Kind of

Birthday parties are so stupid. I mean, come on. What's the real point? To thank someone for consuming massive amounts of resources for another whole year? If anything, parents should get a birthday party once a year on the birth date of each child, thrown by the child, to thank them for dealing with him/her, and to thank the mother for taking the time to push him/her into the world.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PeisOV4FAWw

if Rachel Maddow's commentary is too annyoing for you, just youtube search "BBC shagged by a rare parrot" and you'll come up with the right video

I was cleaning out my old flash drive and I found this. I think I wrote it five or six years ago...

I dunno. I found it amusing, so I figured I'd post it up here. (I think it was supposed to be an intro to a story, but I don't recall what the story was. The first few sentences are stupid, but it gets better...but I'm not very subtle haha.
Here goes:

It is a very strange thing to pour your heart and soul into a meaningless scrap of paper. Honestly, it’s entirely ridiculous. And yet we as humans do it all the time. For some it is a diary or journal, for others it is a beautiful piece of art, and for few it might be a series of long and complicated math equations written on a coffee-stained napkin. But this is not the case with me. I’ll tell you what it is, but you have to promise not to laugh. You must promise me you won’t laugh. Look, I’ve even prepared a little statement sort of thing for you to sign. If you don’t sign it and read on anyway, the CIA will come after you and blow you up so your green insides pulsate on the pages. Actually, I lied. I do that a lot. What if I’m lying now? To be safe you should sign it anyway.

 

I, the undersigned, promise not to laugh at the kind person who is so generously telling me this riveting story. If Abbi weren’t so nice and kind and generous and if she weren’t the best person in the whole world I wouldn’t be reading this. Yeah, she’s just so darned fantastic.

 

X______________________

 

Thank you very much for signing that, it was real nice of you. I’m not like that though. I mean, I’m actually kind of a jerk. I’m kind of a paranoid-annoying-lying-jerk. Nobody really likes me because I’m so awful, so I have no friends. I have a lot of free time too, so I’m writing this memoir. I’m rereading it and it’s kind of pathetic, but oh well. Deal with it.

Anyway, I pour my heart into little, colored, paper stars. I write my wishes inside of them.

There you go.

You’re laughing.

I can see you laughing at me.

Even if you’re not laughing out loud, I can see you laughing at me on the inside.

There’s a mean smile on your face and your eyes are content because you’re thinking that I’m more of a loser than you.

If you don’t believe me go look in a mirror, you’ll see it.

I’m a loser.

That’s not true though.

Who’s the one reading a book about pathetic me and feeling good about it?

You’re a loser.

Anyway, I write my wishes in little, colored, paper stars that I fold myself and collect them in one of those big, plastic pretzel tubs. When the tub gets full then I’m going to dump them all out into the Valentine’s bonfire and watch all my wants disappear. If you think it’s stupid, go ahead and think it’s stupid. But only stupid people think things are stupid. You’re stupid. I’m stupid. We’re all stupid! Let’s have a party. Woohoo!

It is stupid. And it will never work. Burning things doesn’t make them go away, but I can still pretend. Pretending is nice. Pretending is the opposite of me. I am real; as are puppies and kittens and cotton and the guts the CIA just splattered all over your book.

 

            Actually, I didn’t want the CIA to blow you up. I’m sorry they did that.

Chilling. Definitely.

This weekend I ended up "hitting the road" and I was absolutely miserable. I spent yesterday in the Hamptons hoping to have fun at a party, but it consisted of drunk adults who didn't want to talk to me and I ended up panicking about the state of my homework and almost crying.

On the flip side, I met the #4 boxer in the world. He was exuberant, but not overly interesting. Actually, he was kind of irritating. Very energetic and self-centered. It seemed as if all he could talk about was himself, and any other subject was utterly boring and repulsive.


must get back to homework
(I felt the need to waste time and get away from the overwhelming misery that's plaguing me, even though it was oly a momentary escape. :'(  )

"Sleep Like a Wide Open Window" by morning...

They're a local band that I absolutely adore. They're got a facebook page with a few demos on it, a myspace with demos, and a website (which i can't remember the name of right now) with demos too.

