i'ts been real

Greetings loved ones, let's take a journey...

...over to my new blog!

As you may have noticed, I don't post on here very much anymore, and I regret that because I do have a lot to say and the internet provides a lovely outlet for all of my opinions and thoughts and such. And apparently, there are a handful of people who actually like reading my rants and ramblings.

So firstly, thanks to anybody who actually reads this.

Secondly, I'm sorry I'm abandoning this blog. Blogspot is actually such a hassle you wouldn't even believe.

Thirdly, my new blog is the plaid nerd. It is a tumblr, but not actually because I'm not just posting pictures and all that usual tumblr nonsense. Tumblr is very easy to use, and that's why I chose it for my blogging needs.

And that's all I have to say about that.

I'm not deleting this blog purely for nostalgic purposes; it's a snapshot of who I was and what I went through my freshman year of high school. After I post this, I'll probably parouse down memory lane and sift through my old posts. I never did finish that blog challenge. I'll start one on my new blog to make up for it, promise.

Cheers,

Tess

hansen keohane, no pain no gain.

Ranting time!

So. If anybody knows me personally, they know I'm a competitive Irish dancer. They know this entails a ginger wig that looks like a small, dead animal, lots of foot ADD and terms nobody can pronounce (ceilis = kay-lees and oireachtas = o-rock-tuhs). They know I sacrifice my Friday nights and my Saturday mornings, my feet and my sanity to Irish dance. They know I obsess over getting steps right, that I hum along to the music as I dance and I love gossiping with my outrageous dance friends on water break.

They also know how angry I get when someone refers to what I do as Riverdancing (just to set the record straight: Riverdance was the popular show that aired in 1995 and caused Irish dance to become more popular. It is a show, not a type of dance. It's like saying someone who acts in musicals is Broadwaying) or leprechauns or pretend that they know how because they've seen Papelbon's giddy Shippin' Up to Boston celebration in 2007. 

Those people piss me off because they think it's a joke, some weird little accordion thing that pale people do in their spare time. They don't respect it, or appreciate exactly how much effort and dedication all us dancers invest in our classes and competitions. They just hop around, imitating the Lucky Charms guy, with a big idiot grin on their faces as if we're supposed to find their ignorance amusing.  

Then there are the people who go around writing negative articles and shaking their heads at the competitive world of Irish dance. We've evolved greatly from the days of lace dresses ad obscurity; now, we apply tanner to our legs and faces, apply various powder and liquid makeup to accentuate our features, buy dresses that, on a good day, might cost less than a thousand dollars. People shake their heads at our Snookified skin and our rhinestoned dresses and ask, "Where'd the culture go?" As if Irish dance has become just another beauty pageant, as if it's become more about the bling than the dancing. Last time I checked, it takes infinitely more skill to perform toe stands and clicks than it does to smile and wave at a judge. 

Irish dancers are working harder than ever; it's grown from a simple pastime to an athletic activity, complete with taped knees and bleeding toes. Just because we wear expensive dresses and put on some lip liner doesn't mean we've lost our way; we've just caught up with the rest of the dance world (you want somebody to hate, try the ballroom dancing community--rumor has it they make little girls wear padded bras). We don't deserve all this hate and all this prejudice. Until you've spent a solid two hour practice inside the studio with me, practicing your shuffles until you can't see straight, then I don't want to hear a word.

And also, just because we're not wearing harps or Irish lace or whatever doesn't mean the "culture's gone", assholes. The culture's still very much alive; in the music and in our passion.

I mean, you do really think I would dedicate so much time to this if I didn't have Irish pride?

Good luck to anybody competing in the Oireachtas this weekend! Break legs.

shit, i have a blog.

BRO.

How y'all doing, interwebs?

I would apologize for not blogging, but I don't feel particularly guilty. There are more important stressful things going on in my life right now, such as essays and tests and oral presentations and trying not to let my anxiety get the best of me. It's been a losing battle so far with the panic attacks so far, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stop trying.

In other news...

• I got a kitten. His name is Figaro, after the cat in Pinocchio and he is adorable. I've officially begun my life as a cat lady. Wish me luck!
• I turned sixteen. LEARNER'S PERMIT WOOT WOOT.
• I was a cowgirl for Halloween.
• Struggling fiercely with insomnia.
• Physics sucks.
• I'm doing NaNoWriMo! 11,000 words and counting. 
• Irish Dance regionals are next weekend, and I'm beyond excited.
• I went to SpookyWorld: Fear at Fenway on Sunday night. It was both the funnest and scariest experience of my life thus far.
• I read Perks of Being A Wallflower by Stephen Chobsky. It has changed my life, like Ari said it would. 
• I met a lovely Floridan who helps me deal with my life daily. She's never seen snow.

So, yup, that's what you missed on Tess.

regret

Everybody tells me to live life without regrets; that you need to take chances and risks and make mistakes and a bunch of Hallmark junk about carpe diem and life's too short.

I honestly don't believe that you can live life without regrets, because you never know which choices you will regret making, or which mistakes will turn into the best memories. You never know what you will regret until it's over and done with, and trying to prevent the inevitable is simply a waste of time.

For example, say that you're given the opportunity to go sky-diving (a favorite on the bucket lists, I'm sure). And you say to yourself, Well, golly, I don't want to not go and then spend my whole life regretting the fact I missed out. So you go. And your parachute fails, and you crash into a barn and spend the rest of your life breathing through a straw in order to maneuver your power chair.

Now tell me, would you regret that decision?

It's impossible to tell which decisions we will be happy with, and which will lie heavy on our conscience. The average human makes 612 decisions a day; you can't spend all of those 612 decisions wisely, because you are human and therefore, imperfect.

Life is not all sparkles, sunshine and unicorns. You let down your friends, yell at your parents, fail a test. It happens to the best of us. You regret these things, of course you do. Nobody likes failing, making mistakes, lashing out.

But it happens. Regret happens.

I don't understand why people shun regret. I feel sorry for it; it's the one human emotion we don't try to justify or accept. It is the bastard of the feeling family, through no fault of it's own. Regret is natural; it is also a teacher.

"Good judgment comes from bad experience, and a lot of that comes from bad judgment."

If you never made mistakes, if you have never regretted a decision, than you will never be wise. And I am by no means saying I am wise--at sixteen, I haven't lived much yet--but one day, I intend to be wise, and I will never get there if I continue to banish regret like everybody else.

these are a few of my favorite things

Sophmore year starts tomorrow, and I'm in a surprisingly good mood because a) I have lots of new clothes from Forever 21 and b) we're having burritos and mac and cheese for dinner. YUMS IN A CAN.

Anyways, this is my 100th post! I'm going to borrow this idea and make a list of 10 things and people that i think are beautiful. Yeahhhh buddy. Here we go.

1. thunderstorms.

2. marilyn monroe.

3. my sister.


4. emma watson.

5. beautiful mess by jason mraz

6. www.letterstocrushes.com

7. fairytales.

8. kissing

9. the wonderful world of harry potter.

