Pitcher in the Wheat or Something

(Yes, I know what it's called.)

Last summer, I read this book-you might have heard of it?-called Catcher in the Rye. One of my best friends loved this book to pieces, and I'd heard about how it was one of those books 'you just have to read if you're an angry teenager like you are, FRAS!'. (I might have made up some of that sentence, maybe possibly. But it was implied.) So I did.

I think I hated it a lot the first time, even though I found myself relating to Holden Caulfield. I think I hated it because of the toenails. The one scene where they're clipping the toenails at the beginning of the book? Ugh. I hate it. It still gives me the disgusts.

How he just wanted someone to talk to, and he could count on exactly no one. His general angriness and the 'phonies' that make up this world- I'd thought about and hated it all, and some of his thoughts were mine.

Well, he could count on exactly no one- except for maybe his sister, Phoebe. I liked the sister. And the girl he won't talk to, even though he got so many chances, Jane Gallagher. I spent so much of my time after reading the novel wondering why didn't Holden just talk to her? He had opportunities, and she probably would have made him feel better. But I thought about it some more (I thought about this book the whole summer) and I came up with these reasons:

1. Maybe he didn't want to feel better. Maybe wallowing and hating everyone and everything was his style.

2. Maybe he didn't want to go back to those times when Jane was his friend. He was younger, and he was a different, more naive person. Pencey Prep changed him, and hardened him. Maybe talking to Jane would hurt too much, and he wouldn't be able to bear it. Maybe she was one of the few people who he genuinely liked, and he wanted to make sure that she kept the old image of him in her mind.

Granted, it's been a year since I read the book, and some parts are fuzzy, but I liked Holden Caulfield sometimes (because he was like me) and I hated him other times (because he was an unutterable jerk) (so, he was too much like me). But I think Holden is everyone- insecure, and just wanted to trust someone completely, and having to deal with the death of someone he loved (his literally), not have to deal with any fakes he didn't want to deal with. He just wanted to live. And despite everyone who hates him, I don't think that's bad.

I'm going to reread the book, knowing what I know now, and write more about it some other time.

Quote for Saturday, April 30, 2011:

The best thing, though, in that museum was that everything always stayed right where it was. Nobody’d move. . . . Nobody’d be different. The only thing that would be different would be you.

-Holden Caulfield, Catcher in the Rye

(http://www.sparknotes.com/lit/catcher/quotes.html)

Muse for Today:

The best stories that J.D. Salinger ever wrote: Franny and Zooey, especially Zooey's, which makes more sense.

And BEDA is over, darlings! 3o posts and all!

Mildly (Very) Discontented

Today has been an awful way, in that way when small bad things chip away at you until you're completely weary of everything and you simply want to scream.

I'm sick of people thinking they're so clever, thinking they know what's best for me. I'm sick of being ordered around and expected to obey and be enthusiastic about it. I'm also sick of modest people. I'm not sure where that came from, but I complimented a friend of mine, and felt a little sick by how modest she was. Honestly. Accept my compliment! Pete's sake!

Also, today has been some kind of fashion show of people parading around, proving that they're better than me. And that's separate from the two actual shows, the fair and the talent show, both places where people proved they're bloody good. God's sake. I get it. I GET IT. Now shove off!

Not in a good mood at all.

Another low note: I have been listening to Lady Gaga's Born This Way over...and over...and over...

Why do I keep listening to this? (BABY, I WAS BORN THIS WAY! I need to stop.)

Stupid Things I Wrote

Again, I'm an idiot. This is yesterday's.

Embarrassment lies ahead.

I was cleaning my room today, which basically entails me shoving a bunch of stuff onto my floor and spending hours reading over it. I was cleaning out the side of my desk, and I found my old journal from the second grade. I thought that thing was lost. (Now that I've read it, I wish that thing was lost.)

My second grade teacher made us write a bit in a journal every single day before we started class. I fancied myself a bit of a writer back then, so I wrote long, detailed stories in my journal that would often continue over days and days.