Check them out?

http://www.facebook.com/morningband?ref=ts
http://www.morningband.com
http://www.myspace.com/morningnj

Last night, I realized that my primary goal in life is to be respected or esteemed. (like a ton of other people, probably)

I mean, this is why I get take everything so personally and get offended by sarcastic strangers. I feel as if they've already judged me and disrespect me for one reason or another, so I engage in this ridiculous emotional engagement with someone I'm not at all attached to.

My desire for respect is also what makes me something of a ... for lack of a better term ... praise-whore. I would probably sell my soul if I could just be acknowledged and thought worthy and excellent. It's why I pour so much effort into everything: I love being told how great I am.

For instance, I just got an email from an old history teacher of mine (I initiated the conversation by telling him how he influenced my world view, so this isn't out of left field or anything) that said, "It has made my day (probably my month) to know that I have had an impact on your world view as I consider you the most brilliant student I have taught in my very short career, and I say that with no hesitation."

When I read that, I just about died of fulfillment and pleasure.

It's nice to know that I finally know what I want...now I just have to choose a career in which I can achieve it.

Me: Those aren't circles! Those are lines!

George: That's cuz circles means lines. DUH!!!!!

Spoke to Mark the other day. Whatever we could have had has died, and I see that (especially now that I've realized that he's boring. I mean, he's so safe. I'd never have any fun with him because he'd be all "no, we can't go explore the mountains on a whim (or some other adventurous thing) because (insert stuffy reason here)").

hooray for getting over stuff
now to go finish King Lear

School ended a little over a week ago, and I've been having the time of my life.

I have discovered that the perfect time for swimming is between 8 and 11. A lake is better, but a pool works too. I think it was last Friday. . . in any case, Amanda, Sasha, and I walked a mile and a half to Erskine Lake around 8ish to go swimming.

The water was so dark, almost like a horror movie, you know? I guess I should have been a little wary considering that there were no lifeguards around to save me or something, but I wasn't. Having friends there made me reckless and bold. I love it.

The sky that night looked like it mirrored the lake. Clouds spread out from the horizon, forming something like a shoreline. They thinned and faded into a clear pool of purple at the zenith, and stars splashed across the sky. Steam was rising off of the water into the cooler night air, and light from the streetlights was caught in it, forming a glowing layer above the surface. I don't know, I just felt so at peace and alive there.

It turned out that one of our friends was having a graduation party there, so they joined us after about an hour. I ended up talking to Matt about the future while we swam, how he's been at peace with his stay in suburbia ever since he got accepted to college. He reasons: that was the next step, and if he's made it there (to an ivy, no less) he must have done something right even though he wishes he could have done more. I love talking to that kid. He's crazy intelligent and really nice and really involving. And I always learn from him, about science or philosophy or sports or something. Last night we were texting until 1:30 AM about the nature of time, the human psyche, art, and law. Ha. . .it kind of disintegrated into playful banter near the end, but it was fun.

Oh! And also last night I had a little reunion with my guard friends at Nicole's surprise birthday party. I made her chocolate covered pretzels, milk chocolate covered raspberries, and white chocolate covered blueberries. She loved them. And the raspberries: amazing. I highly recommend them. We all swam in Shelley's pool at night. Not as fun as the lake, I think because it lacked that mystery and also because I didn't really have anything to say. I guess we drifted apart . . . I don't know. Whatever. It was fun anyway.




Haven't spoken to Mark since prom even though I've called him three times and attempted to facebook him. Don't know what's up with that. Maybe he's trying to avoid me so he can go into the seminary more easily. Whatever. It turned out that we had no chemistry and can't really talk to each other. He's too stuffy; when I joke around he tenses up and refuses to participate. Then it's awkward.





Let's see. . . what else has happened. . .

Ah, I've gone to two morning... concerts.

The first one was like a religious experience, I felt so relaxed and awake and happy afterwards. I was just alright with everything in the world, I wasn't stressing, I was just happy to have seen them perform and to be with people.

