The Anti-Hell

To hear everyone - like, the rest of the world - tell it, high school is either the best four years or the worst four years of your life.

Personally, I stand behind neither. High school is seulement pas grave.

I know there are people who get bullied, and it sucks - but people can (and do) get bullied at any age, even in their post-education years. I know there are people who fall in love (or claim to) and end up marrying their high school boyfriends in a white fluffy wedding of joy - but most people's relationships don't survive graduation.

My point is, high school is generally average. Why does it get labeled as the Greatest Burning Pit of Fiery Hell? Sure, some of my classmates get on my nerves (I'm fairly certain this is a situation that will persist for the rest of my life), but I have met many awesome people, some of whom I am good friends with, some of whom I chat with in class, and some of whom I appreciate simply for existing.

Admittedly, I can't stand some of the subjects I am required to learn. I dread going to Chemistry, not because I don't like the teacher (he's nice enough) but because I REALLY DO NOT LIKE CHEMISTRY. However, there are classes I enjoy, or at least tolerate, that balance it out (English; the now-free-period of Yearbook; History for the subject more than the class; French, sort of). Despite the early mornings and the constant minor annoyances throughout the day, I actually LIKE LEARNING. Crazily enough, it's nice to, well, know stuff, even if it's only for the sake of knowing.

High school is supposed to have a Queen Bee and her Court and everyone else is supposed to be Loyal Subjects. I don't see that at my school. It's not that everyone gets along (they don't) or that there aren't cliques (there are), but there isn't a dominant group that everyone loves/hates. Maybe it's because there's a combination of regular high school/magnet program at my school, but everyone is more accepting that they get credit for. It's hardly a paradise for anyone, and I'm sure there are people who genuinely hate how they're treated by their peers, but in general, it's not that bad.

I won't pretend that I arrive at school skipping and singing for joy. Occasionally, though, I have these mini-epiphanies on the bus as it rolls down the New-York-City-in-the-twentieth-century-looking street; sometimes, if I'm in a decent mood, I can convince myself that "oh my gosh, I GET to go to SCHOOL! How awesome is that?" Because sometimes, it makes sense: I don't have to go to work; I have the government looking out for me; I have so many opportunities in the future. More than anything, it's the sense of community that really makes me tolerate school. It's like, we're all in this together - all two thousand of us, all relatively close in age, and we all have to do this, and hopefully, it's going to make all of us better people.

All I'm saying is, if these are the worst four years of my life, then I am ridiculously excited for the future.

The frenzy has actually begun (1 day left)

Okay, because I have 1 and 1/8 days left to write 20 pages of script, I am going to kind of cop out and post the most recent pages of my script.

What you need to know here is that Ruben is this awesome, eccentric, drama guy and Margaret is a sassy, generally lovely, nerd girl and they are at Ruben's sister's band's show and they are making a fortune teller/cootie catcher. (don't know what I'm talking about? You sad, depraved child. See this: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paper_fortune_teller). They are writing the fortune bit of it.

MARGARET

Did you just say moral support? Your sister ruined you as a "real guy".

Margaret uses air quotes around real guy.

RUBEN

I've been saying that for years and now I finally have someone to agree with me. I cannot describe the self righteousness I am currently feeling.

MARGARET

Don't try. Self righteousness is for assholes.

RUBEN

Duly noted: do not be self righteous around Margaret... what's your last name?

MARGARET

Linberg.

RUBEN

Swedish?

MARGARET

Yes, actually.

RUBEN

I love Sweden.

MARGARET

I don't know much about it. Other than my parents hailed from there.

RUBEN

One word: IKEA.

MARGARET

IKEA is pretty sweet. I love their hot dogs.

RUBEN

I love their ice cube trays.

MARGARET

Who knew Ruben was into ice cube trays.

RUBEN

Ruben knew.

MARGARET

Third person, eh?

RUBEN

Ruben cannot believe that Margaret just said eh.

MARGARET

Margaret can't believe this conversation has gone from normal to third person due to one comment about ice cube trays.

RUBEN

Ice cube trays work in strange and mysterious and magical ways. Hence Ruben's liking of them.

MARGARET

Ice cubes trays have been getting the job does since before the ice age.

RUBEN

Much like Bob the Builder.

MARGARET

You're a Bob fan?

RUBEN

He's my hero.

MARGARET

I love his positive attitude.

RUBEN

He has great hair.

Margaret

I don't know what to say to that.

RUBEN

Am I not supposed to admire a children's cartoon show character's hair? Have you met my sister?

MARGARET

The psychic?

RUBEN

She has many other titles. In my heart.

Margaret picks up the pen and starts to write on a corner of the fortune teller. Ruben reads aloud what she writes as she writes it.

RUBEN

"You will make a fortune taking spare change out of unlocked cars and rolling it up."

MARGARET

I won't call it stealing. Call in involuntary, unknowingly done taxation. No one cares anyway and I'm sure they'll make sure to give it back to the poor some way a la Robin Hood.

Margaret offers Ruben the pen which he takes and places its tip close to the paper. He waits.

MARGARET

Inspiration is never going to strike. Just write.

Ruben starts to write and Margaret reads aloud his fortune as he writes.

MARGARET

"You will meet a tall, dark stranger. The stranger is an axe murderer, not the man of your dream, unfortunately. Run away quickly." Nice. Turning cliches on their head. I like it.

RUBEN

I try.

