Heeeeeellllllooo moving.

My parents and I have moved many a time. Perhaps more than normal people should. I at the tender age of seventeen, have moved...wait let's count together children, *mumbles incoherently* Australia, uhhh.... 2 the first time, and uhhh, well all together it makes eleven. A remarkable number when you compare it to the amount of times my best friend has moved (0). This includes four countries, several states and a lot of groaning and complaining about incompetent movers. At least according to my mother. As we moved this last time, as I would be going to college this fall, I began to wonder...what the heck I was going to do. I mean honestly, I should start dropping a few pounds. That's a given, however beyond that, shouldn't I accomplish something. Then I found the wonderful thing they call intern sites. I may have applied to *cough* seven, different sites, in the hopes that I would at least get one internship. So here's to hoping.

Doug Adams.

 

Let's face it. We all have enjoyed the GOOGLE Doodles, once in a way. Perhaps a little too much on occasion. However this one has to be my own personal favorite.

 

I was probably first eleven or twelve when I caught a good glimpse into the life of the Hitchhikers. My first experience with the several movies had me slightly in awe, of the number 42.

 

Today I delve much deeper. An AP Lit student, I suppose it is a requirement that I do so, or otherwise be torn by the staunch amount of people who are that much better than me in all scenarios.

 

He felt that his whole life was some kind of dream and he sometimes wondered whose it was and whether they were enjoying it.

Douglas Adams, "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy"
English humorist & science fiction novelist (1952 - 2001)

 

I have always wondered, what exactly is the difference of life when you are awake or dreaming? Inception, though an interesting thought, is not exactly what I have in mind. We live on in moments, and could one dream a dream? I suppose it is possible, except that it seems incredibly impossible.

 

Life in itself is more impossible than not. A heart that breaks with small permutations to the skin, growing more and more uneasy about the day. The idea that a soul should lift into the sky and become at peace. An eye that sees a world of pure beauty even in the most desolate of conditions.

 

Whether these things are myth, fantasy, or a cruel idea of a dream, it is not up to me to know.

I have frequently been told that everyone has their own truth. I can only hope that my truth is one filled with love, dreams and hope. For what are we but shells, if we do not love, we do not dream, and we do not hope.

 

I suppose with college admissions finally coming out this week I am getting a little sentimental.

I only hope I get into my dream college. However that seems like a fantasy even the most amazing dream will not be able to fulfill.  

 

 

Counting calories.

Now everyone, boys and girls, humans and aliens, have been on some kind of diet at one point in their life. Madonna, one very prominent alien in the community, is probably on one right now. People magazine pretty much advertises for diet fads. Paula Deen and her everthinning family are the subject to much contreversy as is their new motto eat fat, stay thin? Or is it be healthy, be happy? I frankly have no idea.

I haven't blogged in a while. One could say it is because of the ever growing stream of madness inside me, once I realized, aww hell I ONLY applied to seventeen schools. In actuallity it was more like 22, but lets not let the crazy overwhelm us. With all the stress of college applications, not to mention AP literature is like a shovel in your soul, you can tell I haven't been eating exactly healthy.

My parents constant encouragement in this area, has started my rebellion in this area, as I eat crispy chicken strips in my ever rebeillious stream of revenge. (On second thought my parents are pretty lucky if the worst form of rebellion I could think of was eating overly fatty foods). My parents have actually forbidden me from the growing stack of Thin Mints (I SUPPORT OUR GIRL SCOUTS!), that have piled in our fridge. Which obviously is a serious cause to call the cops on my parents. Because that has to be illegal.

Unfortuately, even though I maintain I am incredibly happy eating only fatty substances for the rest of my days, I still have the growing feeling that I could be getting a bit too big for my britches. So, even though I refuse to give up cheese, I am...wait for it...counting calories.

I know the amount of impressiveness is pretty sad. But there it is.

I may start posting my caloric loss. However as of yet, I am still too embarressed.

The last homecoming.

I've never been a big spirit person. I will be the first person to say that. But as soon as I became a senior it was like insant spirit in mah soul. I say that with the clarifiction that I have nostalgia and bouts of girlish "OH GOD I'M GONNA MISS THIS SCHOOL!" when I randomly walk through the halls, and see weird things like my teachers NOT bribing students with money to do well, or the insanity of the journalism family.  Today was my last homecoming in this school, and I have to say I experienced it exactly the way I wanted to. Perhaps not the way I expected to though.

I started off my day regularly, my parents were late dropping me off to school, as usual, and I walked in fashionably late...to be a student tutor. Which is nothing of course, but it shows badly. I started my day wearing my newest school color-spirt loving t-shirt. Then, nursing an adrenilene rush that covered up my restlessness, I pretty much screamed my way through an entire rally, which I partially paid attention to, partially just screamed. When my vote for Homecoming court walked through the rally I was one of the more prominent vocies in the crowd.

Next were the brunch time activities... which really weren't anything today because lo-and-behold, the brunch time activities were the classes screaming, again about how their class was obviously better than the other classes.