10. nerds, dorks, geeks & freaks.

and you.

you're beautiful:)

suburban streets

Part of me is glad that school is starting again, because then I won't waste my time on the internet as much. 

I seriously need to get a life.

I haven't spent my whole summer Facebook stalking, though. I did something productive and took driver's ed a few weeks ago! It was astoundingly dull and highly entertaining at the same time, thanks to ridiculous videos, chicken nuggets and amazing doodling skills. One of the best quotes of the week was, "Don't beep in Texas...they all have guns."

I'm going to be getting my permit soon, and if all goes well, my license by the end of this school year. I'll be tooling around the suburban streets in my mother's minivan, but I'm so beyond excited to actually drive. For most of my friends, a license symbolizes an escape; they can finally get away from their parents and their home. And while I'm sure I will do my fair share of escaping, I look at it more as another step in maturity, not a device that should be used to run away from parents and problems. I mean, honestly, I could kill someone with my dorky minivan. There is a hell of a lot of power behind the wheel of a car, and I don't want to abuse that power by pulling one of those I-HATE-MY-LIFE-SO-IMMA-DRIVE-AWAY-FOREVER scenes that you see in all the teen movies. 

Driving gives you liberty, but comes at the price of gas, which is outrageous (I feel really grown-up when I complain about gas prices). 

And wear your seatbelts, please. And watch this video.

PS this is my 99th post!

wake me up when september ends.

So, my dears, it's the last day of August.

In a couple of hours, September will roll around and we will moan and groan as we pack away the sandals and the sun screen. We will watch our tans fade and start to wear jeans, missing the sunshine and the sandy toes and sleeping in. School will start, and so will all the stress. We'll all become walking zombies, tripping down the halls and staggering up the stairs.

And despite all this, fall is my favorite season.

I love it when the air smells like fresh apples and the leaves burn bright orange before they die. I love sweatshirts and my birthday and Halloween and scary movies; I love Friday night football games and Thanksgiving. I even love the first few days of school, when all the notebooks are still fresh and all my pens still work and I get to reconnect with everyone I haven't seen over the summer. Admittedly, the newness of school wears off pretty fast, considering this is my tenth year in the public education system.

Summer is beautiful and wild, but don't forget autumn is gorgeous and graceful.

in the middle of september, we still play out in the rain...nothing to lose but everything to gain.

sup

Haayyyy.

Sorry for the month-long absense...one, summer makes me lazy, two, my laptop has been on the fritz and my home computer was a 1997 dinosaur. BUT WE GOT A NEW ONE AND IT'S ALL FAST AND SHINY. so here I am, back again, just in time for Hurricane Irene.

Basically, I've been lying around the house, watching That 70's Show and SVU and eating Snack Packs. Gobbled down a couple books (The Help, The Glass Castle, The Bean Trees, Water for Elephants and autobiography of of J.K. Rowling), gotten in a few fights, watched more than a few movies, debated whether or not to conform and get a Twitter and a Tumblr (still up in the air).

Oh, and I drove four hours for a family weekend. All I did was fall down a mountain and watch a Quentin Tarentino film. It wasn't the best weekend I've ever had.

I'll be posting about real things sometime soon, just letting y'all know I haven't died.

thoughts on tumblr

To tumble or not to tumble?

That is my question as of late.

I know I posted a rant a while ago, expressing my hatred for Tumblr. I still do hate it; Tumbling is the new, hip hobby. Girls in my grade have Tumblrs so they can seem deep and artistic and meaningful and talk about their self-destructive behaviors.

Not to sound like a hipster, but I hate how mainstream Tumblr is. I hate how everyone has one, and everybody thinks they are the shit because they repost pictures of sparkly nails or girls with rainbow fishtails.

That said, I find there is something alluring about Tumblr. In case you haven't noticed, I haven't been blogging recently. Most of it is pure laziness, but part of it is the fact I don't care very much for Blogspot and it takes a lot of...effort.

Then again, I don't want to be a conformist.

Thoughts?

vacation

...to me, means driving around the backwood roads of New Hampshire at one AM, talking with your cousin about religion and the family skeletons and everything in between.

mischief managed

My childhood, essentially, is over. It died on July 15th.

I'm the tail-end of the Harry Potter generation; a nineties kid and proud of it. My father started reading me the first book when I was in kindergarten. I remember being curled up in bed, listening to the creak of the rocking chair and the steady pitch of my father's voice, pouring out these magical words (he mispronounced Hermione's name until the fourth book).

I always, always begged for him to read just one more chapter.

It became tradition, these nightly visits to Hogwarts. My dad would have me read a page occasionally, and I tripped over the big words. I became a better reader with each book; by the fourth I was reading entirely on my own, relishing the words and proud of my reading abilities. In the third grade, I gobbled up The Order of the Phoenix in less than a week; fast forward five years, I read Deathly Hallows in seventeen hours.

I remember the day I bought DH. I couldn't persuade my parents to drive me at midnight, so I woke them up early as revenge and forced them to drive me over to New England Mobile Book Fair (which, by the way, is not at all mobile). I snatched the closest copy and immediately began reading it; I refused to let go of it for the cashier, so she was forced to awkwardly bend my arms to scan the book.  I didn't eat for the next day and emerged from my room at eleven pm, sobbing.

It was over. Harry Potter was all growed up.

I went to the midnight premiere of HPDH2 at Chestnut Hill with some of my friends. By the end of the movie, I was a sobbing, hyperventilating mess. It hit me that it really was all over. No more anticipation. No new adventures. Nothing. Nothing left to look forward to. My childhood was dead.

But Hogwarts will never be dead.

Harry Potter taught me how to read out loud, how to pronounce difficult words. But it has also taught me some of the most important lessons in life. It has taught me how to love, how to stand up for yourself, how to fight for what you believe in, how to do the right thing.

So don't tell me he's not real. Don't tell me it's just a book. It's not. It never will be. They are more. Harry is more.

I don't wanna say goodbye but it's not forever, not forever...and even if it was you know that i would never, i would never let it get me down. ~A Very Potter Sequel

Someday I will read Harry Potter to my children, and fall in love all over again. Someday they will discover Hogwarts and magic, just like I did.

This is not goodbye.

tough

Firstly, let me admit something I don't usually broadcast: I don't like girls very much. You can ask my guy friends. I start a lot of our conversations with a sigh and the statement, "ihategirls."

But wait! you think. Tess, you silly creature, you ARE a girl!

You caught me.

I don't particularly like the whole girl subculture. Too many of my female classmates are catty, spoiled, selfish, backstabbing bitches (no offense to the girls of NHS. I do love a lot of you, just not all. Plus, if you're reading this, I sincerely doubt you're one of the catty snobs). Girls, in general, place too much emphasis on fashion, looks, love and perfection.

Here's a secret. I.am.not.perfect. 


And I don't pretend to be.

But some of my peers insist that it exists and they go to crazy lengths to reach it, usually putting down others to push themselves higher. There's too many mind games, too much emotional manipulation and very little honesty. The great thing about guys is that they're brutally honest.