MARGARET

You know, Ruben, you don't have to try to impress me. Just be yourself.

RUBEN

You know, Margaret, you can just shut up.

MARGARET

Well that's a snappy comeback right there. Alert the media.

RUBEN

You're starting to act more and more like my sister.

MARGARET

I happen to like your sister.

RUBEN

You don't live with her.

MARGARET

The truth is, Ruben, I'm not sure I'm ready to take that step with her yet. I haven't even told my parents about our relationship.

RUBEN

Lesbian humour. Great.

MARGARET

I thought this would be a good time to tell you about this, Ruben. I hope you understand. It's not that I'm a different person, I'm still the same person but this is just a part of me.

Almost one day left. The frenzy has actually begun.

Okay, because I have 1 and 1/8 days left to write 20 pages of script, I am going to kind of cop out and post the most recent pages of my script.

What you need to know here is that Ruben is this awesome, eccentric, drama guy and Margaret is a sassy, generally lovely, nerd girl and they are at Ruben's sister's band's show and they are making a fortune teller/cootie catcher. (don't know what I'm talking about? You sad, depraved child. See this: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paper_fortune_teller). They are writing the fortune bit of it.

MARGARET

Did you just say moral support? Your sister ruined you as a "real guy".

Margaret uses air quotes around real guy.

RUBEN

I've been saying that for years and now I finally have someone to agree with me. I cannot describe the self righteousness I am currently feeling.

MARGARET

Don't try. Self righteousness is for assholes.

RUBEN

Duly noted: do not be self righteous around Margaret... what's your last name?

MARGARET

Linberg.

RUBEN

Swedish?

MARGARET

Yes, actually.

RUBEN

I love Sweden.

MARGARET

I don't know much about it. Other than my parents hailed from there.

RUBEN

One word: IKEA.

MARGARET

IKEA is pretty sweet. I love their hot dogs.

RUBEN

I love their ice cube trays.

MARGARET

Who knew Ruben was into ice cube trays.

RUBEN

Ruben knew.

MARGARET

Third person, eh?

RUBEN

Ruben cannot believe that Margaret just said eh.

MARGARET

Margaret can't believe this conversation has gone from normal to third person due to one comment about ice cube trays.

RUBEN

Ice cube trays work in strange and mysterious and magical ways. Hence Ruben's liking of them.

MARGARET

Ice cubes trays have been getting the job does since before the ice age.

RUBEN

Much like Bob the Builder.

MARGARET

You're a Bob fan?

RUBEN

He's my hero.

MARGARET

I love his positive attitude.

RUBEN

He has great hair.

Margaret

I don't know what to say to that.

RUBEN

Am I not supposed to admire a children's cartoon show character's hair? Have you met my sister?

MARGARET

The psychic?

RUBEN

She has many other titles. In my heart.

Margaret picks up the pen and starts to write on a corner of the fortune teller. Ruben reads aloud what she writes as she writes it.

RUBEN

"You will make a fortune taking spare change out of unlocked cars and rolling it up."

MARGARET

I won't call it stealing. Call in involuntary, unknowingly done taxation. No one cares anyway and I'm sure they'll make sure to give it back to the poor some way a la Robin Hood.

Margaret offers Ruben the pen which he takes and places its tip close to the paper. He waits.

MARGARET

Inspiration is never going to strike. Just write.

Ruben starts to write and Margaret reads aloud his fortune as he writes.

MARGARET

"You will meet a tall, dark stranger. The stranger is an axe murderer, not the man of your dream, unfortunately. Run away quickly." Nice. Turning cliches on their head. I like it.

RUBEN

I try.

MARGARET

You know, Ruben, you don't have to try to impress me. Just be yourself.

RUBEN

You know, Margaret, you can just shut up.

MARGARET

Well that's a snappy comeback right there. Alert the media.

RUBEN

You're starting to act more and more like my sister.

MARGARET

I happen to like your sister.

RUBEN

You don't live with her.

MARGARET

The truth is, Ruben, I'm not sure I'm ready to take that step with her yet. I haven't even told my parents about our relationship.

RUBEN

Lesbian humour. Great.

MARGARET

I thought this would be a good time to tell you about this, Ruben. I hope you understand. It's not that I'm a different person, I'm still the same person but this is just a part of me.

Retraux BEDAdge

(PS to comment on other blog of Saturday: I typed that before I realized I had Caps lock on--as I type like an 8-year-old, looking at the keys-- and was too lazy to change it, so instead added a beginning. YOU'RE WELCOME. That was intentional.)

(The above: Super-awesome Frenchish way to spell "retro". Because "aux" sounds like "o". Your language makes tons of sense, Frenchians. Prefiero hablar español.)

Wow. Vita's mention of BEDA made me realize how long this has been going on. *pulls rope which releases balloons and confetti and the like from the ceiling* Woooo. So, in "honor"* of this I shall revert to the EXACT VERY SAME topic I rambled on about a year ago. Which waaaaaasss... *scurries to MJ Ning*

That I stay up late as a hobby/because I'm weird and slightly masochistic and thusly don't/didn't blog that particular day.

