I've been dragging out the 30 Day Blog Challenge thing since November. It's almost March. Ope.
Your earliest memory.
Oooff. Toughie. I have several very distinct memories from the late nineties and early ohs. Preschool. My brother. Stuffed animals. The birth of my younger sister and brother. 9/11. I have a pretty solid memory. On an executive decision, I'm going to say that my earliest memory is that of acquiring a chipped tooth at approximately age three.
Half of my backyard is covered in concrete, which was pretty sweet during the elementary school summers because it meant riding my bike within the convenience of my own home and also serving as a gigantic canvas for many chalked masterpieces. It was, however, complete hell for knees and elbows, which had a tendency to scrape easily, especially for a chubby and uncoordinated toddler like yours truly. One day, I was running around in tights and teeny-tiny Mary Janes, tripped over a crack and promptly fell flat on my face, mouth open. I slammed my upper jaw on the ground and chipped one of my front teeth. I lay on the ground in that odd position for a full minute before I remembered to sob. In the middle of my misery, I swallowed the detached tooth shard.
I lost the tooth a year later, shortly after I started preschool. I got fifty cents from the Tooth Fairy. My friend got a whole dollar and I felt slighted until she pointed out that my tooth had been damaged goods, so of course the Tooth Fairy wasn't going to pay full price.
Strangely, I didn't feel much better after she told me this.
Now that I don't have it anymore, I've developed a sort of fondness for my chipped tooth. My mother's picture-taking golden days were around the same time, so most pictures of little me include the chipped tooth. Back then, I thought it was no big deal. Little me was kind of awesome that way--I really did not care about my chipped tooth, or if anyone made fun of me for it. If I had a chipped tooth now, I don't think I'd feel the same way.
What I wouldn't give to be little for just one more day.
2.27.2011
2.26.2011
panic attacks
Allow me to divulge a secret:
Panic. attacks. suck.
I had one at three am this morning. It sort of makes you feel like you're on a roller coaster, only there aren't any seat belts and the roller coaster happens to be falling off a cliff.
And for the record, I hate roller coasters. They suck too.
Panic. attacks. suck.
I had one at three am this morning. It sort of makes you feel like you're on a roller coaster, only there aren't any seat belts and the roller coaster happens to be falling off a cliff.
And for the record, I hate roller coasters. They suck too.
2.25.2011
the angels are crying
I love rain. True fact.
If you'll allow me to be poetic for a few moments, rain is emotional. It is thoughtful, melancholy, spontaneous, soothing, inspirational. Rain is a lullaby and a muse. It can be electrifying but also lethargic.
When I was little, my mother told me, "The rain just means that the angels are crying, Tessie."
For some reason, that image really freaked me out. Angels are not supposed to cry. They're supposed to fly around with feathered wings and golden harps, singing about joy and love, saving babies from busy streets and mending marriages and whatnot. If angels, of all beings, could cry, then we were all screwed.
As I got older, I realized something--tears are not exclusively reserved for sadness. I've cried because something was so hilarious I couldn't catch my breath. I've cried because I've been so happy I couldn't contain all the happiness inside of me. I've cried because I've heard or seen or experienced something so beautiful it made me ache.
And if I cry at all of this, clearly angels must have similar feelings. Just because they're crying doesn't necessarily mean they're sad.
Rain is gorgeous. I have danced in the rain...
If you'll allow me to be poetic for a few moments, rain is emotional. It is thoughtful, melancholy, spontaneous, soothing, inspirational. Rain is a lullaby and a muse. It can be electrifying but also lethargic.
When I was little, my mother told me, "The rain just means that the angels are crying, Tessie."
For some reason, that image really freaked me out. Angels are not supposed to cry. They're supposed to fly around with feathered wings and golden harps, singing about joy and love, saving babies from busy streets and mending marriages and whatnot. If angels, of all beings, could cry, then we were all screwed.
As I got older, I realized something--tears are not exclusively reserved for sadness. I've cried because something was so hilarious I couldn't catch my breath. I've cried because I've been so happy I couldn't contain all the happiness inside of me. I've cried because I've heard or seen or experienced something so beautiful it made me ache.
And if I cry at all of this, clearly angels must have similar feelings. Just because they're crying doesn't necessarily mean they're sad.
Rain is gorgeous. I have danced in the rain...
[source: writerscafe.org]
And I have laughed in the rain...
[source: devian art]
But I have not been kissed in the rain...