Most of my stories were about witches who went as themselves for Halloween (I wrote about Halloween all the bloody time) and got a whole load of candy and had cats named Spiderweb and Brownie. They were always named something like that. Or I would write about me, in some Junie B. Jones-induced fantasy where I had two best friends named Lacy (like Lucille, Junie B. Jones's friend) and Gracella (Junie B. Jones's best friend) and we had horses named Brownie and Blackie and Yellowy, just like Junie B. and Grace and Lucille had in the books. And K, my little brother, often featured as some Ollie-type-irritating-baby-in-the background.

And multiple other shaming anecdotes such as those.

So I went to the deepest pits of hell and hid my badly-written (but lovable?) second-grade notebook somewhere where no one but Kronos could find it, and turned to my desk again.

But, my friend, the pain did not end there. No, I chose to inadvertently prolong my chagrin.

I opened an old red notebook of mine to a page that was...seemingly random.

But it wasn't.

It wasn't at all.

It was actually a page of my undoing.

That page.

That page had the beginning of some weird story where I was friends with Ron Weasley and Harry Potter and they were sending me Honeydukes chocolate in the mail and inviting me to the Quidditch World Cup, because we were fourth-years and best friends.

So basically, when I was eight, I wrote bad AU fanfiction, inserting my childish self into the story.

I stopped cleaning my desk after that.

Quote for Thursday, April 28, 2011:

And so shines a good deed...in a weary world.

-Craig Benzine

(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ewjld3_EIrU&feature=related)

Muse for Today:

Only during BEDA would I tell that to the Internet.

A Short Thought

I have got nothing to say today. BEDA can be really annoying, because you get so many posts like this rubbish one. What's the point in writing when you don't have anything to say?

Discipline, I suppose. Because if someday, you have a faint, far-off dream of living off of this writing, you need to train yourself to spew interesting as often as possible.

Huh. I've got some work to do, then. But unfortunately, I also have a physics test tomorrow.

Quote for Wednesday, April 27, 2011:

If you only do what you know you can do- you never do very much.

-Tom Krause

(http://thinkexist.com/quotations/inspiration/)

Muffins and Hatred and Participation

1. I had a muffin for breakfast today. It was really good. Hatred doesn't apply to muffins. Hatred never applies to muffins.

2. I was extremely angsty today. I am nevereverever overly angsty, but some people. SOME PEOPLE just don't know what to say when. Or they try to start an argument. Those idiots make me SO MAD. Today, my reasons for being impatient with these three people were as follows:

1) Exactly how bloody insecure do you think I am? Do I present myself as so incompetent that you think I can't do anything?

2) No, I just hate this one. This person is loud, obnoxious, and every single thing she does makes my fingers twist in knots. She has no excuse for acting the way she does...although she thinks she does, and she plays from that.

3) I generally hate her, too, because she's just plain mean, but today she was being so self-important and racist that I just wanted to hit her in the face. And no one else was saying anything. Who thinks that her opinions are okay? Who honestly condones her ignorant idiocy?

AAAH angst over. (But not really. It'll come back. Someday. *stares into distance*)

3. Actually, another thing I hate (but there's no angst here) is participation. I'm so smart when I'm saying how dumb other people are when they can't talk in class, but when it comes time for me to participate (or gods forbid, actually participate myself) I sound like a good natured idiot who puffs up her ego the rest of her life.

I hate ambush participation, too. Could you be more evil? (Yes, yes you could. But still.)

4. I hate math. I hate math a lot. Is this new for me? I can't remember. It is the enemy of my good. I'm not using that quote correctly. But I don't care. Because I hate math. That made no sense. Unless the quote is about math. Which it isn't. Yerk.

Quote for Tuesday, April 26, 2011:

Striving for excellence motivates you; striving for perfection is demoralizing.

-Harriet Braiker

Muse for Today (and possibly forever?):

http://www.yesandyes.org/2011/03/dont-be-jealous-no-really-dont.html

Music Meme Strikes Back

Yes. I did a thingy like this a while ago. But I actually like iPod shuffle memes, so I'm doing another one. And when else would I do it but April?