Even though I regard female society with contempt, I still get sucked into it on occasion. Wedding shows on TLC are my weakness and they sometimes send me into a wedding binge--I spend a furious three hours looking at the white dresses and reception venues online, tell myself I'm being crazy and switch to picking out baby names, as if that's any less crazy.

One of my good friends is crazy with me. We've decided we're literally insane, but because we're girls, we can't help it. We're hardwired to over-think things, think crazy, hopeful thoughts and dream about the future. It's more of a curse than a blessing, because we're setting ourselves up for disappointment and heartbreak.

Sometimes it's tough being a girl.

*fourth of july*

So, my dears, the United States of America is...235 years old. Compared to most other countries, America is still a baby, albeit a fairly experienced infant.

I am proud to be an American. Yes, we currently have a really bad rep with the rest of the world, but I don't think being American is about obnoxious tourists and McDonald's fries. I like to think it's more than that; it's freedom and independence and a spirit so strong it couldn't be contained by thirteen colonies. The American Revolution is my favorite war (ignore the oxymoron for the time being) because basically, we simply wouldn't take no for an answer, and the original patriots were stupid and brave enough to take that to the extreme.

They risked everything they had so that we can have what we have today. I like to think that is the true American spirit, but maybe I'm being nostalgic. Nostalgic for a time period I never knew, a time I can only read about (I've had a thing for Esther Forbes' Johnny Tremain since I was like eight...fills me up with the revolutionary spirit every single time).

Sometimes I really wish we could invent a time machine already. There is no substitute for experience. We can never truly know what the Revolution was like, or what the founding fathers thought American Spirit was. We can only guess, and continue to piss off the rest of the world as we pass the baton to China as they become the next superpower.

I really love the Fourth. It's one of my favorite holidays; tons of food, fireworks and fun. I adore fireworks; I think they are so romantic. This year, my town decided to get fancy and add a soundtrack to the fireworks display. Legit felt like I was in a movie, the music was so deep and intense. They finished off with Katy Perry's Firework--ohsoclever, huh?

source

Happy Fourth!

summer solstice!

Hey. Yeah, summer solstice was last month. It's fine, get over yourself. This is how I celebrated it...

i'm not hugging back because she's soaking wet.

not amused.

nope, no idea what's going on here...

isn't she gorgeous? that's me, awkwardly ducking out of the shot in the background.

what a beautiful fishtail. and photobomb.

soooo summery:)

Later we finished off with a solid game of Apples to Apples. I put down "Henry VIII" as "Misunderstood" and somehow didn't win...I thought it was a decent answer. Whatever.

I  love my fwends ❤

we are ze monkeys

I dare you to watch the whole thing. Accept the challenge. It's the weirdest video you'll ever see.

Did you watch it?

IT'S THE MOST RIDICULOUS THING EVER, RIGHT?

I'm done now.

just a couple reasons why summer is awesome

It hasn't even been a whole week yet and I'm already loving summer.

1. I wake up and don't know what day it is.
2. I take walks in the rain and splash in the puddles.
3. I have already established my late night TV schedule (Family Guy at 11, Whose Line at 12)
4. Shorts. All day erryday.
5. Pool parties and artsy pictures. More on that later.
6. Food. Ice cream, chicken fingers, steak, rice, fish, burgers. YUMYUMYUM
7. No work. None at alllll. That might be yummier than food. Maybe. 
8. I'm chilling with my friends so much, I'm going to turn into a popsicle.
9. The ice cream truck is back.
10. Muziks.
11. Building forts in basements. Best idea ever.

I'm going to try and catch up on blogging, sorry for lack of posts. I'm lazy. You love it.

updates on the bruins, summer and being artsy

Hello to the interwebs! Nope, I haven't fallen off of a cliff or been captured by Somalian pirates or anything, I've just been held captive by finals for the past few weeks.

BUT NOW I AM DONE. And as I so poetically said on Facebook, freshman year can kiss my ass (I got 18 likes and felt so cool).

Summer '11 is here, and the Bruins just made it a little sweeter by winning this teensy little thing called THE STANLEY CUP. My little brother did a flip on the couch, which was crazy impressive because I didn't know he was so flexible. He also hit his foot on the coffee table and started limping, so I picked him up and spun him around and we made fools of ourselves, but it was worth it.

I love being a Boston fan--we're so sports crazy! There is nothing quite like being in Boston after a championship. I'm currently watching the crowds on the streets. My dadda is one of those lovely policemen in the neon, keeping everybody under control so they don't flip over any cars.

Also, I admit to having a bit of a crush on Tyler Seguin. It's not a big deal or anything.

Topic switch:

So I DVR'd (500) Days of Summer last week and I've watched it an embarrassing number of times since then. It's so bittersweet, and it was a really classy soundtrack (think Regina Spektor and songs with French lyrics). This scene is pretty much my new favorite thing ever....

Please go watch it from the beginning and marvel at it's simplistic beauty. It'll break your heart and make you laugh at the same time. It's a really artsy film.

Also check out this super artsy picture of me taken in photo class last week:

You know what I love? Lounging around on the town green having conversations about boys and life. Love my friends, love summer, love life :)

I hope everybody does something crazy this summer. I know I will.

the airborne toxic event

Story time!

My beloved brother and I were sitting in the parking lot of Stop&Shop while the mothership was buying emergency ice cream for our uncle's birthday. Digression: my brother is pretty awesome, and we always have our bonding moments in cars. Once we just sat in our car in the driveway and talked for two hours. Love my foolish brother.

Anyways, we were listening to Radio 92.9 (arguably the best station in the Boston area. The commercials are like two words long, literally) and the radio announcer is like "New music--The Airborne Toxic Event--Changing." Of course, with a band name like that, the broski and I burst into giggles.

"Tess, this is going to be the greatest jam on Earth."

"Oh, I know."

But then it was actually a really awesome song, and when I looked it up later, it had a really awesome video.

So, yup, music geeks unite!

Enjoy.

little monster?

Hello interwebs. I have not died, no worries.

So apparently I'm a newborn little monster, which is strange in and of itself, considering I have spent the better part of two years scoffing at Lady Gaga's bizarre antics and suggestive songs. Because there's no ignoring the fact this woman is a freak. I'm sorry. No matter how expressive and supportive she is, she still wore a dress made of raw meat and requested corpses on her stage. And yes, she pissed me off when she started moaning about how she still feels like a "freakin' loser kid in high school" while in the dressing room of Madison Square Garden. 

She's a freak. But maybe that's not an entirely bad thing. Glee described her as "the queen of self-love" and considering how many people starve and cut and hurt these days, our culture could use a strong little dose of self-love. 

There's just something about the way she conducts herself. She honestly doesn't care what other people think (hello, no pants) and she loves her fans. She really loves her fans. I watched one of her concerts on HBO and she was literally inspiring the hell out of everybody there. She was inspiring my guts out, and I was lounging on the couch. 

She promotes this idea that is so refreshing and so needed--that you're perfect just the way you are, and you don't have to change. We must have heard those words a thousand times when we were little, but they got lost when we grew up and started reading magazines and watching TV and roaming out deeper into the uglier parts of society. 