[source: getty images]
...yet. But hey, a girl can hope :)
So appreciate the rain, my dears. Listen to the music it makes. Let the angels cry.
Much love.
PS: fiftieth post!
2.23.2011
the maternal friend
My friends never get tired of reminding me that I act too much like a mom, because I say things like...
I also worry about my friends so much more than they realize.
I wish for them at 11:11 every night, hoping that whatever issue they're working through or endevour they're starting will turn out for the best; I'm paranoid that I heard some shred of unhappiness in their voice, terrified that there's something wrong and they're not telling me what it is.
I can deal with my own emotional turbulence, but I hate seeing my friends in any kind of bad mood. Their mental welfare is far more important to me than my own. I can't defend myself against a shouted parental diatribe, but I will never sit by and let anybody critisize my friends, parents included.
My friends are my entire world. I worry about them and love them to the point of insanity and I cannot forgive myself when I let them down. They are truly amazing people, every last one of them, and they deserve far better advice than I'm capable of giving them.
I am the maternal friend--I know it, I've accepted it, I own it. It's the best way I know how to express how much I care about, how much I worry about my friends.
So, darlings, remember that I love you. And go help your mother clean the kitchen.
- eat three more bites of your salad. then you can throw it away.
- get off facebook and brush your teeth.
- your parents paid good money for that, don't waste it.
- don't leave the water running.
- put your plate in the sink.
- you're not supposed to mix colors and whites.
- promise me you'll do your homework?
I also worry about my friends so much more than they realize.
I wish for them at 11:11 every night, hoping that whatever issue they're working through or endevour they're starting will turn out for the best; I'm paranoid that I heard some shred of unhappiness in their voice, terrified that there's something wrong and they're not telling me what it is.
I can deal with my own emotional turbulence, but I hate seeing my friends in any kind of bad mood. Their mental welfare is far more important to me than my own. I can't defend myself against a shouted parental diatribe, but I will never sit by and let anybody critisize my friends, parents included.
My friends are my entire world. I worry about them and love them to the point of insanity and I cannot forgive myself when I let them down. They are truly amazing people, every last one of them, and they deserve far better advice than I'm capable of giving them.
I am the maternal friend--I know it, I've accepted it, I own it. It's the best way I know how to express how much I care about, how much I worry about my friends.
So, darlings, remember that I love you. And go help your mother clean the kitchen.
2.22.2011
top ten things my friends do when they're bored
- go on facebook lurking sprees. admit it, you do it too.
- stumble. so. addicting. look forward to a post featuring some of the treasures I've found.
- refuse to change out of their pajamas for two straight days. I'm looking at you, J.
- sing along to songs or start reciting a memorized movie. "Where is the Love" by the Black Eyed Peas, Youtube raps and "The Parent Trap" are popular favorites.
- sing twenty-minute stories about nature and ice cream cones over the phone. I hung up because I couldn't take it anymore.
- watch iCarly slash Drake and Josh. I miss Drake and Josh.
- watch youtube videos about cats. don't understand the attraction there.
- plan out elaborate weddings, names of future children and decide where they're going to live as adults. there's something strangely tempting about the future.
- talk about Pokemon. fifteen years old and talking about Squirtle? Nah, we're not losers.
- when all else fails, EAT.
great expectations
Yesterday I finished trudging through Great Expectations By Charles Dickens.
Perhaps "trudge" is too unkind a word. It was a challenging read, and I haven't read anything very challenging for a good while now, so it was an adjustment for me. It's not a mindless book--you can't just la-de-da your way through it, you have to actively think and work to keep up with the plot, which is mad hard to summarize, but involves a boy named Pip and his many adventures through the social structure of early nineteenth century England.
The one thing I really loved about this novel was Dickens' writing style. There's something Shakespearean and poetic about the way he creates moods and characters and scenes with handful of old-fashioned, classy words. You get lost in his descriptions, attached to his characters.
You also get annoyed because the story drags on for approximately fourteen years, but in the long run, it's worth the read. It is a classic, after all, and for a good reason. Books don't survive for one hundred and fifty years if they're terrible.
"I'll tell you...what real love is. It is blind devotion, unquestioning self-humiliation, utter submission, trust and belief against yourself and against the whole world, giving up your whole heart and soul to the smiter--as I did!"
"As to forming any plan for the future, I could as soon have formed an elephant."
"You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read...you have been in every prospect I have ever seen...You have been the embodiment of every graceful fantasy that my mind has ever become acquainted with."
Beautiful, huh?
