What am I doing with my life?

Do I make people happy?
Do I encourage laughter and singing?
Do I make a place better for my presence?
How am I making life less hard for people?
Do I appreciate everything I've been blessed with?
Do I strive to improve myself and the world around me?
Where am I wasting time?
Do I create new and unseen works of beauty?
Do my accomplishments benefit others?
Do I remember times I've spent alone, or time with friends?
Am I learned every day?
What are the things that I admire in other people?
Why haven't I adopted or learned those qualities?
What are little habits I can adopt to improve myself or my world?
If I believe I am capable of worthwhile productivity, why don't I produce?
Where am I being wasteful, and how can I cut back?
Are there things I am doing now that will limit my time on Earth?
Does my creation have meaningful content, or is it simply beautiful?
How can I learn from the people around me?
Am I asking the right questions?
What stories haven't I heard? Why haven't I asked?
What music makes me happy?
What do I want to do before I die?
What collection of things make me special?

Germs do not go quietly

'If you find yourself lost in the woods, fuck it, build a house. "Well, I was lost but now I live here! I have severely improved my predicament!"'

"Listerine hurts, man, when I put Listerine in my mouth, I'm fuckin' angry. Germs do not go quietly."

"My belt holds up my pants and my pants have belt loops that hold up the belt. What the fuck’s really goin on down there? Who is the real hero?"

Vocal Disparity

It took me a long time to realize that the voice in my head doesn't sound anything like the voice that comes out of my mouth. I was first shocked watching a home video my brother and I took of an awful spy movie we made. I couldn't believe my voice actually sounded like that. It was most shocking when my mom told me I wasn't a good singer. I didn't believe her, but all of the voice recordings I took on her phone seemed to prove her right. It made me embarrassed for a long time. It didn't matter so much when I was in a group of people, especially the pit, because I can hit the right notes, providing I can keep up with the octave. Alone, however, I didn't even want to sing in the shower, but I would sing at night in my room. Now I have a better grasp of what my voice sounds like to auditory spectators. I'm also less embarrassed to sing. I try not to outdo myself in public because that's being self-confident where there is nothing to back it up and I'd look like a dick. But everyone I would want to be friends with wouldn't begrudge my singing. Although it's scary to share myself like that sometimes.

Thinking About Shirts

Whenever a shirt gets a stain or something, I'm less likely to wear it in public, even though the stain is just a testament to its duty. The whole purpose of a shirt is to protect you from "the elements," even when modern life has reduced those basics to preventing you from being splattered with chocolate milk or noodles or grapes. It would be a shame to be neglected because you were doing what you were supposed to.

My pencil is sharp and it makes me want to write.

Guy Montag

Nothing important is ever completely explicable.
-Madeline L'Engle

It makes me upset that Catch-22 is on the list of most-commonly challenged books, Slaughterhouse-Five as well. I can just barely wrap my head around objecting to the content, but there is so much of war and humanity and the end of innocence that these are the books that should be forced on children. "The Eternal City," chapter of gorgeous language and hideous imagery, struck me in its blunt appraisal of the sacredness of life. There isn't any. Aarfy kills a prostitute without regard. She's just another nameless person of millions dying in the war. What care is there for the sick and abused? Snowden dies freezing with only words for comfort where morphine would've been more appropriate. Even if there is objection to the story, the use of language is revolutionary in itself. The style and humor and flow of time are unique to the story and brilliant. I can't imagine denying any kid access to these books.

Stuff and Terrible Music!

The first time I ever saw a Sham-Wow commercial was during an episode of SNL and I thought it was another skit. I feel this is a satisfactory introduction to the product.

I haven't found a tree that I can climb at my mom's house yet, but I've been enjoying the creek (despite it being filled with trash).

On account of Joe's party today, I watched the music video to "Get this Party Started" and it was a great blast from the past. It also made me want to dance a little bit.

Aaron Carter was, like, 12 when Aaron's Party came out. Marketing music to 'tweens must be the easiest job in the world. "For now I won't sweat it, I'll just clean it up later." He couldn't lip sync. Lordie. It makes me ashamed.

I would LOVE to be the Britney Spears flight attendant from Toxic for Halloween.

I'm trying to figure out what the text limit on my new cell phone is. I'm at 54, so it's definitely above my last one.

[Edit: I got to 128 and decided to fuck it, because it's not like I'll be keeping that many texts.]

For the first and last time, a band concert was the least terrible part of my day.

Patient, Fine, Balanced, Kind

I've kept a journal for a whole entire week now. There are pictures and scraps of relevant paper inside, with very short summaries of the day. I'd like to keep it through the summer as a record of exploits and stories to be remembered.

One time post-Christmas season, I bought "Dinacell" batteries. I was pissed.

I'm terribly excited for college. People make exclamations about going to Temple, and there a number of GV kids going, but it seems like only the good ones who I wish I'd had more time with during high school. Who knows? My placement exam is Wednesday, and if I score high enough on English, I'm pretty sure I will be triple-qualified for Honors Composition.

My dad made some statements last night that I consider to be revelations. He sort of apologized for our fate, but that we are products of it and that we will ride it out.

I think I will title my surreal piece "Drifting Off," to imply three different meanings. One obvious. One related to the style. One personal.

I feel extra attractive today.

[edit: this morning I realized I have no idea what "humectant" meant on my shampoo, so I looked it up on Wikipedia. The information age is a wonderful age.]

Save the Music

ProMusica was MINDBLOWING. Somebody to Love is an especially challenging vocal piece to begin with, but there were some really phenomenal thrills. I gestured wildly at members, swooping my hand over my head in disbelief and giving the universal symbol for "head explode." Visually it was also very well organized.

Some performers blew the roof off the house. Lexie's Fine, Fine Line is a personal favorite on top of her impressive vocals. Taylor and Dan were silly sweet. Everyone loves Johnny. The last song crowding everyone on stage was lively warm with brass and acoustic guitar in a great ska sound. Sarah and Erik were delightful to the mix, with Kira and Mike's cameo mostly unnoticed.

Emily and PJ have such an easy sound.

I spent some of the evening hassling people who dare stand near the bake sale without buying cookies, "2 fo' a' dolla'!" In my years of harassing Wasiq, it would appear I'm a great saleswoman, though one not associated with Music Honor Society. There were many laughs exchanged through the evening, mostly at the charm of Kim and Melissa. Live music prompts some pleasant attachment.

500th Post

"While this is all saddening in my private moments, I do perceive it as a trivial, temporary, and inconsequential series of events."
- September 10th, 2009

"My memory is the thing I am most proud of myself for."
-September 25th, 2009

"She called me back, also worried for him."
-October 2nd, 2009

"He told me why we could never be together, even though my 10 year plan in Career Development was about us reconnecting after so long and moving to Dubai."
-October 9th, 2009

"I feel emotionally worn down."
-October 15th, 2009

"Recently, while on a Wikilinking spree, I came across the idea of 'anhedonia,' or absence of pleasure."
-October 28th, 2009

"I turned to Kira and gave an 'Oh No!' face."
-November 6th, 2009

"It's been suggested my family is genetically predisposed to getting hit by cars."
-November 25th, 2009

"It makes me feel unattractive that I cannot arouse a boy, who is stereotypically more sexually driven."
-December 4th, 2009

"I wish there was more for him."
-December 10th, 2009

"Paternally, my X chromosome is healthy except for glaucoma and a noticeable lack of "womanly endowment."
-December 17th, 2009

"If anything ever happened to either of us, I couldn't trust her reason anymore."
-December 23rd, 2009

"I'm very blunt, and my filter is a little more liberal than most."
-January 7th, 2010

I wish I'd had psychology this semester so that I could write Psych Journals to Mrs. G. again.

A Call (in)to Arms

"I celebrate myself, and sing myself"

I have been dishonest and immature.

"The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the
distillation, it is odourless,
It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it,
I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked,
I am mad for it to be in contact with me."
-W. Whitman

I have never sent anything to PostSecret. But today, they had my words.

"This June bug street sings low and lovely."

Closing of the Week

I've had a really lovely two days besides getting all mopey this afternoon. Yesterday, I rocked the Lit. Exam, read Wikipedia during Art, got mistaken for a substitute, and spent all the rest of the day in anticipation and utter elation. Disbelief fringed the whole experience, and an exhausted relief that all of my anxious fears were for naught. Several times I've sang with a catch in my throat. Several times I've teared up while singing. However, I could not recollect having such experiences caused by disbelieving joy.

States was fun. The day had me flattered, as my intellect and my shoes were complimented. We missed qualifying for semifinals by two questions. Retrospectively, that what it always seems to come down to for our HiQ team. "If we had just done this..." "if only I had said 'hour' instead of 'day,' 'stream' instead of 'current....'" Still, it is an honor and wonderful experience to attend State Academic Championships. The Capitol Building is artful almost to garish effect. There are gilded cherubs and flowering scroll work EVERYWHERE. I explored around before lunch to amuse myself with the lavish government headquarters. Being with the team felt good today; though I didn't know how to compose myself, full of dirty thoughts tempered with respectable duties. Wasiq fell asleep in the van on the way home. It was kind of adorable.

Embittered

Today, I got a little down in sorts. Since the summer, I'm far more reserved. I've never especially been the one to "reach out" in a relationship, but now it has ceased almost completely. If I am home, I home alone with my thoughts. It makes me feel isolated even though there may be any number of people just waiting to be contacted. I don't often acknowledge them in my thoughts.

I wonder if I am still endearing. I'm more vulgar than I used to be, but also older. There is no older demographic to appeal to except for teachers, but my persona there is usually lazy smart ass.

I keep writing huge paragraphs and deleting them.

Holy shit, I'm excited.

Joek

My hands are on fire. It burns to type. I apologize guitar, for all that I've done and not done, the neglect and rejection. Never again will I allow you to fall into such disrepair as you'll be separated from me; 13 days in the company of strange men who fondle your neck and body.

Sometime, late at night in the recess of my mind, I wonder on New York, a city of gawking, if Joe had let me hold his hand, perhaps that man would not have made fun, would not have incited his classmates to laughter. They tipped him for the joek.

