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.

Random Sprite High.

I am on a soda high at the moment. Akin to a sugar high, but with more consequences, because of the added caffeine rush. However I never really mind this very much because after 2 hours (days, years, eons...) of exhausting badminton training, and ranking, I have made up a song in this random hype that describes me perfectly. Make up your own melody, because...mine's just way to cool for you. Cheers mate.


I'm at the top of the bottom of the world,
Oh yeah!
I'm at the top of the bottom of the world,


When the world looks like it's under,
Look over your shoulder
Just turn it upside-down,
And you're on the top of the world,


Chorus


When CEO's get you down
Say that you're clownin' around
Actin' all smart
Just 'cause their MBA's snark
Remember you're the top of the bottom of the world,
And there is nothin they know 'bout that.


Chorus
*fade*

So that was bad. Very very bad. But. I enjoyed writing it. Perhaps if I wear really bad wangster clothes, and play it on youtube, and dress up like a guy, I could be the next Rebecca Black .

Waiting.

Waiting.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Waiting. Paitently.

No. Don't Laugh. I'm not kidding. I am having a partay!!! I am fundraising for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society today!!! Three cheers for FUNDRAISING! (Any word with fun in it is bound to be great). And I am patiently waiting for my dear friends to come and join me. Who are actually probably not going to come.

As I contemplate the meaning of this tradegedy, as either A) Too many people come to this and this turns into a horrible disaster of a party...that my grandpa will be in attendance of, or B) Not enough people will come and I will be forever stuck as the girl who couldn't convince people that saving lives wasn't a well worth use of their time.

Yikes.

I sound like an infomercial.

I hate infomercials. It's like saying I sound like my mother, and you know the last thing you ever want to do is sound like your mother. I know my ma, is sooooo much coooler than my grandma. But, everyone knows that they say somethings that are uncannily similar. It's like...*shudder*.

What is in a name?

People are constantly telling me that rose would still smell as sweet should be named somthing else. Well too bad for whomever named their kid Lily and thinks their kids poop comes smelling like roses. I personally think that a name gives you a bit of a distinction among your peers--whether among anyone else. We know that people who go by names such as Nicholas fully, are somewhat pretentious. At least we take from that, (remeber people, assume = ass 'outta you and me). However we would always take that someone named Nick would be more willing to go with da flow. If you catch my drift. So a name can make the person in my opinon, whether a girl like Buffy goes by Biff or James by Jamie, it's more or less the name you choose to have. At least I think.

An Ordinary Love.

Why am I so plain? Really. What makes me so ordinary? So much so that I have never been taken out on a date. In fact no one has bothered to ever ask me out on a date properly. I have been stalked, walked on, almost asked, but somehow I manage to always send out the wrong type of signals, I say "NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!" Instead of the usual flirty kinda "I will be yours forever" that is actually trolloping in my head. Once people are in relationships, they seem to ask me for advice. As if I know everything (not saying I don't). But after a while, it gets annoying, all these people that have terrific love lives, while I stay in the background.

Not to say I've never had a boyfriend. I have. Kinda. Welllllllll...Kinda. Really I don't think either one of us looked at it as a relationship, and plus, we were in fifth grade, what kind of a relationship is that, "Hey, can I have a bite outta your tootsie roll?" It was objective but, somewhat sad.

So I am a devastatingly desprate girl. Give me a break. What do you take me for? Normal. Yeah right.

All Dolled Up.

My life is like one bad hair day to the next. Now, I'm not just talking about hair, I'm talking all types of makeup, any type of facial godliness, and cleanliness on a whole-I'm just one of those girls who does not care what clothes she's wearing in the morning, as long as she's not wearing PINK. So, as one of these people, you would guess I take no heed in what my morning makeup routine is. P.S You are CORRECT.

Unfortunately for me, my cousin is having a wedding, and knowing my cousin...it's gonna be 'off da hook' or whatever those 90's freaks called it. So I had to get all dolled up. This included, getting highlights in my hair. A funny story, they were bleaching my hair, and my hairdresser being relatively new to the Biz, was a bit, anti-social. I had no problem with this, except for a talker like me it was tres boring. But I kept myself entertained. I noticed that I looked like a poodle, and as she kept on piling things on my head, the harder it was to look in the mirror and keep from snorting like a pig. Eventually I just let go, and the towel that was draped across my head flew across the room and hit someone in the face. Which of course made me laugh harder... What a life.

These highlights eventually caused many comments from my friends, how I was growing up So fast. Etc.. Etc.. What they didn't know is how they got there.

Later I was taken to get a manicure. Now I have no problem with foot massages and oil rubs, getting someone else to clip your toenails is heavenly. That's fine, but nail varnish, is always against my code of conduct. I cannot condone any other type of nail polish color that something that simply vanishes above the skin. I'm fine with french manicures, and pedicures, but something has to be said for the color pink. It's truly horrid and I hate, hate, hate it. Now, I understand there are some crazies who wear more pink than life, and that's all well and good. But I despise pink and the fact they applied it on MY toenails! It's obsenity. That is what it is.

