11:11 PM

make a wish.

My wish? that new year's didn't exist.

Why? because I don't want to start over new, fresh. I don't want the slate to be wiped clean of everything. I don't want this year to be part of the past. I don't even want to think about tomorrow.

Tomorrow. A brand new day, a brand new year. 2008. The only comforting thought that could possibly come from 2008--ew--is that in 2 days or left I'll see them. I'll be sitting in the same room as my friends, smiling, laughing. That's the only grand event of 2008 that I can predict for the near future. Wait, there's only one more making a grand total of...2. The Taylor Swift concert--but I haven't even bought my ticket.

I want this year to keep going. This has--and I can say this with full honesty--been the best year of my life.

2007. it even consists of my two favorite numbers. It's no wonder that I had an amazing year. I've felt the happiest with my friends. I've actually been able to go to school and completely forget about the crap going on at my house.

There have been a few rough patches. Days where I've cried relentlessly. Points where my past has been dragged up, opening old wounds. Sure, those moments sucked. But the ones in between made it all worth it.

8th grade formal
Courtney's birthday
Caroline's birthday
Field day
Chloe's birthday
The Greek festival
Danielle's birthday
The day Amy moved out of my room

All of these have been amazing moments that past moments can't even compare to. I. Don't. Want. It. To end.

All I can think about right now, is the next few hours that I will spend, alone. On my own. I might have my mom and stepdad here, but I'll still be alone. I'll watch the ball drop, while in my mind I will be repeatedly saying, Stop. Stop. Freeze time. Don't reach the ground you stupid, moronic ball. Why are you doing this? STOP!

I'll be thinking about my cousin. my grandfather. my deceased grandmother. my dad.

I'll be thinking about how I'll have to deal with all of that next year. Next year that comes in 5 hours, 26 min, and 14 seconds.

The fireworks are already starting. I can hear them down the silent street, slowly multiplying, warning me that it's coming. Warning me that the new year looms over me, threatening me with the challenges to come. Challenges with my family, my classes, upholding my GPA, trying to get over not seeing some of my friends after the end of the semester.

I beg you, 2008, please don't come.

I really need to stay off the computer

I have one more post. Hopefully the last one for days. Hopefully, I'll be spending the next few days having an almost unbearable amount of fun. Hopefully, there will be so much laughing involved that everytime we breathe we are in pain from it. Hopefully, I'll get to spend the next few days with my best friends. But, until then...


drops of water on the pages
salt streaks on my cheeks
all are evidence to it
to my feeling for you

candy wrapper, chocolate smudges
stunning images, memorable words
never to be forgotten
in the midst of heartbreak

golden light through green leaves
illuminating every piece
unwordly glowing
I close my eyes tight

the words, the lyrics fly by
accompanying the musical eyes
haunting and lovely
glittering specks of every color

flash me a smile
bring me back to realization
as I replay what you said
and my legs give way

"I love you."


♥Heather

Sitting alone thinking about it all over coffee

There are so many thoughts racing through my mind right now. Jumbled up together in a giant mess of words and images.

So many things on my mind worrying me, exciting me. So many different responses to them all.

I need something to do to help me concentrate. Something to help me sort out all my thoughts into a steady streamline of sensicle babble instead of nonsensicle babble.

I wish I had a horse to groom or ride. Good music would help if it weren't for the fact I'd get so caught up in it that I would stop thinking about what I needed to.


I can't wait for the Taylor Swift concert on the 15th. I haven't gotten the tickets yet, I can't get ahold of Courtney, you're still gone, Caroline, and I can't get them on my own right now.

I hope Danielle and Chloe can go. I hope that I don't have anything to do for track on that day. That thought hadn't actually occured to me until just now. It's joining the others scrambling around in my head.


TWO WEEKS!! god, that's an awful thought. I know I said I was almost done, but since then, I haven't done anything. I haven't finished my portfolio. I'm completely stressing about getting in. I've been staring at the chapter I'm sending in for the last few days and I keep changing my mind about it. I don't want to change it. I do. I don't. I don't know. I probably shouldn't. It was my first instinct and you should always go with your first instinct...Ok, whatever. I'll put that aside and worry about something else.


I also keep drifting through the sea paper otherwise known as my bookshelf. I cleaned it out yesterday and I still don't have enough room for all my books. And I'm getting more. That's one of the things I've been thinking about. The Sweet Far Thing and how much I want it and how Walmart didn't have it and I haven't been able to go to Books-A-Million or Barnes and Noble to get it. Also thinking about Chosen, the third in the series I just read that's not coming out until March. Thinking about how I need it right now because the last one was just so devastatingly good and left the end open with something awfully and amazing and heart-wrenching and pure magic.

I need more books, but I don't have room for anymore.

This is fitting to be talking about because I am currently listening to Plenty of Paper by Eisley. It's an amazing song about a bookworm. I love it.


I think writing this helped me sort some things out.

♥Heather

((I don't like being seperated from the world like this))

never eating one of those...

We made a gingerbread house on Christmas Eve.

It was horrible.

The 'Ginger Kid'--yes, that is his name, not Gingerbread Kid, not Gingerbread Man, Ginger Kid--was on the roof about to commit suicide, the chimney was laid flat against the roof, the christmas tree--the only normal thing--looked awful, and the snowman was a giant glob of icing with scary, disturbing eyes.

Everything was together and then, it fell apart. The roof sides started sliding off, the Ginger Kid began to fall over, one side wall caved in, and the icing was all over the place.

We left it like that and poored all the extra candy inside the house through the extra-large opening on the side.

The icing tasted disgusting and so did all of the candy so we decided not to eat it.

We decided to blow it up--ok, that was my cousin's idea but we all joined in on it.