It's nice to hear those words again, because most people I know have stopped believing in them.

I won't start talking about the media, because we've all heard that rant seven trillion times and it's always the same. Personally, I feel contempt for people who go on tangents about the media. It's like...yeah, we know. Shut up now, this doesn't make you sound sophisticated. 

But we all know how the media can be a little self-damaging sometimes, and that's the main idea. Here's this singer who loves who she is and who her fans are and what she does, and she isn't asking or hinting that anyone should change.

And that's frigging awesome.

I know I'm not a fully-fledged little monster, considering I still have some issues with Lady Gaga's choices. I respect them, but I don't like them. I don't like the way she puts on so much makeup sometimes she looks like an alien, but that is her choice and if it floats her boat, well, kudos to her. I didn't like her breakdown in the dressing room because I'm not going to feel bad for you if you make millions of dollars for doing something that you love. She called herself a loser.

There are plenty of worse things to be than a loser. I'm a loser, and I love it.

And maybe I'm a little monster, and I'd love that too.

blahblahblah

I sincerely apologize for the decline in blogging lately. We're on the home stretch, on a crash course for summer, which means I have less and less time and less and less motivation to do anything.

Yeahyeah procrastination!

Things in my life are hectic right now. Summer literally cannot come fast enough.

So if I go MIA for a while, please excuse me. It's not that I don't love you, it's just that I'm trying to raise my math grade and possibly fake a tan (I'm so pale I glow in the dark).

crushes

There is a beautiful little site simply called Letters to Crushes.

It is exactly what it sounds like and it is the sweetest little place on the internet. I visit it at least twice a day.

Anyhow, I feel compelled to order you all to read this here letter. Read all the comments. It just might be the most adorable thing I have ever witnessed over a computer screen.

READ IT.

That's all.

air guitar

Hey. No, I did not forget about my lil' old blog. It's just that homework and panic attacks have a heavy influence on my free time and internet time (which, these days, are pretty much the same thing. The 21st century is sad).

Life's pretty hectic right now, and I apologize for not blogging as often as I would like to. You will just have to miss me for the time being, and I'll try to update y'all on my mundane life very soon. Pinky swear.

To make your Monday a little less torturous, here are some nice air-guitar songs. I'll work on a playlist when I have time to breathe.

Peace out cub scouts.

princess

Hi again.

I DVR'd the Royal Wedding and watched it Friday night after eating Chinese food and unsuccessfully attempting to help my friend with his English homework.

And gosh, am I jealous of Princess Kate.

Not because of Prince William (he's going bald before thirty, for God's Sakes) but because she is literally living a fairy tale. Her life is what all little girls dream about.

She is a princess. A real-life princess.

For some reason, the very word strikes me as magical.

And because I am me, I found it a teensy bit depressing. It reminded me of a bittersweet Taylor Swift song. Here it is (I know, two songs in one day! How lucky are you?)

I'm not a princess, this ain't a fairytale.

Nope. I'm just a little redheaded freshman nerd.

But you know what? I'm pretty okay with that, actually. I won't say that my prince will come one day, because a) it is awfully and sickeningly cliche and b) there is actually no guarantee.

I don't need to be a princess to be beautiful.

And I don't need boys to live a beautiful life. They're just kind of a bonus.

it won't last forever

Oh right, I have a blog.

I have oodles to talk about an entire Sunday to do it, so expect rapid fire blog posts.

Numero Uno: My Thursday sucked.

I am prone to bad days this year; I am a total stressbag and the first to admit it. One of my friends constantly tells me I care too much and I probably do, but that's a malfunction that has been hardwired into me.

So on Thursday, I was busy worrying and caring about ten trillion different things (mostly my friends. It's always my friends. I think I love them almost too much sometimes) and I was sick the previous day and had a panic attack circa one AM that morning and other social issues were bugging me and all of this amounted to a gigantic internal freakout in the middle of bio, which I managed to mask like a champ. I had it almost mastered through Spanish, but then we watched a suicide prevention/recognizing depression video in gym. Let's just say that didn't go over very well with my panic trigger.

Thursday was by far my worst day in a while, but I've recently started to embrace the fact that I'm just somehow prone to these. I know it won't last forever.

You kick up the leaves and the magic is lost.

Love this song.

top ten slumber party movies

This one is for my lovely crazy-curly-haired friend. Operation Slumber is on stand by.

• Mean Girls. most quotable movie ever.
• 13 Going on 30. looooveee:)
• 27 Dresses. Benny and the Jets.
• 17 Again. A tolerable Zefron.
• Sixteen Candles. '80s classic.
• The Breakfast Club. another '80s classic, but more emotional.
• Devil. five people trapped in an elevator.
• The Last Exorcism. she has kick ass red Tims.
• Harry Potter :)
• Hairspray. good morning, baltimore.

Hope y'all are having a better Tuesday than me.

a failed test (day 20)

Imma finish this. You just watch.

Day 20: How important you think education is.

I live in an extremely affluent suburb. Our public education system is ranked as one of the best in the state and college is not only encouraged, it's expected. The kids in classes are the types that stay up until one or two AM to finish all their homework--going to bed before eleven is an unheard of luxury. Going to bed before two is an unheard of luxury for the upperclassmen taking AP classes.

We have an overwhelming amount of brainiacs in my school (we also have our fair share of potheads, but whatever) and there is a very high level of academic stress from both faculty and parents. It's the way the community operates.

Recently, however, attention has been brought to the fact that this high level of pressure isn't exactly mentally healthy--in the past ten or so years, we've had at least eight suicides and two or three "tragic accident" deaths, some of which may have also been suicide. Most of the students killed themselves at least partly due to the enormous amount of stress from grades and school.

I sincerely hope that you have never had to deal with a classmate's death. It is simply awful.

Because of all this, I have maybe a slightly cynical view of education and its importance. No doubt, it is vital to succeeding financially in life, and I will admit, I have plead with my friends to do their homework, guilting them with the whole "if-you-don't-do-your-homework-you-won't-go-to-college-and-you-won't-get-a-job-and-you'll-be-homeless-and-die-alone" speech.

But really, education shouldn't be important enough to cause suicides. It is supposed to help you, not agonize you.

I love my school. Honest. And I am a fully-fledged nerd and I stress over grades all the time. I value education, and I recognize that I am so, so lucky to live in a town where people care so much about it. I am getting opportunities other students will never have. I appreciate that.

But I don't care to the extent that those poor kids did. My mental health--and yours--are more important than a failed test.

deliciously independent

My spring break '11 achievement: navigating the Green Line into Copley Square.

Didn't get lost on the way there, didn't get lost on the way back and refused to let myself be embarrassed by the ticketing system or the subway maps.

A few friends (read: fellow English class nerds) and I launched a trip to the Boston Public Library to look at microfilm and Times Magazine archives for our historical research papers. It was quite an adventure--the librarians were on the frosty side and the building itself was churchlike and daunting.