Very nicely applicable here. Yes. I'm probably going to do something of the sort today in fact because today is my Friday (meaning I have NO SCHOOL until Monday. HELL YES. Also meaning that I'm going to put off the homework that I have acquired-- presumably enough to last us the entire week-- until Saturday. And even then, only because I have things to do Sunday. Ah, well. Cross that bridge when I come to it and so forth. Procrastination is bad.) and I have nothing better to do. Once I get tired I'm too lazy to get off the Internetz (shiny, flashy Internetz...) until well after I should. Then for some reason I'm energetic for a while and use this small period to do productive things normal people would probably have a well-laid-out plan for doing in the normal waking hours.** This is a horrible habit, no one should ever follow my example. Unless you really want to. Or need to. Or are attempting to flatter me. (I don't know how this would work, but if you want to try, go ahead. Lists should have a minimum of three items in order to be considered real lists and that was the only third I could think of.)

Footnotes:

*Read: Lack of better ideas. Also, "honour".

**Really. Folding laundry, studying for tests, practical things.

Hallo

GUYS WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO WRITE ABOUT?

Let's just go with a brief letter thingamajig.

Dear Alex and Rena (and anyone else who cares),

I'm sorry for neglecting this blog for the past month (has it been a month? Or three weeks? Same difference). Excuses are lame, so I don't have one of those, but I do have a reason. Subtle difference. Generally, you can blame Drama for any extended period of absence on my part. I had Hell Week, and then a show, and then a something I can't even remember, and then a show, and then I think I blogged, and then a show.

Anyhoo, that's over now (boo-hoo). It all went relatively really well, and I have all the songs from Thoroughly Modern Millie Stuck in my head, and I am all of a sudden feeling quite emotional about the end of Drama and the leaving of the seniors and the being a junior next year and the actually having to think about my future. In other news, I think I failed my Chem test but I think I did pretty well on my math retake and test so in the logical realm of things I am doing okay-ish. Which is better than it could be. So yay. Also, I am taking pleasure in the fact that getting a 100% in APUSH is actually bringing my grade down (this isn't going to last, but regardless, it's a very nice experience).

I think my blogging skills have deteriorated since I last blogged regularly (and I need to go and finish reading a chapter in my review book), so I'll try to come up with something interesting to say for this Friday.

ADIEU.

Love,
Vita

Old school BEDA

Tonight I will sleep. This is not news, I suppose. What's with my tired blogs lately? I guess I'm busy, as usual. Today was a particularly on the go day. Thank God I decided to skip out on the Nite Hike this year or I would probably have fallen in front of a sky train by now. That would have been sad. Question: do these sentences even make sense? I feel like every word is its own complete entity and whether they make sense as a sentence is completely beyond my scope of intelligence right now.

How about some nice bullet points instead?

Things I like:

• sleeping
• pirates
• grammar
• Google
• sleeping
• music
• my bed
• David Suzuki

Did that list make my blog seem longer and more substantial than it actually is?

As for an update on my script, I'm still satisfyingly far behind but I think I can do it. At this point, it's more of a 'I want to get to the 100 pages simply so that I can say I won' more than a... I can't even think of another reason I might want to finish. I think I'm at 43 pages and have five days to get the remaining 57.

Luckily, my birthday is 2 weeks and 1 day away. Don't ask how that relates. I will tell you though. I started the sentence with luckily and then I couldn't think of a script related way to finish it so I moved on to another topic. This is Alex's brain on blogging.

Likes and Dislikes

(Lists! Again! Sentence fragments! Again!)

Things I Like:

-Carbohydrates

-The Internet

-The smell of old books

-Cinnamon

-Making food late at night

-Dr. Who

-Pouring rain in the wee hours of the morning

-Peanut Butter and Nutella together

-Sandwiches

-Foreign accents

-Food in general

-Dictionaries

-When bruises turn weird colors

-Books in general

-Obscure quotes and references

-Obscurity in general

-The world*

Things I Dislike:

-Jellybeans**

-Unseasonable heat

-Flip-flops

-The dentist

-The Island of Doctor Moreau

-Blood

-Not knowing

-Dead batteries

-Liquid/solid food combinations***

-People who crack their toes

Wow, should I take the fact that I can only think of 10 dislikes (outweighed by 17 likes) as a sign that I am an OPTIMIST? Or perhaps just being optimistic at this very moment. I'm tired. It is hard to concentrate on unlikable things. Given that I did leave out all the obvious ones that would just make me sound completely negative if I listed them... (i.e Death, rodents, axe-murderers, snakes, Death by being crushed by a vending machine, Roadkill, child molesters, mold, whining little kids who kick the back of your seat during movies and et cetera. . . see, aren't you glad I didn't?)

Footnotes:

*For the most part. The idea of it is nice; the people are weird.

**I suppose this contradicts "food in general".

***Cereal in milk, crackers in soup and so on.

When was the last time your mom said lights out?

It's Thursday and as it's approximately 4 minutes past my bedtime, this is going to be quick.

Today is Earth Day. I think every day should be Earth Day so this actual recognition doesn't mean much to me, but at the same time, it does. I hope that someone drank out a reuseable mug today*, or started a compost**, or used a cloth shopping bag***, or filled up a reuseable water bottle today****. I really do.

I saw a really awesome local band today so that's awesome. They're called The Oh Wells and they remind me of a whole lot of musicians that I really love plus they're brilliant in their own way. The influences on their myspace page speaks for itself. They're like Juno soundtrack meets 500 Days of Summer soundtrack meets Hank Green meets Molly Lewis. If you go to their myspace (linked above) you should listen to The Coolest People I Know (Harry Potter references for the win) and Is It Too Late To Apologize. Those are my favourites. If you don't go to their myspace, that's okay, too. I'm fine liking them on my own. Goodnight everyone.

footnotes/resources

In honour of Earth Day (or the day after, depending on when you read this) if you want to watch/read something about something that interests you here are some sources...