I've had two dreams about Viv in the past week.

Lover I Don't Have to Love

Today, after the dress fitting, I purchased fake pearls and "fuck me heels." The dress is so long that the heels won't be visible during prom, but I'll definitely be using them again. In anticipation of May, I've taken steps to get a little fit, to be a little sexier, and I see the results. They're nice. But I've been reconsidering my motive. Feminine appeal doesn't matter much if there's no reciprocated lust, and I've gotten in an awful rut of boys sans sex drives.

The Week Before Christmas

Some late night ago, I thought very vividly of the balls of light suspended in the trees at Brinton Lake around Christmas time. I got milk at Wawa, because the pending snowstorm had depleted the one on 202. Sitting in the car afterward, my eyes got watery, and the lights became like halos on fuzzy silhouettes. Everything else was closed, and no one was on the road. I don't remember singing. It wasn't the ocasion, but it was like something out of a movie.

Retrospectively, I can see where I was wrong.

Tonight was the HiQ banquet.
States are next Friday.
I'm so glad that this year is over.
I hated the team this year.
Except for Doc and Rock,
of course.

Windows and What's Outside

Old fashioned sink, checkered table cloth in farmhouse kitchen.

Whenever I read Organic Gardening magazine, it makes me want to raise chickens or a garden or do something productive, but I hardly ever go back in the garden except to look at how things are growing. Despite my lack of direct involvement, on those days when evening sunlight filters through the maple and the walnut, I look at the barn and a barn cat, maybe the field and fuzzy dandelions, and I'm grateful for my upbringing. I wash my dishes by hand and have done so since I was eleven. I walk. I sometimes hang laundry out to dry. My dad would push me on the tire swing. He built us a tree house and hung up a hammock. Now I wonder if I will have a window in my dorm.

Being a little hooligan with Katie, I remember an afternoon spent on the playground of Mt. Pleasant Elementary. We swore up and down we were of the wrong time, meant to grow up in the sixties and be hippies. I'll stand by the first statement. The fourth dimension has me wrongly placed. Admittedly, I enjoy each day. I love Wikipedia. The internet is a life-changing invention, but I should've been a teen in the 1970s. I should've been friends with my dad and the kids of the woods. My music is there. My style. My aversion to pure convenience.

But I'll live.

"I Like Your Sundress"

Today, volunteering at the art show, I thought about Clayton Park. Kate and sledding. Kate and Jeff and Stasi and sledding. Matt and pictures. Kacey texting me when I was walking off the hurt.

Every time I think about putting Bright Eyes quotes here, I know Nicki will notice.

Today went by fast. I learned.

"little babies, dreaming their little baby dreams..."

The Moth is beautiful. Straight up. The stories of origins, experiences that shaped lives and provided insight, it's an intimate sort of personal.

"...God will look over them, even when I do not."

I was deleting drafts I never published, and came across these.
I was amused and confused.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v229/Trigger_89/070220.jpg
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v299/Kanaro/babies.jpg
http://img.waffleimages.com/65d27585a27cfd54990173dd10fd62d9981edea5/2137a9950nf3.jpg
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v739/farkingbastage/ridindirty.jpg
http://img.waffleimages.com/9673dfe7d3db35441eb86a0a290dbe420127646e/pandas%203.jpg
http://i153.photobucket.com/albums/s238/LimeGouda/turtlemind.jpg
http://img.waffleimages.com/975f528ac51c583cafa09792e55fc944f387f89d/33.6.jpg
http://img.waffleimages.com/d1cf9bc21859697d633764c1512b3c19d4527786/oh-the-huge-manatee.jpg
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v102/kingofallblahs/523th5vze4.jpg
http://img.waffleimages.com/67f1892a6fff6a2c4ff93488457ccdd9089d10b6/074_apathy.jpg

Saturday through Sunday, Monday

"Maybe I'll love you one day
Maybe we'll someday grow..."

I recognize that my "love" is pathetically incomplete. I'm curious when and how it will evolve. I talked to my mom about it, and her answer, hands down, is "having kids." That seems like an obvious change, but isn't there something more to spousal love. Am I deluded? By example of my family, spousal love is a convenient working arrangement and is over post-convenience. But from some other families, there is definitely a greater understanding. Companionate love is a lingering love for me. It's probably not worthy to be called so by my definition, which is hazy, but in this age of adolescence, it fits. Hopefully I will learn to love by necessity, and not after it became necessary.

"...til then just sit your drunk ass on that fuckin' runway, ho"

Shocked and Persuaded my Soul to Ignite

"Nothing is crueler than children who come from good homes."
-Amanda Palmer

Today, my mom and I went for a walk. She told me about her aspirations for a three bedroom home. I told her about paying for college. She told me a few stories about the uncle I never met, her little brother. Sometimes I'm scared to death I will only be able to tell my kids stories. Those thoughts are infrequent, though. Jack and I talk about them. Sometimes he agrees.

He doesn't want to go to Garnet Valley anymore, says he hates it. "Parents just don't understand," but I do. I've got 40 something days left before I get out. He's got 540 something. And admittedly, a great majority of my 680 days in confinement were not as unhappy.

The Year of Secrets

Today in physics, I turned in my physics "diary." The definition of this homework assignment is an outline of "concepts, strategies, and reflections" about each day in class. We're supposed to write down what we did, what we didn't understand, and how we intend to induce comprehension. My physics diaries are written in a real diary that I kept from sixth grade into junior year. Earlier stuff is emo or tragic or silly or terrible poetry or the occasional bucket list. Kelsey and Natalie expressed interest in reading it, and I didn't mind. I'm responsible for my own thoughts and actions, and even if I'm ashamed of them, I will not hide them when asked directly. They both complimented my writing style, and we related on some experiences. However, it got me thinking about the things I never wote about.

I once said I'm really good at keeping other people's secrets, but not my own. Until this year, there was always an easy distinction between what is my secret and someone else's (duh, this should be obvious!). However, since summer, there are things that other people have done that affected my life and made me ache. There are revelations that make me very sad, things I "can't" talk about. I don't want pity or advice, but a sounding board or understanding.

I'm very aware that the best way to keep a secret is to never mention it. Since the start of 2010, I made only one vague allusion to any of the secrets I've kept. Now I'm looking for a way out. It'll take a while to find trust in a confessor. Don't be offended if it's not you.

"your FACE is an ad-hominem attack!"

we laugh at pornography
it's the hip thing to do

I am the fucking dragon queen of Lit. Mag. Take that formatting! *Pew pew* to all freshmen who dare not include their attachments. EXPLOSIONS!

I hate Macs! They're counter-intuitive!

My life is sort of busy. A sort of busy I have never encountered before. A sort of busy that keeps me doing necessary and productive work until I fall asleep exhausted, barely having time for food. It's WONDERFUL. I'm going to crash and burn and it's gonna be gorgeous.

Soon means a lot less when everything is measured in walking distance.

South African Pirate Party Wedding Weekend

The weekend wedding was lovely. "Uncle Rodger" wrote Karen two songs. The first, he sang as she walked down "the aisle." (The "aisle" is in quotes, because we were outside in a state park, so it was merely a divide in the chairs.) The chorus went, "It's all in the heart, my friend. It's the heart that tells the stories. It's all in the heart." He made everyone in the audience sing it, and I sorta kinda teared up a bit because it was sorta kinda perfect. Of all my aunts, I most identify with Karen. Now that she's married for the first time in her golden years, I feel there is hope for me. She is the most accomplished woman I've ever met, with a wide variety of interests and talents. Rodger is similarly intelligent and accomplished, with a very pleasant singing voice. He was an anti-apartheid protest singer and formerly on the South African government's blacklist. Now he produces operas and documentaries. NPR interviewed him about South African operas.

I saw my dad dance for the first time. It was hilarious.

I'd never heard "Killing Me Softly" before. On the way home from the wedding, I was riding in Sam's car, a very spectacular Mercedes, and Daniel was driving. We went through all of his Bob Marley before scrolling along to this particular ditty. Sam was singing with loud sincerity. Pam, next to me, admitted that it could be no more embarrassing if she and I were to start singing. However, as I'd never heard it before, I didn't know the words. Luckily, there's about 10 in the whole song, so I picked up quickly and sang with the best of them.

Goat is super delicious. Probably super fatty.

My uncle Joe was quite snookered Friday evening, when it was suggested that everyone go out for a pub crawl. My uncles, Joe especially, were upset because Rodger was not required to wear his eye-patch, thus, they could not force him to endure a "pirate themed bachelor party." The pub crawl was to be the substitution, sans pirate strippers. Because we had a massive family dinner outside in the courtyard, Joe had three of the four forks his room had contributed. They were in his pocket. Quite inebriated, he shouted, "I have three forks! That means we can stab three people at three different bars. Or I can give one to each of you, then NOBODY will fuck with us!" Some minutes later, when transportation was arranged, he calmly stated, "Wait, let me grab some shoes that lace up, just in case I have to kick some fuckers in the head." All of this transpired while my most Catholic grandmom was present.

Temperpedic beds suck dirty, hairy balls.

My aunt Jeanne has a few phobias, one of them being a fear a flying. Being thus, she elected to drive the six hours to Durham. However, she wanted to take a scenic route that avoided every single major highway and efficient road. She left my grandmom's around the same time we left for the airport. Twelve hours later (approximately 1 am), she arrives at the condominiums, exhausted, with an awful headache. The next morning, she was in the worst condition for a wedding. Sick. Throwing up. Sensitive to light, sound, and movement. Migraines. Even though she made a good show, she couldn't make it to the wedding on time. In fact, I did not see her at all until Sunday morning at ~10. She's going to be staying with my uncle Joe and aunt Jane to see their "new" devil house in South Carolina. It's cursed. More on that later.

For breakfast, I had a sesame bagel, most of a mango, almonds, and orange juice. I could stand to have that happen a little more often.