Problem Child.

I have a friend who complains constantly about a food baby. A little tiny thing that looks like a tumor on your stomach that occasionally appears every Thanksgiving, Christmas or really fabulous buffet style dinner. This is not one of my major complaints in life, honestly, I can live with a little stomach fat, it's not the end of the world, and honestly I'd rather have that than be a starving kid in one of those ad's. That's a sad thought. BUT back to my blog... I do not have a food baby, I have a problem baby. Truly. I have a baby of problems, or a problem child, seeing that it's matured into everything from health to taxes, it's a problem baby.

I suppose another way to put it is that I am one of the world's largest worriers. I will worry about everything and everyone. I will mother the Queen Mother, and check if she has a cold if I could. It's my nature to be overprotective, but for myself, which has been a constant bother for my father. "If you could only be more self-sufficent' . I suppose he has a point....

Everything I think of becomes a problem, something that I could easily not dramatize, becomes a horrendeus event and some other dramatic word I care not use. Unfortunately this is probably out of insecurity- that I won't have any friends if I'm not constantly nice to them and do everything they want, and I don't have the security that they will be there if I don't agree with them. It is probably out of guilt, and a little bit of dramatic flair.

It really is a problem child I have. I don't have any way to get rid of this baby.

Beauty: Lazy Pain

Auugh. The person who said that beauty was worth the pain was lying. I don't know what' worse threading or waxing. Okay. They are relatively both small pains. But don't the smallest pains hurt the worst. Like paper cuts. I would rather have surgery on my kidneys than have twelve paper cuts. I know. But one surgery isn't too bad, in all likelihood I could just die or get new ones, perhaps pass out, and not feel the horriffic pain, it just wouldn't be as bad as those stupid paper cuts. Egh.

Personally I'm that lazy person that you see wearing their p.j's to school, and doing their homework on the computer because they are too lazy to get off of it. I mean, handwriting is so much harder, and lets face it, everything looks 12 times more pro when it's typed. Three cheers for spell check!

Let's just say, I'm never waxing, threading or doing anything of the kind again. Unless it's free. I love free stuff. Especiall facials. Who doesn't like those?

Broadway.

Defying gravity. I'm defying gravity, close my eyes and leap it's time to try defying gravity and you can't pull me down. I'm through accepting limits, because someone tells me so!

Ok. I'll stop now. That is a freziawking (freaking-awesome) song. I mean, I happen to be Broadway show geek. Maybe a little bit of a Andrew Lloyd lover, and yes, I am a Gleek. Still. Even after it started to supposedly suck. But it doesn't (Just letting you know, I was never a Finchel fan...Puckleberry forever!!!).

Okay. Ok. O.K off topic. I started watching musicals with my grandmother, while my parents went gallavanting somewhere or other. Cats, then Joseph and the Technicolor Coat, sooner or later I got into musicals such as Hey Dolly, and really anything with Barbara Streisand. Who is awesome. Just saying. Today I watch anything with a lot of singing, because hey, I have a thing for singers... Lets just say VH1 is a very watched channel in my house

The School of Life.

My mom works in a daycare. It must be what is the most interesting job in the world (other than Journo-Screenwriting, really anything to do with travel...eh maybe accounting that's pretty interesting...Just Kidding, lighten up!). She basically gets to enjoy observing the wonder that is the mind of a child, which for those who haven't been so fortunate to observe, is perpetually ongoing, and far more complex and reasoned than any adult I know. In fact, what adult would have a reason for everything, and an answer for the reason. Or at least, have the abiltiy to make when up when asked. Most adults, teens, or people in the middle would be like "eh...I dunno, 'cause I had to," they never question why, or think of the reason behind what they are doing it.

Toddlers are the most interesting. In fact just recently I learned something interesting about toddlers. They KNOW when to cry. {*Note: Names have been changed because well, A) it's not right to use someone else's name in a blog and B) I actually can't remember her name.} Jia was a very intuitive toddler, in fact so much so that she ran in to the glass door head first, fell on her bum, and started crying. When no one picked her up from her fall, or even came to comfort her, she stopped crying immediately, turned her head from side to side suspiciously, gave a giggle, got up, felt the door and went out to play.

As I watched this I felt a strange sort of fear and intimidation. Did she know more than she let on? Was she really a baby? Was she actually a man in disguise working for the FBI or CIA or something...were all babies??? All these questions ran through my mind as I stared at Jia playing on the swingset laughing with her buddies, and then I realized WHAT exactly I was thinking. A baby. In the law enforcement units. Well I had always thought that baby with a gun skit on youtube was hilarious. But this was downright insane.  However, in the end what I did know, is that babies, toddlers, and just little kiddies on a whole were a lot smarter than we take them for (and speaking to them in a baby voice is just making you look stupid.)