The second one was two nights ago, and it wasn't quite as awesome. ((Primarily because they changed my favorite song by them, for the worse....but whatever. it's their art.)) A ton of other bands played, though, and I played a ton of war and egyptian ratscrew with Dani, the friend I brought along with me. Fun.



My mom moved from Alaska to Florida.

LOL.





I've begun the college search, and it's overwhelming. I don't know what I want to do with my life. . .I don't know where I want to go . . . I don't even know what to look for. I mean, I've done all of the preliminary high school success stuff but what the hell am I supposed to do with it? I mean . . . I don't even know what I mean. I feel successful and ridiculous at the same time.

This is the most amusing song,
Ever.




My United States of Whatever - Sifl & Olly


but this version isn't complete
go listen to the whole version (follow the link)
it's better

I don't know why, but I feel so exhilarated right now



and now it's over

You know what kills me?
That it doesn't feel good to succeed, but that it hurts like a motherfucker to fail.

I took second place at districts.
want to know what that makes me?
first loser.


by one freaking touch
I'm so mad

Every election year, the schools try to get all of us super involved in the process and the debates. I mean, it's great that they're educating us and everything, but they go overboard on it and totally ruin it. Plus, we're almost all minors. So...it's not as if knowing all of this is going to help me much.
Anyway, for the whole school year until last week, I was spending all of first block on the election writing, editing or getting mad at the insubordinate staff of the school paper. ((they wold change everything around that I did and make it dumb, I mean, if it was actually good I wouldn't be mad at them, but they made everything really cutesy and crap)). Now, I'm writing a speech on McCain and the economy to perform tomorrow. On pyjama day.

How absurd.

I'm totally sick of this campaign. The school has been practically force-feeding me info.

School isn't all bad though. I get to go the bodies exhibit on Thursday, which makes me happy. It'll be cool to see the human body like that, and I'll get to see if I could stomach being a doctor and all of that good stuff.

Got to go write that speech.
*hug*

And I, mon ami, am not wasting my time.
What I love is devouring me alive and using my femur as a toothpick, but I love it.
Well, it's not really what I love, I suppose. It's more like, I'm doing all the schoolwork that I feel compelled to do and adding onto that what I love (fencing).

I don't quite know what to say.
But I felt obliged to write that.
not emotions right now, sorry
back to bio

♥

So, I'm up here in Alaska again. Yup.
I'm enjoying it a lot more than I did last year though. I think it's because I've just gotten over myself with the whole Mom situation going on. My subconscious has decided that it's not worth the energy freaking out, I've habituated to the whole loss-of-a-parent's-presence thing (hooray biology learning!!!!!)

It's about 50 degrees here every day, quite a change from the 80 degree Jersey weather. I don't know how much I like not being able to wear shorts and tank tops though...it's too early in the year for me to have to make the switch, I suppose.

Oh, and I sprained my ankle while running around in the Alaskan wilderness. I was on such a rush from experience how majestic and glorious the rivers, waterfalls, mountains, and spruce trees were that I was careless enough to slip on a rock. Yeah, I know, kind of lame.  But the tundra up here is just so gorgeous. The grass isn't the normal, lush green type. It's a crunchy, pale green. There are sparse pink and purple wildflowers that dot the open fields, and there are even a few honeybees up here. There are little waterfalls that shoot down the mountainsides all over the place. The larger waterfalls feed rivers that create these inland deltas, and the rivers are a waxy color because they're so full of silt from the mountain. And the mountains are so enormous. They jut up from the ground at sharp angles and have serrated peaks and edges (completely different from the rolling East Coast mountains). And the air is so crisp and clean,  I can actually breathe properly instead of half-suffocating on the New Jersey smog. It's an experience. I never expected that there would be waterfalls and flowers in Alaska, for some reason. I must have been under the impression that it's a barren wasteland up here all year round.

But, you know what drives me crazy?
There are no recycling plants here.

The people here grow up surrounded by the beauty of land and don't even make that minute attempt at slowing its destruction.