Joe and Jane's house is in a little backwoods Southern community. The grass is super grass that needs to be cut at least twice a week, lest it start eating the roaming dogs, raccoons, or foxes that frequent their backyard. It has required an immense amount of work. One of those things beingn to put new doors on the all the cabinets. So, being industrious, Joe and Jane cleaned off the heavy doors, maybe 5-10 lbs each, primed them, dried them, and left them outside to begin the last coat of white. However, the wind started blowing. Joe and Jane were standing on their deck and worried that the wind was going to blow all sorts of dirt and nastiness from their lawn onto the doors. No. That is not what happened. A mini-twister formed, picking up four or five of the doors, swirling them around in the air a bit, before smashing them against the rock driveway, smashing up the corners and removing promiscuous bits and pieces. Amazed and stupefied at what they had just witnessed not ten feet away, they brushed them off and applied the final layer of paint.

Durham is almost urban, as it is a former tobacco/textiles town. Jack and I hopped up on an abandoned train track and enjoyed the late evening air. It was interesting.

My female cousins are uber girls. When my aunt inquired how long it would take for us to get ready, I said, "Twenty minutes, but that's not including my shower." Each of the other girls replied, "An hour and a half, but that's if I have a whole bathroom to myself, so maybe two and a half." The oldest is intelligent and reasonable. The youngest is not. She has a dog, Lola, who is about the size of my ho' bag and about as intelligent, though more often underfoot and in the way. Also, in the words of my dad, "Peanut-head, peanut bladder." It pees.

During the pub crawl, my uncle Joe was this close to riding a mechanical bull when my cousin Daniel got carded. He's ~60 days from turning 21.

North Caroline is "the Tobacco State." Being so, with Jack jonesing, he requested that I attempt to buy him cigarettes from "Sleepy Eyes," the mildly racist, mildly stoned attendant of the gas station around the corner. The first day we encountered him, I was just casing the place, getting a feel for whether or not he'd sell to me. During that time, two Mexicans walked in. I was in my Soffees. The pink ones with green whales and skulls on them. They were hiked up pretty high. Two Mexicans walked in, and I was pretty suspicious they were checking me out. Then it was confirmed they were checking me out, as I made eye contact with one and he winked. As we were leaving, I caught "muneca" and was flattered. The second night, post-wedding, I was dressed up with my dressy shirt pulled down as low as possible, and Sleepy Eyes sold me the Newports. Jack bought me gum for my efforts.

Bad Penny Beer was the keg, a microbrew from a local place. My uncles didn't drink 'til they got back to the condos.

The dancing was great. My aunt is a swing dancer, and Rodger just makes it up as he goes. It was very nice, though the playlist was not the usual dancey selection. Both "Down Under" and "Oxford Comma" were played, and both were danced to as best as could, given the circumstances.

What Would Jesus Think?

I've been hurting, strangled up in possibilities and buzzwords. Some time ago, I recognized that I am the pilot of my happiness, and as result, I'm usually in a good mood and happy and enthusiastic. Still, internal monologue is suffocating that logic and sense of direction. I'm not really sure what will make me happy anymore, and there isn't busy-ness to fill the void and stop the incessant chatter. During the day I'm sane. I'm logical. I know what can and cannot be, and it doesn't hurt. Then I get home, get sleepy, think these half-twisted thoughts about what could and should, reflect negatively on my history of interpersonal relationships.

I'm gonna have some really fucked up relationships. Half by example. Half by personal failings.

I've given up on learning game design. My instructor jumped ship and the internet at my house makes watching instructional videos impossible. Neglecting game design negates the need to learn Java. Wikipedia has no appeal, except in those sparse and beautiful moods. Poetry is simply exotic diction, and I'm hesitant to jump into another book.

As of now, I've gotten to the point where I reach out to two people. I want to blame it on my history, my IQ, my "family issues," when I'm probably just a jerk. I have no desire to talk to anyone else, and I don't know how to get past the trite facades of most teenagers. Even with these two friends, I resent one and am too easily irritated by the other. The latter is purely my own fault, but I neglect to express that she is appreciated beyond any other. I feel guilty, but that's still not taking action to remedy the situation.

Don Hertzfeldt

"You could make a cartoon in crayons about a red square that falls in unrequited love with a blue circle, and there wouldn’t be a dry eye in the house if you know how to tell a story."

Rejected is the third best short film of all time, according to that great and respected authority, imdb.

"I'm feeling fat and sassy."

Highly recommended wiki: Don Hertzfeldt, followed by Rejected.

"it cuts to the next scene; a man with bunny ears walks up to three children, makes a mooing noise, and does as the quote said onto the three children"

Ded-Gifawe

I checked again, willing it to change from a Forever Stamp, but the handwriting was all wrong anyway.

Now that robotics is over, I have nothing but time. Maybe I'll learn a lot. Or walk a lot.

"Loanwords can also be called "borrowings". Although of long-standing usage, neither loanword nor borrowing correctly conveys the meaning, since no words are going to be returned to the "creditor" language."
-Wikipedia

I've got to look for loans shortly.

Mrs. S. commented that she liked my necklace. I said it was from a friend. A friend who is a boy. She noted the lack of naming names. Mrs. K. asked to guess, and damn if she doesn't know everything. I'm smiley all the time, though I wonder if it isn't influenced by Kate's infectious adorableness. It's a waste to be hesitant and nervous about the future, when now is so wonderful.

Augh. It's Depressing Comic Week #4 on C&H.
And I was having a really good week.
I've been all smiley, and almost maybe sorta kinda floaty.

Fun from Saturday

Step One: Find the biggest girl in the venue
Step Two: Jump on her back
Step Three: Ride her like a dinosaur

"the bill: tl/dr"

It's Not a Lusting

There was something serene in today, and a lot of laughter.
Ceramic scratch of metal spoon on bowl of ice cream.
Pink trail of airplane that looks like it's crashing to earth.
That little catch in his voice where it turns over to something rough and sour.
My dad and his easy way with animals, but alienation from people.

New Phone: Sounds

This is a list of the sounds I'll be forwarding to my new phone.

Always

Wish You

WahPow

The Connection

Sunshine Dust

Scharton

Heh

Farmhouse (long)

Farmhouse

Bitches Can't Hang

happy birthday from Abby and Sarah in Hawaii

New Phone: Pictures

This is written description of the pictures I'll be sending to my new phone. There were a lot of pictures I forgot I had.

Aviators from the first Cossart Road party at Jeff's house when it poured

Boxeh Friend screen shot

M&M heart I sent to JoeKat

Tibby, may've still be Tibbetha at the time of taking it

Colbert pumpkin

Steph's car when we got the pretzels that fogged up the windows

"Pablo" from the Dresden Doll's concert

the first time Wasiq rode the bus and I was there

Spotted Dick from the ACME adventure

"This disc is bad or dirty." From Sarah's PS3

Ginger beers from the night of Oct. 8th, 2008

First bouquet of flowers I ever got

Tom's head on Steve Gadd's

Sunrise from January 1st, 2009

the hail outside Dunkin Donuts

Huge toad from gym class

MOJO13 lit up sign

Blue M&M heart

xkcd on the shack

Celebrating Matt's birthday with party hats

heART

Jeff smiling at the sleepy old fat cat from Longwood

My super sweet igloo

Cabot

New Phone: Texts

Last night, I went through the texts, sounds, and photos on my phone that I don't want to lose forever. Some of the texts I may've posted before, but these are the ones I wanted to keep with me everywhere I went.

'i like black boys better than white boys, they're much more fun. Oh, and i tried cocaine! I think i'm addicted!' oh dear god lol

Sad and strange as in dark summer dawns, the earliest rise of half-awakened birds to dying ears when unto undying eyes the casement grows a glimmer square; so sad, so strange, the days that are no more

I take a tip from you as the highest honor anyone can receive, no matter the amount.

Awwwwww chloe, i love and miss you. My roommate and i are running around and getting free things to decorate our room XD makes me think about you =P

We should totally go on Wheel of Fortune teen best friends. We'd pwn.

I do not knowo the story behind the sadness in your eyes but i hope as the day gives way to night that somehowo there is something to make you happy, if on

ly for a moment. You are awesome. Remember that. Love you.

Thank you, you're also my best friend, even if it does get me in trouble

FWD: Which of your girls is trying to hook up with our tenor player?

That's probably the most adorable phrase I've ever heard, and it's a perfect way to say it. That's good, because I think I'm madly in like with you too. :)

I like the tree

I'm sure you'll end up at a place that fits you. You're on of the most distinct people that I've met, and the college that you end in up in will reflect t

Happy Birthday! Now go to sleep!

[Picture] Happy b day

Ill be there for you

ps- if you happen to change your mind about anything, you know you are always welcome back.

[Picture]

WHYY offered me TWO interviews!!! =D =D =D

just an fyi, you are an amazing person and i really admire everything about you. i love you most dearly and hope that jeff continues to be good to you. please dont ever change chloe, the world needs more people like you. oh and by the way.... he breaks your heart ill break his neck =P

First text message from my new phone =( don't like change!!!

I jumped into rainboe falls! Not the big party, but you should still gis it =P

there's a store here that sells NOTHING BUT STENCILS OH MY GOD I'm in heaven

Feelings just faded.
It's so easy.

Apartnership

And we said that everything would be alright, if only the time and place had been different.

This evening, I sat outside on the tire swing. Thought about some fateful late night July, when I couldn't handle it anymore and there was a promise that I could talk about what makes me "me." I stumbled out in that morning darkness, tearing up my feet with walnuts tucked under summer grass. The night was so warm, I figured I could fall apart again and wait it out on the tender ground.

My little brother makes me unbearably proud. There's so much unconventional life about him that I worry he's living too fast, but it's a little beautiful and he's more involved in the lives around him than I've ever been. I despise my accolades to be touted in front of him, because they're worthless in my life, but his achievements can't be revered by adults. Defending a middle schooler from a bastard bully and making lives of moments.

I bet everyone's boobies look good during the upside down parts of roller coasters.

