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.

Doesn't Anyone Listen to Good Music Anymore?

Today I was very disheartened with my generation. Sometimes I swear I must be from a different planet. Or a different time period at least.

See, we’re doing this project in school where you can pick your own topic to do a ton of research on. The only requirements for a topic were that the subject matter took place sometime between the 1920s- 1970s. Since I love rock from the 60s, I knew instantly I wanted to do The Doors. I assumed most kids in my class would know who they were.

Boy was I wrong. As in, extremely wrong.

As in, “What the hell were you thinking?” wrong.

As in, “face palm, hang your head, go cry in the corner, then punch yourself cause you’re so wrong” kind of wrong.

No one knew who they were. Nobody. I stood there in a state of disbelief as I went peer by peer asking, “You know who The Doors are, right?” The more people I asked, the more my question morphed into, “Have you, per chance, ever heard of this band called The Doors? Possibly? Maybe?”

But nope. My asking was to no avail. Apparently no one my age is cultured in music whatsoever. One person asked me, “Do you mean the group ‘3 Doors Down?’”

Um, no. I do not mean ‘Three Doors Down.’

Hasn’t anyone born in the 90s and later heard of The Doors? Come on, there is more to life than Justin Beiber and Katy Perry. If there isn’t, I might as well go jump off the nearest building.

On that happy note, I'll link a song by The Doors to this page. At least I will be happy then.

People Are Strange- The Doors

I think that’s a fitting song for my class.

And this: Touch Me- The Doors

Just cause I love the song. Who couldn’t?

Aside from that, I also had some fun cooking recently. I made guacamole and vegetarian quesadillas. Then proceeded to finish most of it. Whoops.  

 

And I had fun using eyeliner to make this picture last night. Yes, the only use my eyeliner gets is in my random art projects. I RARELY ever wear makeup. I feel like a phony when I do. So I decided this was a better use for it:

Photos

 

                                         
 

A Poem and a Picture

A Purple Galaxy

Numbers and time

Collide,

Spiraling and infinite

Immeasurable,

Sneaking beneath whispers, and

Above trees

Out into the galaxy,

Lost in the spaces

Where I’m afraid to look

In the deep, extending

Reaches

Of time

And I’m too hesitant

To glance back

Except occasionally,

In the dark, shadowy night

Upon the cold, dim grass

Frozen Yogurt

I have to confess to something. Something pretty serious, and embarrassing, and shameful.

I have an addiction. And it’s pretty bad.

Not to drugs.

Not to alcohol.

Not to smoking.

Nope.

I have an addiction to frozen yogurt. (Okay fine, not that shameful I suppose.)

Preferably peanut butter flavored frozen yogurt with chocolate chips, and a couple delectable crumblings of waffle cone sprinkled on top. Not like I have it embossed in my brain or anything.

That’s just what I personally prefer.

And what I constantly think about.

And what I wish I could eat for every meal of every day.

Truly, I blame my friend. A few months ago we were studying for a big exam and she came up with an incentive: frozen yogurt to power our studying. I, being the naïve and innocent girl I was before my first frozen yogurt experience, blindly agreed. That day, I had a vanilla with strawberries. A little bland, but enough to get me hooked.

So I went back the next day, stupidly, and tried the peanut butter with chocolate chips. From that day on, I was in love. I couldn’t get enough. I still can’t. I go as often as possible, even though I know it can’t be good for you. I mean, they might advertise it as fat free, but come on people. Something THAT good can not possibly be fat-free and low calorie. No. Possible. Way.

Thus, I now sit here and write an entire post on how much I love frozen yogurt. It is pretty pathetic, isn’t it? What a sad revelation. A good day for me is one where I get to eat frozen yogurt at the end of it. Yippee.

On a closing note, I also wanted to share another picture I took and edited. I have this keyboard in my room that I’ve had for years now. It’s pretty tiny and whenever I play on it, it actually messes up my practice because then my fingers don’t seem to remember they have to reach farther on our normal sized piano. So I treat this one as more of a creative outlet. Usually through messing with the sound-functions or trying to play along with the demos. But this time, I decided to paint on the keys and take some pictures. This is what turned out:

A Simple Post

It's absolutely beautiful outside today. So I went and did my homework out in my yard. (Yes, unfortunately I still have homework and school for another two and a half weeks.) I brought out this necklace  had because I knew the sun would be hitting low in the sky, my favorite light of the day, and I wanted to get some sort of photo. I was just in the picture-taking kind of mood. Then, as you can see, I toyed with it a bit on my computer. Here it is, enjoy!