INSTRUCTIONS:

1. Put your music player on shuffle.

2. Press forward for each question.

3. Use the song title as the answer to the question even if it doesn’t make sense. NO CHEATING!

How do you feel today?

Bread/Charlie McDonnell

"How are you?"

"Oh, you know. I'm pretty bread. Nothing unusual."

"Really? I felt kind of bread last week. Took some butter, felt a lot better."

"Oh, thanks, man."

"Anytime, man."

What’s your outlook on life?

Gravity/Sara Bareilles

What does your family think of you?

The Godfather: Part II/Harry and the Potters

What do your friends think of you?

I'm Gonna Kill You/Hank Green

Now what exactly does my iPod know about my friends that I don't?

What do strangers think of you?

Just a Boy/Alan Lastufka and Tom Milsom

What. Do I need to grow my hair more? Wear high heels? What exactly do you want, iPod?

What do your exes think of you?

When I'm Sixty-Four/The Beatles

How’s your love life?

With a Little Help From My Friends/The Beatles [again]

I thought they wanted to kill me, now they're setting up my love life?

How will your love life be in the future?

The World is Mine (I Don't Know Anything)/Alex Day

Will you get married?

The Kids Are Alright/The Who

Presumably, years and years and years in the future, my friends who (still) hate me set me up with some serial killer. We are unexpectedly happy together and our kids are alright. Yay.

Are you good at school?

Smells Like Teen Spirit/Nirvana

So...no.

Will you be successful?

Fluorescent Adolescent/Arctic Monkeys

What song should they play on your birthday?

The Birthday Song/Charlie McDonnell

Oh my gods I swear I didn't set this up this is really blooming perfect!

What song should they play at your graduation?

Today Was A Fairytale/Taylor Swift

The Soundtrack of your life?

Mrs. Nerimon/ALL CAPS

Um. Yes, Alex Day is a funny guy. His videos are neat. His obsessions are quirky. But no. Not at all. Sorry.

You and your best friends are?

Sunday Bloody Sunday/U2
What is this? Blood? My death? I'M SO AFRAID.

Happy times:

Wintersong/Tom Milsom

Sad times:

Take a Chance on Me/ABBA

Every day:

The Mirror Song [feat. Kristina Horner]/Alan Lastufka and Tom Milsom

For tomorrow:

Fireflies/Owl City

More like for yesterday. I liked this song only last summer. It's still nice, I guess.

For you:

Bridge Over Troubled Water/Simon and Garfunkel

What does next year have in store for me?

House Song/Ministry of Magic

Finally going to Hogwarts YEAH.

What do I say when life gets too hard?

They/Tom Milsom

I can see that.

What song will I dance to at my wedding?

Stayin' Alive/Bee Gees

Oh gods no. Please no.

What do you want as your career?

We Didn't Start the Fire/Billy Joel

A fireperson?

Your favorite saying?

My Dad is Rich/Draco and the Malfoys

WHY DOES MY iPOD LIE ABOUT ME SO BLOODY MUCH?

How will I die?

Stuck in a Moment/U2

Dandelions

When I was little, my mother told me they were weeds, but I would always pick them in the play ground and make little bracelets out of them. So did my friends. My friends were all weird, though. My best friend in the third grade would make 'purses' out of folded up leaves in the fall, and say that there was a warranty on them 'until it broke'. It took us all an unfortunately long time to realize why this was fishy, and she didn't even charge for them, so why would we need a warranty anyway?

But there are a bunch of dandelions outside, and I like seeing them. They always make me think of summer, but this year especially. I am overly stressed right now- everything makes me think of summer. I just want this school year to end.

