the hall with your friends isn't like linking arms with Regina George. 

The moments aren't 'firsts' anymore and while the means of getting it may be unique, the object isn't. 

Whats cool? 

Is it writing a blog?

Or reading a blog?

Is it wearing tight pants or baggy ones?

Should you color your hair like a unicorns crap or tie ribbons in it?

Take the quote-'Beauty must be defined as what we are, or else the concept itself is our enemy'

This is true obviously, if you add in there between 'are and 'or.' 

The same is true for 'cool.'

But even more true than that is that cool is not caring what cool is. 

Its tired and old but this advice is like your favorite sweatshirt.

Have faith in 'cool' being something, not earned, but thrust upon us after forgetting entirely what it is. 

There's a girl in my class, Bertha, who may be the coolest person I have ever met. She likes her music and her clothes and shes nice, but isn't aggressive and, my god, shes the coolest person I have ever met. 

I hope I'm like her one day, because as you can probably tell, this is hard advice to take. Even for me.

I'm not telling you to let your nails grow out like the hall monitor, Ms.Cookie, or pick at scabs in class or anything.

I'm saying that if, or more correctly when, you do something that you regret. Something petty and insignificant like saying the wrong thing to your crush or getting a late on a homework. Don't treat it like anything more than what it is. Because when you look back at sixth grade what you 'were' won't even come to mind and in eighth, trust me when I say 'cool' will be entirely different and no one, not even your self is going to remember what you said that made you cry when you got home or what you did that was sooo embarrassing. 

Until tomorrow my Croc wearers.

June 2, 2011

Hello there?

Friend is defined as a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard. At least that's how dictionary.com defines it. 
But to me a friend is so much more than 10 words. 


To me a friend is someone who....
Wants to be with me, whenever, wherever. 
Has advice, even if they know I won't take it. 
Stops me when I look stupid. 
Tries to teach me how to be mean. 
Lets me take the virgin sip. 
Hates people I hate. 
Makes up incredibly over thought out secret nick names with me.
Won't let me sit closer to the TV just because it's their house. 
Texts me when my favorite movie's on TV, so we can watch it together. 


My friends, the real ones who I may have known for 8 years or 3, are the ones that mean it when they say 'I love you' and when they say 'Luv ya' r even 'ILY.'


They're the reasons I'm going to miss middle school, there's only two of them. 
Bernie and Issy, they're so different. Except for their mutual hatred towards each other. Most of my friends hate each other, I think I'm just to awesome to share. Just a theory. 


And they will try to see me over the next 4 years, they'll try to stay in touch, and they didn't even write that they would in my yearbook. 
Because I figure time is the biggest compliment someone can give you. If they listen through your story of standing behind a man with 14 cans of Campbell's soup at the store. And watch your favorite TV shows, and text back sole syllables but don't want the conversation to end. 


I cried the other night. It was more of a surprise than you would think because I didn't think my tear ducts worked, but alas..I'm a mere mortal, even if I am one of the better, higher ones. I cried into my mommy's shoulder and I got really scared. 


I remember the night before middle school, my mom caught me crying and I begged her, I mean begged her, to not make me go. It seemed like the middle of the night, it was probably 9, and I had this big black bag because I though colors were against the rules and I had practiced for days on how to open a pad lock. 


I'm not going to beg her to not make me go to high school, because I realize it's the next natural step, and I have been working very hard to enforce this personal rule about not caring about things I can't change. 


I can't change the fact that in late August I'm going to experience my first first day of school without Issy. And there's nothing I can do about Bernie not sitting behind me in whatever first class I have next year. 


Maybe this won't make sense but Thursday was the last day of the year we had homeroom. Bernie had to leave to work on her finals dance for choir and I sat there, alone, for an hour. I watched Ariel dance to no music and people take pictures and one girl even asked me if I felt okay. I did, I just didn't have anyone to talk to, to seem normal with, to be abnormal with. 


And my biggest fear is that next year every day is going to be like that last homeroom. 


I suppose that's something I can change though. 


That was sad for me. I didn't cry, but then again I'm not usually one to point out the lasts of everything. So I think in a way it was a big deal. 


The awards were Friday, and there was some heavy crying there. I got the awards for orchestra, straight As, straight As for 3 years, GPA higher than 3.5, science and citizenship. Not a bad deal. I didn't win the American Legion, but I'm white, skinny, and middle class. So no big shocker. 


Finals week starts Tuesday, so one more full day of middle school. Resistance is futile? 


Does your mom wear Crocs?


Before I go I want to let you in on a little idea I had. From tomorrow to Thursday I will post four final tips on how to survive, or more accurately come out alive, from middle school. 


Should I start tonight? Don't believe a word someone in an older grade says to you. Today I told my little sister Paul Revere was Johnny Appleseed's best friend, they went to Julliard together. 


Should you believe that tip? You wouldn't believe me if I told you to anyway. 

May 30, 2011

As the end of the year approaches at wicked speed, I've found myself evaluating each one of my classmates. Its like when you bring to school your year book and decide who to have sign it. And in both situations the question of 'who really matters?' arises. Do I need or even want her false 'I'll miss you' in my year book to be forgotten? Am I really going to miss him?

And I've come to the realization that, no, I don't want her to sign and , no, I wont miss him. Each and every one of the people who have cluttered my life for the past 8 years in school is being tossed out. Every one. I don't have a say in their future, but can say I will probably not keep in touch, and while I hope they like high school, I'm far to self involved to find out if they actually do.

So everyone has been writing in my year book, and what happens is they ask you to sign theirs and suddenly you have to return the favor, like it's some big honor, by giving them yours. Then they spend the next 10 minutes wasting my time with phony things about summer and high school and luv. Not luve or love. Sorry to use the term, but I hate 'I love you' sluts.They're everywhere.

They come out of hibernation about this time of year. They spit their good wishes at you and you're expected to sue. That was a really bad analogy.

On a less aggressive note- more pregnancy videos. Two more, actually.
I have come to the conclusion that in the 70s the women's faces were gorgeous, genitals ungroomed, and not as delicate. And by the 2000s the women's faces were mutilated and stubby and their genitals were trimmed.
Pros and cons, yes?

The only version that really freaked, or grossed me out was the last one. The baby was bloody and wet and it was all too slick. I suppose that's better. Her dad was in the room though and it was awkward, at least it was for me.