Everything here is kind of backwards though. Moderately uncivilized. Underage smoking and drinking are so common. Everyone lets their dogs run around unleashed and unchecked. There are so few laws that new ones are being written with almost every case, even the simple ones like custody laws and driving laws. (Though you can make a left turn on red onto a one way street, which is pretty neat).

Forgive the transition from description to whining, I just need to vent right now.

I have soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo *deep breath* oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo much summer reading to do :(.
Gah. I don't know how the hell I'm going to finish all of it by September. asdfjkl; I have 5 more LONG ASS chapters to outline and answer questions for in Bio, along with finishing and outlining An Inconvenient Truth. I have to write a paper and answer questions about Great Expectations and Pride and Prejudice for English. Then I've got to read, summarize, and answer questions for a book for US II.

Fack.

And fencing...ugh....I have no idea what I'm going to do about my ankle. I'm supposed to go fence at a club up here tomorrow. I'll just have to skip it. And with me being so overwhelmed right now, I don't make the effort to practice. My coach is going to slaughter me.

Guard is going to drive me crazy too. They're posting youtube videos of practice and I'm supposed to learn the routine I'll be missing while I'm away. I'm also supposed to be posting video responses of my work, but I don't have a camera that records video goddammit. So...I guess I just have to hope that I won't have many questions about anything that requires a visual explanation. Gar.


And I have no friends up here :(
The neighbor kid scares me a little bit....he's nice and everything but he's very rugged...and I guess I'm just not comfortable enough with this environment to try to break the stereotypes in my mind. I'll work on that when I'm less stressed...


I could rant some more, but I'm hungry. I'll write at you guys later.

So, basically, I was ROBBED of first place in the fencing tournament yesterday.

I had a CRAP director who wasn't paying attention to the bout at all. He didn't give me a point that I deserved when I ran the girl off the back of the strip AND he gave me a red card I didn't deserve. He claimed that I initiated a cor-a-cor (when you smash into the other fencer) but I did not. SHE was the one who ran into ME. I stopped the motion.

Oh well.

I got a silver medal as a consolation prize.

I'll deal with it, shit happens.


And my teammate brought his girlfriend to the tournament today. She didn't look pleased with me when we were talking, but whatevs. I'm pretty sure their relationship is over anyway, they just got into a fight. ((and he could definitely do better than her. I mean, he's a real gentleman, albeit a very proud one, and she's kind of...cold.))

OH
and
the guy sabre fencers at the games today were mostly really good-looking. Of course, I never ended up having more of a conversation than:

Me-- "Oh, hey, thanks for picking up my water bottle."
Him--"No problem, you looked like you had your hands full."
Me-- smile
random director guy-- "KIM and WALLACE. On the STRIP PLEASE"
Me--"I gotta go, bye"

and then I was kind of disappointed, so I beat the girl I was fencing 5-1 in 48 seconds. Huzzah.


wow
this journal is moderately disjointed today
oh well
so it goes


I'm leaving for my trip to Alaska on Tuesday, and I can't locate my birth certificate or student ID. Which means that I can't get onto the plane until I find those two documents. Ho hum. To tell you the honest truth, I would really rather not go. I mean, moose and scenery is cool and everything, but I don't know how well I'm going to be able to deal with mi madre. She drives me up the wall, and it's not normal mom stuff like, "Are you wearing clean underwear?" My mother does not give a damn about the state of my undergarments, thankyouverymuch. She's much rather pester me about my mental health and about whether or not I can cope with her being across the continent from me.

Which I am.

I pretty much figure that it would be a waste of life for me to get all upset about her being far away from me. She's never been close and she's never really acted like a mother figure to me. She's been more like a fond aunt, honestly. All in all, I'm totally okay with everything.

And yet, when I tell her this (well, the part about me being okay with this), she refuses to believe me. It's as if she WANTS me to have a problem with her so she can justify having a problem with herself. She's got a lot of guilt about leaving me when I was a littler kid, but, really, I'm FINE.

And I put all of my negative energy into positive pursuits, like fencing.

I wish that I could express in words what it feels like to fence, but I don't think my writing abilities are that great...

