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).