We also saw many in the body camera shots, where they strategically (?) put cameras up places and you saw things, in extreme angles. But the budget cuts are crap and the televisions from the 80's so it wasn't HD or anything. There was one clip that showed a male ejaculating in a woman's vagina. And personally I didn't notice anything but the fact that they had somehow, carefully I assume, gotten a camera in...well you know. I kept looking around to see if anyone else was even considering it, but no it was just lil' pedo me wondering how they got that footage.

The last video we watched was narrated by John Lithgow, of 3rd Rock from the Sun, to me. His voice is very distinctive and I couldn't help but feel like I was watching a seriously in depth episode of 3rd Rock, where they figured out the miracle of life.
He kept saying 'gonads' at one point and I swear I was again the only one laughing. 'A fetus has two gonads that can either become testicles or ovaries.' He kept emphasizing gonads like he knew I was there. Gonads. Gonads. Gonads.

The couple that that video focused on was so creepy. This 6 foot women and her tiny Italian-Mexican partner who kept making whale sounds into her belly in public. Geezus. Just...no.

Today I saw a sign at my future high school that said _________ High Schoo the 'l' had fallen off so I pronounced it as my current principle does,'skoo.' And for some reason this sign made me think that high school, no matter how many people thought it was going to be life changing, is still school. Basically a middle school, only less hormonal and more sexual. That's all it is. It isn't some huge accomplishment, except maybe it is in my neighborhood. It was still a skoo, and I wasn't really leaving anything behind, I was just exchanging the setting and characters. When I was in 5th middle school was just like high school is now. And look how that turned out.

I have a terrible weakness to disappointment and I will not let yet another skoo disappoint me.

The only thing that can really change is..well....my nickname. I'm currently called Hannah by a lot of people because I tricked them into believing it was my real name, but I don't think that counts.

Here are some possibilities.
Veruca. (as in Salt)
Maxamillion. (this seems to be popular)
Warbucks (self explanatory)

Speaking of names I have chosen my future children's names. Darrell. Pronounced Duh-rell. And La-a. Pronounced Ladasha.

Like?

May 30, 2011

I love 3 day weekends!
They mean lots of television and movies can be consumed.

I've been trying to think of my favorites of things. Including movies. Which I always do when I have too much time on my hands.
I put myself on a talk show, either Letterman or, more often, Ellen.

Its conceited, I know, but I find comfort in imagining myself telling short, but humorous stories that not only intrigue the soccer mom audience, but keeps even the slightly chatty host from interrupting.

In fact I've had so much time this weekend i put down the How I Met Your Mother, and finished the book I've been reading, The 5 People You Meet in Heaven.
The book focuses on an old maintenance man who in heaven meets the five people who can explain why his life was the way  it was. Affected and how it affected someone else.

It was not only extremely insightful, but made me strangely happy.
I definitely recommend it.

I also watched Dead Poets Society. Robin Williams is one of my favorite actors. (I realized this on Ellen today. See above.)
About an English teacher teaching boarding school boys to love poetry and how to seize the day.

It was exactly what it said to be, but was extremely well written and a little contagious. If you know what I mean.

Holden Caulfield says that the best books are the ones that makes you want to call up and chat with the author.
While I agree with this, I can also tell if I really liked a movie or novel if I want to have been a part of it. Written it or acted in it or directed it.
Which is why after I read this book, or after I finish every Enders series novel I feel the need to write something exactly like it.
Its pathetic but also very inspiring.

With school only 8 days from its end I realize I will be getting a lot of time to write and read and watch. Maybe I'll post some thing on my new blog... the completely predictable 9th Grade Observer.

But before any of that can happen I have to finish the 8th grade. Awards are Friday, and while I told myself I wouldn't get nervous about winning that American Legion Award, I am. I hate getting nervous or anxious. It leads to disappointment. Which is a feeling Ive only experienced thrice in my lifetime. And don't expect to feel again.

I bought a dress though!

Oh! Geez I almost forgot that on Friday I watched childbirth in Health with a capital H. Of course it was the crib notes version of the one we'll be watching Wednesday.  But we saw pretty much everything. The crowning. It coming out. Everyone kept worrying about the head coming out, but what about the shoulders!

One of the pregnant chicks, not in my class, got very scared.  Her due dates today, actually.  And although she's been a good sport all along, this really freaked her out. As it did everyone.

Except for this boy whose going to the national gymnast thing soon, who simply wondered if she could have shaved down there.

I expect it to be worse on Wednesday when the video from the 70s is played. But that's just an assumption.

I hope your weekend was as good as mine.
Should I be Madonna or Sandra D or a puppet for Halloween?

Or maybe I could go as a Croc wearer? How terrifying.

May 26, 2011

BODY CHANGES!

Today was actually a really good day. And I don't want to hear anything from you crystal statue collecting, bumper sticker people. It was because I knew I looked good on the outside. 

You get to school and you know you don't look good. Everyone does the don't look now double take. Which, if that was lost on you, is the slow mo 'don't look now' and the double take. Combined. 

They don't say anything, No compliments, No insults. 

That's appreciated though, because when they do compliment you you can see the laughter and judgment bubbling up behind their eyes and you just want to punch them. Like,'Your one of those people?  Really?' When you say things like that you make my bad hair day, unpopable zit and lack of clean, nice clothes 10 times worse. 

Insult in your own homes. Behind my back, that's just common manners. 

So, point is, I looked good today. Proof? Tim came up to me and said this-'O, you look like a pretty girl today! Not nerdy one.'

Hannie got offended for me. Then he said,'No, I meant to say smart?'

And Taylor, the meanest and most cheerful cheerleader of all, told me I should be a cheerleader. Because cheer leading was from the inside, not the outside, but I was pretty any way. To which I asked her if this bass player with Kenny G hair could be a cheerleader and she said,'Oh no!'

                  

I got an A on my math test. So did the girl who sat next to me, whose paper I graded...sans scratch work. Coincidence? I think not! 

She hides her paper, like I'm gonna cheat, and I never do, cheat and cover my paper. Because I honestly don't care. 

It was funny because Kenzie said,'Yeah shes always looking at your paper, I saw her.' I responded, 'How do you know? Were you looking at me?'

I masturbate and play WOW. 

You play WOW?

Which brings us to Kenzie.

Our science projects are do tomorrow and mine is done. Cheertown however looks like a hot pink mess. We all had to have one moving or light up object on our projects. I opted for light up, me and mom, or more correctly my mom, hooked up LEDs for me. I strung them from the bottom, and they look amazing.

While after school on Tuesday with ¾ of the cheer team, no Kenzie, I offered to ‘hook’ them up. Because I’m G, and stereotypically a nerd doing popular's homework.