But it's funny, how I see fluffy yellow flowers in the grass in April and I think of summer, and I think of crawling around the playground with my friends, making accessories out of nature. I think of driving to the supermarket and going completely bonkers when I saw a whole hill covered in dandelion yellow. I miss sitting in the grass for hours at a time, ripping dandelion stems apart, pulling them up to see the roots and because I thought I was 'helping' (sometimes, I believed my mother when she said they were weeds. I'm not sure. Wikipedia calls them 'flowering plants', but Google says they're weeds.) I really miss being little sometimes. I was so happy with myself when I was younger. I didn't have a plethora of friends, but I didn't worry about it. I could sit by myself, entertain myself for hours. I didn't worry about my weight. I had awful teeth when I was little, but that didn't concern me either. I didn't worry about what looked okay. I liked a lot of the things I like now, actually. Riding my bike, drawing, reading, Harry Potter, watching movies, being nice, making my friends happy, and British things. But everything seemed infinitely easier when I was seven. Maybe that's just in comparison to now, when I worry about everything, and the concerns I worry about are far more life-endangering than they were when I was seven.

Everything just got so so so complicated. I hate being older. But it's not like there's much I can do about it.

Quote for Sunday, April 24, 2011:

The mark of a successful man is one that has spent an entire day on the bank of a river without feeling guilty about it.

-Author Unknown

(

http://www.quotegarden.com/stress.html

)

Muse for Today:

Today, I saw: Hayley G. Hoover's blog, from which I am stealing this 'Today I saw' idea. She did it for Blog Every Day August of 2010. Did I mention I aspire to one day actually become Hayley G. Hoover? Because I do.

Today, I tasted: Cookie Crisp. Out of the box. With my bare hands. Without milk.** Yeah, I'm daring, all right. That was wild. A crazy time, man. Crazy!

Today, I heard: my brother teaching my visiting-from-Brazil aunt how to play Mario Kart Wii. This basically means that K was talking loudly while playing Wii while my aunt talked to my mom.

Today, I smelled: freshly cut grass!

Today, I touched: a dandelion stem, as I ran outside to pluck it from the grass.

**Like an idiot who didn't want to get up and go get milk.

Thing I Hate #1889

Being told what to do. Classic teenage angst, you might say, but I have always really hated being told what to do. This might stem from my idea that I think I know better than anyone else. But no matter what it is, I get really angry whenever anyone tells me to do anything that I don't already want to do.

And now my life seems to go like that.

Blah.

A Really Idiotic Name

AG. I put this up too late! It counts for April 22. It was written on April 22, I just didn't publish it! I saved it when I was doing homework and forgot about it. Ag, ag, ag. Cut me a break.

I'm talking about bad romance novel names.

While I love his books, John Green is notorious for this. Lacey Worthington? Colin Singleton? Quentin Jacobsen? Even Miles Halter is a stretch. Miles Halter could be the stable boy who is in love from afar with the boss's daughter. The boss's daughter, Lacey Worthington, could be in love with him, and think that she has a secret romance with him, but it's really with his twin brother, Colin, who is really in love with the baker's daughter, Margo, and is only using Lacey to get to her family's fortune so he'll have enough money to marry Margo. And Miles lies broken hearted.

But I digress.

Bad Romance Novel Names are not necessarily names from soap operas. BRNNs are names that are so, so romantic and fluffy that they simply don't seem real. They are usually designed to fit the character, like you have the beautiful, forbidden daughter of the mayor? Something flowy and pretty, like Selena Van Slaterson. The ugly, evil guy who is out to ruin Selena's life? Hugo Norris, or something dark and squat.

I don't know if this is a real thing, I've always had this idea in my head. They've always scared me to death, soap opera names. Whenever I write something, I spend the longest time (I kid you not) the longest time on the name. I am actually currently writing a story where I am having so much trouble with the protagonist's name that I am just leaving a blank space every time her name should enter the story. (She's basically Katniss Everdeen, only meaner. Yeah. It's a shame that I have to steal from the brilliance of Suzanne Collins. But I can't come up with anything better, and Suzanne Collins is smart. And good at coming up with names. An underrated task!) And I never, ever name anyone Trent/Brad/Fabio/Lance/Dominic/etcetera, because while those names are fine in real life, they are not fine in soap operas, especially when paired with a name that ends in 'ton', you're in trouble. You have a Bad Romance Novel Name.

A Horrible Week

It's the end of one. Hurrah. (I don't have school tomorrow.)

