Wednesday, June 27, 2007


Sweet week at coming at ya soon.


The next thing on my To Do list is to take care of Zoya the dog whose destiny is to become a California sheep herder. Word.


After a few hours of mulching, hauling wood, and weeding in the pouring rain bikini style, it was time to go home.


And I decided to jump on the trampoline in the middle of a thunderstorm, nearly died, and ran inside.


There is just no end to my intelligence, is there?



Monday, June 11, 2007

Wit and Comedy

Another day has come to an end, and I have felt the need to write something with actual substance to cover up my previous post which was vague and full of angst. However, nothing really comes to mind, except that...

Lydia, a person of great strength and a freckled face adorned with wheat-colored hair, beat me senseless at a game of croquet. Even when I cheated mercilessly (it was at Kevin and Kostik's open house, okay, we don't actually play croquet on a regular basis).

I have found a new love for Russian names such as Irina and Svetlana. Too bad my heritage lies with Native America, Ireland, Mexico, and Spain...or else my future daughters might have those names. Wait...I don't want any future children. Nevermind, then. :)

There is nothing in my brain that makes me the least bit qualified to teach piano to those who are my age and older, nevertheless, I have taken Casey under my wing. She is, without a doubt, the most entertaining student I've ever had, probably because she is, by definition, my theatre sister. "A little more than my friend, a little less than my whore...she must be my theatre sister." Inappropriate as that may be, it is really rather true. I really hope that everything works out and she gets to play Ben Folds just like she wants to. :)

The Wardell family continues to amaze me, even when my subtly awkward social graces continue to surprise me. Really, though, I'm such a little rascal sometimes. That's what I love about me. I figure that I have enough guilt in my life, so I'll just embrace the fact that my ridiculously large circle of friends loves me for those graces and more.

I read an entire book in one sitting yesterday, which is something I do not normally do. Of course, it was only 256 pages, double spaced, and a book that one would read normally at age 12. Nevertheless, I found it intriguing. So B. It by Sarah Weeks.

Oh, she's a good apple and a family gal. Respected, liked, no...loved. She's one of the people I admire the most, but she's always hurt in my mind. The scarred and angry part of me comes out when she's looking. She's the one, I'm ashamed to say, that my anger attacks. I suppose that might be because anger attacks the ones that are loved the most. Even so, when these things happen, I love her more because she always is willing to wipe the slate clean. Fancy going back to this memory, but she's stolen quite the chunk of my heart. Only a rare few have done that and managed to hold on to it. These are the respected people in my book. These are the ones that I'm not afraid to apologize to. These are the ones who love me back as well. I refuse to be vulnerable again, but these are the ones who would never make me vulnerable. I thank them.

Wow, there's some substance for you.


Saturday, June 09, 2007

Shut It, Butterscotch.

Word on the street is...

  • School's out for the summer.
  • Theatre? 3rd Hour? Bragle?
  • Pippin?
  • Coconut Lime Verbena has been chosen (by me) as the scent of Courtney and Chelsea Robinson and so I took it upon myself to wear said scent to Courtney's open house today.
  • I will miss Sui...and her delicious Thai food.
  • There was a little girl crying in the woods. I found it rather pathetic.
  • There is no understanding in this world, but heaps of compassion. And an insane amount of luck.
  • My first grade teacher offered extra credit for anybody who could begin their journal entry with a word other than "there". I didn't get any extra credit.
  • I have an extremely talented group of friends.
  • All I got from burning my school papers was a smoke-smelling sweatshirt.
  • My schedule is so hectic, but my individual days are so lazy.
  • People who despised me freshman year now treat me as a friend.
  • I know what I want to do after high school, but I'm not sure in which order I should pursue these things.
  • I don't want to sell any bricks on account of my living under the dollar, so to speak.
  • Open houses are a fair exchange; free food for a short goodbye.
  • I've already booked the time spent flying to NYC and Ireland based on things I must accomplish this summer.
  • There is no time for anything, but there is potential for everything.
  • Mooch. Wanting normal givens, working hard, not earning anything worth shit. For now.