Perhaps "trudge" is too unkind a word. It was a challenging read, and I haven't read anything very challenging for a good while now, so it was an adjustment for me. It's not a mindless book--you can't just la-de-da your way through it, you have to actively think and work to keep up with the plot, which is mad hard to summarize, but involves a boy named Pip and his many adventures through the social structure of early nineteenth century England.
The one thing I really loved about this novel was Dickens' writing style. There's something Shakespearean and poetic about the way he creates moods and characters and scenes with handful of old-fashioned, classy words. You get lost in his descriptions, attached to his characters.
You also get annoyed because the story drags on for approximately fourteen years, but in the long run, it's worth the read. It is a classic, after all, and for a good reason. Books don't survive for one hundred and fifty years if they're terrible.
"I'll tell you...what real love is. It is blind devotion, unquestioning self-humiliation, utter submission, trust and belief against yourself and against the whole world, giving up your whole heart and soul to the smiter--as I did!"
"As to forming any plan for the future, I could as soon have formed an elephant."
"You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read...you have been in every prospect I have ever seen...You have been the embodiment of every graceful fantasy that my mind has ever become acquainted with."
Beautiful, huh?
2.21.2011
cupid career
I've henceforth decided that being single is not so terrible, because matchmaking is so ridiculously fun.
I did some pairing last night with two friends and it went splendidly.
My Cupid career thus far is 2 for 2, and I've got a great feeling about my two lovely friends AC & CG.
I did some pairing last night with two friends and it went splendidly.
My Cupid career thus far is 2 for 2, and I've got a great feeling about my two lovely friends AC & CG.
2.17.2011
tiny teddy bears
Once upon a time, I was a chubby little redhead entering the third grade. I had a surplus of Capri pants and an unhealthy fear of getting in trouble. I sat next to a brunette with crooked teeth, pink Merrel shoes and so much musical talent it practically leaked out of her ears.
Our first playdate (wow, it's been a long time since I used that word) was sometime during the fall of 2004. I went over her house, climbed her sturdy scarlet tree house, drank lemonade and made a snow globe out of glitter, red plastic beads, a heart-shaped glass jar and a little silver teddy bear.
Apparently, tiny teddy bears form bonds that cannot be broken, because immediately thereafter we became best friends and proceeded to draw each other pictures nearly every day for the rest of the third grade. My favorite is still taped up on my bedroom wall--a rose drawn in Sharpie with T E S S carefully scripted beside it.
We went through phases as our friendship matured--in fifth grade, it was writing cheesy romance stories at recess and using studded shoulder bags. In seventh, it was bat mitzvahs. Now, it's apples with peanut butter, life lessons learned from English class, guys and constant sleep deprivation.
We finish each other's sentences and complain about life and share secrets, clothes and families. I trust her more than I trust anyone else I know, and she understands me, even when I don't make sense. She assures me I'm not totally whacked whenever I feel like my emotions are getting the best of me and always there to pull me out of my chronic low self-esteem attacks. We can be weird--and I mean W.E.I.R.D.--around each other, we can be stupid and loud and crazy and three seconds later start discussing our future careers and physcoanyalzing ourselves and our friends.
I never have to try with her. I never have to worry about being offensive or looking gross or acting bizarre.
I say I love my friends pretty much every day, and I mean it with all of my heart. But the friend who gets me best is the one and only M&M. Laaaave ya girl.
Our first playdate (wow, it's been a long time since I used that word) was sometime during the fall of 2004. I went over her house, climbed her sturdy scarlet tree house, drank lemonade and made a snow globe out of glitter, red plastic beads, a heart-shaped glass jar and a little silver teddy bear.
Apparently, tiny teddy bears form bonds that cannot be broken, because immediately thereafter we became best friends and proceeded to draw each other pictures nearly every day for the rest of the third grade. My favorite is still taped up on my bedroom wall--a rose drawn in Sharpie with T E S S carefully scripted beside it.
We went through phases as our friendship matured--in fifth grade, it was writing cheesy romance stories at recess and using studded shoulder bags. In seventh, it was bat mitzvahs. Now, it's apples with peanut butter, life lessons learned from English class, guys and constant sleep deprivation.
We finish each other's sentences and complain about life and share secrets, clothes and families. I trust her more than I trust anyone else I know, and she understands me, even when I don't make sense. She assures me I'm not totally whacked whenever I feel like my emotions are getting the best of me and always there to pull me out of my chronic low self-esteem attacks. We can be weird--and I mean W.E.I.R.D.--around each other, we can be stupid and loud and crazy and three seconds later start discussing our future careers and physcoanyalzing ourselves and our friends.