PC VS MAC

Why is technology so frustrating? We live in the 21st century, all we do is sit on our asses and type and stare off into alternate realties where demons and battle star galactica's are real! So why on earth do PC's and Mac's (even though we all know one *cough*PC's*cough* is better than the other) hate us. I mean they don't seem to think that we are worthy to communicate to. I have tried and tried to get my computer to try to work. But obviously iTunes doesn't want to sync anything at the moment, so I will be Neon Tree-less for a while.

 I have loved PC's all my life, I would never turn my back on them. But seriously if it stops working again while I'm in the middle of searching for a decent liberal arts college... SO HELP ME MERLIN (Yes I am a potterite, deal) I will let my dad buy me  a Mac out of fury.

I don't understand why a person would honestly think that a Mac is so *emphasis on the 'O'* much better than a PC. Both are technically personal computers. So what's all the hate about? It's all abowut how cool it is, it's like the package right? Ok, so it's white...and shiny. Well I'm brown and sparkly. I don't see anyone lining up to be my date to prom. Eh...that was a bad comeback but you get what I'm saying. It's what's inside that counts. I didn't get a date to prom because on the inside I'm a five year old that looks like she's 16. The Mac however get's millions, on good looks, and personally I think a worse personality. The Mac's mouse doesn't even go the right way, it's all twisty turny. Eh..

Rockband VS Guitarhero

I had honestly never played Rockband or Guitarhero very much until recently. My friends seem to think it's the next Karaoke...which technically it is for my friends. We basically all go over to one persons place and crowd around a mic or two singing "Living on a Prayer" or "Blitzkrieg Bop" and well "Sweet Home Alabama" is always a favorite (I actually thought Lynard Skynard was a person...not a band, which was embarrasing).

Until recently I hadn't noticed the differences between G.H and R.B, and honestly I'm too much of an amateur to be all like the controller settings are different and stuff and hope that I'm saying it correctly. But on a personal note, because I'm way too scared to do anything but drums and mic on either of them I would have to say that Rockband seems to be altogether easier, even with two mic's plugged in.

Oh well. Fun is fun. What can you do?

Love Actually...not.

I used to love the movie Love Actually. In fact it was so much my favorite movie I had the song "Love is all around us" memorized lyric par verse. I don't know particularly what that means but I hope its along the lines of memorization because thats what I was going for. Still I enjoyed seeing Hugh Grant shake his ass (...or arse if you want to be british) to the Pointer Sisters singing JUMP! But then the love stories were the best. Keira Knightly and Colin Firth, not to forget the unforgettable Christmas classics such as "All I want for Christmas is you!" - where the kid gets an anuresym thinking she doesn't love him as much as she loves EVERYONE in the crowd.

However I started this post with I used to love this movie. Why on earth should I not, when clearly there are so many good reasons to adore it, Hugh Grant's dancing noted in spectacular fashion. Well the reason being one of those stupid love stories. Yes I am one of those idiotic females that bawles over lifetime movies and eats ice cream by the two-pint-fuls (with cherries and chocolate sauce...don't judge me because I'm beautiful), unfortunately one of those stories came true for me...and no I am not the prime minister and I have not kissed a beautiful man on tely.

Yes, I must have wished, rather stupidly 'oh why won't anything like this happen to me' and now it has, but I'm not in the lovey dovey position, or even in the getting cozy wozy position. I'm in the shoot me now and ignore me position. I have fallen in love with a foreign exchange student from the deep south and I cannot for the life of me understand a word he says. Ok. That wasn't true. But it was funny. Actually it's more the fact that there is love in the movie if you get my drift. The whole concept of ever finding love while I remain a spinster that has many nieces and nephews to dote on, and tremendous amounts of dogs (because lets face it, I'm not a cat person), pisses me off.

Normality

When was it normal? I mean do you know, was your life ever what was considered a normality? In movies and t.v. people always seemed so perfect, so 'normal' but I never understood why. Was it the total lack of real problems? Or was it maybe their feelings had so much less emotion than ours?

Maybe thats why some actors are better than others, and thats what they mean when those directors start screaming "PUT FEELING INTO IT DAHHHHHHLING!!!! FEEEEEELING!!!"  I mean, obviously they didn't go to director college for nothing, paying insane tuition and getting mediocre movies as a result.

Personally I disregard normality as something I can ever have in my life. It seems rather impossible to obtain. My gym obssessed mother and my rather young looking middle aged father give me a different introspective on a highly sad life. Of course I am reminded that all these fantastic genes must pass down to me...hopefully pass down to me...but until then they remain a reminder of the odd life I lead.