You can be a completely different person when you fence. You can be the nastiest bitch in the UNIVERSE, but once you step off that strip you can go back to being as effervescent and happy as ever. (Or, I do, at least). You can hit someone so hard that they bleed, and no one really holds it against you. You and your opponent can be the best of friends, even though you just completely destroyed them.  I suppose it must be a lot like any other sport, but I don't really know anything else well enough to say. In fencing, the adrenaline just courses through your veins and you do whatever it takes to score that touch. I

I just re-read that and it feels really lame. Oh well. Cest la vie.

Jesus, it's only 7:50 PM and it feels like 11:30. I need to get more sleep...

hooray for train-of-thought writing

I tried to do one of those at band camp, but it came out really lame. It ended up being about how I feel like I can't really relate to any of my friends because they just suck way too much. None of the kids that I get to hang out with regularly don't actually THINK about anything substantial. I mean, sure, their heads are full of boys and drama but I can't have a serious conversation with any of them. I can't TALK to them about the dimensions or philosophy or anything like that.

Damn. I think I might need to lower my expectations.

So, I'm going on a brief hiatus because I'm off to fencing camp in the morning.

Not really looking forward to it. (the whole "lack of familiar people" thing makes me uneasy)

But oh well.

Write to you eventually.

Nothing new has happened, except I've fostered the hope of meeting some really awesome people at camp.
So
ah
yeah


farewell

You know what's funny? It's funny that I'm actually posting to this journal more often that I figured out that good ol' dad can see what I do on the computer.

Ha.

I'm actually at my aunt and uncle's house this weekend. Dad's away in Baltimore, MD so I ended up here. Which is a good thing. I'm a lot more productive when I'm not home. I don't really know why. I've been working a lot harder on the pieces I'm supposed to be learning for piano, and I'm so close to being done with the Chopin and Bach preludes that I really wish I wasn't. I'm not looking forward to performing in a recital again, it's all so...fake. It's a congregation of parents in a chruch who've only shown up to see their own kids play. But they can't just listen and go home, they've got to sit through the entire day of amateur pianists. And it's not just a bunch of little kids playing London Bridge is Falling Down, although it does have a few. But it ranges from itty bitty kiddies to seniors in high school who play two sonatas apiece (a sonata is, like, 15 pages of music).

*cough*

anyway

I've been doing a lot of walking this weekend too. I walked to my piano teacher's house to take care of her cats (I'm getting paid, don't worry. I'm not a complete suck up) and then I walked all the way around the lake to my house to take care of MY cat. Dante was very pleased, and I think I depressed him when I left again. He just sat there in the hallway, staring at me as I closed the door and felt guilty.

OH
and I got bitten by a parakeet today.

See
my aunt has these parakeets. She started out with three, but now there are nine. They had a hell of a lot of fun and made babies. So now, there are 6 yellow birdies, 2 blue ones, and one white bird. The white one's kind of psychotic. She had one successful chick, but the 17 other eggs she laid never hatched and she tries to sit on all of them but she can't. And they smelled.

So today we got rid of them, and we moved the super super super horny male (who's the one that bit me, little bugger) into another cage with the other yellow male. I don't think they'll turn gay or anything, but even if they do they won't have any more yellow babies. NO MORE YELLOW BABIES. My aunt's hoping the blue ones will get together and have pretty blue chicks, but I don't think there should be any more bird breeding...there are all ready nine birds and one of the other females is sitting on three more eggs.

These birds are crazed.

It's a good thing people aren't this insane about copulating and having children...OH WAIT, they areeeee.

Oh well
the world will be overpopulated and we'll all die. Then the sex-crazed parakeets can take over the world.

I wonder, will it be a better place?

I think my dad watches where I go on the internet.

Which isn't all that terrible on the list of things parents have the ability to do to you, but it's rather depressing. Probably has something to do with not feeling trusted. Oh well. I get a lot of slack, so it's not a big deal I suppose.

Le sigh.

Anyway.
I guess I won't really be posting many of my thoughts here anymore, considering that I posted them here in the first place to keep them away from people in my everyday life such as him.

Sooooo, if you're reading this as I type it, Dad, thanks very much for spying on me :]
I appreciate it.