Go ahead judge.

They all agreed, because…are we seriously going into this?

I brought the lights in today, and showed them off. Everyone but Kenzie loved them, she said,’I can not believe you did this.’

I’m glad none of my friends have ever been good, or remotely interested in the same things as me, it leads to conflict.

Kenzie and I, however, are constantly confused for each other. Mixed up names. Called from the back.

The one thing she had that I didn’t, cheer, she gave up for next year. We're equals. Its disgusting. And me painting a building, let alone hooking up lights, for her project is the ultimate win.

My mom asked me why I can't make friends the normal way.

This is how I see it- making Kenzie owe me something makes her indebted to me, something that can be payed back with friendship.

Sick aren’t I?

Go ahead, judge.

On a more serious note. My great aunt recently died from pancreatic cancer.

And the absolutely revolting thing is there was a recent episode of Glee in which Jane Lynch's characters sister died, and they showed this touching funeral. Blah Blah Blah. And I cried, hard. Granted it was the same day I found out about my aunt, but still. I felt horrible. I didn’t shed a tear for this amazing women I had touched in the flesh, who wasn’t fictional. And yet for some character on a FOX show I cried. I felt so guilty.

My mom read aloud an email preceding the obituary. And it got me thinking. (Don’t even say it!) I don’t want an average obituary, or one at all. Its sad, having to post something to tell people your dead. And I want to write my own. And I want it to say, I realize that thinking of my death is more sick and twisted than the way I get friends, but here it is- Observer. May her mistakes teach and her successes inspire.

And that’s it. Sweet, simple, and not something someones gonna read halfway through and get bored with.

O will not bore, not even after shes dead. (Don’t say it!)

Until next time my fan!

Does your mom wear Crocs?

May 24, 2011

Body Changes! Everyone's...Body Changes!
Those are the repetitive lyrics of a cartoon music video we had to watch in Health with a Capitol H today.
It is one of those songs that gets stuck in your head. But you only know the first line.Or in this case basically the only line?

All day I heard people humming it, and than in 5th I heard it first hand.
There were other songs, not as popular, but certainly as finely crafted.
"Menstruation! Ejaculation!"

And then it showed a kid asking his dad about his 'thing' leaking. And a girl asked her mom if she was a virgin before marriage. She said that some things were private. Translation- no.

They covered a lot for a cartoon. Homosexuality, menstrual cycles, erections (at one point the dad was telling his son that his penis would get bigger, and the son said,'Sometimes it gets bigger without my permission!') I am officially changing my dream job from Blockbuster-going out of business and has tons of movies that in my free time I can watch- to the writer of 'Body Changes' videos.

It would be like going to middle school health for the rest of my life.
Oh you know whaat...

I feel like this class is going to be the highlight of my year.

Which is the opposite of the city science project. Mine is obviously BOSS, but its the principal of the thing! I'm checked out!

I feel like your going to like this. I added a friend on facebook, totaling my friends at 32, and she posts the best things.
Luucky Chaarms Boomb Riqht Noow
Booy Iss Ruunninq Afteer Thee Buus ! Noo , #CaalmDoown
qirl doont trip aint nooboody taalkinq aboout yoou ;
ooh yeeaa ! shoould iqoo too thee chooir coonceert toomoorrow/weedneesdaay ?
iquueess shee loost weeiqht ? weell daamn qood foor heer IDC

Basically if I stayed friends with her for the rest of my life, only on FB, I would be accomplished. That's how happy she makes me. 

But what happens to Facebook friends as you get older. I mean Facebook's so 'new' I don't think anyone knows. Do you just delete them after the appropriate amount of time?

Another question- What happens with gauges when you get really old? No one knows!

The questions that haunt me. 

World war 3 broke out in cheer town, during science. Taylor, and Kenzie and Kaylor. Its crazy! Everyone's fighting and whispering and using the rare term, 'hoebag?' Is that how you spell it? Geez, i don't know. 

And as math gets harder, the year gets shorter, and Crocs stay an abomination. 

PS. I asked my mom to break up Jane Lynch and marry her, so that she would me my mom. She said,'What about Ellen?' And I said,'Shes mine.'

May 23, 2011

Its been forever! I know, I know. I feel terrible, nothing really happened. I got stuck building tiny buildings for my science project yesterday, and tonight I had a long overdo haircut, in which the hairdresser couldn't curl my bangs. So I curled them when I got home.

What I did, and what I always do, is print out a picture of a celebrity. It use to be Leighton Meester, and then this time I used Megan Fox. There's a pretty big difference between using a rising fame and the legendary Megan Fox as your,'I want to look like this!' picture.

Today we also started Sex Ed, basically. What we did was take out a piece of paper, answer the questions, don't write your name, and pass it until you get someone Else's.

I've come to write all of my 'f's' like those in music, with the bottom all twisty and such. So I wrote them differently and some others differently, or normally for someone else, so as I wouldn't be identified. Short story long.

Specs, however, did not do this.
1. Whats another name for the birth canal?
'Simple' Vagina.

2. What signals the start of male puberty?
This is what Specs put- Penis Enlargement.

And the worst part was we went down the rows and you had to answer the question for the class according to your person's paper. So when we got to that one, of course I had to say 'penis enlargement' in front of the whole class.

She also put other weird, almost know, answers like...Fabob Tube. What's a fabob tube?

I surprisingly knew most of the answers. Hymen, circumcision. You know.
It was surprising how many people didn't though. The guy in front of me just kept saying,'I don't care. I don't know. That's why I'm here. I don't know. That's why I'm here.'

So you don't know, and that's why you're here?

It was fun, but just the tip of the iceberg, no doubt. Miracle of life anyone?

Everything's starting to pile up, awards, tests, essays.

Sorry.
Hope you had an amazing weekend, mine was pretty awesome,, but they always are.

Does your mom wear Crocs?

May 18, 2011

I am pretty much a boss.
And while this news is no news, its perks are.
See it's lonely at the top, and not even the help cares enough to crawl to my assistance. So when I got a free bite size candy bar, a free breakfast and a front of the line pass, I just figured one of my three facebook photos had reeled me in another stalker.
Turns out I was considered a leader of the school. There were other people receiving these things, but I like to think of them as co-leaders. Sharing my title really messes with the pure awesomeness.

And other than the free food, I was also nominated for the American Legion Award.
I had to write an essay relate the quote,'Experience is the best teacher,' with my time at my school and act as though I'm speaking to an incoming 6th grader and giving tips on how to be successful.

