Oh, hello again!

First off, Paige Railstone. Oh man, if you don't know who she is, you are really missing out. I love her music and I can't stop listening to it. "Off the Railstone" is sweet!

Also, school starts in seventeen days. Ew. Band starts tomorrow. I'm really excited to get started again with band, but I'm also really nervous. I'll try to remember to post how it goes.

I got to host a student from Spain for a few weeks this summer, and it was awesome. He was really nice and we got to do a lot of cool things around town with him. He seemed to really enjoy himself and I'm glad we made his stay fun. 

CFC was great as always, but not the best year ever. I'll try to post more about that later.

Irony: A woman wearing a DARE shirt, smoking a cigarette.

Oh...

So, I'm watching Food Network with my sister. I'm leaving to go take a shower just as some Bobby Flay show is coming on. I give her the remote and tell her she can change it to any channel she wants because I was leaving. About twenty minutes later, I come back down and ask what she is watching.

"Bobby Flay," she say.

And I think, "Wow, they come up with a new Disney channel show every day..."

And then I remember Bobby Flay is a chef, not a TV character.

Any Dream Will Do

     Basically, I have spent my summer playing Tetris, sitting around, and wishing I was elsewhere. And dreaming. Like, real, hard-core, while-I-sleep dreams. And I had a really strange one last night. Well, it was strange until I looked it up and realized that it and real and relevant meaning.

Here it is:

     We (Me, my friend[kinda]s Kate, Michelle, Daniel, and some others) were driving in Kate's car to Michelle's house for a party of some kind. We are coming down a residential street that looks like the one Harry lives on in the Harry Potter movies. We come to Michelle's house (not her real life house, but we all know it's hers) and see plenty of girls in nice dresses walking up to the house. We also see a car flying above us. It was strange and kind of ominous, but no one thought too much of it. Daniel opened the car door and fell out (?) and had some trouble getting up. I grabbed my keys but left my wallet in the car when I got out. We all were laughing while we were getting out and began to walk toward the house. Parking was bad for some reason, so Kate was going to stay back and find a parking spot. We were greeted by Michelle's mom once we got inside, soon followed by Kate (but none of the other people we saw outside). We pestered Kate to make sure she locked the car. She pointed to it in the driveway (it was not a red van) and assured us it was locked. 

     Looking out the window to by back yard (which was mine for some reason), it began to snow. Big, fluffy stuff that landed on the trees and made everything white and beautiful. Then, a guy (who we all knew to be the guy flying the car earlier) got out of the yellow car parked in front of Kate's and started checking the doors of her van. We all laughed because we knew the car was secure. 

     Then, he got into the passenger door. He started throwing stuff around and robbing the car. Kate, flustered, call 911 after I told her to. The 911 people were of no help as they told us that they could do nothing to help. 

     Once he was done (we were all to scared/suprised to go out), he got into his car and backed it out of the driveway around the van. I thought about taking the plate number right as he sped off (through the neighbor's backyard). 

     We (Kate, Michelle and I) went outside to assess the damage. It was no longer snowing and all the snow had melted. I was my sister's very distinctive wallet on the back seat, much thinner than usual. I looked for my wallet, but did not see it. I was mostly worried about my sister, though. Her wallet seemed to have nothing missing (Michelle also found hers and nothing was missing. If anything, there was more money in it), but I wanted to call her to make sure. I did not have my phone, so I borrowed Kate's. I tried to dial, but her buttons were all messed us and it took me a few tries and I never was able to call. 

     I must have asked about my own wallet because Kate started talking about it. She pulled it out of her bag! She said something about borrowing video games (from the library, I guess) and a contract about "played lists". That somehow had something to do with not leaving stuff around, so she had grabbed my wallet. 

     We all walked inside. 

What it could mean:

     I'm scared about people breaking into me (the red van was my family car). Nothing will be taken when these people do get into me (my relationship with my sister, especially, will mot be hurt) and I will be fine. People I already know, Kate, mostly, will protect the feelings and beliefs that are important to me.

I'm crazy. 

