The Start to a Wonderful Christmas

There is little in life more comforting and lovely than slipping into soft, warm, and safe sheets knowing two of your favorite people are staying in the guest room right down the hall. It's even more rare to enjoy this with the added knowledge that you have absolutely no school duties for the next two weeks, and as you hear your adored guest's light chatter slip under your closed doorway, find yourself greeting a sense of complete ease.

Somehow, miraculously, I have made it to this moment.  My amazing friend and her mom (who my family has been close with forever) moved across the country this past summer, to the intruiging and wondrous state of California, leaving us behind in the dim and dreary Detroit. Yet finally they've returned to us, and are staying with us for an amazing two days, pleasantly tucked away in our guest room. As I write I can hear them down in the hallway, and I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be at right this moment. My lamp is casting a reassuring glow on my room and along my wall of pictures, upon all these graphic memories that seem inviting for once rather than daunting and melancholy. My Kurt Cobain poster is not staring down ominously but cheering for me on this relieving night. My toes are toasty and relaxed, and my mind is filled with the anticipation of Christmas and an oversell sense of well-being. Afterall, it's a rare occurrence that I don’t get the 'lonely' feeling at night. For once that stealthy intruder is kept at bay, replaced by the safety and comfort of old and beloved friends. I will remember this moment forever. It's wondrous enough to be put in a book.

All today I’ve been looking forward to tonight. Slogging through school was actually not so horrendous since I knew freedom awaited me at precisely 2:33. Freedom, and our coming friends. When all the other poor suckers are getting up bright and early tomorrow morning for another day of hell, I’ll be relaxing, reading poetry, listening to my favorite music, and then traipsing down the stairs to be greeted by the aroma of French toast and scrambled eggs. Maybe even some scrumptious orange rolls with frosting, too. And of course, the company of two of the few remaining people that I absolutely love and cherish in this world.  I may be pretty confused lately, but I’m content, no, beyond content at this exact moment. I am absolutely filled with delight. The saying “bursting with happiness” is not so foreign to me in this instant. Christmas is right around the corner, and yet I’m pleased to be right where I am as well. No one can take this from me, and it feels great.

See you later, loneliness. Your stay is over. 

Confusion is Wonderous

I read the line, "The Mind is it's own beautiful prisoner," thought I should post it on my tumblr, and realized I am a hypocrite. A mindless drone, a brick in the same exact superficial society I so like to complain about, a scumbag of the teenage world, worse even then those not self aware enough to realize it. Which further convinced me of my own confusion.

I mean, basically and fundamentally and breaking-it-down-process-analysis, I am so confused. Plain, stale, old rotting bread, typical confused. I am drowning in my waves of confusion. About what? Everything. My state of mind alternates between utter happiness and dungeon-like morale. I can't even branch into a new paragraph because I don't know what my point is.

Hey wait!

Maybe that's my issue.

Where is the fucking point  to anything in this dreary world?

Why should I get a job and study for my math test and write my spanish homework?

In the words of my spoiled, babied self, I don't want to. Truly, I don't. Yet everyone and everything tells me I need to. I absolutely must learn to live in this fucking "real world" they talk about, and it confuses me. Am I not living in the REAL WORLD? What is the RealWorld? According to Them, I must stop using my brain right this instant and study for my test. Afterall, memorization trumps free thought. Right? That's what everyone says.

Bullshit is what I say. Or at least I think I say. Or hope I say. Or well.. would say if I possessed an actual backbone.

I had this awful dream a few nights past in which I was dead. I woke up with this horrible, seemingly obvious (yet is it really?) realization that one day I will be dead.

Lifeless, white, unmoving, dead. I will cease to exist and no one in the fucking world will care rather I studied for a calculus test in 2011 as I sat on my bed reading e.e. Cummings and coming to the unfortunate conclusion that I am entirely confused.

No one will fucking care. (Unless I become famous. In which case, hi everyone! I wonder what the hell my future self did for you to be interested in reading this).

Anyway, if no one will fucking care, then shouldn't I simply do whatever I want to do? Whatever spontaneous, silly, utterly ridiculous thing I want to do? Shouldn't I be "allowed" to travel and eat like a whale (without constantly feeling fat even though I AM NOT- yes brain, you better stop harassing me) and watch Seinfeld instead of doing homework and ponder life until I've sucked all the sweet juice out of it?

Shouldn't I?

Or is that wrong? Because it sure makes me feel guilty. I just don't know if that guilt comes from inside my little heart or if society is trying to probe my conscience.

Oh goodness, I'm not only confused... I'm lost as well. I need someone to candidly tell me the facts of life before I go screw myself up. I think I'll try writing again. I feel better about myself when I do. My thoughts aren't lost to eternity when I write them down. And I (we) live in a society obsessed with mortality.

Excuse my ramblings, I must return to integration, velocity, spanish terms, and anxiety. Have a nice night, nobody.

The Best Pirate Trailer

Watch this, it is the best trailer ever. If I do say so myself:


                   



Cute Eighties Movies

Dear cheesy romantic eighties movies,

Thanks a lot.

Because of you, I now wake up every morning expecting to open my front door and see a Jake Ryan hot guy equivalent standing across the street. Of course he’ll be in front of his classic red car, waiting for me. I will shyly mouth the words, “Me?” with a hopeful, yet disbelieving frown. He’ll laugh for a moment, then mouth back, “Yes, you!” as a sparkly grin grows across his face.

But alas, this has not actually happened to me yet. In fact, I can’t even think of any guys I know who would EVER do this for me or anyone else. Because of your stupid, charming endings, I now waste hours daydreaming about my perfect closing scene. I know very well it is not going to happen, but being a teenage girl makes it a little tough to block out of my mind.