It's actually the reason I didn't post yesterday or the day before or something, it's kinda a big deal and I know everyone isn't going to like it. Especially because I didn't talk about the hierarchy of the lunch tables or the backpack weight ratio, but I pretty much summed things up.

This is it.

Apprehension and anxiety are lives most common symptoms of inexperience and change. They influence our every movement behind the starting line of any new challenge, stalling us and trying desperately to keep us from the unknown. There is no stopping the gunshot that signals the beginning of the race, or our heart from, simply, racing. But once the first step is taken, our fears will disintegrate, and by the second step we will laugh at those waiting, worried.

            The beauty of school is that it is merely a step, the hardest part of any race, getting into motion. It is a conquest, true, that will try our patience and strength, but it must be cherished, the peaks and falls. In the moment, middle school seems tedious, when in fact the lessons it could provide are slipping through our fingers, fleeting. We cannot let it go to waste, and to do this we must accept it for what it is, if only so that we may enjoy it. ‘Experience is the best teacher’ is a quote that stands true in the eyes of any middle school, especially at my school, where I’ve attended for three years. I realize that because of the truth this statement stands on, not every piece of wisdom I have acquired will be understood, or followed, until it is learned for one’s self. How naively we approach middle school is a testament to the proverb and may affect what and how we truly learn in school. Middle school is a battlefield of inner struggle, and the best way to keep from becoming a casualty is by knowing what you want to be.

The idea that every teenager knows exactly who they are is one that only a teenager believes, and in a place that will further define our personalities it becomes more absurd. I speak of goals and dreams where you have an image in mind of a place just out of reach, to motivate and judge from. The best rules are the ones we set for ourselves, and though the list of new rules to follow may seem long as we approach middle school, they are meaningless if we don’t draw our own lines, some thick enough to be seen at the years initiation, and others so thin, that if crossed, won’t be remembered until far too late. The lines we cross purposely are the ones that will forever dictate the way we are seen, they are the ones that are blatant and yet appear to have no consequences. Pretending to be something we are not is, perhaps, the most tired yet neglected of all advice given to middle school students. What I did, and my fellow classmates did, what you and yours will inevitably do, is become either too extravagant or too subtle, fitting in so much that you become unrecognizable or standing out until it becomes awkward. Do not let the mold dry, hard as steel and hopeless to refinement, before it is too late to reach the justice that is self-confidence.

Success in middle school, my school in particular, is not to have the hallways dense with admirers, or to be cloaked in an incessant spotlight. For after the final bell has rung, these things will remain in the hallways, or on stage, they cannot follow us, despite our want for familiarity. Middle school is a time in which every detail becomes a story, momentous. Listen and watch and remember, so that the teachers you will become can do their work properly. Do not let the ephemeral become anything more than it is, and the transitory, long lasting. Success can be found in fearing only what deserves our attention, and knowing what those things are. It is keeping one eye on the future, and the other on everything around us that can possibly be seen. Success is staying true to yourself, even when you cannot tell exactly who that is yet. It is so close, that it is tangible, like music to our ears, and sunlight to our faces.

             School is not limited to reading, writing and arithmetic; it prepares us for the world in which we must walk alone. The most difficult tests we take will not be the ones in class, but the ones that can only be studied for with experience. Some information simply can’t be passed by book, but must be learned personally, so that the true meaning can be grasped.


And other than my essay my day consisted of shaking hands and abstinence. Coming to a bumper stick near you!

Actually in health we were each given a card. Then we had to follow its instructions and shake the hands of however many people it said to.
Specs and this basketball player both got a card that said 'Shake 4 peoples hands' and had the letter A on it. They were both diagnosed with AIDS, which is bad.
Then my teacher made Specs act out telling her dad, and the basketball player calling an old girlfriend.
Then all the people that had shaken their hands stood up, then all the people who had shaken their hands stood up. Soon only four of us were sitting.

It was educational in that I totally understand the 1 in 4 statistic about AIDS now.
*the more you know*

I had the 'Don't shake anyone's hand' card, which everyone expressed was perfect. Ahahaha, chortle, chortle.

The two people who were 'promiscuous' were also perfect for their parts. They stood in front of the glass and we called out names we would call them in real life. It got pretty vicious. When it was over even my teacher said, 'Sit down whore!'  Joking, of course.

She was laughing so hard she was crying. At least I think I saw laughter.

Then they had to answer question after question about what they would do if she got pregnant. Intense.

I learned my lesson.
AIDS are bad.

Thanks for tuning in today to O's Show!
And don't wear Crocs.

That is all.

May 15, 2011

Semi-formal was....
Crumby Cannoli.
Plastic blue stars.
Sucked helium.
Bare feet.
And fist pumping.

It really was exactly as I would have expected, ribbon tied over the backs of every other chair, the bathroom so hot you felt as though the makeup you reapplied would simply melt off, and the music receiving whoops only if it was top 40.

I got there after picking up Hannie, at her house and taking many obligatory date pictures, and met up with Specs, Issy and Jordan.
Issy, naturally, looked gorgeous, and Jordan looked a tad like a Mormon with his short sleeved button down. Specs had gotten her hair and makeup done at a salon, so she looked nice in her fake lashes, as well.

We checked in with the teachers, who had dressed up as well? I didn't really understand why they couldn't have worn their normal, frumpy teacher gear until I saw the French teacher in the middle of the dance floor accidentally knocking kids down.

We set up at a table, and Issy, being the honorary grandma she is, had us immediately go to the back for pictures. You know, before the crowd. When we got there a women, whose eyes looked a lot like a cat without food, took our money. And by took, I imply a bit of grabbing and tugging. We had all thought that the pictures were 5 dollars. No, they're 5 per person in the photo.

I had brought a ton of extra money, which wasn't actually extra, so I was okay.
Throughout the night I took pictures with Issy, Hannie, Specs, Bernie, Lola and Kenzie.

Pictures, I'm alright at.
Dancing, however, isn't exactly my strong suit.

All week I had been telling people, 'No, I'm not gonna dance.' Which was true, and not a big deal, and then I found out at a dance, your kinda expected to dance. Like really get into it. And the last move I learned was the Carlton, what's a cat daddy?

They weren't playing my music, and though I obviously looked amazing, I'm not comfortable doing what I've already told people I'm not good at. So the moral of the cliche story, don't tell people your bad at or are not going  to do something you might be able to do or want to do. They'll get the wrong idea and then you won't be able to do it.