Juno

I watch Juno whenever I feel alone. I think all I want to see is the scene near the end, after Juno has the baby, when she and Paulie are cuddled up on the hospital bed. Every time I see it, I almost cry. The tears come, and maybe one falls, but I never really cry. Maybe I would cry if I had someone to watch it with. I guess I just don't.

I'm watching Juno tonight, wishing you could be here beside me.

Hello World!

SUMMER!!!

I have officially passed ALL of my classes this year! (And when I say pass I mean that I got an A. Well, except Chemistry, but I don't think you count hell as a class, do you?)

Also, I am Drum Major for next year! I really wanted it, and kind of expected it, BUT I'M STILL SURPRISED AND EXCITED!

ALSO, I made the play for next fall that has eleven, count 'em, eleven cast members. Since when can I act that well? I'm not complaining at all though!

Looks like I'll be busy next fall!

note: Way too many all-caps words for one post. Sorry.

You

Yes, I do see the pictures of you posted on Facebook. Just don't get hurt.

POETRY!

I started writing this monster poem a few weeks ago. It just kept growing and growing until it was close to three pages long and rather hard to follow. Today, I decided to split it up into three poems (they are all set up the same way) because there were really three different stories going on. I'll give you the first two, but the last one is not done yet. If I ever remember, I'll post it when I finish it. 

"Dark Frozen Winters"

My life has been written on scraps of old paper,
scripted for me by those gone before.

I stand on this path with my life in disorder,
finding the doors are opened for me.

Listen, you will hear my pre-written story,
one to be told a million times more.

Not by you, not by me, but in lives yet to come.
See, there might even be déjà vu.

Wide eyes do scream out but my mouth has been sewn shut.
Gestures and hops will tell you the tale.

A tale of deep shadows and dark frozen winters,
some dead ends, a witch, my lost shoes.

I could talk of big castles, nice princes, fine balls,
but that would disguise the whole truth.

For you, I would certainly tell the real story,
knowing you would repeat it to none.

But, it seems my parts need repairs to tell stories
and my mind is tired of waiting.

My story will not come today for these reasons,
and, sadly, it may never come out.

You will do fine with one less tale of misery,
and I’m certain that I’m right with that.

And everyone in their cars is speeding away,
leaving me and my birthday for spring.


"New Day" (I don't know if I like this title)

The sleep in these cold nights goes quickly; it’s shallow.
But dreams haunt with stories of past days,

the meaning of labyrinths like these is still questioned.
But, projected still, are these strange dreams.

All night they do come but, by morning, forgotten.
Last night’s dreams might play tonight, too.

Maybe the projector up there is not working.
So, for me, there are reruns each night.

But reruns hold wonder and each time become new
because now I’m wiser than I was.

But sharp beeping does wake me to one more long day,
and I throw on some clothes that don’t smell.

Brush my hair and my teeth, smear deodorant on,
pack my lunch, grab my breakfast, I’m gone.

Gone into the morning to walk cold and alone.
But whispers and guitar cords still play

on a iPod that’s old- like a dog, it’s panting.
Dark pockets are dreadful conditions.

But I switch on a smile. Outside, I’m happy,
but little can hide what I’m thinking.

I stumble through each day, half-way there, half-way gone,
Surviving for lack of surrender.

My Uncle Wants Me Drunk

I’m not even twenty one and my great uncle still offers me an alcoholic beverage at every family event.

I don’t think there are many diagnosed alcoholics in my family, but the drinks follow us wherever we go. To be honest, I hate it. I can understand light social drinking, but getting totally wasted in front of all you nieces and nephews does not make much sense to me.

A few years ago, I made a promise to myself that, even when I am of age, I will not drink. I don’t think I need it. This seems to be sprouting from the same seed that has turned me against excessive make-up. If you feel that people will not accept you without it, you need to spend time with different people.

I may be too young to be making these choices but I think my life depends on what I do now. And if my life now isn’t perfect - if I’m the last to have a boyfriend or never experience a high school drinking party - it’s my loss. Just wait a few years and we’ll see how everything plays out.