Tuesday, June 05, 2007

The Making of a Day

Two words keep coming to my mind and I haven't been able to put my finger on why. The first is "escape" and the second is "rescue". Well, as far as I'm concerned, I suck at escaping and I don't need to be rescued, so obviously these words are describing somebody else.

Words that could describe me right now might be "frustrated" or "done". Not in the emo-gothic suicidal way. "Done" as in 'I'm done with school' and 'I'm done with listening to this family talk but never say anything' and 'I'm done caring' and 'I'm done!' The frustrating part? Eh. Doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. Somewhere in the grand scheme of things, I'm supposed to go to Ireland. So I am. But wait...when did I get the crazy idea that I could do that? Lest we forget that not all of us can even afford to grow up; just simple rights of passage that should be a given in this country. "Frustrating" is alive and well.


Sometimes I feel as if I've reached the end of the sanity rope, but then I remember the days in which I have been further down the hole than now. I've actually climbed quite a ways...except for the fact that somebody put crisco on my rope and it's pretty damn slippery. I guess I should be used to 'slippery' by now, but perhaps feelings are simply invalid.

At least I applied for a passport, but everything that goes wrong is still my fault, apparently. It might be, but now is not the time for a self-evaluation. I have a piano recital tomorrow and haven't a clue what I'm going to play (except for the song with Casey). Perhaps I should figure that out. Or...maybe I'll dazzle everybody by making something up on the spot. I could do that. For the first time (well...since middle school), I tried out for Madrigals and made it. Turns out, though, I had to drop it because of scheduling. At least Bragle is letting me sing in Bel Canto for extra curricular. What a man. And Kelsey is letting me take Jazz even though I'll have Bel Canto on tuesdays. What a lady.

Goes to show that people have got my back even for the slightest situations. Ireland opportunities continue to flow in as I continue to work harder. Somehow, I have a hunch that this will all be worth it in the end. Somehow.


Friday, June 01, 2007

Harp Chaser

Indecisive is the word of the day.

For instance, student council elections are coming up. I cannot decide if I want to vote or not. Of course Erin is running for president, but still. Not voting would be my silent rebellion against politics. I love the child dearly, but honestly, she is probably the reason I'm politically inactive, apathetic, and annoyed. With her, I hear it. Every. Day. One can only take so much of the world and its many issues.

It's like pop tarts. You take a pop tart to school every day, eat it 2nd hour, and rotate two or three flavors every few weeks. Even with the flavor rotation, it gets nasty pretty darn fast. Pop tarts taste like soggy, sugary cotton after a while; even when they used to be sweet pastries of delight.

Point taken.

I get so discouraged when people don't realize, but I don't realize. The hypocrisy builds up where I least expect it to build up, but really. Perhaps I have a heart after all, probably thanks to theatre. But all of a sudden I kept feeling things that I, as an American teenager, am not supposed to feel. Empathy? Who ever thought of that? Who cares what's going on in the middle east if you don't have relatives over there? Who gives a toss whether or not people are really living for everything, up to every potential, soaking in every moment?

Maybe it's just us Michigan kids. We're so sick of things failing for us. We're sick of hunting for slim jobs and we're sick of watching the cobwebs form on the "For Sale" signs that have decorated our homes for three years. We're sick of digging holes in our pockets to find spare change for gas. We're sick. We're tired. No, we're exhausted.

This economy makes it so impossible for regular teenagers to lead regular lives. Pardon the theatrics, but really. Who gave the economy permission to take away our rights to grow up? Who fell asleep on guard while this economy snuck into our banks and robbed us clean? Who is the monster that creeps into the bedrooms of all the Michigan educators at night and whispers terror into their ears? Who planted this insane amount of stress for regular, run-of-the-mill, respectable working class citizens who are doing everything they can to avoid a lay-off? Who lets this happen?

We say it's time for change, but we are so powerless. The working-class generation has lost hope and they demand a brighter future for us. Honestly? Perhaps it is time to put away my silent rebellion and vote for change. Perhaps one vote can make the difference to bring our Michigan back to life.

Ugh. Delicious.