Good things for today:

• Doctor Who on Saturday.
• Earth Day with my friends. Because yes, there is a chance that we will get together...for Earth Day. Yes. Draw your own conclusions.
• Yoga pants.
• Chocolate muffins.
• Cold pizza. (It seems like I only ever talk about food. That is all I ever talk about.)
• Going to sleep without having to do homework.
• Blah. Good night.

Morons and Midtown

Yeah, that title just sounded good. I actually have considered putting up really interesting titles and lying for a whole post just to fit a title. It's not something I've entirely ruled out.

Speaking of interesting, I realize that I never finished my story. You know, the one where the avant-garde goth breaks into my room, does murals for her sister on my (apparently good) plasterwork, and has a random strange girl suddenly pop up by her side?

Speaking of rooms, look at this! This is a font that looks like llamas! How interesting.

My friend has a fascination with llamas. Anytime we need to come up with an animal, she'll say a llama. I will end up saying a deer. Occasionally a swan, or a goat. I don't know what this says about me.

Hey! Speaking of swans, did you know that if you fold a coat hanger in half, it will turn into a swan friend? I found this out from Tom Milsom! And it is very true! And when you are done with your swan coat hanger friend, you may just straighten him out as best you can into a (probably just a bit lopsided) coat hanger again! WOW. That is amazing.

There is something else I wanted to say, but now I've forgotten.

I am going to bed.

Light

I love it when it rains, I hate Tuesdays. I hate Tuesdays more than I hate Mondays. It seems to me that I really don't hate Mondays at all- I hate Sunday nights. I hate everything about Tuesday. But Monday has been a victim in this battle of hatred waged by me against nothing.
So! I was hating today in my room, as usual, when I fell asleep (the falling asleep part-not usual). I was super-mega tired, and it was seven o'clock, and like some kind of baby, I fell asleep on my bed, clutching my iPod like my iPod was my rectangular, metal, auditory teddy bear. And when I woke up exactly three minutes later, it was raining. I went outside later, and I started thinking about lightning.

I noticed that lightning is like flash on a camera. Sometimes, just to experiment, I use flash to take a picture in a completely dark room. And the subject is lit up, you can see it, but it's a very different kind of light than if I just turned on the overhead lights. It looks more fake, I suppose. It's the same with lightning. A while back, I was standing and reading at the window when there was lightning outside, and the lightning was so bright that it would light up the backyard for a second. And I thought it was so cool, because for that brief second, you could see the details of the backyard, but the light was harsher and faker.

Cameras are like lightning.

In my head, this made sense. Does this make sense?

I feel better when it's raining. Like things can start anew! But it's nicer when it's warm rain, like in the summer, and not 33 degree weather rain, like it is now. April needs to make up its bloody mind about whether it's going to be hot or cold, because I will go straight to t-shirts no matter what, and I end up cold 50% of the time.

La la la Blogspot. I am cold.

Quote for Tuesday, April 19, 2011:

I love Mickey Mouse more than any woman I have ever known.

-Walt Disney

(http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/w/walt_disney_2.html)

Muse for Today:

The creators of Mario...what, exactly, goes on in their heads? (K was playing Super Mario Galaxy 2 earlier today, and I was just wondering how they come up with this stuff.)

Peach should be locked in a rubber room or something. Honestly, she gets kidnapped every five minutes and then Mario needs to go gallivanting off to save her. When does she even do anything? She must spend all of her free time in captivity. But then I guess it's not free time. (Rimshot?)

And if they hate Bowser and Waluigi and Wario, why do they invite them to go go-karting with them all the time? Are you really so low on friends that you need to invite sworn enemies to go on day trips with you? Take a flowerpot. Or nothing. That would be preferable.

Also, this Mario universe isn't real. Nor does it make any logical sense at all. So I should probably stop fretting about it now.

The Return of the Math Midterm

Only this time, it's results. I get them sometime this week.

Results are worse than the actual exam. At least during the exam you can have hope, that maybe you'll do well, maybe the teacher will drop all of the tests in a mud puddle and you will all get automatic A's...

But results? You pass, you fail. Nothing else.

I hate results.