I never have to try with her. I never have to worry about being offensive or looking gross or acting bizarre.
I say I love my friends pretty much every day, and I mean it with all of my heart. But the friend who gets me best is the one and only M&M. Laaaave ya girl.
2.16.2011
fairhaven (day 13)
Name a place you'd like to move to or visit.
I realized I've been abandoning my blog challenge recently, so this is me getting back on track.
Most of my friends seem to want to live in California, with the sun and the sand. I would not bode well in California--firstly, I am an Irish redhead. The sun doesn't like me and I don't like the sun. I'd probably get skin cancer three seconds after stepping off the plane. Second, the idea of earthquakes freaks me out something fierce. Third, I need snow during Christmas. Fourth, I am way too attached to Massachusetts and New England.
This past summer (read: the best summer of my life), I went to visit a family friend who owns a summer house in Fairhaven, Mass. And oh God, I fell in love.
It's a beautiful, quaint town, settled right next to New Bedford and the water. The high school and the church are adorned with stained glass and the cathedral in New Bedford lights up at night, making for a very pretty skyline. Some of the streets are cobble stoned and the houses are the classic, old-school Colonial style that I have an affinity for.
Maybe it was just the summer atmosphere, maybe it was because I adore beach towns, maybe it was because I was going through a playing house regression phase and fantasizing about which house I was going to live in with the golden retriever puppy, the husband and the three kids, but Fairhaven struck me as an absolutely g o r g e o u s town and I would love to live there someday, with or without the golden retriever puppy, the husband and the three kids.
Sheesh. The future's scary, ain't it? But I guess that's what makes it exciting.
I realized I've been abandoning my blog challenge recently, so this is me getting back on track.
Most of my friends seem to want to live in California, with the sun and the sand. I would not bode well in California--firstly, I am an Irish redhead. The sun doesn't like me and I don't like the sun. I'd probably get skin cancer three seconds after stepping off the plane. Second, the idea of earthquakes freaks me out something fierce. Third, I need snow during Christmas. Fourth, I am way too attached to Massachusetts and New England.
This past summer (read: the best summer of my life), I went to visit a family friend who owns a summer house in Fairhaven, Mass. And oh God, I fell in love.
It's a beautiful, quaint town, settled right next to New Bedford and the water. The high school and the church are adorned with stained glass and the cathedral in New Bedford lights up at night, making for a very pretty skyline. Some of the streets are cobble stoned and the houses are the classic, old-school Colonial style that I have an affinity for.
Maybe it was just the summer atmosphere, maybe it was because I adore beach towns, maybe it was because I was going through a playing house regression phase and fantasizing about which house I was going to live in with the golden retriever puppy, the husband and the three kids, but Fairhaven struck me as an absolutely g o r g e o u s town and I would love to live there someday, with or without the golden retriever puppy, the husband and the three kids.
Sheesh. The future's scary, ain't it? But I guess that's what makes it exciting.
2.15.2011
top ten stress relievers
Another stressful week this time around. Friday cannot come soon enough.
- MUSIC. Honestly don't know what I'd do without music. See my de-stress playlist on the playlist tab.
- FRIENDS. iloveallofthemtodeath.
- CUPCAKES. Already ate one.
- MASSAGES. I have back problems, so I bully my little sister into rubbing my back. Damn my fifteen pound backpack.
- MOVIES. Preferably classic Disney.
- NAIL POLISH. I'm thinking green.
- PILLOWS. It's weird that I hug mine, right?
- HUGS. 'Nuff said.
- TAYLOR SWIFT. Because she has this weird obsession with me and lives in my head...
- RETAIL THERAPY. I went online window shopping. I want this and this.
2.14.2011
♥valentine♥
February fourteenth is pretty much the one day a year we can be totally gushy-melty-sappy and not get ridiculously ridiculed for it. In high school, it means roses being handed out during homeroom (the lovely Ari sent me a very pretty pink one and it made my day), oodles of PDA in the hallways, cute and childish stickers and lots of candy. It also means being reminded you're single every 4.7 seconds, but whatever, I get candy.
I know some people don't believe in love--personally, I find that insane. Love isn't a religion. It isn't a belief. It is crazy and painful and inexplicable and the most human emotion we have. Saying you don't believe in love is like saying you don't believe in happiness. Or puppies. Both of which are obviously real.