I mean, I would even love to be a part of the Breakfast Club plot. Sure, being stuck in detention would be a drag. But come on, you know the ending is too adorable for words. John Bender might start out all tough, but by the end I definitely would have given him my earring. Watching him walk across the field, pumping his fist because he’s finally won me ove, well, I wouldn’t complain about that!

All in all, I just wanted to remind you that us teenage girls (even ones from the 2000s) fall for your tricks much too easily. I might as well adopt spinsterhood early, because I have to accept that no guy is going to hold a radio up to my window to win me back. Or like in “When Harry Met Sally” (1989 counts!), my best friend will end up being the perfect guy for me. Unfortunately, I don’t think that is going to happen either.

I just wanted you to remember who your audience consists of: a bunch of hopelessly romantic, cheesy, sometimes impractical and stupid, teenage girls. Molly Ringwald might be grown up now, but those movies are still affecting gullible girls like me.  *Sigh*

Sincerely,

                              Yours truly

PS. Can you at least throw me a randomly coordinated dance number some day? I always wanted one. That might make up for some of our issues. Thanks.

A Poem

Thoughts in the Night

So exhausted, I can barely type

But I feel unsettled, unsure

The world stretching out in this open expanse

all I want to do

Is roll over,

Close my eyes,

And hide under the safety of darkness

Sometimes I wonder about running

Far, far

Away

But other times I feel safe in the tiny

Small world I live in

Unsure of where to go

Who to be

I slip into the quiet

Of another dream

Summer is so peaceful and relaxing, yet I'm often anxious just the same. I'm beginning to feel I can never escape this ridiculous cycle of nerves.  I mean, I'm extremely tired right now but can't even begin to fall asleep. Thus, I've found myself thinking all sorts of stressful thoughts and surfing the web, though the glare of this screen is only furthering my problems. Ugh, I truly need to work on this. Can I escape the confines of my own mind? Let's hope so.

Anyway, here are a couple pictures from today:

Cake and Pictures!

           I feel like September 6^th is functionally my execution date (my first day of school next year). Come my return to school, I envision only anxiety and misery for my future. Thus, I am trying to live out my summer months to the utmost glory. I figure now is my last chance to truly live it up. In a few months when I am trapped in another prison cell-like dimension of life, I can at least look back fondly of a time, this summer, when I truly lived. I really do need to act as if each day is one of my last. In reference to my days of freedom, they essentially are. At least until next year this time.

So, rather than squander away my remaining few months of blissful sunlight and liberation, I am instead going to accomplish as much as possible and honestly try to live with no regrets. After all, I have nothing to lose. September 6^th is only a few months away, and I need to pack in as much life into these weeks as possible. The day I return to school is the edge of a dark cliff which I am precariously dangling in front of. That first day back will most likely be the shove me throttling into the menacing blackness. I may as well “live on the edge” while I have the chance.

Anyway, here are just a few pictures I've taken recently, one being a cake I made yesterday with friends. Enjoy, and happy summer!

Cake Recovery: Trials and Tribulations of an Incredibly Stupid Person

Soo..

The infamous cake after all the reconstruction...

Embarassing story time.

This past weekend was one of my best friend's birthdays. As part of her present, I wanted to make her a cake. I realize now how overly confident and stupid I was at the time. Don't get me wrong, I can make a mean cake, but I've never been the greatest, per say, at actually decorating a cake. Nearly every time I've made a cake, it has undergone some sort of emergency surgery before completion. Either a layer completely breaks, I don't wait for the damn thing to cool long enough (who has THAT much time on their hands?!), or I botch up the frosting by trying to go overboard with my decorating.

So when I (idiotically) decided I would use fondant on her cake for the first time in my life without reading up much on it beforehand.. well, you can see how easily things went wrong for me.

I didn't want to risk making my own fondant the first time. So I bought some from the store, rolled it out, and felt like I was using play-doh. Then when I put it on the cake, I virtually destroyed everything. My cake looked absolutely horrible. It was originally supposed to be two layers of absolute beauty as a dedication to my loyal friend. Instead it looked like.. well I don't even know. Like a horrible cake. Like the aftermath of a zombie apocalpyse had just gone down in my kitchen. Like I was being stabbed while I created the cake. Like.. you get the point.

Thus, I put it under "Absolute Cake Rehabilitation and Reconstruction" (what I like to call the cutting, frantically frosting, and virtually covering in sprinkles after I have screwed up a cake).

And in the end didn't turn out horrible. At least I thought it didn't. In fact, I was STILL going to give it to her later that day.

 So I gave myself a nice pat on the back and went to upload some of the cake photos onto my computer. While waiting for them to load, I checked facebook.

As it so happened to turn out, another girl going to my friend's party later had just posted a picture of a cake SHE made.

Um..

NO ONE told me she was basically a professional baker.

She had this cake decked out in all the works. Fondant, three tiers, unique candles, lettering, patterns, bright colors, amazing frosting skills, basically everything you could ever want out of a cake.

So I quietly covered my measely little thing in tin foil and put it back on the kitchen counter, right next to my crushed dignity.

I think I'll still give my cake to my friend, but at a private, non-embarassing time. She probably won't care that while I can cook, and while I thought I could bake, my cake skills are not fully developed yet. 

 The fact I was over-confident, if not a little bit haughty about my skills, was definitely a learning experience though.

Humiliation? Hell yes.

Thus, my lesson of the day: Don't go around flaunting your skills. It may turn out you don't actually have them and then rather than baking a cake being a piece of cake, it'll actually whip your ass like you're a tub of cool whip.

On the bright side, my Doors project turned out quite well, if i do say so myself. I'll put up a picture some other day. And lastly, here's another random picture I took/edited/messed with/wasted time working on instead of doing homework.