We got a pint of Ben & Jerry's Cookie Dough ice cream and a packet of 48 plastic spoons and ate it on a bench in Copley Square/waiting for the subway and had a marvelous time people watching. We people watched the whole day--on the subway, in the library, in CVS, in the food court. People watching is a sport.

Highlights of the day included seeing bald biker dude with a kilt and a boombox on our inbound trip, a man with teal hair and matching shoes, some poor doctor with a pink newspaper who got sandwiched between us on the outbound trip, a homeless man with a sign reading "HELP JOE GET SMASHED" and seeing somebody blow bubbles in the courtyard of the BPL. Oh, and seeing two of my friends hold hands. Love you guys.

It felt deliciously independent to be wandering around Boston all on our lonesomes. I was beyond proud we didn't get lost and I'm looking forward to future excursions into the city :)

For fabulous photos of Boston, check out this blog.

fabulous & flawed (day 19)

I'm on a roll.

Day 19: Disrespecting your parents.

Well, this isn't actually a question. It's not even a complete statement. I'm just going to assume that it means your thoughts on disrespecting your parents and just chug right along here.

When you argue with your parents, it's called disrespect. That's a fact. Using this logic, I disrespect my parents. You disrespect your parents. We all disrespect our parents.

Just because I argue with them doesn't mean I don't appreciate all they do for me. It just means that sometimes we disagree.

My parents are fabulous and flawed. We will never be on the same page regarding boys or strapless dresses, but that doesn't mean I love them any less.

i'm all about them words

Remember that blog challenge? Yeah...

Day 18: Your beliefs.

This one's pretty easy, to be honest.

I believe in God. I do not believe God has a vendetta against Jews or gays or anybody else. I believe God is more like a force and less like a person. I believe that God controls karma.

I believe everything happens for a reason, even the truly terrible stuff.

I believe in luck, in superstition, in karma and wishes.

I believe in true love. I do not believe in love at first sight.

I believe that life is about loving what you have and not envying what you don't, which is extremely tricky--nobody said life was easy. In fact, everybody says the exact opposite.

I believe that laughter heals.

I believe that everyone has a soul mate.

I believe rain works like a sleeping pill to help you fall asleep.

I believe everyone has to fail a couple times. It builds character.

I believe that no matter how awesome you may be, the first pancake will never come out right.

I believe we're all a little crazy, especially in high school.

And lastly, I believe in words. Words have power and soul. They express feeling and thought and life. They are gorgeous. They are never ending.

...Say I'm all about them words. Over numbers, unencumbered, numbered words...hundreds of pages, pages, pages...

And that, ladies and gents, is what I believe in, take it or leave it. Happy Thursday, darlings. One more day. We can do it :)

random thoughts

This is going to be a post filled with random thoughts on random things. Wednesdays are my reorganization days.

First, I kinda forgot to post one of my lovely little top ten lists yesterday. Oops.

Second, you should all check out my friend Sophie's blog(s). She has a tumblr version and a blogspot version and I lurk on them both to an embarrassing extent. She's a pretty and sarcastic dork, her writing makes you smile and I love her.

Third, I posted a poll because I was bored and promptly forgot about it. Question: Who would win in a fight? Options: Batman, The Rugrats, Charlie Sheen and Lady Gaga. Winners: Lady Gaga & Batman. They tied. Charlie Sheen got one vote and The Rugrats got none.

Fun fact: You know that scene in Ferris Bueller's Day Off when the sister gets dragged to the police station because she's semi-physcotic and then starts making out with that druggie in the reception area? That druggie was a teenage Charlie Sheen. The irony is fantastic.

Two more days till break. I need it badly. Can you tell?

On a more serious note, a girl named Alice died of cancer yesterday. She was seventeen and went to school with a friend of mine. Although the circumstances are different, it reminds me very much of the Jake Borson ordeal that my own school endured earlier this year, so I send love to Alice, her memory and all of her friends who are currently suffering.

Stay classy, San Franciso.

it doesn't work like that

Apparently, the government finally reached a decision on the budget so it won't be shutting down.

Frankly, it pisses me off that the possibility of the government shutting down was even a potential.

I know that the government is probably much more intricate and a thousand times more complicated than what I'm taught in social studies class. It isn't easy managaing a country like ours, because in addition to all the threats we face on a national level, our own citizens are busy creating problems as well.

But honestly? The entire government shutting down because Democrats and Republicans can't agree?

Most of the adults I know are big on preaching about compromises and getting along despite differences (hence, all of the overdone bullying laws). It doesn't matter if someone's young, old, boy, girl, black, white, rich, poor, gay, straight...but apparently it matters if someone is Democratic or Republican.

 I don't really get the whole party loyalty thing. I think that it gets in the way of people being listened to, of ideas being listened to, because there's too much emphasis on whether or not they're blue or red.

But really, Washington. We're not in preschool. You can't throw hissy fits because somebody from Texas doesn't agree with you about pro-choice or because somebody from Massachusetts wants tighter gun restrictions. You can't just shut down because you're too busy being stubborn. You have to be adults. You have to give a little to get a little. You have to step up because you're the ones running the country and the country needs you.

 I'm not saying the government has to be perfect. I know it's easy to sit here in my living room and critisize all of the people working in DC because I do not have their jobs or migranes. Their jobs are not easy, not by any means, and I'm not trying to belittle the work they do.

I'm just frustrated because of the hypocrasy. You can't pass laws telling me I have to treat all my peers the same and then turn around and refuse to maturely listen and compromise with someone that has a different political view.

It doesn't work like that. I don't know a whole lot about how a government should operate, but it shouldn't operate like that.

almost as deep

"If there's anything I've learned, it's that it's scary to think about talking to someone directly. But in the end, you always end up with the right outcome. It may not always be a happy outcome, but it will be the best for everyone."

^Direct quote from one of my friends. He's extremely inspirational and almost as deep as Albus Dumbledore.

Almost.

That's a massive compliment in and of itself.

Gosh, I love adoptive brothers.

top ten things i only do around my friends

I'm okay with being a total freak around my friends. I am a total freak with my friends, but they can't judge me for it because they're just as abnormal as I am.

• go makeup free. because I trust them to not call me fugly, even when I'm not at my best.
• eat to the point other people would probably consider disgusting.
• dance around my kitchen like i'm having a seizure.
• scream britney spears at the top of my lungs. it's nbd.
• make up words and phrases that rarely make sense.
• be judgemental. I work really hard at not judging other people, because everybody goes through personal battles. That said, I'm sorry, I feel the need to point out mismatching socks, awkward facial expressions and funny ringtones when I'm kicking it with my friends. PEOPLE WATCHING IS FUN.
• make extremely strange facial expressions. Ido this in school too, but it's worse when I'm in the privacy of my own house. I like pretending I'm a fish or a dinosaur, depending on the day.
• cry.
• spontaneously burst into irish dance jumps.
• start singing whatever i want to say.
• make animals noises. meow. chirp. woof. growl.

rewarded

I never used to think about death. I'm fifteen. Subconciously, I didn't think it was possible for me to die. I knew I was going to die someday. I just had trouble believing it.

Well. 2011 has certainly cleared that up for me.