No Muse. The prospect of results brings me down.

Quote?

I hate math results.

-Me

A Conversation

Most people I know, whether from reading or from the Internet or from actual factual real life, have a voice in their heads.

You know, the voice that SHOUTS WHEN YOU READ THIS. Or speedsupalittlewhenyoureadthis. Or reads. This. Sentence. Really. Haltingly. And reads this in a regular voice.

Well, I was thinking about what the voice in my head actually sounds like. When I'm writing, I read my sentences in my own voice. When I'm reading a text, I read the sentence in the manner of whoever it was that texted me. On the off chance that I get a letter or a note, I also read it in a voice. But when I'm reading any book, any blog (even if it's the blog of a vlogger and I know how they talk), or anything I wrote in the past, it sounds like this...this...monotone, more-masculine version of me murmuring. And I'm a mezzo-soprano, kids. Drink that in. Imagine how that would sound. Just weird. But the voice in my head is not weird, it's just there. That's how it is. I don't really control it. Or talk to it to ask it why it is the way it is. And anyway, I suspect a conversation with my voice would go something like this:

Me: Hi!

Inner Voice: Hi!

Me: How's it going?

IV: How's it going?

Me: What?

IV: What?

Me: Hang on.

IV: Hang on.

Me: Ohhhh. Wait, you are me- I didn't really think this through.

IV: No, you didn't.

And then I would get nowhere. And realize that my Inner Voice is a sarcastic little eejit. But it is me.

Quote for Sunday, April 17, 2011:

The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don't have any.

-Alice Walker

(http://thinkexist.com/quotes/alice_walker/)

Muse for Today:

I hate Sundays. They're like a runner to Mondays- especially Sunday nights. I always settle into an unwilling feeling of doom. Like the night before my hanging, and a pardon is virtually impossible. The anticipation makes the week so much worse. I think Sunday nights are worse than Monday mornings.

Listy List

I am so busy now that I

No, I'm not. Actually, I'm lying. I just have nothing to say. I like talking to you just fine, but every day? That's a little wearing. Or what. I mean, I could finish my story about those intruders, but I...I don't really want to. The horror is still fresh in my mind.

Today, I:

• won a committee election when I didn't even mean to put myself on the ballot, and only did five minutes before I won. That was, um. Nice. I guess.
• did homework. I used to see the point of homework, and sometimes I still do see the point of homework. But I think that busywork and stuff that reinforces what I learned in school are very different, and my Spanish teacher doesn't really see the distinction.
• fumed about my Spanish teacher for a good three minutes. She's a good teacher. I guess. The one small problem is that she acts like the Queen of Everything. So I hate her, which makes class infuriating and torturous.
• talked to a friend about books. We don't like the same kind of books, so it was an interesting conversation.
• fell asleep for about five minutes at seven o'clock. SEVEN O'CLOCK! The shame was written all over me (the Night Owl is my superhero name) (or, I guess, would be my superhero name. If I was a superhero).
• worried, like I always do. I think I would cease to function if I didn't fit in a whole 24 hours of worrying every single day.

Quote for Saturday, April 16, 2011:

Love sought is good, but given unsought, is better.

-Olivia

Twelfth Night, Act III, scene i

(http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Twelfth_Night)

Muse for a Day:

Those music festival t-shirts given out after you've gone to see a bunch of different people/bands play in one specified location? And it has some cool design on it, with all the band names and it's a nice little souvenir? I don't know how else to explain...those music festival t-shirts. This is the best way to describe what I'm talking about. I really like them. I want to make a fake one, with some random band names on there, like Glasses Factory or Wendell and Kendell, and have people ask me about the bands on there. Maybe they'll even look up the bands. BUT THEY WON'T BE REAL.

Elaborate prank...and I get a shirt.

Tips for Gym Class

If you are a boy, some of these tips will be highly unhelpful. If you do not change into a gym uniform for gym, some of these will be highly unhelpful. (Luckies. Changing for gym is a pain.) If you are a boy who does not change for gym, I'm sorry.