*A blog from Sustainability is Sexy on paper cups and how freaking awful they are.

**Composting is beautiful and makes Alex very happy.

***Plastic bags are killing us. Plus, they'll never fully biodegrade. Suck.

****Story of Bottled Water is from the same people that brought us Story of Stuff and it is an easy to watch, fascinating story of what we drink and what it costs us.

Wednesday Oddness

Hello, dear readers.
Lack of blog causes regret.
Today, all in haiku.

The topics include
Previous posts and so on.
And various goals.

Response to Alex:
I'm of sim'lar shape. Not height.
Tis' annoying but,


The ability
To eat without much regard
Is enjoyable.

Not that insulting.
To those who note my stature,
I say, "Yeah, so?" End.


Script going same way.
Unfortunately I
Lack unschooling grit.

Response to Vita:
Welcome back, firstly. Second,
Same. School pics make me


Look like either a
Homicidal maniac,
Or a vampire.

I do realize
That conventional haiku
Contain nature themes,

And better line breaks.
So, here goes. Forgive my suck.
Five space-wasting chunks.


Spring. w00t. Sun also.
Birds chirp, fly; other cliches.
Nature is good. Yay.

This is hard. I'll stop.
Antidiscrimination
Is seven syllables.

Returning from Exile(ish)

School photos.

Are.

The most unflattering type of photograph.

In the entire world.

This is not a hyperbole.

The end.

It's been eight months still I got my picture taken and I'm still bitter about this. Why are you so bad at taking pictures, photographers? Why do you think it is a good idea to force your subjects to tilt from the waist and tilt from the neck? Why do you think the "I look somewhat stoned and definitely like I am about to fall out of my chair" look is a good pose? Why do you take such pleasure in rearranging girls' hair until it reaches places that hair never reaches naturally?

Is there a special school for How to Make People Look Dumb in their Yearbook and to any Future Generation of Students who Read that Old Yearbook?

In all seriousness, for all the time we spend taking pictures of each other, photographs are a shoddy representation of a person at that point in their life. You've got your average posed photographs (nobody tilts their head at that angle or smiles that way in real life), your "candid" shots (luckily, you are not caught in the middle of an unflattering moment every second of your life), your "let me make a weird face and pretend to be jokey" pictures (please tell me you don't make that face on a regular basis). And then you've got my personal favorites, also known as the "that wasn't supposed to happen" category, which consists of zoomzoomzoomed pictures of people's blurry nostrils or eyebrows, flash pictures that make everyone look like depressed vampires, and the ever-attractive "my earlobe is in this picture, but the rest of my face is mysteriously absent" headshots.

And who can resist the lovely "taken with my camera phone in the school bathroom's mirror" pictures? Do those sinks in the background bring out the color in your eyes?

(I would like to point out that after coming home ON TIME today for the first time in a very long time, I started my homework right away... and didn't procrastinate... and then at 8:30 I turned on my laptop and have been making feeble attempts to FINISH my homework ever since. Sigh. Stupid sparkly internet.)

(Also, I just spilled mocha on my shirt, because apparently I can't type and swallow at the same time. The things I do for you.)

(Finally, "Juliet" by LMNT is the best worst song in the history of songs that are so bad they're good. Or maybe it's so good it's good. I can't tell. Either way, thank the Lord for boy bands of yore.)

Breaking the trend

This is my first Sunday in a couple weeks that I've remembered to blog. So that's something.

In spring, people age

Inevitably, we grow

Birthdays in a row

I can't write haikus. Or scripts, apparently.

You see, I started off well enough. Good enough? *shrug* I guess it wasn't that good but I had three pages the first day and I thought I'd be able to get ahead later on.

That didn't happen.

I'm not sure what's up with these paragraphs today. I'm being a bit liberal with the 'Enter' key.

Anyway, short story shorter (because in screen-writing, it's not about pretty words, it's about brevity) I'm 33.3 pages behind. I have twelve days to write 73 pages. That's a little more than six pages a day.

Can it be done? C'mon, have you ever met an unschooler? We do nothing but stay in our pajams all day and sometimes our beds, reading and writing and evading the "real world". I think you have your answer. (For the stupid/tired people: Yes, it can be done) Do I want it to be done? I don't know. It would take energy. Then again, I did get my sister to finish NaNoWriMo when she was quite behind so if I really want to be the kind of person who stands up to their morals and values I should suck it up, chain myself to the keyboard and walk my talk. Or type my talk.

Now that you're aware of the problem, do you care to know the reason for said problem?

In short (again with the shortness), I've been busy. Plus, I hate my characters. Together this equals a script that is not mentioned by anyone who wants to keep their health and safety intact. During NaNo, if I was asked about my novel, I would be happy to talk about how far ahead I was and how awesome it was. If someone asks about my script, I usually groan and change the subject, or else whine for a moment about how much I hate my characters.

So the solution seems obvious, I know. (For to stupid/tired: Change/kill the characters) The problem is that I feel the need to tell this story. It's like an anti-love story. Only now I've added in an actual romance for contrast (and so that I don't hate the script quite so much) and even that's not working. What do you do when you hate your characters and want to give up your script?