RIP Jake Borson. RIP John Clifford. RIP Mrs. Barnes. RIP Grandma Katz.

I never knew any of these people personally, but I got a front row seat to see how deeply their deaths impacted their loved ones. I heard the silences, listened to the sobs, saw the tears, felt the ache in the embraces.

I don't know what death really is, and I don't pretend to. I have never lost anybody especially close to me, unless you count my grandmother (but I was four). I know that it's often messy, just like life. I know that it creates a slushie of mixed emotions. I know that it leaves a gaping hole in our lives but creates closure at the same time.

I'm not the most religious person, but I believe that there is something waiting for us after death. I know that some people believe that's just an idea we choose to believe in to ease the idea of death, but I opt for a slightly more optimistic view--after living a full life, we deserve to be rewarded.

this life is yours

The fabulous things I find on Stumble...



Soure: goodnightgoodmorning.com

top ten things i think about before i fall asleep

...that is, if I actually do fall asleep because I'm prone to insomnia.

• what i would say if I were on Lopez Tonight or Conan.
• the probability of my parents discovering i snuck out to grab a Slurpee at 7/11.
• the people on that eleven-thirty train.
• what plane rides are like.
• if we all see different colors and just don't know it.
• if i was a boy in a past life.
• how strange it will be when i'm old.
• conducting a social experiment and seeing if everybody really is six degrees or less separated from any given person they encounter on the street.
• who the famous people in my school will be, and if they'll remember me in twenty years.
• what i'd do if a natural disaster struck my sleepy little state.

Happy Tuesday, kidlings. Hang in there.

little miss sunshine

The three most important things in a teenager's life are...

• food.
• sleep.
• friends.

...But I'd gladly give up food and sleep for my friends. They are the people that understand me when I'm not making sense, the ones who forgive my faults and point out my talents. They make doing absolutely nothing fun and they don't care if I don't wear makeup and invite myself over too often.

I haven't exactly been Little Miss Sunshine lately, and I'm all too aware of it. Without my friends, without our stupid Rockband fests and homework parties and Britney Spears jam out sessions, without their hugs and bizarre facial expressions and compliments, God only know where I'd be.

Just a friendly little reminder that I love you guys, and just a friendly little reminder to everybody that you need to spend your life with people who care about you, not the people who pretend to. I'm lucky enough to have incredible, talented and selfless friends who honestly mean everything to me--and when you're blessed with friends like mine, you truly are blessed.

So although I'm not exactly all golden sun sparkles these days, with help from those crazy beautiful people I get to call friends, I'll be back to being Little Miss Sunshine shortly.

(Not like the Abigail Breslin movie. Although it is a quality film)

a beautiful mess



excuse my friend's misspelling of "parties." He's a good guy.



My motto recently as been "If I were a goldfish, I wouldn't have these problems."

Life for a goldfish is so damn easy. They swim around with plastic pebbles. They eat little food flakes and stare out at the world and they never have to stress or worry about anything. They also never have to pay attention, because they literally can't remember anything within a three second time span, but that's besides the point.

Goldfish don't have messy lives. We have messy lives.

Life isn't black and white. You can follow the directions and still fail. That's why we save twice and cross fingers and say prayers. We're all afraid of messing up, because that gray area is so massive and we're so small and there's no guarentees in this crazy life we're all currently sharing.

Life is messy because emotions are messy. Girls love boys that don't love them back. Boys hate boys for loving boys. Mothers yell at their children. Children let their mothers down. Friends tell secrets and lies.

And none of it's fair. It's painful. It hurts. You are little and you get lost.

But there's beauty in the pain. There is. You just have to look for it. You have to understand that we're all stuck in this life together, so we have to truly appreciate what and who we have, because true happiness doesn't come from wishes coming true or prayers being answered. It comes from loving your life exactly the way it is, flaws and all.

Listen Beautiful Mess by Jason Mraz. It's an absolutely gorgeous song.

top ten most annoying cliches

I detest cliches. There are so many fabulous words in the English language, why bother using the same ones over and over and over?

• dead as a doornail. I'm sorry, but what? Someone explain to me what a doornail is, and why somebody murdered it.
• pretty as a picture. You could be referring to a picture of a donkey. Or a troll. In which case it wouldn't be much of a compliment.
• deep as the ocean. just go home.
• if i had a nickel. I'm sorry, but you don't. So kindly shut up.
• raining cats and dogs. Honestly, who thought this up? Think about it. It literally makes no sense. If it rained cats and dogs, we would have a serious problem on our hands. On the bright side, maybe I'd actually get a dog.
• ants in his pants. It poses as clever because it rhymes. It's not clever, it's irritating.
• tickle your fancy. Fancy is not a body part. The idea of naming a body part "fancy" makes me uncomfortable.
• cold as ice. Come on. I know can do better. Besides, ice isn't even that cold. Frozen nitrogen, that's cold (Did I overstep the nerd boundary there?)
• he's on fire! No, he's not. He's just totally owning everyone else in the game. Just because you can swish a three-pointer doesn't mean that your skill magically evolve into flames.
• I'm jut pulling your leg. except that you weren't pulling my leg. If you had been, I would have done something about it.

a vicious cycle

Ironically, one of my biggest problems is how hard it is for me to acknowledge and deal with my problems. If Austin Powers were real, and not, you know, a movie character, he would tell me that it is "a vicious cycle" and I'd be inclined to agree.

I ignore my emotions sometimes. I tell myself that they're not important, that they are stupid and selfish and I should just stop complaining and accept things the way they are. I refuse to accept that I have legitimate problems in my life, despite the fact that everyone else has at least one serious problem in theirs.

For some reason, I believe that my emotions and my issues are less valid than everyone else's. I believe it is selfish for me to ask for help when I live in a rich suburb with running water and electricity and a great public education and over half the people in the world aren't as lucky as I am.

Of course, this could stem from my father's constant refrain of "rich white suburban kids create their own problems", which tells me that I'm feeling too deeply and thinking too much.

I care more about my friend's feelings than I do about my own, but I can't fully explain why and I don't know if that's a really terrible thing or not. I know I can't fix it. I've trained myself into a mindset that allows me to forgive and listen to pretty much anybody except myself.

I ignore my emotions and problems. As a result, they get thorny and more aggravating to deal with. And so I put more energy into pretending they're not there.

It truly is a vicious cycle and I honestly have no idea how to end it, because sometimes music isn't enough. Sometimes eating chicken nuggets doesn't improve my mood as much as I hope it will. Sometime my friends are busy or asleep and sometimes they just don't know what to say.

Sometimes all you can do is pretend that whatever's bothering you isn't really there.

saint patrick's day :)

I haven't been to school on Saint Patrick's Day since the third grade. If I remember correctly, my teacher wore a green tie and all the boys wore Celtics shirts and there were shamrock cookies at lunch.