1. Always bring deodorant. And put it on. Please. The rest of us will thank you- and yes, people do notice if you forgot to wear deodorant. This applies to everybody.
2. Do not get too aggressive. There are the Olympics. And then there is your average middle/high school gym class. Recognize which one you are in, and set your aggression levels accordingly.
3. Keep your voice down. There are horror movies. There are haunted houses. And then there is gym class. One of these doesn't require screaming when some object is flying at your face. You should have been paying attention, and if you were busy flirting instead of fending for your life, well, maybe you deserve a soccer ball in the face.
4. At least pretend to try. We all have sports at which we suck. I suck at volleyball, gymnastics, and everything. I can't score/or whatever without a disgusting amount of luck. But pretending to try will at the very least get some semi-talented member of your team to cover you. On the other hand, not trying at all will get you marked down for participation and make all of the more talented members of your team talk about you in repulsed tones in the locker room. And let's be honest- they suck too. Having them hate you is just an insult.
5. Wash your clothes once in a while. Once every two weeks, maybe. And change your socks, buddy. Every day for the socks. Honestly. This goes hand in hand with Number 1- people do notice. And even if you don't care too much about what other people think, at least consider your general hygiene. You use this shirt every single day, almost- do you really want to go a nine -week semester without washing it?
6. Don't be a ball hog. Simple, third grade rule- easy to forget. People like to think that they are the best contribution to soccer since Ronaldo, and so they try to zip down the field solo and score. Sometimes they are good, but remember- this is gym class. In the end, not one person cares about the outcome. Pass the ball- you're only making the rest of us look bad.
7. Don't make fun. (Do I really need to tell you this?) Remember me? I suck at almost every sport ever? That means I've had my fair share of ribbing. I got lucky- a lot of mine was good natured (or from Ginger, which is the same but not really), but not everyone can have my fabulous nonathletic lifestyle! Before you tease someone, remember that they probably feel bad enough, and you're not helping. Also, never forget that there are loads of things that you suck at too.
8. Do not exact your revenge in gym class. I am dead serious, this stuff happens. Just because Rachel insulted your physics project, or because Lily asked your crush out to Homecoming first, you are not allowed to smack her in the ankle with your hockey stick...seven times. Don't start verbal/physical fights in the locker room. Don't tell tales about other people in the locker room. [Also, settling your differences in gym class? There are so many more creative venues/methods you could use. Come on. Really?]
9. If you don't want to get sweaty, don't go all crazy on the running. Yes, if it's 76 degrees outside and you're tearing down the field, you will probably have sweat. Do not complain loudly in the locker room, saying "How did I get so sweaty today?" Cry into this perfume bottle. Heaven knows you need it, after all of your sweating. You should just play moderately, not tear down the field that all of our lives depend on winning this game, and winning the game rests squarely on your shoulders.

So! There you have it. Gym class, in nine easy steps.

Math Midterms

are made of evil.

WHY ARE YOU (MY LEAST FAVORITE CLASS) THE ONLY CLASS I HAVE A MIDTERM IN?

I am toast.

When Everything You Say

COMES OUT STUPID.

I have just had one of those days when you blather and sound like a certified moron.

(It's like my brain decided to run off to Mexico and didn't let me know.)

And it was for NO LEGITIMATE REASON. Usually, when I'm talking to my friends, they understand exactly what it is I'm saying. (Well, except for Ginger, but that's another blog post). But today I think I insulted people because nothing was coming out of my mouth correctly.

I think I even scared a teacher, and he's not even my teacher. I don't know what was going on. I am not fit (or, was not fit) for human company today and didn't realize it until it was too bloody late!

Inane Rubbish I am going to put because today I am an EVEN GREATER MORON THAN I USUALLY AM:

• This is the scariest/most mesmerizing/most oddly imagined eye make-up I've ever seen in any music video (this includes Lady Gaga):

• Actually, that was pretty much it. I wanted to put the eye make-up on here, because it fascinated me. The song itself wasn't good or bad, but the eye make-up. HONESTLY.
• [garbled noise emits from my mangled mouth as I slowly and truly and finally melt into incoherent madness]

Quote for Wednesday, April 13, 2011:

Mickey: Ricky said he's London's most wanted.