Throw in some Theater People.

We'll see how that goes.

Note: I refuse to proofread on principle.

Cross Posting

Because I'm tired and being lazy, I present to you the other blog I've written today-- which is a lengthy explanation of why I didn't blog last Tuesday, which would have been in honor/recognition/whatever of Autism Awareness Month. To add the the information provided in the link to come, a question: Have either of you guys read The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time? (which is a very unnecessarily long title for a book, in my opinion. Could have been titled something much more clever, but it's a quote from Sherlock Holmes...) We had to read it for English (recently finished a brain-to-mush-turning essay on it, also contributing to my lack of blogs) and discuss it and whatnot and some of the completely ignorant babbling comments alternate from my own but otherwise holding their own intellectual merit flipped the soapbox-standing-upon, rantishly-society-critcising switch in mai brainz. I got better, but still want to make a point (for once), so I leave with this link.

And this, which is just a fun surprise of a link disguised by some text, so to discover what is contained in it, it must be clicked upon. Go on. So it's not really like *leaving* per se... You're welcome. :)

I didn't forget today

It's come to my attention that I'm very narrow minded when it comes to clothing and other people. I guess another word for it is self absorbed, but I prefer narrow minded. What I mean is that I know how clothes work on me, what I look good in and what I like but I'm completely oblivious to what clothes other people wear. This may not seem like that big a deal but I feel like having three sisters (one of whom is twenty years old today!) whose bodies types are rather different from mine I should be a little bit more aware.

To put it bluntly, my body resembles a stick. I'm tall and thin.* It sounds kind of harsh but I'm used to it. It's not that my body has been objectified a lot in my life but when you're got a skinny kid who eats a ton (as was my scenario) people tend to comment on it. Have you ever heard the joke, 'do your parents not feed you at home'? I have. As a kid, I heard it, or jokes like it, at every family get-together or meal eaten at a friend's. Luckily, I was sensible and didn't punch anyone out.

I'm straying off my topic here but I used to have the most trouble with pants. I wore dresses and overalls because, for me, pants were ALWAYS either too short or too big around. I thought it was the most normal thing in the world to have to have a hand on my pants, pulling them up, every five seconds so they wouldn't fall down. This was my life. I was used to it.

And then one day, I was in a shopping mall and I went into a change room carrying a pair of pants that I didn't really have any hope would look good on me, but at least they might clothe my bottom half successfully. And then the world stopped turning because... they fit.

Anyway from that point onward I was able to find pants that were long enough and small enough and I've gotten used to that, too. And we all lived happily ever after. The end (is a fragmented non-sentence).

When I started writing this, I was going to try and make a point of how I never thought people should be jealous of me because no matter how many people told me I was skinny--gah, I still hate that dirty, ugly word--I thought I looked like everyone else. Why does our culture idolize this body type? Curves are sexy. Maybe I'm just being on of those people that thinks the grass is greener but I actually don't think the grass is greener. I think it's equally green on both sides.

Maybe I've had it easier than some. At the same time though, how am I supposed to "be myself" and love that person if all through my life people have been "praising"** me for something I have literally no control over. I have a fast metabolism. It's nothing to be impressed by or jealous of. It's just who I am. Could everyone just stop judging people based on what they look like? That would be great. kthxbai.

*A word to the wise: don't ever call a skinny person skinny. Skinny sounds like a gross word and even if you're trying to say it as a compliment, commenting on someone's lack of excess body fat is not normal.

**And I say praise because I can't think of a better word. Perhaps people aren't so much praising as they are in awe.

Wikipedia, Depth, and Religion

God I am so terribly easily distracted. I started this post at 10:35, it's now 10:42 at I've only written 2 sentences. Actually, these are the things I'm going to blabber about. God, distractions, and then I'm going to probably pick apart the sentence structure and grammar and other crazy things. Bah. Onward!*

Current distractions include:

The Internet. As always. So, onto the sub-categories of Internet!:
-- Twitter. Less tweeting than reading the tweets of other people. The more I do this, the more I equate it to stalkerism. If I happen to be(come?) a stalker, I at least hope that I'm a committed stalker...

-- Wikipedia. Proposed solution to Wikipedia's distractingness: Only link to things that have to do more or less with THE ACTUAL SUBJECT OF THE ARTICLE THAT IS BEING VIEWED. Raaaar. I don't know how this would be accomplished, but really, if one happened to be researching Martha Stewart** please don't link to "List of people who have been banned from entering the United Kingdom" because this raises questions. E.g: WHO ELSE? Why? This is an extensive list type entry which thoroughly intrigues me.***

-- TV Tropes. OMG Tv Tropes. Similar to Wikipedia, but with media only. Listing all the plot devices that have been used in anything and everything, ever.****

-- Youtube. Just all of it.

Several books and having to read them (only one of which being school-related, making it thus not a distraction and more an avoidance).