Lesson learned.

I 'danced' a bit with Lola, and the very last dance, which were crappy words about memories and friends set to Canon in D I danced with both Kenzie and Issy. Primarily Issy though, she cried. Seeing her cry is like seeing your mom cry. It's beyond scary, knowing that someone so strong has tear ducts.

Maybe people feel that way when I cry, oh that's right, I don't cry like a baby! Actually my mom said I had big balls for asking Kenzie to dance. Which I didn't understand, all we did was dance, she grabbed my butt a little, no biggie.
Butt seriously. Ahahah BUTT seriously. Yea, I told her, now it really feels like prom.

It was fun, I'll admit it. And the drama that followed was enticing.

It's over, now I just have to get through the awards, the summer, the next four years, the following four to six and I'm home free!

Wish you could have seen some of the outfits, and better, the shoes!

You know how interesting I find shoes...
that reminds me, does your mom wear Crocs?

May 13, 2011

Friday the 13th!

I don’t feel too good today, I have been steadily getting sicker, and my positive energy is not helping as Hannie told me it would. Then again, she also reenacts Greece mythology on the bus.

And if there's one thing I can't stand it's not being called up when there's a reenactment of Zeus killing his sister as a bird or something. I don’t know.

In Geo today we learned about the Indian caste system. And I use the term ‘learn’ very loosely. We each got roles and then jobs.

But in the class hour, of an hour and a half, half the kids took spoon fulls of water to fill Styrofoam cups and the other half cleaned her room. I organized her back game cabinets. If she wanted us to clean her room she should give us volunteer hours, not mask it as a lesson.

I have started calling her the lady who teaches us sometimes.

And other than watching her class pick itself up, Tim told me I had the facial features of a lesbian.

Hmmmm? That’s new.

Science, in comparison was uneventful. We worked on our projects and I hit up some girls for black clutches I could borrow for the dance. The cheer leaders, who are currently working on Cheer Town spilled water all over their board thereby spilling glitter sand everywhere. Kenzie got paint on her coach shoes and ran around looking for a tide stick.

The dance concert was tonight and tomorrow. Which meant I was alone on the bus, where many people asked why I was alone. I don’t like that. People thinking its weird for someone to be alone. Is that just me?

I also got called up to the counselor's office with a bunch of other nominees for the American Legion Award. Look it up, its legit. I have to write an essay addressed to incoming 6^th graders, giving them tips and talking about how experience is the best teacher. I’ll post the finished project.

Hilary, Ariel, London, Troy, they were all there.

Specs and Kenzie, to my knowledge, were not invited to the little party.

I don’t mean to get my hopes up, because face it, I’m the only white one in the group (which in life may get me far, but here is seen as to much as a privilege or something,) but its almost like if I have my hopes up I’ll writer a better essay. I’m getting myself far too excited. Setting myself up for disappointment.

A highlight of my day (which I hate saying, because it reminds me of the terrible children's magazine) was homeroom with Bernie.

We played twisted versions of Would you rather? and F, Marry, Kill.

I nearly threw up at times. But it was fun none the less. She brought up the fact that I hadn’t kissed a boy yet, or a girl for a matter of fact.

I haven’t found someone worth kissing. Simple.

I feel like saying anything more is pointless, it’ll be semi-formal related and dull.

We better just go now. While we still have our dignities.

Hold your breath for the semi-formal update. I’ll be the only one with a notepad and paper to record the drama.

Until then! Wish me luck!

May 11, 2011

The ultimate power in life, I've found, is to act like a child. Don't question it. Just do it. People love things that are too big and too small. Why? I don't know, I'm giving humanity no excuses. They love tiny things, especially. Act cute and vaguely like the children in viral videos (i.e. Charlie bit my finger, David at the Dentist...) and the world is at your fingertips.

Which is how I got Issy to apologize and hug me when I stole her brownie. May the force be with you.

My day, though full of non drug induced drowsiness and snot, was fairly boring.
Middle school typically is.

Though that may just be me, because two girls got suspended today. From what my health teacher has 'not' told us one of them gave the other E, and the rest, as they say, is no longer in school, because they're stupid!

I'm sorry, but I have a very small tolerance for spicy food, inappropriate foot wear, and ignorance. So when I find out that two girls in my class are getting high before class, after I cross them off my not so secret list of competitors, I feel angry.

Who's gonna wash my car?
Kidding, kidding. Am I?


The 8th grade semi-formal has officially consumed my world like baby talk. You know when women either are trying to get pregnant or are recently pregnant and all they talk about are diaper recalls and how parts A and D are interchangeable on cribs? Well that's whats happened to me.

All I want to know is what everyone else is doing. What they're wearing. If I'll look hotter. Who exactly needs to be reinstated to my aforementioned list.

I cant stop myself, but its like flaunting Christmas gifts, I do it, I just do it discretely. I make them bring it up. I sound more an more like the girl who cracks over the stolen mechanical pencil everyday.

Mostly I've been trying to find out how people are getting there. I was not invited to the party buses or limos, so my mom's green truck will have to do. And I think that's the part that's most intimidating...the getting there. I mean isn't that how everything is. Once you've started it only gets better, easier. You just have to find the strength to start. Go ahead, quote me.

I mean once I get in, the pig blood's all set up so, I see no problem...it's just the entrance...
Kidding. Kidding. Am I?

I feel that this is the right time to deal with the FAQ's.
And I mean frequently asked by my mother when I try to prove to her that I'm worth her time and understandably limited affection.

Are you a lesbian? 
I've been waiting for the perfect time to use this- I'm so far in the closet, I'm in Narnia.

Do you have a boyfriend, yet?
Yes,I do. He is currently having an inner battle because of his love for both music and basketball. And Corbin Bleu wont let him ruin his rep.

Ellen? Jane?
There is something to be said for women older than 50 who are still attracting jail bait. I can only hope to be even slightly like them as I age. And by slightly I mean, I want everything!

If you had to choose between Ellen and the destruction of all Croc products, which would you choose?
Um, geez, this is harder than the time I..Oops, I forgot what I was writing, I work part time at Family Guy. But seriously, that is the hardest thing I've ever had to think about. How about a compromise? Crocs get abolished, and I get Ellen, only she now has to wear the only pair left.

Are you lesbian?
No. No, I'm not. I simply amuse myself with gay jokes that are probably more offensive than I think.
Maybe 'I kissed a Girl' is my most played song on my itunes list. Maybe my fanny pack, flannel shirt and Birkenstocks are my go-to Saturday outfit.