A Day in the Life of a Teenage Girl

My thoughts today can be expressed in one simple letter which has been running through my head the past few hours:

Dear high school boys (especially one in particular),

I hate you.

Okay fine,

That’s a lie.

But I DO hate guys such as you who constantly send mixed signals. Do you like me? Or do you not? Because I’d rather not spend time awkwardly trying to read your mind. Then I may come across as a creep, or an Edward Cullen type. (Wait, those two are the same thing..)

The past few days, you seemed so obviously interested in me that you might as well have written it across the sky. Today, I wondered if I accidentally wore an invisibility cloak to school. Do I need to get a megaphone to make things clear? I like you. I LIKE you. I LIKKKKEEEEE you. If you couldn’t tell by my obvious flirting, then maybe you need to go get some things checked out. Such as your brain. It could NOT have been more obvious. In fact, I can guarantee you were flirting back just yesterday.

So tell me, what happened? Did a switch go off in your brain? Did I suddenly grow two heads? Are you bipolar? Did I smell badly? I’d truthfully like to know. I do not like feeling this insecure. Normally, I am a pretty confident type. Yet you have turned me into mush. In your hands, you have the power to make my life much less embarrassing if you would only be clear. Do you like me? Or do you not?

I’m not asking if you want to marry me. I’m not asking if you want to be my boyfriend. I’m not even asking you out. I am just asking you to be clear. Because frankly, I am losing my mind.

The fact you didn’t seem to notice me today may as well have been the apocalypse in my own tiny world. As petty as it is, I am a teenager. Small things seem like catastrophes to me. I can be selfish, stupid, immature, and downright idiotic.

But only occasionally!

Usually I think I’m pretty cool. It would seem you agreed just yesterday.

Which brings us back to the original question. Do you like me? Or do you not?

                                                Sincerely, high school girls (especially one in particular)

How to Cure the Sunday Night Blues

I’ve come to realize that Sunday nights, no matter how much homework I have, or don’t have for that matter, are stressful. It’s simply a fact. No matter my existing stress prior to nightfall, once seven o’clock rolls around, I hit stress-mania. The ridiculous thing is, even when I have absolutely no homework and nothing to do, that “Sunday Night feeling” still comes. It’s inevitable. Trying to start homework only makes it worse. As my remaining weekend hours dwindle, my mind goes into panic mode and my homework seems even more daunting. Truly, it is a vicious cycle. And because of that, I say it needs to be stopped. Or at least, there needs to be something to curb its horrendous consequences.

Luckily, I have just the thing.

Since today was Mother’s day, I wanted to make my mom something special for it. Plus, I’m all into baking recently. So, I decided to try making an ice cream cake, which has always seemed like an extremely cool thing to do, as intimidating as it sounded to me. Yesterday I spent around four hours preparing it (well, a lot of the time I was just waiting for it to freeze up, so maybe only an hour and a half of actual working), and thankfully it turned out well. Actually, who am I kidding? It turned out delicious, if I do say so myself! And it’s just the type of treat that can combat the Sunday night blues wonderfully. Mmmm, no more stress for me!

If you’re wondering HOW I made it, I used a combination of the Strawberry Ice Cream Cake recipe from  http://www.joythebaker.com/ and my own ideas (since I wanted mine to be cookies and cream). I used regular old cookies and cream ice cream from the store, and then made a cookie crumb crust with oreos and melted butter, plus the frosting and cake from the recipe link. Though it definitely took some patience and effort, it was so worth it!

Spring Rain and Spring Cupcakes

Splashing in puddles never gets old. I can see myself now as a decrepit ninety-five year old, hopping out of my wheelchair on every rainy day. Something about the satisfying splash and the spray of muddy, spring water drenching my legs is enticing time and time again. In fact, I was having a horrible day today, until I got to splash outside in some puddles. You see, the track distance team (of which I am a part of), happened to be the only team dumb hardcore enough to practice outside in the horrible weather this afternoon. We quickly turned it into a puddle-splashing opportunity, though. Sure, I may have smelled like rotting worms and mildew by the time I got home… and yes, my socks made an awkward squishing noise as I walked inside, but it was still entirely worth it. Mud and dirt aside, jumping in the rain is something no one can regret.