Love is just about as real as it gets, my dears.
But if I had to point to some sort of proof, if Valentine's Day were a social/scientific experiment and you needed test subjects to convince those non-believers, I'd volunteer my favorite couple, my best friend and my best guy friend. They're so damn adorable it makes you die. My best friend is an immensely talented and gorgeous brunette who frequently displays penguin-like tendencies. My best guy friend is a hilarious quesedilla enthusiast and a great listener.
And whenever he looks at her? You suddenly start believing in fairy tales again.
Because he looks at her like she's the only thing worth looking at. Like he'd be content with just staring at her forever. Like he's been blind his whole life and hadn't realized it until he saw her. Like he'd walk to Mars and back just to be with her.
The funny thing is, I'm pretty sure he would walk to Mars and back just to be with her.
My best friends gets this smile on her face whenever his name comes up in conversation, the type of look that you want to keep in a bottle because it's so sweet.
I've gotten pretty good at controlling my aaaaawwwwwwww reflex, but every once and a while I can't help it, which usually prompts an annoyed look and a "Shut up, Tess." Today, however, there was a whole mess of kids lurking on them as they exchanged valentines, and the aaaawwwwwww was pretty damn loud and pretty damn cute.
MM & JK, I love you both to death and I'm so happy both of you are happy. I can't think of two people who deserve it more than you guys do.
Aaaaand here's the fabulous Taylor Swift, with one of my favorite love songs. I was enchanted to meet you♥ For more love songs, mosey on over to the playlist tab.
I know some people don't believe in love--personally, I find that insane. Love isn't a religion. It isn't a belief. It is crazy and painful and inexplicable and the most human emotion we have. Saying you don't believe in love is like saying you don't believe in happiness. Or puppies. Both of which are obviously real.
Love is just about as real as it gets, my dears.
But if I had to point to some sort of proof, if Valentine's Day were a social/scientific experiment and you needed test subjects to convince those non-believers, I'd volunteer my favorite couple, my best friend and my best guy friend. They're so damn adorable it makes you die. My best friend is an immensely talented and gorgeous brunette who frequently displays penguin-like tendencies. My best guy friend is a hilarious quesedilla enthusiast and a great listener.
And whenever he looks at her? You suddenly start believing in fairy tales again.
Because he looks at her like she's the only thing worth looking at. Like he'd be content with just staring at her forever. Like he's been blind his whole life and hadn't realized it until he saw her. Like he'd walk to Mars and back just to be with her.
The funny thing is, I'm pretty sure he would walk to Mars and back just to be with her.
My best friends gets this smile on her face whenever his name comes up in conversation, the type of look that you want to keep in a bottle because it's so sweet.
I've gotten pretty good at controlling my aaaaawwwwwwww reflex, but every once and a while I can't help it, which usually prompts an annoyed look and a "Shut up, Tess." Today, however, there was a whole mess of kids lurking on them as they exchanged valentines, and the aaaawwwwwww was pretty damn loud and pretty damn cute.
MM & JK, I love you both to death and I'm so happy both of you are happy. I can't think of two people who deserve it more than you guys do.
Aaaaand here's the fabulous Taylor Swift, with one of my favorite love songs. I was enchanted to meet you♥ For more love songs, mosey on over to the playlist tab.
Happy Valentine's Day! Always remember, you are loved.
2.13.2011
self-therapy
Last night I wandered around Legacy Place with my best guy friend. We were both in bad moods and wanted to get lost for a few hours, so I suggested we go Valentine shopping for his girlfriend/my best friend.
It was freezing cold and we weren't smart enough to wear jackets. We made three or four laps around the entire square, had an impromptu dance party in a candy store and ran into our old Spanish teacher at Whole Foods. I also dragged him into Borders (he hated it and wanted to leave after maybe three minutes) and Victoria's Secret (just to see him squirm. It was so worth the weird looks from the saleslady).
While browsing 344 in hopes of finding some decent Valentine jewelry, we came across a table of KnockKnock pads and wasted ten minutes of our lives reading through them and laughing.
I bought myself this one...
...and promptly ripped it open and used the first sheet an hour after returning home, due to severe Valentine's Day depression.
The totally crazy thing about it? It actually made me feel better. I was so not expecting that.
Self-therapy for the win.
After the week I had, this cute little notebook was exactly what I needed.
Here's to better days and better moods. MWAH.