I'm really not helping myself here.
I just lost my sole viewer, I warned you about the stereotypes. Bye, mom!

What do you have against Crocs?
God never meant for there to be shoes that felt like that. They have no right, being here. God did however suck their wearers into an escalator. I think I rest my case.

What movie do you relate your life to, you being a movie fanatic?
Thank you anonymous asker, we appreciate your thoughtful input.
In some ways my life is a lot like Superbad, currently.
Issy is my Seth Rogen and we are splitting up at the end of this year. Mere weeks away. Every one's freakin' out, but us. And I have a Fogul and she has her boyfriend, but we aren't gonna be the package deal we claim to be anymore. Deep, I know.

Maybe it'll hit us harder at the dance, or awards.

But seriously, lesbian?
Is it that obvious?
Kidding. Kidding Am I?

I hope that small window into my glamorous life has left you fulfilled.
Oh! News! I started an online store at - http://349704.spreadshirt.com/ (yes it is called Guten Togs)
Wear you can buy some shirts I think are funny, but are probably not. They're expensive, but you know, I made them, sooo? Still not into it?
Check that out if ya want.

I think I'm going to buy some for my mom, maybe she can replace her crocs with them?

May 9, 2011

As the 8th grade semi-formal continues to grow closer, more and more of our seldom conversations have to do with dresses and masks and makeup and hair. And while I haven't really ever been the person that has girl talk with classmates I do understand what the terms mean.

I've decided to do my hair in barrel curls, half up, half down. And my makeup is a work in progress. Most people are having their hair and makeup done, but that seems stupid and misplaced to me, so I'm using the tutorial button on the old computer and trying my hand at some pretty intricate stuff.
Currently I look like a Tinkerbell relieved herself on my eyelids. Crude, yes, but you know what I look like don't you?

But not even semi-formal (I refuse to call it 'semi,') has me as anxious as the 8th grade awards. The 8th grade awards are a half graduation, it's for the parents,  no doubt. But only for the parents of kids who get awards. There are straight A awards, and citizenship, what a joke, and so on and so on.

Every year at the end they announce the best female and male students of that class. For 2 years now the gay, homophobic dancer, basketball player, goes to the same church as the principle, black boy has one it. And the girls have been Lucy Lui, and London. Both dedicated to either sports or kissing up.

Hilary, the class president, let me know that while she was in Ms. Leprechaun's office she saw the nominees for best student. My name, her name and London's name were on the list. I haven't gotten my hopes up consciously because, I'll be frank, I'm white. London is mixed and the star basketball player and Hilary is class president and Mexican. I can't compete. Not at my school.

And not even the prospect of that has me worrying. Its the Wildcat Awards. They hand 50 of them our every year to the kids that haven't set the school on fire but aren't exactly Rachel Berrys. And not once have I gotten this award. Perhaps your saying to yourself, 'You've won other ones, they won't give you the consolation prize.' But your wrong!

I found out how they choose those awards. The teachers huddle up in some batman cave and make a list with each of their 5 favorite students. Then they go down the list and if they find a kid that anyone has trouble with, no explanation necessary, they cross them off. So I've either been crossed off, or never put on.

As unnecessary as this rant was, it did have a slight point.

White chicks be crazy, yes.

But another. While I've been taught that to strive to be ones best you don't need outer motivation, I still like medals. Even cheap ones with a confusing Genie lamp on them.

And its not even that I want them, its almost that I need them.
I have such a reputation for getting them, that without them I'm insignificant, ridiculed. Even if I still got more than my tormentor, its funny, because its me.

Which is why, for high school I am setting the expectations low, I'm going to do my best work, as I always have. But I will try to never be seen as the medal girl. And it shouldn't be to hard what with the fact that I'm going to nerd central for high school.

And I want to look like a Nicholas Sparks character still, too.

I guess this was just a plan, high school prep list.
I've even picked out a backpack like Santana's from Glee. The new Blair Waldorf, tell your friends.

I think half the fun is in the planning. And I've been crazy organizing and bookmarking and saving. And half of me doesn't want to stop planning. As sad as that is.

I wish I could plan for high school everyday.
And for awards.
And for the semi. Curse me.

I wish you all the planning in the world, and that you stay away from Crocs. Because that's just simple Algebra. I'm not stupid.

May 8, 2011

I love holding my grandparents hands.

Maybe it's because I haven't exactly held anyone Else's, but I love it anyway.

I also love getting out of the shower and having my eyes look beautiful, sans makeup.

I love walking into school and feeling like no ones looking at me, but that it would be okay if they did.

I love Glee, and mixing similar, punchy sodas.


I however do not love talking about sex. It's uncomfortable not because I'm self conscious, how could I be with a body like mine, but because the idea of imagining someone you would never want to imagine having sex becomes an inevitability. Trust me, I am the last person to imagine my competitors in their underwear.

So when we were all passed out the fliers, which had to be signed, outlining sex ed curriculum, in health, I had a  mini panic attack. Don't get me wrong, I'm innocent, not naive. But teachers and my fellow students are about the last people I want to discuss vulva and genital warts with. They're behind my parents. 


But somehow, my Mr.Clean-look-a-like health teacher made it more than bearable.

He started off by calling up Tim to the front of the classroom,'Whats a menstrual cycle?'
And this is what Tim said-'Well, its like, when...a girl finishes working out she has to...' And so as to not even further the pain and humiliation Tim will be feeling for the next few weeks, I'll let your fill in the rest.

Then Mr.Clean called up George (Which is pronounced George, not Jorge, as we all found out on day 1,) he leaned up against the desk, somewhat Chuck Bass-esque and said he had asked all his girlfriends, and that for some reason you don't get your period while pregnant...blah blah blah. He was doing pretty well until he said this, 'And I know chicks get really freakin' angry during that time of the month.' Killed it.

One boy just said the word,'Ovulation' and then sat down.
One boy said we wore diapers.

And then came the girls.
'Whats a nocturnal emission?'

-'When guys get horny?'
-'Their excitement fuels the planet...'
-'Wet dream.'

'And why does this happen?'

Me-'Excess sperm?'

That was the moment, the one in which I simply repeated what Issy had told me to say at lunch, that I decided I needed a birds and bees refresher. And not just 'wet hugging' but the whole deal. I was seriously out of touch, and I would be darned if I was going to sit idly by while the idiots in my class got every question right in a subject I may lack experience in, but am certainly not blind too.

Sorry, that was unexpected.