Prom is a singular chance for girls to dress up the like princesses they've always known they are, and one of the few days in a lifetime when it is almost socially acceptable to wear a tiara in public. For girls, anyway. Anything under 13th, 16th, maybe 18th, and 21st are acceptable. Boys never get that evening. On that, I'm borrowing my dress from Viv, though I'll need to get it refitted "about the bust."

I thought about the night hanging out with Carley and Jeff, and how I'd like to get some chalk pastels and draw all over some body.

Someday: Statement for the Future

Someday, I'm going to make love to some beautiful boy who loves me f'real f'real and we'll listen to my records, and he'll appreciate what a quirky alive person I am. He'll love music more than me, because I don't really love it like I thought I did. He will call me, not text me, and I will be friends with his parents and send them Christmas cards, unless he happens to be Jewish. We will wrestle in the grass, and he will be barely able to hold back his ferocious lust. We will share dinner with our families, and he will laugh at my dad's jokes when my dad tries really hard to be funny and personable, but is really only mildly amusing and entirely endearing. Jack will think he is a good guy, and that my eyes are squinty all the time when I'm with him. We will talk politics and question existence, like "Can snails move backwards?" "I wonder how many four-leaf clovers have been run over with lawn mowers?" and at the peak of science and all knowledge, we will go to a museum to find out how magnets work. Because if I don't make it a statement for the future, I will always settle for less and the least.

I can't stop listening to side two of "Our Endless Numbered Days." Damn. He reminds me of James Taylor in his talking with melody.

[edit: I looked it up, snails can't move backwards. I never considered it before today until looking at the pond in my grandmom's backyard.]

WWJT

BLAG! WRITING!

I was first! Mwahaha.

I spent all this break playing Pokemon.
It may or may not be a problem.

Yesterday, I went into Philly with my aunt for the Philadelphia Writing Project in which my short story won an honorable mention. I was proud, until I found out that a particular story from our class also won an honorable mention, and it was some of the worst writing I'd ever read. After that, I was just glad to be in Philadelphia on such an unbelievably gorgeous day. I finally got to see the trees in the Kimmel Center. Ever since it opened, I've been really excited to go up there. Some night, I'll go back and look out at the city. There were beached whales on the streets. An artist put them there. I got new records!! Wooden Shoe books moved next to Repo Records. I would like to volunteer there and read and read for hours, until I go over to the record store and maybe the thrift store. I could be the hippest hipster in Philly, if only I had the dedication to seriously listen to indie music and find it while it's still indie.

The voice of the man from Iron & Wine sometimes sounds like finally getting to sleep in clean sheets, warm and solidly soft. Other times it's lighter, like things could pass through it.

Standing in front of my mirror, putting my hair up for Easter Sunday with grandmom, I had pulled my hair into the perfect half ponytail. BUT! I didn't have a hair tie! My new package sat on the dresser taunting. With all rage and uncivilized gnashing, I tore opening the packaging with my teeth, a beast-woman in command of all objects within my flailing thrashes. Satisfied by the paper killed dead, I put my hair up into a very lovely arrangement and realized my yellow and pink combination had me dressed up very similarly to a dyed and hidden egg of such celebration.

I had a beautiful dream that everyone I'd ever known was in my backyard, looking for buttons in the grass like an easter egg hunt and I could almost fly, like if I'd spent more time trying for lift off instead of looking for pins, that I may've started falling the wrong way. Later, after the dusky hunt was over, I retired to my bed with a friend, and we spoke and it was twenty of midnight until his dad said that he could stay out late, and Apologize kept playing snippets as I leant over my dresser and I was didn't have any clothes on, but it was okay, because it was just us and what is a person but a person. I don't remember waking up or how it ended, but I guess most dreams don't really end cleanly.

Stasi, thank you. I'll tell you in real words soon. Welcome home.

I'm going to tear up all the letters I wrote. They're no good for Jeff or for anyone. I've been writing some poetry, just a little bit. Thinking poetically and sometimes writing it down, maybe.

We are white trash, and our legs are tired from walking up apartment stairs. I dress like it's summer so that the boys will notice when I'm leaning backwards and raising my arms to shut the tall tall trunk of the car. The cars all slow down, but I think I'll have to mention that's because of the speed bumps.

Topeka

Last night, in fitful bouts of sleep, I thought about what it means to really be an adult. An honest to goodness "my parents & Mr. Longo" kind of adult. As much as I'd like to permanently leave on the big girl pants, I'm trite and petty, jealous and temperamental. It's considered a bad thing that I've been "parentified," in the word of my mom's counselor, that I feel overly responsible for the well being of my brother and myself. Still, at times it seems like nobody else is going to be responsible for us, so somebody should care about where he is. Jack and I have similar attitudes towards authority, we just react differently. If the person in charge has earned their position and is competant, they can be respected. However, figureheads get nothing. This is another reason I don't feel quite like an adult. The "adult" world is full of bullshit that has to be resigned to if one is to continue and succeed. But again, maybe this is just a childish interpretation.

Party Like it's 1998

Red version was $19.99 and MarioKart64 was $30.
What kind of hell store was I in?!

Pity Little Things

Though you will never read this, and I already said thank you, "Thank you."

Talk is cheap, and so is my writing. It's been brought to my attention that I need to reiterate what this blog is for. This is an airing of personal grievances. I don't make attacks. I do post information that is of a fairly sensitive nature, but I do censor myself. I realize that we are not all sensible adults who read this and write accordingly. I never post about shit that's going on in my family and only rarely about "my angst." Reading this blog does not entitle anyone to think they know me. Trust me, no matter who you are reading this blog, I don't talk about you behind your back, please try and return the favor as far as this blog is concerned. I write for expression, not entertainment.

Fuckin' A

My 18th birthday is going to be down in Myrtle Beach this year. It's a little hard to get across what that exactly means, except that my cousins are good people with good taste in wild.

"Well, we fooled 'em for a long time, didn't we?"

Imagine that you suddenly lost the ability to read or sing or speak. Overnight, skills just started disappearing, including how to tell everyone else what is happening to you, when you don't really understand it yourself. There are memories when you knew how to do these things. Is it terrifying? Frustrating? There's a disorder, under the class of a childhood developmental disorder, where three year olds start forgetting how to do things, start forgetting how to speak. They start reacting to waking nightmares, hallucinations, and have no idea how to tell their parents what's happening.

"Childhood desire for companionship can become numbed through a history of failed social encounters."
-Wikipedia article on Asperger syndrome

Last night, before Nick and I went to pick up Emily, we shared dinner with my dad. NPR drifted smooth jazz from some Sunday evening program, maybe American Routes, and we got to discussing classical pianists. Eight hour a day focus, intensely preoccupied with black marks on white paper, to the point that simple verbal instructions "play these two chords" becomes a difficult task. My dad said that in the future, all these levels of focus would have names, ADD and Asperger's being broad descriptions. He then went on to casually announce that he has Asperger's. I'd never known it, though everything seemed to fall into an understanding.

"...research supports... and suggests a genetic contribution to Asperger syndrome."

I don't know where my abilities originate from. My mom has the worst memory I've ever encountered, while mine is one of the sharpest. She forgot her friend had cancer, while I remembered that it was thyroid cancer, and he'd lost his health insurance because he was laid off. I've had roughly the same schedule for four years, Tuesday and Thursday HiQ, Monday and Wednesday [activity]. She has never been able to retain this, scheduling all manner of appointments for times with well established engagements. Despite some tendencies towards isolation, I'm still social, whereas my dad is removed from the world except for his immediate family and clients.

"The sky so big it nearly broke my soul."

I have an honest to goodness picnic basket and there are ladybugs all over my house. I count them dotting windows in the morning and afternoons. The grass feels brighter than I've ever seen it. Even the walnut and maple trees in my yard are growing a mossy green bark. Spring is so barely sprung, but the birds are loudly courting and living outside. I think I'll go for a walk.

"Never tell a soul that we kissed."

Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it doesn't.

"Why won't our love keel over as it chokes on a bone?"

MOE seeded 4th and went on to win the Philly regional with Miss Daisy (341) and the Positronic Panthers (486) from Strath Haven. It was an awesome three days, though demanding. Last night, eight of the team members and two more kids from GV went out to a restaurant in Chinatown. I ate a fish's eyeball. It tastes like fish.

"We can mourn it passing and then bury it in the snow."

"So, I gather you're kind of promiscuous then?" I'd never really considered that the word may apply to me, but admittedly, I have low standards and only casual relationships. I've whispered the wrong name, called up the past instead of the present. For my only talent of remembering things, boys sorta blend together.

"If you don't want to be with me just say, and I will go."

"Should you look through some old photos, I adored you in every one of those."

"If someone took a picture of us now, they'd need to be told."

"I'd say she was his sister, but she doesn't have his nose."

"But I hate when I feel like this,"

"...and I never hated you."

An Artist and a Scholar and a Philosopher

I'm getting 150 points off my art project because I am inept with x-acto knives, and my brother is incapable of making photocopies. Alas. On that note. Neither Gabby nor I (nor anyone else?) won the logo design contest, but they did give complimentary Wawa gift card, a lovely surprise.

Today was the second day of FIRST Philadelphia regionals. It's been waaay better than Balitimore, maybe because I know people better and the right ones are here. Yesterday saw a good hour or so of Ultimate with other teams. I was all weezing and sweaty and not good, but it was a great time and I wasn't the worst. However, I fell asleep immediately after showering, so today saw a really rank jersey (though it's currently gettin' a bath, and I can hear the spin cycle). MOE is rockin' and seeded 5th, though tomorrow's qualifiers will probably see us ranked a lil' higher. It's been a much better event than in Baltimore. There's a more intimate sense of team interactions, prompted mostly by the flying disc and warm weather. Today was chillier, damp, and sorta important, so more teams were inside than out. A few of us toured around Drexel, which made the day soar by with interesting conversation. I'm excited for tomorrow.