It was freezing cold and we weren't smart enough to wear jackets. We made three or four laps around the entire square, had an impromptu dance party in a candy store and ran into our old Spanish teacher at Whole Foods. I also dragged him into Borders (he hated it and wanted to leave after maybe three minutes) and Victoria's Secret (just to see him squirm. It was so worth the weird looks from the saleslady).
While browsing 344 in hopes of finding some decent Valentine jewelry, we came across a table of KnockKnock pads and wasted ten minutes of our lives reading through them and laughing.
I bought myself this one...
The totally crazy thing about it? It actually made me feel better. I was so not expecting that.
Self-therapy for the win.
After the week I had, this cute little notebook was exactly what I needed.
Here's to better days and better moods. MWAH.
2.09.2011
needham high
In light of recent events at my school, I am an emotional wreck. I'm still trying to figure out how and what I am feeling, as well as how I should cope. I can't tell you how I feel about Jake Borson or anything else that's happened this week (and trust me, plenty has) because I don't know myself.
That said, I wanted to express how much I love my school. I do not love school, in general (who does?) but I love my school. Every last one of my classmates--those I know and those I don't--spent the day grieving, comforting and remembering. There was a special, student-run meeting in the cafeteria to plan something in remembrance of him. Tragedy has brought our community together, and it has made me realize and appreciate how lucky I am to be a Rocket.
Needham High is a beautiful building...
...but the thing that makes my school special are the caring people that spend their days there.
We're going to get through this.
Iloveyouall ♥
[the pictures in this post actually belong to me. courtesy of photo class]
That said, I wanted to express how much I love my school. I do not love school, in general (who does?) but I love my school. Every last one of my classmates--those I know and those I don't--spent the day grieving, comforting and remembering. There was a special, student-run meeting in the cafeteria to plan something in remembrance of him. Tragedy has brought our community together, and it has made me realize and appreciate how lucky I am to be a Rocket.
Needham High is a beautiful building...
...but the thing that makes my school special are the caring people that spend their days there.
We're going to get through this.
Iloveyouall ♥
[the pictures in this post actually belong to me. courtesy of photo class]
2.08.2011
top ten reasons i'm looking forward to spring
...because I'm really starting to get sick of the weather.
- I will not constantly be drenching my Uggs in ice/rain/sleet/snow or whatever form of precipitation happens to grace us that day.
- I will be able to walk places again, because the sidewalks will be usable.
- I will not have to shovel. God, how I hate shoveling.
- I will not have to practically crawl down to my driveway because of all the ice.
- Flip flops.
- All the plants and flowers and trees are going to be crazy green this year, thanks to all the water they'll receive.
- I'll be able to make midnight visits to my thinking spot, ie my back porch roof. Right now it's covered in three feet of snow and ice.
- Buying my vanilla bean caramel Coolatta at Dunkin Donuts instead of the hot chocolate (don't get me wrong, the hot cocoa is great, but I'm starting to lust after Coolattas)
- Thunderstorms. I L O V E thunderstorms.
- Painting my room over April break! Right now it's beige, but I'm planning on a pretty little purple.
2.07.2011
fake happiness
Today I had to stop myself from crying in English class.
I shouldn't have been crying, because I don't even know him.
It scares me, how well people can fake happiness. How delicate a life is. How easily one person can affect others. Hell, it affected me and I've never talked to him.
I'm praying for him.
I shouldn't have been crying, because I don't even know him.
It scares me, how well people can fake happiness. How delicate a life is. How easily one person can affect others. Hell, it affected me and I've never talked to him.
I'm praying for him.
2.06.2011
moonlight mile
I've really reached the point of no return with my book obsession.
Last night, I bullied my mother into taking me to New England Mobile Book Fair. I have a love affair with this store--it has literally every book you've ever heard of and a couple thousand you haven't. You get lost wandering the aisles, and the books are supposedly sorted according to publisher (which is extremely inefficient and half the time, not even true), but it smells like paper and sells everything cheap and I absolutely adore it.
Long story short, I walked in with fifty-five dollars, promised myself I was only going to get two books, wound up spending my mother's patience and ninety bucks. Among my recently acquired collection is Moonlight Mile by Dennis Lehane, which I finished in five and a half hours (yes, I spent my Saturday night reading. Point of no return.)
This book is a sequel to the famous Gone Baby Gone, in which private investigators Patrick Kenzie and Angela Gennaro look into the disappears of four-year-old Amanda McCready and dive into the underworld of pedophiles, corrupt cops and kidnappings. Ultimately, Patrick's controversiall decision destroys his relationship with Angie and damages his belief that solid, honest parenting still exists.