Instead, on Saint Patrick's Day, I get up, snag a curly redheaded wig onto my scalp, put on seven layers of makeup, run around collecting various items such as duct tape, safety pins, shoe polish, scissors, pencils, bobby pins and sock glue (sock glue: adhesive used to stick socks to skin). Then I go to my old elementary school, show off some old Irish artifacts that beloged to my grandparents, dance a little bit and try to convince third graders that I'm not a total freak for loving Irish dance.

I've been an Irish dancer for five years now. It's insane and demanding and addicting and strange. We glue socks to our shins and invent new ways to use duct tape and abuse our toes and feet something fierce. We have our own subculture. Irish dance is not stomping around and babbling about Lucky Charms. It is both a sport (yes, it is a sport and I will fight you on it) and a celebration of culture.

I certainly have a lot of Irish culture to celebrate. One of my great-grandfathers was a member of the original IRA and imprisoned for three years for fighting for the country and the cause he loved so much. One of my great-grandmothers came over on the boat via Ellis Island in 1916 and kept the tradition of Irish superstition alive by reading tea leaves, recording dreams and crossing herself whenever she saw a black bird. My grandfather's first language was Gaelic, as he grew up in a very rural village along the northern coast of Ireland. My other grandfather grew up in the projects of South Boston--a neighborhood known for its diehard Irish Catholics. 

I have always been taught that I should be extremely proud of my heritage, because there is nobody quite like the Irish. Saint Patrick's Day gives me a chance to appreciate that, and to share my quirky little talent with others (even if the nursing homes smell really bad). I really love Irish dance, and I love my relatives and I love Saint Patrick's Day.

I also love this song by John Mayer.

So yeah, I'm a redhead. And yup, I'm insanely pale. And yeah, the majority of my classmates think I'm a loser for loving Irish flute music and curly wigs and the whole subculture of Irish dance.

But I honestly wouldn't have it any other way, becaue I wouldn't love Saint Patrick's Day half as much as I do.

trying (day 17)

Highs and lows of the past year.

Highs: Getting the braces off, starting high school, a truly great summer, lots of personal firsts, playing matchmaker, giving my eighth grade grad speech (geek and proud), writing a novel, starting this lil blog here :)

Lows: Emotional issues, first break up, parental fights, major S T R E S S, worrying like crazy about my friends because I am the mom.

Every year has good and bad in it. I tried to make the most of my 2010. I'm trying to make the most of my 2011, too. Trying being the operative word.

selfish people suck

Selfishness is a human flaw. We are all selfish to a certain extent simply because we are not perfect and we will never be perfect. We all care about ourselves and we all want. That's normal.

I am selfish. I know it and I own it. I use it as an apology, as an excuse, as an explanation. I complain and whine and vent like crazy. I abuse my friends' listening skills and make them stay up until ungodly hours talking to me. I ask my parents for money. I feel sorry for myself more often than I probably should, and self pity always equals selfishness.

That said, I'm going to be a hypocrite now and say that selfish people--reallyreally selfish people--make me want to scream. They make me sick.

I hate the people so wrapped up in their own lives that all they can do is talk about themselves. I hate the people whom expect everyone else to be as concerned about their lives as they are. I hate the people who never ask about your day. I hate the people who take themselves too seriously because they think they're crazy mature and talented and ultra fabulous. I hate the people who constantly fish for compliments. I hate the people who are incapable of laughing at themselves.

Honestly, learning to laugh at myself is one of the most important lessons I've learned thus far in my teenage life. If you can laugh at yourself, other people won't be laughing at you, but with you. Laughing at yourself means you realize that you're not perfect, that you are flawed and make mistakes--you spill and you cry and you whine and you bitch and you bleed and you fight and you get dirty and you shout and take and you fail and you fall.

Selfish people don't want to admit they are flawed. They don't want to admit that they have problems and emotional baggage and they embarrass themselves and sometimes even snort, just like the rest of the human race. Selfish people put others down so that they can feel better and more accomplished, superior to the average Joe. Selfish people like to think they have this special little bubble around them, making them prettier and smarter and stronger than the rest of us. Selfish people aren't concerned with anyone other than themselves because in their minds, they are just so much more important that your life couldn't possibly be interesting.

And that is why selfish people suck.

my awesome shirt and my awesome school

Yesterday was Make A Statement Day and quite frankly, it kicked ass.

Here's a picture of mine, courtesy of Ari (also, go check out the picture of her shirt. I am beyond impressed--it's mad artsy and she wrote out a three paragraph quote on the back)



Some of my favorites included...

"We have guided missiles and misguided men."

"Fear builds walls. Walls build fear."

"A laugh is a smile that bursts."

"Don't hate me 'cause I'm beautiful."

"Don't sweat the petty things and don't pet the sweaty things."

"We don't stop laughing because we grow old, we grow old because we stop laughing."

"Playing in the rain is worth catching a cold."

I also gave three thousand respect points to anyone with a quote from Albus Dumbledore, as well as all of the shirts that said "JGB Forever" in memory of Jake Borson.

Awesome words, awesome shirts, awesome people and an awesome school. So much love.

the absolute best therapy (day 16)

I'm going to finish this freaking blog challenge veryvery soon. I promise.

Your views on mainstream music.

In my humble opinion, modern music falls into three catagories, the first being disgusting, synthesized kind, a la Justin Bieber and that dreadful song "O.M.G." by Will.i.am. O.MG. makes my brain vomit whenever I hear it. It's sad, because it's really not music but it's eaten up like candy by the general public and those tween girls who faint over The Jonas Brothers and J-Biebs. These people honestly have no idea what real music is. Pity them. I do.

The second is pretty much the same techno-trashy stuff, except it's energetic and catchy and you find yourself liking it even if you don't really want to (think Ke$ha and Lady Gaga). It's too damn happy to hate.

The third is the really awesome music, when songs are written by the singers, played by the singers, felt by the singers. When actual instruments are involved in the production. When the title of artist actually means something--this person, or these people, truly are artists because they craft beautiful music out of notes and words and they feel the music and they love it and they don't care about record contracts or commercials, because all they need and all they love is the music.

Example:

Music, aside from coloring books and chicken nuggets, is the absolute best therapy, and I've had a stressful day, so I'm off to plug it in and turn it up. Looking forward to Make A Statement Day tomorrow! MWAH.

powerful pieces/peaces

Normally, I cannot stand school assemblies. Other than wasting class time, I don't see much point in them--either they're stressing the importance of academics or emphasizing just how destructive smoking, drinking and drugs are. Usually, it's a combination of the two. Sometime they try to mix it up and throw bullying into the mix, but pretty much every student in attendence knows that it's a load of bull and won't make a difference. The kids who smoke, smoke, the kids who drink, drink, the kids who do drugs, do drugs and the kids who fail, fail. It's been that way forever, long before anybody dreamed up these pointless assemblies, and no amount of pretty graphs or statistics is going to change that.

But the assembly on Monday morning was nothing like that.

This week at Needham High, we're having an event entitled "Own Your Peace/Piece Week." The clever name ties in with the theme of being at peace with yourself and contributing a piece to your community. It's corny, but this is school, so no shockers there. It's run by some obscure student-run suicide prevention support group that I honestly had no idea existed.