Annnnd it's 11:11 now. *wish wish wish ta-da.*

Abrupt topic shift commence!*****

Religion: Agnosticism is weird. I feel odd to label myself an agnostic, because it's so wishy-washy. Like, one or the other, pick a damn side. "There *might* be a God. . . buuuut there might not." But that's why I am a kind-of agnostic, because I *am* that waffley. Either way it has to be right. So, in a roundabout way, it could be argued that this opinion stems from the perpetual need to lyk always be right omg omg. Because being proved wrong just sucks. Maturity is dealing constructively when other people prove you wrong.****** All I know about religion comes from either: a.) musical theater or b.) things designed to teach small children. And by "religion" I mean basically Christianity. I know the basic plot of other religions but I personally am more affected by that one. Holidays, my community and family and stuff. I am *technically* a Christian. Meaning: Baptized. (I have physically been inside a church 4 times.) Free ticket into Teh Awesum Place in teh Ski*******... should it exist in Christian terms...

A.) The entirety of Jesus Christ Superstar (the musical, strangely the titular song is far from the most awesome.) is just effing catchy. Also in a context that I can understand/that is more interesting than "real" biblical terms. "Guy collects band of general freaks. Freaks FTW. Yay. Authorities do not like. Also, forbidden love subplot. 70s rock-pop songs abound. Sensible semi-freak enlisted in assassination plot. Conflict. Authorities shift blame of killing popular guy. More conflict. Antagonist and protagonist end up dead anyway. One gets better."

Godspell is less biblical and more... hippie-y. Still pretty awesome, if primarily because it is a musical. Also made in the 70s. The genre just lends itself to cheesy goodness. On the whole, I don't think the reality of God matters. It's the hope this idea provides for billions of people, regardless of religion. The band of mismatched hippie freaks are a united and loving community thanks to magic afro-Superman. I think that's a message we can all support. We all need some kind of peace of mind on death and the consequences of our actions and crap, agnostics I guess are okay with any outcome.

Footnotes:

*Onward? Am I going to gallop off on a horse anytime in the near future?
**Whom I only used as an example BECAUSE she was banned in the UK.
***I like having the Internet to blame for my short attention span crossed with chronic procrastination.
****I have graciously provided the link to a grouping called "Crowning Moment of Awesome." Focus on just ONE show you particularly like and you'll still kill quite a bit of time. You're welcome. :)
*****First "onward" and now "commence"?
******And tons of other stuff, but for the sake of my own point I'm not going to acknowledge that. Except in the (increasingly numerous) footnotes I've suckered you into reading.
*******Yus i haev red teh lolcatz bibble a lil bit. Funneh. Hardeer 2 understandz then teh rael ting.

Religion Queries and WG,WG

Sorry for not blogging on Sunday. Oh, wait, I DID. Check bag and be duly amazed.

Anyway, lately I've been thinking about a label for my religious beliefs which seems like a pretty pointless thing to do but I've been wondering nonetheless. I don't think I subscribe to either atheism or agnosticism because my idea about deities is kind of different and stems from City of Bones.

Now, my mom read City of Bones recently because she likes to be in on my sisters' and my literary conversations. We kept raving about this book and how it was a great story with compelling characters and fantastic writing and maybe we were a little overzealous with our praise but still, it's a great book and I do recommend it. My mom didn't love it. She didn't think it was terrible but she also didn't think the story was gripping. She didn't like Jace, the tortured demon hunter who I am kind of in love with and I suppose that's more of an age and taste issue but still. She didn't really care about any of the characters or what would happen to them. And opinions will differ and everything but I was a tiny bit crushed. She even said Twilight is more of a page turner which I guess I sort of agree with. Sort of.

But anyway, the reason I brought this up is because there's this one scene where they're getting weapons from a church so they can go save the protag's friend who got turned into a rat at a party and Clary (protag) is questioning Jace (love interest) on religion because she wants to make him admit that he cares about one thing in the world and he says something totally profound. I guess Clary's logic is that if there's demons and supposed angels (who no one has ever really seen apart from stories) wouldn't there be a God? Then Jace responds saying "I knew then that I hadn't stopped believing in God. I'd just stopped believing God cared. There might be a God, Clary, and there might not, but I don't think it matter. Either way, we're on our own."

Which basically describes my own thoughts on the subject. I don't think it really matters whether or not there is a God. Maybe I will spend eternity in hell for believing that but I think it's the truth. I am leaning towards God not existing (atheism) but at the same time, I don't care. At all. Do we really want a God if all he does is condescend on us and supposedly love us while really giving us jackshit and floods and all this stuff we didn't need anyway? Humans are imperfect; you cannot fix that. Accept it and move on.

So I'd like to call this new branch of belief deity apathy. Because honestly, as Jace says, I think we are on our own.

On a somewhat lighter note, I acquired a copy of John's Will Grayson, Will Grayson yesterday afternoon and finished reading it this morning. I'm not sure if it will bump anybody out of my top three favourites and it's message wasn't as subtle and moving as any of his other books but I thought it was great writing, an awesome story and had some hilarious musical numbers. Also, it made me want to read everything David Levithan ever wrote simply because he captured depression, anger and hurt in a way that made me want to cry while simultaneously ripping New Moon apart. Stephenie Meyer should pay this guy millions for lessons on how to convey emotion. Obviously, the book was superb, not to mention funny.*

*maybe not as funny as An Abundance of Katherines or Paper Towns but that could be just my taste.

WEDA

**In keeping with my fantastically lazy excuse for a blog, I'm quite nicely "borrowing" this idea from Vita. Same topic, less originality...**

I think I might do Write Every Day April this year. If by questionable means. As in, I might write five hundred or so words of script-ness* as part of Script Frenzy, and then add to that whatever length my various blogs for the day may amount to. Or whatever other documents I work on, (non-school related, essays and observations on autonomy should not count for anything...) i.e assorted, crappy haikus I dare not publish to all of teh intertubes.