But it got better. While we still didn't have our slips signed Mr.Clean wanted to give us a preview.

He said that in the weeks to come we would not put a condom on a cucumber, because they were permitted to only teach abstinence. And though the silent relief of the male students was palpable, I think we're really missing out.

He said that he would correct some myths we might have believed true. Like jumping up and down after the nasty to avoid a baby, or that with the girl on top you can't get pregnant.

'Does masturbation cause hair to grow from your palms?' Cue every boy checking their hands. The sad thing is I'm not even exaggerating that much.'Does masturbation cause you to go blind? I mean that's why Katlyn wears glasses, right?'

Katlyn sits right behind me and I swear the redness of her face may have been able to compete with a PE teachers.

He told us that he wished he was able to show us pictures of STD's, because a pictures worth a thousand words, as is the face we make when we see them.
'We're only allowed to show you pictures of your own gender and one at a time, take blue waffle, which is a slang term....Obviously O's seen the pictures!'

If that's the kind of stuff were going to be seeing, count me out. God, ugh. GEEZUS. Look it up , I dare you.

All in all, not as awkward as expected, and I may be looking forward to it?

So remember kids, and I think my message was pretty strong here, don't wear Crocs, never look up blue waffle, and if you have glasses, try not wearing them for health class.

May 3, 2011

Are you still loling because I'm lqtming! Beat that.
Seriously though, that's what I hear pretty much all day.

I'm not exactly sure what to compare the popular people 'zone' to, other than a spider web or maybe pictures of rashes on the Internet. They draw you in, even though you know it isn't a good idea.
But then again, maybe what I consider popular isn't popular. (I mean I'm not wearing silly bands.) So maybe when I say that sitting with Ariel and Lumiere and Tim and Jason isn't a big deal.

Ariel has lost her flair.
In sixth grade she was hot stuff. In sixth grade Ms.Heels gave us donuts and punch, flowers for 8th graders and a Disneyland trip for 8th graders.
In 7th she was popular when she was dating someone. We got cookies after performances, 8th graders got flowers and a Disneyland trip.
In 8th grade she dances to no music in homeroom as though it doesn't look like shes between grinding the desk and having muscle spasms. We don't get a trip, flowers or treats whatsoever.

Needless to say I'm a tad bummed. I know everyone always compares everything to a roller coaster, but I feel like this is the part right before the loop, only, just kidding. Its the end of the ride.

More and more people are going to semi-formal though, and its sorta giving me 'cold feet.'
Its not like I was invited to any one's party bus. Which Issy was, and decided not to go to! She won't understand what she has until she's lost it....

Speaking of cheerleaders. I started going over to the 'cheer' homeroom to visit Issy. And aside from dancing like they're at a half time show of a game I'm not watching, and replaying their nationals, everything was pretty dull.
Though spending time with Issy is nice. Were almost out of time, and while I'm not going to miss many people, I will miss her.
She was complaining about the tiny pimple clusters she gets on her forehead and *warning its about to get a little racist* I told her that because of her darker skin you cant see acne, she doesn't sunburn and she can fly, so she shouldn't complain.

As Miley, half black half Asian, walked in I asked her if she could fly. Things got a little confusing and hilarious then.

Am I more racist than I think?

But then again 'racist' to Specs is telling a story that includes black people. What?

Basically nothing has happened that has changed my life in the days we've spent apart. Sorry to let you down. Never let go Jack, never let go!
This got awkward very fast.

Keep your head up, your Crocs off, your phone away from you pelvis and your body away from windowless vans with signs promising candy on it.
God, now were making molestation jokes? What have we come to?

May 2, 2011

I feel like I've let my sole viewer down by not posting every day. And I know you won't believe that I'm busy or hanging out with my dancer/cheerleader/student council/all around wholesome good people friends. I guess I'll just go with the truth.
8th grade is getting in the way.

I understand that school is going to get a lot tougher next year, but as this year ends, with only 30 some days left, and my want to be prepared, it's getting a little old. There are more projects, and homework and concerts.

I think that as the weather gets hotter, and the smell of sunscreen starts to envelope the classrooms, and the teachers start to put away motivational posters, I slowly lose my will to keep working and put my all in everything. Call it whatever cliche thing you want, I'll be simple. I'm so done with middle school.

I feel like 8th grade is the year of silenced laughter.
Let me explain- 8th grade is taken so seriously. Your the big kids, your developed, your dating (and trust me that's laughable.)
Everyone is straight faced and even the jokes are stiff.
You try not to laugh at your acne or anyone Else's, because its a big deal.
We are suppose to take every little slid in insult that comes our way as a huge deal, news worthy drama, when in fact it's so much easier to laugh at the fact that they can sound like Hannah Montana and George Carlin.
Teachers word is wither law or a mean Facebook status. Our parents must be looked at with a straight face when they say a word incorrectly while yelling at you, their veins popping out.

Every thing's massive, nothing just is. And to tell you the truth, I'm done with having to take everything as though it's life or death.
I'm done with pretending that how Hannie says gar-nay rather than garnet, isn't hilarious. And having to keep up with Kyrsten and Kylie and Katie's social life just to understand a conversation.

And I know I'm just your average nerd, I'm sick of teachers too. Especially my Geo teacher. I don't know who peed in her cereal, and frankly it doesn't interest me.

Today we had an exam in her class and I asked  her about this question that I'd asked her about in the past, which she ignored.
True or False- There are 500,000 people in the Chinese correction camps.
My notes- There are more than 200, 000 people in the Chinese correction camps.

So what do I put, true or false?
500,000 is bigger than 200,000, so it could be true. But we don't know so it could be false.

She yelled at me, and laughed in front of the entire class. Telling me she wasn't going to help me cheat and give me the answer and that it was a stupid question and that if you had a million dollars you wouldn't say you had more than 100,000.
But that would be true!

I ended up putting false, but only after she asked me if I had given my 7th grade history teacher this much trouble. I told her no, his tests were clearly written.
She only half heard me and you can lecture me all you want. I know there's a time and place for everything, but I was so sick of her. Don't worry I'm not gonna start graffitiing things and setting things on fire.

She was just being so mean! Even teachers shouldn't be mean!

I'm sorry for venting. Might as well end it now. It's not me, its you. I'm exactly in the right place in my life right now, I just don't like you. You don't deserve me. I honestly don't want to be friends. I'm ready for a serious relationship, just not with you. You probably won't make someone happy some day.

I'm planning on making shirts? You like? I hope so.
Does your mom wear Crocs?