At lunch, I walked to CVS with my friends. And had myself a magnum...well half a magnum, and then I went to wingstop. But, when I went to wingstop. They were incredibly nice, and even though I ordered a three piece, they gave me an extra, just saying. I was walking back to school and I suddenly felt fat. I hadn't even touched the food yet and I felt physically fat. So I decided to share the food with my friends.[Note: That is my reason and if anyone says anything else I smote them.]

After lunch I was stuck doing nothing with my two of my friends, and once again we walked to a food place, where I proceeded to buy everyone Arizonas. Including myself.

THEN I was bombarded by my fellow journalism classmates who offered to take me on an epic trip to Jamba juice. It was slightly scary...I may not ever recover from that trip. I think by singing Taylor Swift at the top of our lungs, we managed to convince people to read our paper!

Finally I rushed to the parade where I basically ran around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to take a picture of everyone. I feel like a ran it up and down the parade route two times, but there are people who would contest and say that I only ran it once, so I won't say anything. Yet.

Eventually I ended up at Homestead with one of my friends. We watched the beginning of the JV game before getting bored and walking around campus and seeing the pretty cool things that were going on behind-the-scenes at homecoming.

We saw people Sapnay-dancing, and ASB too...or were they the same people...who knows. The band practicing before the game. Then the rival team entering and looking at us with ARRG faces. Of course we might have been boo'ing them...but we probably weren't.

Finally I ended up at the Varsity game, and it was awesome. I got to take pictures down on the field while the game was going on and that was some scary... yeah... well. There was one point, the guys were running really close to the out-of-bounds area and I was like, damn that would have made the best picture but I was too slow.

I went back up to the bleachers and I was able to take pictures of people cheering, for a planned cheer off, which did things to just boost my self esteem, I tell you. Then the band. Was AMAZING. I mean you think you've seen it all from our school, but the streamers at the end of the half-time show were a touch of magic. Unfortunately my camera died at that point and I was kinda sad. But I had a baked potato as my solace.

I ended up not getting to see the end of the game, but I went to the dance. I went to sell glow sticks and the dance was Black-light. Which was pretty cool. I had never been to a school dance before so this was certainly an experience. Especially since I'm a senior...ha. I got a new camera at the glowstick stand and was taking pictures, and I got hugged, twice. I'm pretty sure I knew both of them, but I'm still slightly worried about that last hug.

After that. I went home. Covered in glitter, face paint, and kinda tired. Here I am.

Views on Hate.

Why? Seriously. Just why? Who could be so stupid as to hate? I think to hate someone for any reason is stupid. I'll say that perhaps it a bit judgemental, and people have their reasons. But hatred is such a strong emotion. Why should people tack it on to their life. It doesn't seem reasonable to me. A sensible person should just forget about hating anybody, and dislike everyone equally, if they are so inclined. If they are more optimistic, I should think that they should take a more positive attitude. Life is so short, to live a second in hatred is to waste that moment. Why should the heart grieve, when it could so easily forgive instead. What would happen if tomorrow never came? Ok, yes I went all Bollywood, Kal Ho Naa Ho on your asses. But the sentiment stays the same. The world may last trillions of years, but a life isn't forever.

Views on love

Love. Pyarr. Amour. There are countless ways to say it. However the sentiment stays the same.

We keep living life even though there is pain, and sorrow, and so why do we try to stop ourselves from loving someone even though there is pain and sorrow. When we love, we have agreed to do so without conditions, people continue to love one another, even after death, for the sheer joy of love. However  love can hurt, and casualties are astonishing.

Personally I am not a lovey-dovey person. I highly doubt I ever will be. I like the thought of love. I like people who are in love. I like love. But personally love doesn't appeal to my personal tastes. That is a contradiction, no? Well in my mind it isn't. I have the total understanding that love is not in my range. While my friends have all rights to fall in love, I personally don't see a need. Perhaps someday I will. I probably won't. But, love is love. Whether familial or personal. It's pretty cool if you can find it.

Procrastinating. On LIFE

I am procrastinating on life. I mean this in a very not good way. I am putting off my college essays. And yes, this equals not doing my homework and telling my parents I have caught the black plague. I think after you use that excuse for the third time, they expect you to be dead. Or something. Still I could blame the overwhelming depression that rules my life. But then, that wouldn't be very accurate would it now? I could blame too much joy and tell my parents I am just waaayyy tooo happy to do anything productive on a three-day weekend. However they might just assume I'm on drugs and send me to a hospital. Or stuff me in a closet. I haven't deciphered which as of yet. I am hoping that perhaps I am not actually doing this on purpose and this isn't just writers block. Severe writers block. Because at the moment I am writing. Sure this is pretty shitty writing but it's still words and that is good enough for me to believe I do not have writer's anything.  Except maybe the occasional hand-cramp. Still. Life has not handed me any lemons recently. I am taking this as my leave to steal some from an orange tree and sell it as lemonade to shock people when it tastes like orange juice but it's really yellow. Like me.