Why I felt like writing about puddles, I’m not really sure. The funniest little things can make or break my day. My entire morning was filled with self pity and complaining, followed by an afternoon of even more whining. Yet something as simple as skipping around in puddles of rain entirely fixed it. Who knows? I’m an odd duckling.

On a similar note, I really wanted to post a picture of these cupcakes as well, which also improved my day immensely. Since I’ve been into baking and cooking lately, trying to recreate adorable cupcakes is part of my weekly routine. So when I attempted to make some flower cupcakes from the What’s New, Cupcake? book a couple weeks ago, and they actually turned out beautiful (if I do say so myself!), it made my week. Actually, my month. I’m still getting happiness out of it. They’re so cute and simple! All you need is marshmallows, patience, and a little sister to help put sprinkles on EVERY single marshmallow piece.

So there you have it. The recipe to happiness is simple: Spring rain and cute cupcakes. Animal crackers couldn't hurt either..

School is Hell with Fluorescent Lighting

It’s no coincidence that one of my favorite characters in fiction is Boo Radley. The more I walk out of my house these days, the more I wish I could go back inside. It seems each time I venture into the great abyss outside my front yard, disaster strikes.

Okay, well no, not any types of life altering catastrophes occur, but simply little things which make life all the more unpleasant. Take for example Exhibit A:

Only  moments ago I walked out of my house for the innocent purpose of getting in the car. Yet somehow in the twenty-second trek from my front door, I saw a person I greatly despise out in the street. Acting like some sort of criminal, I dashed to my car to avoid any type of conversation. Don’t get me wrong, this person isn’t some physical threat to me, but their conceited personality is definitely a threat to my remaining brain cells. It’s no wonder Boo never leaves his house. I wish I could hide from about 75% of the people I’m forced to go to school with each day.

Maybe I’m turning into some sort of hermit. I mean, every other teenager loves partying and being out, while I’m the complete opposite. On a Friday night I’d rather be chilling at home with my cats.

Oh God.

Did I just say that?

I AM turning into some sort of hermit. Boo Radley and I would get along great. No talking, no communicating. Slip a note inside my window and I might respond without having an anxiety attack. Soon my only remaining friends will be those who don’t mind talking to me via letters, and random people who STILL refuse to leave my house alone (people of the fundraising, Jehovah’s witness, girlscout cookie selling type).

You see my predicament. Do I force myself to take part in the only legal form of torture they have left… a.k.a. school? Or hole up in my room for all of eternity? Neither sounds very promising. So for the time being, I compromise: Wake up at the crack of dawn, force myself to school and sports practice, come home to do homework, and then sleep.

Honestly, it’s the worst of EVERY world. Gosh, I just love being a teenager. Please Boo Radley, let me be your roommate.

Until he gets back to me on that, I’ll have to continue compromising with my daily routine and school-going. Oh, did I mention I don’t believe in evolution?

Why, you might ask?

Because all the kids at my school are STILL monkeys.

My first post!

As I sit here staring at my spanish packet, the knowledge of my brand new blog keeps flashing into my mind. Wait, what? I keep thinking.

I have a blog?

I’m a blogger now?

Apparently. And oh man is it exciting!  Much more exciting than my ever-looming Spanish homework. In the scheme of things, I must say that a blog post seems much more important than a Spanish worksheet anyway.

                Then again, it is a double sided worksheet. Not to mention it’s Sunday afternoon, and the only useful thing I’ve learned the past two years in Spanish is how to say me gusta el helado (I like ice cream).             

             Plus, okay, It IS Easter Sunday. No, I’m not some devout religious person, in fact I don’t even really have a religion (My religious views on facebook are ‘cereal’). But I’m sure everyone knows that on Easter, they sell a lot of chocolate. You can probably guess that if I like ice cream, I like chocolate. Thus, sitting here writing a blog post is taking away from my precious chocolate-eating time. Sheesh, what am I still doing here?

                One last thing before I go, though:

                Me gusta el chocolate.

                Would you look at that?! I CAN speak spanish!