May 1, 2011

You'd think that what with my level on the middle school social hour I wouldn't have a lot to do on weekends, but this weekend was different. I was pretty busy 24/7, and I'm not used to this kind of physical workout.

Friday was Asian Pacific Islander night at my school, which the chamber of secrets had to play at, and I'll be honest, these theme nights have a reputation of crashing and burning.  I remember in 6th grade when I hadn't been sucked into Ms.Heels web and was still in art, I went to see my piece in the gallery. And this girl, Lucie Lui,who would later be named best female student of the 6th grade, was giving a presentation on famous people with Asian heritage. Her note cards were all out of order and she kept starting and stopping and the power point presentation was all mixed up, which is when her heroic mother ran up to save the day and tripped, hard, on the stairs leading to the stage. It was almost as if a red blinking light had told the audience to gasp. She was up. And then she wasn't.  I personally think the problem is that the crazy, chain smoking librarian plans each of the nights. She's got this deep, scratchy voice that confuses your body into thinking it should sleep and run at the same time.

Saturday my whole, dysfunctional (we put the fun in dysfunctional) family went shopping with me and helped me pick out a necklace, wrap, shoes and mask to wear to the semi-formal. Which I am now going stag too. Shorty found out her brothers college graduation is the same day as the dance, and can't go at all. As bummed as I am, I understand.  I asked Hannie to go with me, but alas I am still awaiting an answer.

But with all the news this week and this day, my silly school dance pales in comparison.

I have just watched the president's announcement about the death of Osama Bin Laden. The magnitude of the situation isn't lost on me, and it's ironic my Geo homework was to watch the news, and it's surprising how connected I feel to the world right now.  I don't fully understand the consequences of this, but I do understand the effort that went into it. And, this is a pretty rare feeling, but the presidential speech definitely evoked a proudness to be American.

And the other huge news this week, which I'm sure has just been trumped, was the Royal Wedding. You can put it down, but especially in moments like this I appreciate the royal wedding. The world is just full of such bad news, it's nice to get a break from that. I know I'm one among millions of girls that played princess in her head this weekend. And I think that's exactly what everyone needs. To play a little pretend.

So have a marvelous week, and remember to stay away from people in trench coats, who wear knee high socks with shorts and those who don Crocs.

April 27, 2011

Me- Here let me tie my tie around your neck, it'll be like practice for when I have a husband some day.
Bernie- Excuse me?
Me- You know, they always show the women tieing the man's tie in movies.
Bernie- Is this some sick 1950's dream of yours, because I'll tell you what you should be doing, practicing doing the dishes.
Or better yet, why don't you go make me a sammich!
Why are you tying my tie, shouldn't you be vacuuming?
Where's my sammich?

Sometimes the best thing to do, is just to let them have their fun.

Today was Wacky Wednesday in the horror that is Spirit Week. I wore a tie, just like Monday. You may wonder why I have so many ties.

Some people, though enthusiastic, always take things too far.
There are different types of these people, all bad, but different.
There are people like Phylis that take arguments to far, and then they eventually run out of stupid things to counter every one's silence with.
There are people who take rules too far. Take this- Someone asks for a piece of gum and they say, we aren't allowed to have gum, sharpies or guns on campus.
And then there are the worst kind known to man, or me, I like to call them the spirit weakers. They take every lame, lousy (can you tell I'm rereading The Catcher in the Rye?) instruction that the discards on the student counsel can come up with, root through their trash and wear it. That isn't wacky, that's sad. It sounds harsh but you don't sit behind the girl who stuffs her hair with cotton so she looks like Marge Simpson in math.
And its always one, tiny thing that takes them over the edge.

Like subs to try to make the best out of the jazzercise accident your Reading teacher had, by making crap jokes. Subs should stick to what they do  best, having no direction in life. Instead of laughing every few seconds at their chat room friends on the school computer.

God that reminds me of Mr.White, who sits in his classroom at his computer with the lights out. I don't know how to type the sound I make thinking of his pervertedness. I suppose you could look up Blue Waffle (a mistake you only make twice) and make it yourself.

Or you could just look at some Crocs...your choice. I think you know what you have to do...

The Day After Spring Break

I like to think of school as a vaccine. You know it's beneficial, but you hate getting it.
What, there aren't needles everywhere at your school?

While I did not fist pump in the Jersey Shore this Spring Break, I did, have a lot of fun. Well, now I've made myself feel bad about not fist pumping enough. The truth is, Spring Break is bad and good for you. You catch up on your sleep, you wear what you want. (For me that would be, what do you call it- ***less chaps) Its the good life.
Until it isn't.
Not even mentioning sunburns and injuries, the day you return to school after your wild break (which includes Batgammon and Keyboard Cat for me) is basically the minor version of a hangover.

I didn't remember anything in math today, and there was this moment in which I would look at the problem, think I knew I could do it and then freeze. Nothing. It didn't help that there was this girl, the awfully named, Lavender, behind me, who kept saying all the answers out loud. Saying she should just take the test right now. Curse you!

But it's true that there's always that one kid in class that doesn't understand the fact that everyone, including the teacher, wants them to be quiet. They ask stupid, already answered questions. They poke the hornets nest. And I personally am not going to help them when they get stung, the can calculate how long they need to treat their wounds anyway, Lavender.

And its not just her disgusting habits, or rudeness, but her name. I don't have anything against the scent. It's just that some names will trigger anger in all of us.
Weather you had a bad experience with a person by that name, or you don't think it fits with their face. I can't judge.
I think we all understand that there will always be a know it all, jerk named Ashley. We all know one, we all have stories to tell, we're just lucky we lived to tell them.

Spring Break also seems to trigger cravings for Summer. Its like we whet our appetites, and going back to school seems way to early.

However, to lighten the the mood, my school had Nerd Day.
It's unfortunately Spirit Week, which does mean free dress. But then again free dress means dressing like you're from the streets. Most kids in my school take free dress as,'look like you slept in an alley, but didn't.'

I didn't have to dress up, and I did get quite a few comments telling me I did a really good job.
I brought a school supply tie (which makes one think, why does she have that lying around) and some 7 dollar, dollar store glasses. But I opted to wear a collared shirt, the reason being, I'm pretty much a scaredy cat.
And the fact that I wore dress code on a free dress day can either be looked at as nerdy or tragically cool? Yeah. I'll let you think that one over.

Maybe this week will trump even last week?
Maybe I'll stop putting myself down because I feel inadequate compared to my classmates and friends?
Maybe my mom wont wear Crocs?