I've been looking at the past with the opposite of rosy glasses. First, I'm a pretty terrible friend to really just about everyone. I do not reach out to other people and have become horrendously self-aware when talking. I'm crude and blunt and easily irritated. Second, I was awfully cruel to Jimmy. I can excuse myself as a horny and immature teenager, but in the end it doesn't matter, because those are some of my shameful moments. Third, fuck every other guy I've been with (but not Joe either). I'm a dumbass when it comes to relationships (having never seen a functional one except Meg and Joe and the D.'s & D.'s), and always selling myself short. I'm terrified of being codependent, because I can see where I want it, that I show tendencies towards being ensnared, and that my mom gets the way I never want to be. But I feel like I don't get even get decency. Augh. I'm too little for this, or too old to be so naive.

I'm glad that you can forgive

The most satisfying feeling in the world is contentment.

I've finally met someone who I liked less after talking to them.

I've become horrendously self-aware in my head when dealing with kids I perceive as "cooler" than me.

The 7th grader done good. Even the 6th graders are a good batch this year. I kinda wish I could see them grow up a little.

I never have time for reading, but I think this is a lie.

Sometimes, I wish I'd been born a boy with the same mentality. If I was a boy, my art and literature would be downplayed in favor of my above average abilities in the sciences. There wouldn't be the household implications that Jack is free to come and go, while I am a frail and impregnable girl. No one would ever call me a slut or a whore or a bitch. There are no standards that require boys to be photoshopped to be beautiful. Girls writing love letters are heartsick, trite. Drinks would be more expensive, but I don't imbibe, so what benefit have I really lost?

I didn't realize I was so far discarded my irreplaceable friend.

People from a generation past don't really frown so much on smoking cigarettes, because they remember being teenagers, and hey, at least it's legal.

It's a dumb rule that NAHS won't let first year seniors wear the chords. Luckily, Q&S does. :]

Cartwright knows something, but I don't know what...

Today in photoclub, I was surreally surrounded by good feelings and people. Gabby said I was awesome. Becca talked about V for Vendetta. Kira and I talked and shared goldfish (blah blah blah blah). I helped Kristin with math homework and told Eva how to cheat in AP Chem. It was saddening to talk to Emily, but still good to see her. Kate was making an adorable bracelet and we talked about drumline. Sarah and I talked for the first time since Exploratory Art together, though I think circumstance will have us interact over the summer. Dan and Brandon weren't there.

Bucci is displeased with my art submission, but there are only four entries and two are photography, so I'm probably looking at ~$150. There are two entries for the logo, me and Gabby. We'll see how the coming weeks stack up.

I miss Sarah in a similar way to Jimmy. Life is going well without her, but I know I'm missing out by not having her in my life.

Spring is Springing

I've lost the will to write for the sake of writing. This is forced. Partially it has to do with my limited awareness during the day. I'm interacting all the time, but not meaningfully. With the current groups I hang along the edges, I'd predict four people to openly question my whereabouts should I ship out for a few days. The weather's getting nicer. It'd be lovely to run away.

I thought I heard a beautiful analogy today, but I didn't write it down.

Bucci swore I'm meant for art, that I'll be calling her a few years from now and telling her she's always been right. Hopefully it won't take a couple years to find what I'm really after. At the honor society induction, it sucked looking at what everyone was wearing, and remembering of my outfit "hand-me-down," "Goodwill," "hand-me-down," "Goodwill." I think it was the same for my mom. I hate inviting her to things, because then she has to see the other parents. It was tough, always getting dropped off outside McMansions. She called us "second hand roses," in honor to the Streisand song. It's why I don't give a fuck about crimes against property.

It makes me upset when kids don't have lunches to eat.

There's No Turning Back

"a silly little skeleton walking miles to chase her dreams..."

I'm gonna learn to sing these songs.

Take me to an ocean all yours.

I'd like to write Sharpie over my whole body. It'd be art.
First, I'd like to be 18 to keep pictures.

Today was some tough stuff.
Maybe after break it will be less hectic.

It must be bedtime

I know that it doesn't happen very often, but on that rare occasion, when somebody manages to say exactly what needed to be said, whether that be a slap in the face or making every thing better for a moment, it's magic.

Sleep deprivation hit this morning, and we all slept in the car on the way to Baltimore. Maybe also sorta kinda on the way home too. Mrs. P. wants to adopt me. Robotics was awesome. It was a lost-tied-won-lost kinda dealie in semi-finals, and exciting. Also got to meet cool (& hot) people and mistaken for a 20 year old and assumed to be left handed. My favorite team was from Walt Whitman High School team 1389, The Body Electric. :D Nobody in my group noticed the homeless people in the Inner Harbor.

I feel so pleasantly warm that it must be bedtime.

and those Other fleeting things

My past few nights have been unreasonable. Dreams have been blooming something lovely, but waking thoughts- fairly on the emotional feminine side. Occasionally, it's that gorgeous rush of full body infatuation, the kind that gets me all tingly. Other times it's a rush of gorgeous bodies, the kind that gets me all hot and uppity. Besides those two exceptions, which are admittedly frequent, it's waves of uncertainty. In six months, my laptop will be gone. My guitar and my record player will also not be here. Most importantly, I will not be here. What will I be like then? Sometimes I get caught up in the detail- flashes of butterfly kisses and denim on skin and little pink scars. Other times I make spider webs of Markov chains, a most likely future, a future I can guarantee, a future that won't hurt. It's unreasonable. Logically, rationally, live momentously. Reflect pleasantly on warm moments, but don't question the moments that are yet to be, or how drawn out that future is.

Found out today it wasn't the guitar string, it was the guitar.

Liberal Fascism kinda sucks, not because of the bias, but because the author is unfocused.

I got a pen pal. I think. It was thrown out half-joking in casual conversation, but damn if I'll hold her to it.

Saw Shannon in the hallway. Waved and smiled genuinely.
Saw Alexa in the hallway. Pretended I didn't.
Siblings of exes and exes of siblings have a very similar sort of reverence to them.

"How am I supposed to pretend I never want to see you again?" Lawd, boy's an asshole. All right, everyone of them, "gonna grow up to be a good kid." Damn the cookies we ate together! I could've kissed him, and I didn't! Thought about it though. He used to make me so deliciously unreasonable. I hate his memes, of all unreasonable things to hate. Alas! Such is the way of life.

Self-Improvement, Summer, and Sidenote

Now that HiQ and robotics are winding down, I'm already planning ahead for my new "self-betterment" projects. Currently (though I may renege), is video game development with the Unreal Developer Kit. In a two pronged project, UnrealScript is heavily based in Java, so I'll be getting my head around that first. I'd also like to improve my Spanish, but that requires a little bit of free time, so I can immerse myself in the language. Noting that I'm seriously out of shape is a little harder to address. Swimming is the obvious answer, aerobic, enjoyable, and full body, but I have no access to a pool (or an ocean, but this one isn't conveniently overcome). I don't have the 60 minutes every other day to work out 'til sweaty and gross that I did with Strength and Conditioning. Plus, I have to finish the mural for Longo, preferably before Spring Break (though this is feasible). There's no way I'd seriously commit to jogging, so I'm left with making up my own home regiment. *wheezy sigh*

This summer, I'm going to make a damned good dam at "my creek." I've got so many plans for warmer (see: overbearingly hot) months. It's gonna be awesome. There's a heckuvalotta things I've never done, and most things on the "to do" list only require some transportation and/or Yankee ingenuity from materials I already have. Also, maybe some parental discretion, but I totally got +100 trust this weekend. Admittedly, some of the things I want to do came from theburiedlife, but not very many. My aspirations are not quite so large (also, I've already done a few on their list). :P

Note to hopeful future jugglers: oranges are not the right size

Quiet in the Grass

PostSecret was excellent this week. There are several people I suspect would send in a secret, and I always hope I'll recognize their handwriting or their fears.

Punctuation has never made me so happy. :]

D&PI is going very well. Bucci is improving my technique. Being in her room, this is the first year I've been consciously aware of the D&PII projects. Kinda makes me wish I'd had extra time to get there. She used me as the example of an art career side tracked by APs, which is almost true, but not quite.

I looked online for the names of the P90x Ab Ripper moves. I found them, and after a little thinking, managed to recall what each one was. Thanks, Was! Going through it sucked, because I felt all full of painful Jell-O after the first three routines. However, after finishing, I felt pretty damn fine. I've also been stretching, which is something I need to get caught up on.

Nominating someone for the memorial scholarship was tough. There are about six girls I wish I could've nominated, and it sucked thinking of a guy who "shows love towards his fellow man." No homo.

I really really really really wish that the brobotics team tore off their sleeves, because Was is jacked! Susan and I nodded in agreement the preponderance of aesthetically pleasing guys on the team, but there are still some others (Cartwright) who are best left with sleeves on.

Though my heart is breaking with rejection, Wasiq politely declined my invitation to prom that I shouted at him from across Doc's room (sad faces ensued). Either way, I'll get to share shirley temples with him in the Drexelbrook Corporate Center, so I can practically pretend. Also, besides that I loved hanging out with Jimmy, prom kinda sucked and post prom was also not super great (except for free Wawa). Right now, my major incentive to go to prom is that my dad is helping to build post prom (d'awww). Oh right, and also the cost, because fuck if I'm paying $75 class dues, dress, shoes, hair, (nails?), to grind on some guy I don't like to some soundtrack that "the prettiest class government" picked out and dance with people that I will effectively not care to see after graduation.

Stairway to Heaven is coming along nicely, though I seriously need some new guitar string. The most difficult part is jumping from bar 5 to D major with pinky on 4 the fourth fret, but the worst sounding part is anything on fret one.

By the end of next weekend, I will have completed 4/27 New Year's Resolutions, with 4 more of the 27 under way. I've decided that I will probably not go through with an additional 3, bringing the total up to 8/24 to be finished soonish. Some of them will have to wait until I'm 18 or it's the summer.

Dear Amanda,

You made my day.

Sincerely,
Chloe

I Didn't Know Gauss was a Unit

"I'm gonna show you guys some fields today."
"To the stadium!"

Physics is pretty sweet, and I think that if there were a liquid body on one of the moon's poles, it would have circular tides. Cartwright says I'd need to figure in the effect of the sun too, but whatever old man.