Ricky: Yeah, that's not exactly...

Mickey: Not exactly what?

Ricky: I'm London's most wanted for... parking tickets.

Pete: Great.

-(

http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Tenth_Doctor#The_Age_of_Steel_.5B2.6.5D

)

Muse for Today:

NOTHING. I AM TOO STUPID.

LOVE/LIKE (Or Not Hate!)

A while ago, I made a list of things that I hate. Today, let's make a list of things I love. Or like. Or at least don't hate.

• the song Indigo by Tom Milsom. It contains my favorite intro to any song ever. EVER.
• Tom Milsom himself. He's talented, intelligent, witty, good at what he does and blue-headed. What more could one ask for in a YouTube musician?
• My blogging cousin. And my other cousin, who strictly doesn't have her own blog (coughs)
• my friends who make me food/allow me to steal food from them
• Blondies
• Cheese ravioli
• The funny things my brother says
• The Penderwicks series
• Paper Towns, by John Green. The book that defined my fledgling teenagerdom
• colorful socks
• red hair
• YouTube
• guitars
• piano
• people who play guitar
• people who play piano (like my other cousin who has this friend who hasn't blogged in a while)
• unused notebooks
• book sellers, independent or not
• The Beatles. Without a doubt.
• teachers who know what they're doing
• bicycles
• Doctor Who
• cinnamon gum
• being able to comfort someone who is sad
• Harry Potter, of bloody course
• public libraries
• having a flock of people competing for your attention
• video chatting
• Threadless, the best t-shirt store in the WHOLE WORLD
• hot chocolate
• fingerless gloves, but only for looks. Functionally they're kind of useless
• Thursdays
• Saturday mornings
• skinny jeans
• chocolate muffins
• skim milk
• iced tea
• people who are willing to go out of their way to help you
• people with laugh lines
• the autumn
• the calm silence of people who are perfectly comfortable being quiet in each other's presence
• the 'Artistic Effects' option on Microsoft Word
• journals
• the smell after the rain
• that summer combination smell of sunscreen and and freshly-cut grass
• lavender (the herb)
• air conditioning
• Wikipedia
• the film (500) Days of Summer because of the nonlinear fashion in which it's told
• the video for Life in Technicolor II by Coldplay because they made little puppets for the crew. That appeals to me in some weird way
• having a clean room
• having a lot of time to just...read
• clever parodies (like California Dorks by Skyway Flyer)

Actually, I want to go to bed, so I'm going to stop it here. But there is more. (Wow! There's more! I don't hate everything!)

Part 1

Why did I think it would be a good idea to do BEDA? I should have done "Blog Every Other Week in April." BEOWIA. That's quality.

Ugh. Ideas are harder to come up with than energy- and I am bad at conjuring energy on Mondays.

I have nothing to write about after my tirade yesterday, so I think I will regale you all with a tale of something I was thinking about in school today.

Whenever I talk to people, my mind is never entirely on what they were saying. So I thought this while talking to someone, but I don't think it had anything to do with what we were talking about.

So I read a thing a while back that had advice for teenage girls, and it was really patronizing and stupid, but one line stuck in my head, and this line was: "If someone compliments you, compliment her on the same thing, because chances are she feels insecure about it and that's why she noticed it in you!"

This might not be bad advice, as long as the skirt or whatever I was complimenting was actually worthy of praise.

BUT!

I was thinking of this.

What if one girl is wearing a skirt! And one girl is wearing pants!

Their conversation:

"Hey, I like your skirt."

"Thanks, you too!"

No. *facepalm*

That is one situation is when teenage magazine advice doesn't work. Or doesn't factor in every variable.

Actually, this kind of thing happens a lot. Especially to eejits like me.

"Here's your change. Thank you, enjoy your movie."

"Thanks, you too!"

No. *facepalm*

"Hey, happy birthday!"

"Thanks, you too!"

[Except in really rare instances...] No. *facepalm*

I took a whole lot of space to say a whole lot of insignificance.