As you can probably tell I am being exceedingly and unnecessarily verbose simply for the sake of word count.** Even though I do not currently know my word count. Whenever I adapt this manner (especially in typing), I tend to affect a British accent. As in, as these words are going through my head and consequentially controlling my fingers so that the same words can be transposed onto this screen, there is a very British gentlemanly voice reading them to me. Like a foreign inner monologue. I am indeed being (characteristically, some may say...) queer.***

And now, the section of the post where I ramble on and on about having nothing to say (though I promised I would refrain from doing so quite a while ago, this has nothing to do with having nothing to blog about...****)

Footnotes:

*I added the "-ness" because Pages very nicely counts all the directions and scene descriptions, as well as the dialogue, which, if it isn't the most *important* part of the script is certainly a very large part of it. But, what would the script be without such handy notes to whomever happens to be performing my MAGNUM OPUS (which unlike "masterpiece" is TWO WORDS and also in LATIN...) of a screenplay like, "(attempts to hold back tears) (pause) (sobs dramatically)"****

**A habit no doubt left over from National Novel Writing Month. Although it is not helpful in the task of Script Frenzy, because long monologues are generally frowned upon, unless the dialogue is relevant to the plot. Which this is not.

***As in peculiar, but you knew that. I do enjoy the now-unconventional British meanings of such Americanized terms.

****Oh you know it does. Hypocrite. Yes, indeed I AM talking to myself here. Carry on.

*****Although my directions are a lot more like (fiddles absentmindedly with objects) and (nods). Captivating in and of themselves, I know...

ANNNNND. . . the end. Ta-da. Whoop. As of now this is 431 words longs. Oh, darn. “words long” added 2. Now it’s up to 444. I suppose I could just continue with this forever now couldn’t I?

[CROWD] GET ON WITH IT!

(P.s: 463)

WEDA? (Write Every Day in April)

As I type this,* I'm wearing a tank top and denim shorts that are borderline indecent. ** Spring is wonderful.

Originally, I was going to partake in the script writing frenzy of April. Upon further thought, I discovered that I actually have a limited desire to write a script. This stems from many places: my distaste for the scripts we write and then act out in French class; the fact that writing a script just seems so limiting unless you are writing for a specific purpose (you want to make a movie, you like writing scripts, you want to practice condensing your words); my aversion to, you know, thinking of plots and then expanding on them...

While writing that last sentence, I realized that it probably would be a good idea for me to write a script because I do need practice in many of those areas (writing dialogue, not rambling on forever and ever and ever, thinking of a freaking plot…). However! Unfortunately for anyone who cares, I have already concocted a far more agreeable plan that I’m quite excited about, so I’m going to go with that.

I’m going to write thirty essays in April, each composed of approximately one thousand words, totaling thirty thousand words altogether. By essays, I mean anecdotes or short stories, not structured “and now let’s analyze THIS book, kids!” pieces of writing.

I don’t know how this plan sounds to other people. Does it seem like a copout? Pointless? Stupid? Maybe it is! I have no idea! But I think it will be good for me. Like I said, I tend to stretch what should be fifty words into two thousand words (okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration. Really though) and this will force me to cut myself off. I frequently describe scenes in my head as they’re happening, like a narration in a book or a voiceover in a movie. Why not expand on that? Mostly, though, I want to practice writing – not the endurance factor or how well I can write an entire book – so that I can genuinely improve, and even better, be more prepared for the next NaNoWriMo. And I might as well do this during a month when other people are doing a similar thing; the content may be a little different, but the whole feeling of striving to accomplish something is the same. I feel like this is something I should be doing every day, or nearly that much, anyway, so it'll be a good way to (hopefully) establish that habit.

Plus writing is hard, man. Authors don't get enough credit. It's difficult to string together sentences that don't sound fake and vapid and hopelessly contrived. I can only imagine the difficulties of being a poet:

"LOOK! A SEAGULL! FLYING BY/MAKES ME THINK OF SUMMER SKIES"

I think I have a long, long career ahead of me in the poetry-writing business. ***

Anyhoo, I've come to realize the importance of practicing. To use the cliched playing-an-instrument comparison (my apologies; it's truly overused, isn't it?): I play guitar, for those who don't know. Right now, I'm focusing on classical guitar with fingerpicking, but I'm also learning how to play "I Want to Hold Your Hand" by The Beatles, and while I was practicing that, I neglected practicing fingerpicking exercises. They're really not difficult exercises, but after not doing them for a week, my fingers kept slipping and I couldn't do them as well as before. REVELATION is that writing is a similar gig; you think the basics are easy enough, but when you don't practice them, you get sloppy. I need to practice, so that's what I'm going to do.

I didn't need a badly worded and runon-y simile to explain all that. Hello, I'm Vita, I'm addicted to rambling.

My other long-term goal is to learn how and when to use commas. I treat them like sprinkles: to be used liberally and for little more than decoration. I swear, my spelling and grammar have being going downhill ever since I started using computers more frequently. Spellcheck kills your English speaking brain cells****, sort of like how calculators completely destroy your ability to add numbers. (On Friday, I was playing Life with a twelve year old and I had to ask her what 900,000 plus 100,000 was. Frigging zeroes making adding so confusing...)