Monday night into Tuesday, I had a vivid, emotion filled dream. It woke me up, and I was very sad. However, there was some really beautiful architecture in the dream. I walked with Molly down an open brick alley, where the houses were a warm, stucco kind of appearance, very squarish European, lovely sloped sidewalks and enormous trees overshadowing with dappled sunlight. I'd like to draw it sometime, though I think the effect was more emotional because of the dream sense.

I wonder how long it takes a woman to get used to her new surname when she gets married.

Are there SI units for strange quantum mechanics properties? I realized in typing that, I don't know the term used for what a unit is actually applied to. Woah!

I set up a Google Calendar to send me a text reminder every day of three new things I added to my morning routine. It went well.

Today, before all of the terrifying physics innuendo, Cartwright said to the class, "Guys, I'm about to show you something you've never seen before." It took him a few seconds to get the demonstration set up. But while he was doing so, I realized, I'd never seen Cartwright in the that same position. In fact, while most things in my life have become familiar, there is no situation so fully identical that I've seen it before. Everything is new. I wish I could hold this thought when taking a moment for granted. Or someone. Then Cartwright showed us magnets on the overhead.

"Boys take a bath, to get more math
Girls take a shower to get more power."
In reality, it was the boys who were founding the basis of power.

This weekend had a flurry of art amidst three straight days of studying for HiQ. Yesterday, I read Best for the Baby, the romance novel that Kira got as a free gift, along with another free gift! It was very effectively the best way to shut down my brain. But, today it got me remembering about a boy I like, which got me thinking 'bout boys I don't like, which made me conclude: that Dave is a serious ass to me, and I didn't do anything wrong. Also, he's fat and slobby looking.

BULLSH*T

Okay, so let me lay down what kind of bullshit was going on at Championships after the fan bus left:

We beat Haverford by 4 points, "suck it, we're going to states" *high
fives all around* There wasn't really anything they could've
challenged, though we were considering challenging our geography
question (What gulf is Gdansk on? We said Gulf of Gdansk, which is
its current name, but the right answer was Danzig, which is what it
still says in Goode's, so eventually decided not to challenge it, also
based in part because we didn't know what the outcome of the following
would be). Anyways, we're celebrating going to states and generally
being awesome, when Rick informs us that Haverford is challenging our
answer to World History. It was the Frank Lloyd Right House, Falling
Water, and our answer was Falling Waters. BULLSHIT, Haverford. Dirty rats. We figured they wouldn't take the points, but they did. Later,
Mrs. Rock said after that announcement, the look on my face was
priceless, and that she never wants to get me mad at her because I
could beat somebody up. Keep in mind that last year when World
History was challenged, we did not get the subsequent replacement
question, so I was freaking out. They would replace just the one
question, we get four guesses, then it goes to the buzzer, and Penn
Crest had the option to decline to participate. If we got it wrong
and Haverford got it, then they would've taken second and gone to
states. If we got it wrong and Penn Crest got the pick up, we'd have
to go through a whole 'nother tie breaking game. Delightfully, Rick
told us that Penn Crest had declined to step on stage. I was about to
seek 'em out and get on my knees, since they're gods on the buzzer and
know their shit. Anyway, that was unnecessary, because the kids
voluntarily chose to come on stage, since they were all calling
bullshit too, even Ludwig. So we got up there, I wrote down BS on my
notepad. They started reading the question, and within five words we
knew it was opium. Apparently, every single kid on stage got it at
the same time, because we instantaneously let go and were practically
standing up to leave. One of the Haverford kids came over to shake
hands, and we sorta scooted as best we could away from them without
looking super impolite. Ludwig came up to Kevin Day and said he was
glad we got it, because that was bullshit. Quote. He told Rock that
he considers GV his only competition, because nobody else takes it
seriously. They got a near perfect game, including both toss ups,
only missing chemistry (which I got on the pick up point (!!!), only
because Doc told us to look at numbers yesterday, water is densest at
4 degrees Celsius), although they did have to go through a couple
guesses on some other questions. I never would've thought I would
leave that meet mad with Haverford and proud of Penn Crest, who will
probably just be a "not-as-bitter," amiable rival next year. Then, as
we were going to Friendly's, Haverford's bus pulled up right behind us
in the Granite Run Mall parking lot. We were freaking out. Mrs. Rock
was telling the bus driver there was another Friendly's on Route 1.
However, we waited to see where they were going, and they went to the
other side of the building. Paul and I ran to see, and they had gone
to McDonald's. I think the quote regarding that was, "Call the health
inspector, there are rats in McDonald's." Great times at Friendly's.
We got gummi bears. Wasiq asked the waitress we always have to sign
his shirt that our Gov class made up. Kelsey Baumes loved her Wasiq
shirt, and everyone was super impressed. Was also got his shirt
signed by basically everyone who was associated with DCIU. Tom signed
it:
God Bless
Tom McCarthy
and proceeded to inform us it literally means "God bless Tom McCarthy"
quoting "no comma, baby." It had us laughing well over 10 seconds.
Rick was flattered, and said he had to think really hard, because it
was permanent and he wouldn't get another shot. After, seriously, a
minute of deliberation and asking about where Was was going to
college, he wrote,
"Keep answering!
Rick Durante"
We made fun of him all through lunch.

Ode to Boy

I miss you more than Jeff or summer, because they are definitely coming back.
I miss you more than the past, because that's definitely dead and gone.
I miss you more, because I don't know if you'll be in my future.
You don't linger for me anymore,
otherwise I could've said it in person,
otherwise I wouldn't have had to write it.

This wasn't supposed to happen to good kids, not white kids from the 'burbs, not AP scholars with three and a half credits of biology.

If my brother wasn't hit by that car, we never would've happened. I wouldn't have squealed with such delight or smiled always so awkwardly or been so horrid. Trains moan whispers in the night of Beatnic summers, romance up in smoke.

Remember that all over ecstasy? That skin to skin circuit of electric infatuation set on fire like instantaneous lightning. My whole being in your hand on my hand under stars like lunar revolutionaries abysmally falling through space.

I said no to the first and second, but persistence is ever the victor.

Candlelit open window in your hoodie because the night air was too much for my trembling skin. Those visions persist, sin to sin, and I contemplated deep as was possible with those cloudy thoughts. Besides the rippling sensations and altered perception, you had me seeing stars.

Unweaving the Rainbow (Dawkins on Keats on Newton)

Today, I mulled around Wikipedia's "Outline of Knowledge" and was flabbergasted to discover certain things and concepts. Most notably, various meteorlogical phenomena including: false sunrises, moonbows, fogbows, (sea-dogs), sundogs, glories, parhelic circles, frost flowers, rime, hoarfrost,. Durham, NC is famous for moonbows. I've been to that damnable Southern city six times, and never knew to check the sky for a sighting. In a double rainbow, one of the rainbows will have the colors inversed to Vib G. Yor. Rainbows are colorful arcs created in water droplets. Halos are the same thing, but from ice crystals. There might be rainbows on Saturn's moon Titan. Space rainbows, who'da thunk?

Reduce, Reuse, and Recylce isn't just the catchiest way to order those words in a phrase. It's actually the most to least desirable steps to minimizing waste. Mottainai is the Japanese word expressing regret over something not being used to its full potential. It is a sensation I experience often. However, Japanese 7-11s are apparently really awful at considering this idea.


A False Friend doesn't have anything to do with people. It's a literary term. Hypocorism is the fancy word for shortening a name, like "moving picture" to "movie" or "Abraham" to "Abe."

B. Frank recommended an early submarine use "foxfire" or glowing fungus to light the underseas vessel.

Also, abstruse goose is like xkcd, but not quite as funny or developed (as far as I've yet read), but a little more mathy and a lot more self-aware.

Unrelated note: in Tiny Dancer, I thought the line was, "Jesus frees out in the streets." It was somewhat tragic to think, and even more so to realize that is not the line at all.

Hotties from Sales

At robotics, there's this particular teammate named Frank from Sales. It is also of note that I find him particularly attractive, though, alas, circumstance has prevented meaningful interaction. In a series of events that continued to not lead to meaningful interaction, today, I had the opportunity to observe the robot being strung up with all manner of electrical wire by Noah and Lauren. In the midst of this careful learning activity, Frank came over, presumably to "do work" or some such related action. Positioning himself between the robot and my innocent observations, he proceeded to bend over and muddle with something or other. Yet, it was not the responsible "bend the knees" bend over, it was a "stick your ass out" bend over. My despicable self, a notorious checker-outer of the male derriere, had to turn away stifling giggles. Arguably, if I was staying over night at any of the trips, I would put a reasonable degree of effort into getting to know him, establishing a playful camaraderie, and violently pushing the rumor that I'm easy and/or give good bjs. Perhaps most tragic, I'm unaware if he has a girlfriend or not. It's my assumption that he's single. But if not, I'd drop it even though he's hot, because I'm an ethical ho'. Actually, I wouldn't necessarily classify him as hot, but definitely appealing to my aesthetic sensibilities.

Verse is my Vice

If you want to read an article that describes the real life existence of "squid with people teeth" and "tentacle faced digbeasts," sleep with the lights on.

Little brother, I worry sometimes. These late nights, you're so alive.

Sculpture of words and whispers.

The "Spend Nothing Game.." Like the "Quiet Game," but for adults and more fulfilling.

I dream about the summer, but cannot tell if it's the past or future.

Reflecting on infinity, I insisted it was a definitive number when I was little. My dad tried to break this notion by reminding me "you could always add another one."

Damn your beauty. I have only been alive for 16 Mays, 17 summers.

Delirium brings me closer to you and to orgasm. My fantasies are vivid.

Mmm... Bacon... *aughargle* Empiricism. *mmm*

In the Midnight Hour

I hate songs in drop D, because they're so rockin', and I don't want to spend the time or effort to tune down. Same goes for half-step down, or anything written by Brand New or Dashboard Confessional. This revelation is specifically spurred by a sincere desire to tear up "Savior" by Rise Against. What I'd envision is myself on guitar, singing the first half of the chorus, and a guy the second half (maybe playing drums), with variable refrain and verse.