In Moonlight Mile, Amanda McCready is sixteen years old with a beautifully bright Ivy future--until she disappears again. Patrick and Angie are struggling to pay bills and secure jobs for themselves, but feel obligated to search for this girl, one last time, because her case is the one that haunts them the most. They soon find out Amanda has made friends with some corrupt people and pissed off the Russian mob. Patrick and Angie realize they've bitten off more than they can chew. Again.
Dennis Lehane is one of those writers who creates books where you want to eat the words right off the page. I took a highlighter to mark my favorite passages, and here are some of them...
"It's stupid to believe in luck, but we do it every time we cross a busy street."
"It's amazing how fast a beautiful woman can turn a guy's mind to lint storage. Simply by being a beautiful woman."
"Marry an Irish temper to an Italian temper and you get broken dishes."
"As much as I love my daughter, I will never love her squealing. Maybe I will, though. Maybe I do."
^I might be a few words off, this is strictly from memory.
Dennis Lehane books are, plainly put, addictive. Please go read them. That's all. MWAH
Last night, I bullied my mother into taking me to New England Mobile Book Fair. I have a love affair with this store--it has literally every book you've ever heard of and a couple thousand you haven't. You get lost wandering the aisles, and the books are supposedly sorted according to publisher (which is extremely inefficient and half the time, not even true), but it smells like paper and sells everything cheap and I absolutely adore it.
Long story short, I walked in with fifty-five dollars, promised myself I was only going to get two books, wound up spending my mother's patience and ninety bucks. Among my recently acquired collection is Moonlight Mile by Dennis Lehane, which I finished in five and a half hours (yes, I spent my Saturday night reading. Point of no return.)
This book is a sequel to the famous Gone Baby Gone, in which private investigators Patrick Kenzie and Angela Gennaro look into the disappears of four-year-old Amanda McCready and dive into the underworld of pedophiles, corrupt cops and kidnappings. Ultimately, Patrick's controversiall decision destroys his relationship with Angie and damages his belief that solid, honest parenting still exists.
In Moonlight Mile, Amanda McCready is sixteen years old with a beautifully bright Ivy future--until she disappears again. Patrick and Angie are struggling to pay bills and secure jobs for themselves, but feel obligated to search for this girl, one last time, because her case is the one that haunts them the most. They soon find out Amanda has made friends with some corrupt people and pissed off the Russian mob. Patrick and Angie realize they've bitten off more than they can chew. Again.
Dennis Lehane is one of those writers who creates books where you want to eat the words right off the page. I took a highlighter to mark my favorite passages, and here are some of them...
"It's stupid to believe in luck, but we do it every time we cross a busy street."
"It's amazing how fast a beautiful woman can turn a guy's mind to lint storage. Simply by being a beautiful woman."
"Marry an Irish temper to an Italian temper and you get broken dishes."
"As much as I love my daughter, I will never love her squealing. Maybe I will, though. Maybe I do."
^I might be a few words off, this is strictly from memory.
Dennis Lehane books are, plainly put, addictive. Please go read them. That's all. MWAH
2.03.2011
"like"
*English geek warning*
The word "like" has probably been around in the English language for a very long time. Theoretically, it is used to compare two similar things ("This cake tastes like dirt") or to express genuine pleasure ("I like turtles").
Except the word "like" is now so overused that half the time, we don't even realize we say it.
Example A: today's history class
"So, like, the Chinese Golden Age was, like, this period in ancient China were, like, they farmed this new type of rice and it, like, grew faster than the other types of rice so, like, their population boosted."
No, really, I'm dead serious. Read that sentence out loud to yourself and marvel at the total ridiculousness of it.
The saddest and strangest part of it is that everyone talks like this. I do. You do. The only reason I'm even conscious of this is because my cousin was very nearly trained out of it by her father, because he charged her a penny every time she said it unnecessarily and she took it upon herself to attempt to train me out of it using the same method.
It almost worked. I'm not cured, but I have this twisted notion of trying again. Wish me luck, because chances are I'll fail miserably.
The word "like" has probably been around in the English language for a very long time. Theoretically, it is used to compare two similar things ("This cake tastes like dirt") or to express genuine pleasure ("I like turtles").
Except the word "like" is now so overused that half the time, we don't even realize we say it.
Example A: today's history class
"So, like, the Chinese Golden Age was, like, this period in ancient China were, like, they farmed this new type of rice and it, like, grew faster than the other types of rice so, like, their population boosted."