They kicked off the Monday morning assembly with peace/piece puns and explanations and a bunch of other information that most of us were incapable of absorbing at eight AM. The first portion of student speakers were volunteers from Samariteens, a program that offers a 24/7 hotline for depressed/suicidal/lonely teenagers. It was interesting, but not captivating enough to draw me away from the lines I was drawing on the back of my hand (I am not a good audience member, and I'm the first the admit it).

But then came the second portion.

First speaker: The sarcastic, wild, rugby-playing guy. Cracks a lot of jokes and says a lot of swears. He stood up in front of five hundred plus kids and talked about battling with an eating disorder his sophmore year, trying to make weight for wrestling. All of us five hundred plus students in the stands sat dead quiet. Some of us teared up. It was obvious that it wasn't easy for him to talk about it, let alone in front of two whole grades, but he did it anyways. And then an hour and a half later, he stood up and retold it. His bravery really made an impact, as did his story, and for that I am truly thankful.

Second speaker: Pretty fashionista who wears nice clothes and says nice things and hugs her little sister every time they met in the halls. She got up and talked about dealing with depression and family issues since she was eleven years old. No script, no lecture, no sob story. Just her story, her life, her triumphs and her sorrows. She was honest and open and sincere and she meant every single word she said.

Third speaker: A boy who blatently said, in the first sentence of his speech, "When I was in the eighth grade, I started becoming sexually attracted to guys." He talked about coming out to his parents and his peers (which was actually by accident, in English class) and he was so casual and collected when he spoke it was admirable. I especially loved the applause he received when he finished talking. I can hardly imagine what it must feel like to tell five hundred high school students, "I'm gay."

Fourth speaker: A girl who talked about her experiences with cutting. She was so incredibly brave, opening up about something considered taboo. So much braver than I ever could have been.

Fifth speaker: A girl who was frank and downright hilarious about being gay. She came out to her mother in the middle of a shopping mall. Her attitude is, "I don't see any reason to keep it a secret. If you're bothered by my sexuality, then I don't want you in my life anyways." She seemed like she really had it figured out, and she really doesn't care what other people think about her--and that is truly amazing. I cannot tell you how impressed I was by her speech.

If I sound annoyingly repetitive with my adjectives, I apologize. There are only so many ways I can describe that assembly. It was raw, it was real, it was relateable. It was emotional and honest and really quite beautiful and every single person said their piece with poise and purpose.

And powerful. Oh God, was it powerful.

top ten things i say too much and MASD

I have my phrases. I overuse them. Im trying to change.

• You're so cool.
• Can I be you?
• Mmkayy.
• I'm going to shoot you.
• SHUT UP.
• ...but I love you!
• MEHHRR MEEHHRR MEHHRR (this is me imitating a T-Rex.)
• I don't want to go home.
• Can I get a ride?
• I hate everything.

I promise I'm not as annoying as I sound. Or at least, I like to believe I'm not.

Also, tomorrow I'm making my T-shirt for Make A Statement Day!

MASD is a wicked cool event my school has every year. All students and faculty that want to decorate a free T-shirt with a quote and/or statement and then everybody wears the shirt and we marvel at each other's genius. This is my first year at the high school, MASD is on Friday and I'm looking foward to it...BUT...

I can't decide on a quote. That's where you come in. Today's your lucky day, because you get to help me chose! I'm caught between three...

"Turn your scars into stars" ~robert h. schuller

"It's the friends you can call up at four AM that matter." ~marlene dietrich

"Unless your name is Google, don't act like you know everything

Help me prettypretty please with cherries on top :)

revolution

I finished Jennifer Donnelly's Revolution just before settling onto the couch for three hours of cookie-eating and Oscar-watching last Sunday. It was recommended to me by my cousin (okay, so I was over her house, stole it and read the first chapter before she stole it back and locked me out of her room) who, if such a thing is possible, is an even bigger bookworm than I am.

The protagonist is an emotionally scarred and semi-suicidal seventeen-year-old musician named Andi, living in Brooklyn with her mother and the torturing ghost of her little brother. She's an outsider at her prep school, St. Anslem's, and hates her father, a Nobel Prize-winning scientist. Her Holocaust-surviving guitar teacher, Nathan, is the only reason she's not totally insane yet. After receiving a letter about Andi's failing grades, her father drags her to Paris over winter break, determined that she finish her thesis paper on a guitarist who lived during the French Revolution. While staying at a family friend's house, Andi discovers an antique guitar and a diary, written by a French girl named Alexandrine struggling to grow up during the Revolution and attempting to free the "lost prince" of France, Louis-Charles, from captivity. Andi is simultaneously researching her paper and obsessing over the diary when she meets Virgil, a gorgeous cab driver with a knack for rapping. Virgil leads her to a party in the catacombs, which eventually turns into an experience Andi will never forget.

This book is beautifully written. The words are fat and rich and fall off the tongue so nicely I just had to read some aloud. I highlighted and sticky noted the hell out of it and I'd share a picture, but for some reason my webcam keeps showing this creepily animated picture of a white kitten (I bet my life it has something to do with my sister.) Anyhow, here are some of my favorite passages...

"Beautiful people don't need coats. They've got their auras to keep them warm."

"I play until my fingertips are raw. Until I rip a nail and bleed on the strings. Until my hands hurt so bad I forget my heart does."

"I wish I could stop messing up but I don't know how. What is it that mends broken people? Jesus? Chocolate? New shoes? I wish someone would tell me."

"Stand on a stage and hold the hearts of men in your hands. Make them laugh with a gesture, cry with a word. Make them love you. And you will know what power is."

"He's always saying that he loves me. And that I love him. When the truth is, we've never even gone out. He's a lizard, I think. Bernie."

"I don't like hope very much. In fact, I hate it. It's the crystal meth of emotions. It hooks you fast and kills you hard. It's bad news. The worst. It's sharp sticks and cherry bombs. When hope shows up, it's only a matter of time until someone gets hurt."

"I will rain down silver and gold for you. I will shatter the black night, break it open, and pour out a million stars. Turn away from the darkness, the madness, the pain. Open your eyes. And know that I am here. That I remember and hope. Open your eyes and look at the light."

I probably bored you. Apologies. Please go read it :) KaythanksbyeMWAH

soapbox (day 15)

Your favorite Tumblrs.

Allow me to step onto my soapbox for a moment.

 I hate Tumblrs. I'm sorry, but I do. I hate the fact that it is anonymous--while I certainly understand the appeal, it annoys me because people say things on Tumblr that I know for a fact they wouldn't say in real life. If you're not brave enough to own the things you say, then you shouldn't be publicly declaring them, period. People seem to forget that the Internet is just about as public as it gets, and just because your name isn't written at the bottom of every post doesn't mean you're protected from the consequences of your words.

Okay. I've stepped off the soapbox now.

My favorite tumblrs...

• Hopeful Romantic
• Icanread
• blinks.of.life

As you can see, two out of three aren't really blogs (God, I sound like snob, don't I?) but collections of quotes and pictures. AND DAMN THEY ARE CUTE. Check 'em out :)