* Slight lie; I wrote most of this two days ago. Details details...
** Luckily, I am not a whore, so I do not wear them outside the house. Still! LIBERATION!
*** In case this doesn't translate in text, I'm joking. I am awful at understanding poetry, let alone writing it.
**** As opposed to the other language speaking brain cells. lolwut

Easter and Grocery Store Revelations

Any holiday where you get to hunt around your house for eggs that are theoretically filled with chocolate is okay by me. The Easter Bunny didn't come to my house today though. What did happen is that I went to the farmers' market and sold Girl Guide cookies. I learned something in the farmers' market and now I am resolved to work in a grocery store.

I want to work in a grocery store for a couple reasons. Number 1 is to make money. I think I want to buy myself a cell phone for my birthday and this requires funds. Also, I owe my mom money for my computer and it's just a nice thing to have in general. Number 2 may surprise you, or it may not if you pay attention to who is bagging your groceries.

Hot guys work in grocery stores. Legions of them. I cannot even go into the grocery store for five minutes these days without seeing two guys of relative good lookingness. Obviously I need to get in on this which is why I am applying to work at the closest grocery stores.

Creepy Child Thoughts Revisited

(Alt. Title: What reading does to kids. Namely me, but perhaps...)

Just some odd thoughts for today, since no particularly intellectual ones are popping into my head at this very moment...

-- Not that I saw this in movies I watched when I was younger much, but when the bad guy/killer/whoever did that finger-across-the-neck sign, I used to get confused. (Or rather, start thinking about it in an overly rational way, leading to confusion.) Just slashing someone across the neck wouldn't necessarily cut their head clean off. Which was the only way I thought about fictional, not-of-natural-causes deaths for quite a while. Like, no one was *really* dead until they got their head sliced off. Preferably by guillotine or some other blade-type-thing. (Which would be in the opposite direction, not across the neck but straight down on top of it...) I have no idea how I formed this opinion, really. Which in retrospect, creeps me out.

On a related, macabre note, one random early-ish memory I have is that whenever we would pass the limestone quarry* I would think about how it would be funny if the car swerved off the road and into it, because then we'd all be stranded and have to eat limestone or become cannibals or something and die. There were always some plants and rainwater in the ditch the limestone had made, though, so the more I thought about this the cooler it seemed.**

--Roald Dahl still kicks ass. I spent the end of a very long power outage yesterday re-reading Matilda out of boredom; which is possibly why I'm thinking about the above notes again. (I tried to move things with my mind a lot. Quite a good use of time...) Lots of death and awesomely weird names of things and people and the overall message of "Adults, especially really old people, suck and are not meant to be trusted. It's fun and worthwhile for children to manipulate them, because children are good and pure and awesome." Yay. :-D

Moral of the story blog: Kiddies, DFTBA. Read, be a nerd, be as weird as you want*** Mix everything in your house into goo just to see what color it turns. Run into your closet and find Narnia. Eat tons of chocolate. Walk backwards. Stand in the rain. Do things people tell you not to, it's fun and it's how you learn.****


Footnotes:
* Which now has no limestone and is fenced off ominously.
** Ironic, considering I was very much an "indoor child"...
*** This is pretty much an example of how you'll turn out. Choose wisely. (I feel the need to add something like "*grins eerily*" here. So, *grins eerily*.)
**** Or at the very least, entertaining at the time...

I'm quitting homeschool

I want you all to be the first to know (second if you count Facebook, but I don't--third if you could Twitter) my big news. Drumroll...

I'm going to public school next year!*

Speaking of my future, I hate it when people ask me about my future. I'm fifteen years old for the next month and 9 days, thank you very much.

On Tuesday I went to Vancouver. I hate writing Vancouver. I've started to realize that I love it there. I don't know why exactly but it's a nice city. Anyway, so I went to see a grown up unschooler from Georgia talk about unschooling and it was really fascinating. I had a lot of stuff to say about this at the time. Let's see if I can bring back.

I need to stop calling myself a home schooler. I don't love the term unschooler either so I think I'm now an open sourced learner.

Last weekend I was at a camp and my sister ended up lying to people, saying she was going to university next year because it's easier to tell a simple lie that people understand than spend five minutes explaining how home schooling works.

You see, it's hard to explain something that has so many variables and differences. On one side of things you have the school at homers who are the easiest to explain. Some of them are Christian, some of them are not, but basically they do everything you do in school, only at home. On the other side of the spectrum, you have unschoolers who are the antischoolers, the people who have no formal schoolwork or lessons. They learn from life and are driven by curiosity and a thirst for knowledge.

I think I'm mostly on the unschooler side of things which is the side that's difficult to explain. So maybe I've lied before and said I go to the local high school. Is there anything wrong with that?

I love whatever you call how I learn, though. And maybe I'm a little worried about what I'm going to do in the future but only when ignorant future focused goons bring it up. I know I like to write and I know I want to be happy. Isn't that enough?

On a side note, my script is going quite well thus far. Apart from the fact that I'm feeling a bit like an angsty wounded artist who lashes out easily and hurts other peoples' feelings today, I'm pretty good. I'm going to post another blog on my other blog after this with my script so far and I'd love to know what you think. :) www.accordingtoalex1.blogspot.com

*SPOILER ALERT: APRIL FOOLS! I never could appreciate the whole 'it's over at 12pm' rule. A day like April Fools' CANNOT have rules. So there.