No, really, I'm dead serious. Read that sentence out loud to yourself and marvel at the total ridiculousness of it.
The saddest and strangest part of it is that everyone talks like this. I do. You do. The only reason I'm even conscious of this is because my cousin was very nearly trained out of it by her father, because he charged her a penny every time she said it unnecessarily and she took it upon herself to attempt to train me out of it using the same method.
It almost worked. I'm not cured, but I have this twisted notion of trying again. Wish me luck, because chances are I'll fail miserably.
2.01.2011
pointing out the obvious (day 12)
My day in bullets! How exciting (not)...
More snow tomorrow, enjoy it. MWAH.
- overslept for half an hour, much to parental chagrin
- threw on some rag-tag outfit featuring my favorite over-sized sweatpants
- inhaled air for breakfast, followed by some mint gum
- enjoyed my long block English and Photo classes
- learned that LifeSavers have 2 grams of protein per serving
- roamed around the cafeteria and ate other people's food.
- took on the role of "gum dealer" in bio
- struggled and slacked through Spanish and gym
- admired slash complained about the snow, inspected sweatshirt and friend's sleeves for perfectly shaped snowflakes
- took numerous excursions to drop off said friends, shovel some old woman's driveway and attempt to buy iTunes gift card at CVS.
- helped little brother with his multiplication homework
- procrastinated doing homework by blogging. Story of my life.
- found out tomorrow is a snow day and proceeded to thank Jesus in a loud manner.
More snow tomorrow, enjoy it. MWAH.
top ten tuesdays and other updates
As I'm sure you've noticed, I messed around with the format of my little blog. It struck me the old one was sometimes hard to read with the drastic black and red color theme--hence, the crisp, clear blue-and-beige. It's much easier to read but I'm not loving it, so if you're shrewd enough to spot other changes, don't be surprised.
On another note, I'm going to start posting some of my top ten lists every Tuesday. I got the idea from Much Love Mondays, only I am so not a Monday person and I feel that Tuesdays are often neglected because of their total mediocrity. And I have a lot of top ten lists, such as this one (I am a list-making fiend).
ten cutest things i have ever seen
On another note, I'm going to start posting some of my top ten lists every Tuesday. I got the idea from Much Love Mondays, only I am so not a Monday person and I feel that Tuesdays are often neglected because of their total mediocrity. And I have a lot of top ten lists, such as this one (I am a list-making fiend).
- A junior couple walking down the hall during homeroom last week. The girl did that fluttery hand thing, accidentally-on-purpose hitting his arm with hers until he took her hand and smiled. It was extremely ordinary and adorable and I must have looked like a bonafide freak, grinning to myself while strolling into the bathroom.
- Pretty much any story on LGMH
- That bottle necklace on Etsy with the lyrics from a Coldplay song. Sigh.
- How my best guy friend acts around his senior sister. They hold hands and hug in public and tell each other secrets at 2 AM. He shares social stories with her and she takes his clothes. It's too freaking cute.
- I trolloped (is that even a word?) over to Medway last snow day to visit cousins and aunts and such and we passed two snow people dressed as bride and groom, holding hands outside of a teeny little Cape style house. A little Volvo was parked in the driveway, the soup cans tied to the bumper just barely visible in the snow.
- The way my best guy friend looks at my best friend. I'm going to compare it to this picture. I swear I didn't chose a Harry Potter picture on purpose. It just happened to fit nicely..
[source: here]
- a sunflower farm in Connecticut. I played hide-and-seek with my cousins in the rows. We got lost. The flowers were killer cute. You wanted to bury your face in them.
- The seven-year-old in my dance class who literally escaped from Munchkinland and covers it up by pretending to hail from Natick. She doesn't have any front teeth but makes up for it by having seventeen million freckles on her face.
- The guys' swim team. This sounds awkward, I know, but every single one of those boys thinks they're very macho and very cool. Plus, they do that cute little "whoooosh" thing whenever their teammates dive in...I know it's strange that I find this endearing. But I do.
- A picture of my brother and me circa mid-nineties. We're sitting on Santa's lap. Santa looks a little out of it. I look a little skeptical. My brother looks like he enjoys munching on his own fingers. Oh look I found it. Sorry for the terrible quality, it was taken with a webcam.
weren't we pretty? ...what happened?
Cross your fingers for me--we're hoping for another snow day tomorrow and I need the sleep something fierce.
PS format suggestions are welcomed. Thank you! :)
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