Today, I got four shots of novacaine. When they told me to rinse my mouth out, I slurred and stumbled something akin to, "This is going to be an embarrassment." Through sheer luck, I twice managed to not leak fluids all over myself and the office floor. However, eating lunch must not have been pleasant for accidental spectators.

-------------

Occasion’ly, the languid thought
Drifts sleepy through my mind,
"If maybe human progress is a Babylon in kind."
Foundations build on axioms and mathematic proof
Ascended by technology to sweeping, gabled roof.
The peak of this achievement
In some future dappled dawn,
May not to be to reach a god,
But make one all our own.

----------

Hey, SADD, get the fuck on a coffeehouse will you?

Even so much as a year ago, I doubt I would've considered guitar to ever be an important part of my life. However, I give it a pretty good deal of my time now.

Past Passed

When I was little, growing up meant a lot more ice cream, a lot less rules, and no bedtime.

This evening was spent in the company of horrendously immature babblers, falling over themselves to correct each others' knowledgeable, irrelevant professions.

"He could've handled that better." AP Gov is one of the most entertaining, enlightening classes I've ever had the pleasure to experience. Strange, that there have been more original ideas and witty statements flung out in this class than in English. I am besides myself with gratefulness.

"Let me become acutely aware of all I've taken for granted."
-Sylvia Plath, one of the very few interesting things of hers I've read

Between school and now, with robotics in between, I managed to complete 7 of the 9 homework assignments written on my hand and both visual and verbal expressions of what my first real orgasm felt like.

I've been practicing hacky-sacking. I don't know what the verb is, much like I do not know the term for one who plays the accordion (more like discordian! Ayo!)

If PSSAs were to start all over again tomorrow, I'd be reduced to passing notes across the middle person to Kira. Those few hours were so much fun, like one great big Breakfast Club detention. I wish there was something to apologize for, so I could maybe have some more moments like that. Mostly, I'd be apologizing for getting older.

MOEbotics and Generalties

Animation team is fairly caput and could be relegated to meeting only when Ms. Pensak is going to be there. I don't feel like a part of the team, and wish I didn't have to go to meetings or regionals.

"I can make you happy. Or disappear for a while."

After HiQ practice before semifinals, I stepped out afterward and stopped at my locker. Nevermind. I sometimes forget who reads this blag.

Nobody listens to their damnable lyrics. I hate the teeny-boppers who swear by their pop and have no idea what "Semi-Charmed Life" is about. "What do you mean, Chloe? Surely, the song is not about blowjobs and crystal meth as you speak?!"

I consider myself a sexual creature, desirous of pleasure, given and received. Secrets sworn to myself, "Never fake it! It only propigates that women deserve less!" Sadly, the female orgasm relies not just on physical sensation, but a state of mind. At a certain point, I just want them to stop. That's if they even get started at all. I've given a (un)fair share of bjs without any demands or even requests for reciprocation.

Doing the Dishes

Quite often, I feel sexiest doing the dishes. It's a 1950s nostalgic kind of feminine sexy. Congratulations, society, on associating feminine roles with sex appeal! It also reminds me of the scene from Catch Me If You Can where the mother is doing the dishes, then the father pulls her away to dance.

Today, however, our heater broke as my brother was doing the dishes. At first, we didn't realize that was the issue, so we kept talking and listening to music. Eventually, I set to doing the dishes with the still warm pot of water, cold water rinses. We sang together. It's the first time in kinda a while.

Scientia sine arte nihil est

I don't know whose hand hung Hesperus in the sky, and fixed the Dog Star, and scattered the shining dust of Heaven, and fired the sun, and froze the darkness between the lonely worlds that spin in space.
-- Gerald Kersh

Every so often, Science-Fiction and abstract reasoning call me with a largeness I cannot comprehend, let alone quantify. What is the universe made of? How am I, a bunch of atoms, capable of studying other atoms? Does time exist if nothing is happening to mark its passage? I assume there are a finite number of protons in this world? Can they be broken up? Have we lost any? Do we have an inkling of how many there are? Can the universe have weight? It has mass and a lot of vacuum, but is there gravity acting outside of it? What about the gravity acting inside of it? What is the universe expanding into? The speed of light is dependent on the medium, and I always considered that a vacuum was not a medium, but I guess it is. Traveling through nothing means you can go a lot faster. If there was an infinitely long, frictionless path, arbitrarily in the -y with gravity acting on it, would, theoretically, an object fall long enough to turn into light? Right now, I'm sitting where I once cried on the floor wrapped up in your arms. How can I explain my thoughts? Why do they exist? How does existence, atoms of molecules of compounds of cells of tissue of organs of a body, somehow produce a being capable of thought? How does this physical form manage to function long enough to grow old enough to appreciate the life it was given? to fall innocently in love?

My Day/Two Days

My Day:
Almost had a solo orgasm in the wee hours of the morning
Represented HiQ, a lucky break of guesses and questions from my section had me lookin' outstanding on stage
Mrs. Bucci spontaneously told me that I had the potential for a career in art
"Surly, Apathetic Teenager Compares Herself to Bear Riding Bus" got an Honorable Mention in the PhilWP
Animation Instructor titled me as her Head Animator and Right Hand Lady when she debuted our terrifying animated short for the rest of MOE
As the bronze heart charm necklace lay nestled on my bosom, I appreciated my body and the boys who have loved it

Two Days (the twins):
HiQ meet today was spectacular. A number of the questions were ones that we had specifically gone over and over and over and had become near jokes at that point. Highlights included three pulled-from-my-ass saves, pointing to Wasiq in saying, "Sheikh Jarrah," Kevin Day being adorable, hands shaking as he buzzed in a toss up question, him and James being acknolwedged as twins by Radnor's advisor, Strath Haven kids getting directions to Concord Pike Pizza, setting us on a Holy Mission to destroy Penncrest, and generally enjoying the free Aquapods provided by our reception.

Two Days (numerical calendar days until another memory passes):
HiQ Championships! The last home meet of my senior year means the last home meet ever. After Penncrest, my sweater will have lost its functionality as a symbol of something it is, and become something that was. Four years: untold meet hours, studying hours, Friendly's Hours, talking about it hours, Rock Band party hours. Next Tuesday, I have Mrs. Rock for Macro, Gov, HiQ ENH, and after school. I see her more than either of my parents. HiQ has been more than some academic competition or something to pass the time, and its time is about to pass.

"Girl, I want to lay you down by the fire with a bowl of popcorn and watch some Fresh Prince reruns."

Educa-shun

AP Gov is one of my favorite classes. It's probably because of Mrs. Rock and the class discussions and the preponderance of intellectually and visually stimulating guys in the class. Admittedly, there has only been one test for us to fail thus far, but I am indifferent to my grades. That apathy is not a result of impending senioritis. It's been my work ethic since sophomore year. Strangely enough, this entire year has actually brought a clarification of learning. All of my classes are engaging. It's almost frightening. Up until recently, I've attributed this interest to the fact nearly all of the classes I'm taking present new material. Literature finally broached some serious analysis, in limited content. Psych was a phenomenal classroom experience besides the entire field of information I'd never been academically exposed to. Even Topics and Color & 2D held my focus and deserved some degree of effort. Now, economics is rousing and relevant and there's lots of candy. Gov is surprisingly contentious, and no one is hesitant to voice a view in opposition to Mrs. Rock. Even in the short time, Drawing & Painting has improved my skills. Physics feels entirely new, and I'm wonderfully engaged. While the majority of these classes had no previous knowledge base for me, I wonder if maybe I simply never took advantage of the amazing curriculum at GV before. Perhaps these new revelations are not a result of new learning, but a new perspective that I unconsciously assumed. Also, my teachers are kick ass this year.

Odd Thoughts:

If someone were to get freaky with identical twins one night, and get pregnant from the galavantings, there would no way to tell who the father was. Similarly, if a set of identical male twins married a set of identical female twins, the children from the resulting pairings would genetically be siblings.

Memories aka Stories

Spring:
Obama rally
Won 3rd place highest individual scorer at Villanova's trash-bowl as a freshman
Met Ken Jennings
Bear wrestling for the first time
Badminton Accident, mom found my hickey
Sexually harassed Downingtown tenor kid
Swimming in the Brandywine with Abby and Trisha in our shirts and underwear
Trisha and I wearing pirate hats during Steve's solo
Being a zombie in "Pride and Prejudice"
The filming of "Quake"
Dress shopping with Stasi
Coffee house
Ran through the rain holding hands
Walked from school to Matt's house after HiQ
Job shadowed an anarchist bookstore
Disneyworld, seeing my mom cry for the first time
Apples to Apples game where Erik and Gina were cheating and we didn't catch on, even when "baby showers" beat "super guiro" for the "Sexy" card
Brave New Voices Slam Poetry finals
Strenth and Conditioning with Wasiq
HiQ States
HiQ Rock Band Party: All expert instruments for "Any Way You Want It"
Wasiq and Amora dueting in another HiQ Rock Band Party
Pit Video Game: Level One
Attempting to dye my hair with Jell-O, because we didn't have Kool-Aid
Emily's Birthday Party, Coffee Station, lead singer of Fall Out Boy
Garnet Valley Nature Club aka One of My Favorite Field Trips
TIA Championships: finding four leaf clover
Wildwood, year one, first time seeing SNL, terribly impressed with music, perfect seats, swimming, failed and wheezy donut run
Wildwood, year two, dissatisfied with music, only one to swim
Wildwood, year three, swimming and running away, vindicated Donut Run, even if it was closed
Casino adventure with fancy Shirley Temple

Summer:
Gone down the Brandywine on an inflatable whale
Parasailing
Cried a single tear during UP, both times I saw it
Prom, watching Rob bundle a crate of Tasty Kakes to his car
Cossart Road, first time with Viv in torrential downpour
Skinny dipping at dawn in the ocean
Screamed into the wind, "baring my soul (and my titties)"
Drunk bus!
Buy pot from a Jamaican who called Stasi sexy
Hugged a guy in a Mr. Peanut suit
Basically everything about that week with Katie
Bollywood Movie Party!
Dorney Park, traffic back up, gettin' creeped on, boys missing roller coaster for talking math
Went to a West Chester Music in Motion Show
Snuck into a DCI show
Missed our flight home because dad misread AM for PM
Ran (walked) through a corn-field under the full moon
Steve and me: Pirate Adventure!
Merry dozen of princesses visit Tom H.
Fourth of July, skinny dipping/streaking
Steph's Grad Party
Rocky Horror Picture Show Party "Do you have anything that doesn't taste like make up."
-I won a penis shaped lollipop
Geohashing, also dressed like a pirate
First Friday in Philly
LARPing
First time a boy told me they loved me was in a hammock
Belted out "Amazed" at 3 AM
Scavenger Hunt
Snuck out to watch the Perseid Meteor Shower, got stopped by cops
12 mile suburban hike
Truth or Dare at Abby's Birthday
Snuck into Religilous
blink-182 concert, met blink-182, they signed my underwear, drunk man grabbed me
Viv tells scary stories, we catch fireflies
Getting a balloon at the West Chester Diner
Having pancakes and sex toys with Emily
HiQ MarioKart party
Circle Time

Fall:
Hallelujah, Ben Folds, & The Freshmen
Witnessed "The Battle of the D." West Chester and UD played each other
Cossart Road, getting chased
Orgasm at the Grist Mill
Unrelatedly, had a long conversation with Pat and Taylor at the Grist Mill
Flying to Duke, feeling alive, impressing security personnel with my shoes
Walked from the school to Molly's house, looked at the tree graffiti
Noopur's Birthday Party where we danced like white girls and played capture the flag
Noopur's Birthday where Lexie's baby turned on at 3 in the morning
Hayride with Matt, Gary, Kate, and Hannah
"Make a hole!"
The Cricket
Dressed like a pirate at Longwood
Sarah's 16th Birthday Party
Gluing Viv's sister's leg shut in a parking lot in Chester
Viv made the most beautiful cupcakes, then we watched the best episode of [H]ouse since the first season
First Pit Party
Epic "Bottle Cap War"
"Second Degree Burns" Party

Winter:
"Fuck Shoes" Party, Jeff sets his on fire
"Ice in the D.'s Yard" party
Laser tag at the Laser Dome
Hot Tub party where the boys hair froze
Going to Old Country Buffet after that drumline show
GV goes to States, "HERSHEY!"
"HERSHEY" on the hill <-- possibly my proudest moment
Scrumptious course chocolate dinner
"Not last!" First!
Gave road head
Coffee house
Late night Tom Jones
Dresden Dolls concert
Sarah getting us pirate costumes for the first band concert
Saw Precious in a theater full of black people
Watching [H]ouse: Three Stories and eating left over Christmas cookies with Matt
Lying on the floor of Matt's living room with him and Jeff, listening to "Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me"
Stencil'd a gas station
Cossart Road, walked up to the house and took pictures
Longwood Fireworks show
Staying up to watch the first sunrise of '09
(really not) Sexy shower party/streaking
Meghan's Diner after the inauguration ceremony "Keep the change we can believe in"
Little brother hit by car
Matt teaching me my first riff on guitar
Father Deer Hands

Man, Imma go take a nap. I'll edit this later.

Athazagoraphobia

"Don't let yesterday take up too much of today." The first time I saw this sign, it read, "If I act like somebody else, who will be me?" Driving around last night with the windows open and music blasting, my thoughts were bouncing between then and now. The days I walked out there. The nights I wished I was walking.

It's snowing again.

Besides the sunlight, I miss walking.

"So here is the point of everything I have been trying to say. If I were to give a brace to you, now, I would measure your wrist twice." I would like to reread Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close. It would remind me of Viv and Jeff and the summertime. I would like to pour out my soul in touch tone. 696664746734222446464774377668247434776653263426769688641

"Stalin found out about the community and sent his thugs in, just a few days before I got there, to break all of their arms! That was worse than killing them! It was a horrible sight, Oskar: their arms in crude splints, straight in front of them like zombies! They couldn't feed themselves, because they couldn't get their hands to their mouths! So you know what they did!"
"They starved?"
"They fed each other! That's the difference between heaven and hell! In hell we starve! In heaven we feed each other!"
"I don't believe in the afterlife."
"Neither do I, but I believe in the story."

So Pleased with a Daydream

I've been playing Bright Eyes again. Playing a lot of guitar in general. I've added another couple bar chords to memory and more party songs to my repetoire. The songs of my own composition haven't been very coherent as of late. But then again, I haven't had time or inspiration.

After submitting the FAFSA, I got an expected EFC of 20. That number alone is completely out of context, so I looked up the scaling. Lower is better. The minimum is a reasonable 0, and there is no determined max, only that a score of 4000 is the upper-most cut off for a Pell grant.

Whenever considering a college, the motto is, "Don't let cost limit your options!" I'm not sure what idiot is telling kids that, but cost was pretty much my number one consideration in applying. Therefore, my applications were sent out to two schools. Temple, because it is my number one; and Penn State, because it was determined fairly late that I probably should have a number two. I heard from Temple two weeks ago and am still waiting to see if I got into the Honor's Program. PSU got back to me today, and UP is no longer accepting students. While a blow to my pride, I defer the decision as being because of my late application and tell myself, "I'm wouldn't have gone to middle of nowhere, PA, with classes as big as my whole high school, and a student population where 20% of them binge drink every week." The problem of drinking is so bad at the #1 Party School, that This American Life did a terrifying show about it. My parents are excited I'm going anywhere. First generation college kid! Rural PA can suck racist dick! I'm going to North Philly.

Twice in my life, I've had to leave a guy just as the sun was coming around. Unfortunately, on the most beautiful evening, when Stasi and I stayed up well into the morning to watch the sun rise over the Atlantic, it was a rainy day and a stunningly fabulous experience.

Grudgingly frustrated as I am to be in band, I'm glad it's with the freshmen and Kate.

"The arc of time, the stench of sex
The innocence you can't protect"

Today was not a good day.

xkcd was very good today.

I just helped pierce my brother's ear.
It was unnerving.

I'm achy.

Making My Way to Normal (Illinois)

For every time I've listened to "Like a Rolling Stone," I've never considered how it does feel. To find out he really wasn't where it's at. It's a harsh song. Not nearly so bad as "Idiot Wind," (nod to Nicki), but that little Jewish boy really knew how to make it sting.

"it was gravity which pulled us down and destiny which broke us apart."

Recently re-downloading Ben Folds from a scratched gold disc with Sharpie on it, I remembered singing "Brick" on the band bus. Remembered singing maliciously at Trisha as she sat outside Sarah's house. Remembered climbing trees in Matt's backyard, thinking, "you took a trip, and climbed a tree..." from "Not the Same," something I've become. Landed reminds me of a Klaus Oldenberg sculpture. Quietly singing "Bitches Ain't Shit" in the business district of NYC, scared we were going to get beat up by black people. Zak and Sara. Fred Jones, "how do we know his first name???" Adelaide's no longer a place to go to forget, it's more painful remembering. We screamed Army on the way to Wildwood. We screamed everything down there. Still, We was a different bunch of people.

"3. 2. 1. I'm letting you go."

I wonder, if at any given moment, more people are singing or crying. Or maybe both?

Making lists is super entertaining.

In the current draft of "Get the F out of GV: Things to Take to College," there are ~150 things I've got listed, though no specifics on clothing yet.

I'd like to familiarize myself with Philly over the summer, so I feel more comfortable once school starts. Viv and I can have sleep overs whenever we want.

SNOW SNOW SNOW

LEGOs outnumber people 62:1

"Guns don't kill people. Bullets do."

Triple Lasser Wednesday, comin' up.

Sarah Vowell does not possess a pleasant voice. Though, it is very peculiar. Despite this, her radio address and essay in the Bedford reader, "Shooting Dad" makes me tear up. Her diction is well chosen, and her tone is straightforward. "But I will not cover my ears... I want it to hurt."

Bleh

Returning from MOE and talking about the senior prank planned for that night, Noah and I got to discussing my past relationships. It was interesting to share with someone who's aware of the characters, but has never heard the stories. I was so close to being bold and asking him the question boggling Anna and me, but alas, I couldn't do it.

Hunting around f.y.e., Nick F., Amanda H., and I found "Nights of 1,000 Cats," the greatest horror movie ever bought for $1.97.

I've been putting up messages in the stalls again. But whenever I remember to bring my marker, I've already got something written down. I'd like to do a big piece.

In bringing in my fuzzy diary to be used as a physics diary, I was prompted to reread all of my entries, spanning back to middle school. Surprisingly coherent, it documented crushes on nearly every single guy I've liked to 8th grade.

I'm disappointed with Wolfmother's "Cosmic Egg." Their first LP had a distinct, rough electric feeling for each of the singles. The most recent release is fairly homogenous across the whole album, though in a similar, duller sound.

My writing used to be way better.

Kate and I went sledding today.

It feels impossible to update on "my life," because there is no time for anything to happen. dfHellotg. That last bit was typed by my cat before he turned on CAPS LOCK and "Caret Browsing."

Superbowl commercials suck this year and are all for CBS shows. Except the Green Police commercial that just happened. Taco Bell commercial loses the game. Doritos get it back on track.

Dan and I biked to Build a Dream Playground Friday before the snow. It's always interesting to catch up on each others' lives, since we so infrequently have time for hanging out. I saw Brianna F. just outside Hetty's neighborhood as I was riding back home.

I have to return a letter in response to Hetty's postcard.

HiQ: STUDY STUDY STUDY STUDY STUDY
It's my senior year, and I want to go to States again, not just Championships.

I'm learning so much second semester of senior year. HO' CARP.

Every so often, when I'm feeling a little blue, I think, "I have a song written about me." By that statement, I've done something right, or something worth a revenge song.