So, we went to get fireworks last night and we were going to take it to the beach, but not a single fireworks store from here to Myrtle Beach was open. Not one. So we had to give up on that idea for last night.

So this morning, while I was still asleep, they went to get some firecrackes and Black Cats. They started blowing up the Peeps and I heard it and it woke me up. Then my cousin comes running in my room screaming that we are going to blow up the gingerbread house.

We go outside and load it up with fireworks(all Black Cats) and light the fuse.

The house is indestructable. It doesn't even get a scratch on it. And we loaded it up. I'm talking almost 10 packs of them and each pack has at least 15 firecrackes in it. The only damage it sustained was a little burning and blackening.

We spent 3 hours trying to blow that thing up. We tried everything. We finally got it to soften enough to blow little chunks off of it.

And by the looks of it, I'm never, ever eating a gingerbread house again.

♥Heather

tell me your best Christmas story, please. I'm curious.

P.S. To see the video, go to YouTube. It's titled Indestructable Gingerbread House.
The member that added it is OctoberGirl47 (that's me)
And I sent it to everyone on my facebook friends list.
And I'm probably going to add it to myspace.

(Before and After pictures are soon coming)

I've been a lot of lonely places...

Currently bawling my eyes out on the inside. It's not that I had a bad day. It was actually pretty good. Amazing actually. There was just...something missing. Something off. Wrong.

I feel completely solitary, isolated. I've basically been holed-up in my room for the last 3 or so hours reading and writing and listening to my new MP3 player. The first few chapters of my book, to me, are completely heart-wrenching and make you feel completely small and unimportant in this world, while simaltaneously making you feel needed.

I cried almost all the way through the first 4 chapters. That's why I'm not crying now. I'm all cried out.

I love the book though. And maybe it's just me that would ever cry reading it. I don't know. I just did.

But the day has just been like that. Weird. Amy was crabby for like five minutes(usually it's longer) and then blah. Jack gave me the same speech about a billion times after my mom had already given me the speech about a million times. My Aunt and cousin fought(ok, so that's normal but I thought I put it in there). My uncle left, leaving my stepdad to bug me all day. We played the new Life game for the billionth time. I went to walmart and actually bought something.

It's just been a weird day. I hope everybody had a good christmas. I did.

♥Heather

every second counts

Cody
Libby
Katie
Hunter
Sean
Gayle
Will
Kristin
Betty
Bill
Margaret
Kelly
Krystal
Lauren



To you, these names may mean nothing. To me, a lot. They are my family. Some I've met, some I haven't. Some I will soon, some I will never. The ones I have met I will love forever. The ones I haven't I will hold a candle for forever. Some of them are visiting this week. I can't wait.


One is already here. It's exciting. Christmas is tomorrow and, for once, I'm not thinking about material things. Not about the presents, the food, the decorations. No, I'm thinking about my family. The guests to come. The smiles, the laughs, the overall feeling. I'm picturing Buffy, my grandma's dog, jumping around in the wrapping paper and bows, tearing off piece by piece.


I'm thinking about the days to come and the moments to be shared. Every second counts, and I plan on making it worth it. I'm planning on sharing every moment possible with someone.


What are you thinking about?



♥Heather

another poem

she said to her
"never let this end
make it go on forever
'till we're pale and cold

I don't want the time to come
of solitude and desolation
no time without the ones I have loved
right there beside me, every moment

the last should not come so soon
the first should be remembered always
but every one in between
are what makes it all worth it

the stories, the tales
the memories to come
shall not be forgotten
in all of the years

you are most important
I hope I am for you
because you will be there
the day I bond myself to someone else

the day my child is born
the day they go to school
the day they graduate
and last of all, the day I say my final goodbyes

my last will be to you"


so? Chloe says it's good, but I almost don't believe her...

Erik Night. god, vampires are cool...

Reading yet another vampire book. Or, to spell it like the book does, a vampyre book.

And there is, yet another, really, amazingly, heart-breakingly hot vampire.

And I am, yet again, falling in love with a fictional character. Sigh, I'm so pathetic.

His name is Erik Night.

So far he's not quite up to Edward Cullen standards (first off, he's had oral sex) but he's pretty damn amazing. And, of course, Zoey--the heroin--is in love with him. Already. After knowing him for all of about 2 seconds. And he stares at her. A lot. And even though she's different than most fledgeling vamps(yes they do say vamps excessively in the book) he doesn't gawk at her. He actually looks at her.

And I love all of her new friends. Especially Damien. Damien is awesome. And hilarious. And smart. And uses big words. I'm in love with him, too. Unfortunately, even if he was real, he'd never, ever, ever love me. If you read the book you'll know why.

And Zoey is really curious and afraid to say things in fear of offending the vampires which is funny because Bella is like that. And I love the descriptions. They're open-ended and allow more imagination. I love that.

But I'm sitting here, taking a break from reading the book, and still thinking about it. That's a sign of an amazing book. A good sign.

Read it.

It's called Marked.

It's part of a series and the second is already out, titled Betrayed, and the third is coming out soon.

I can't wait to finish this one and get to the next.

Vampires rule!

♥Heather

I would settle for Romeo and Juliet

State of loneliness

Wishing for something, anything to happen

Even someone tripping and breaking their leg, just something. Okay, so not something like that, but something.

Nothing new is going on in my house. I'm bored out of my mind.

Every other thought is either worry about getting into gov. school or about how blah I feel. I'm not happy, sad, ecstatic, crazy, hyper, anticipating, anxious, uncomfortable, sick, impish...
I'm not anything.

I almost wish that there was someone that I liked. Someone to think about. Something to wonder about.

This time last year, I was thinking about someone. Liking them. Wondering about the last exchange of words and actions between us on the last day before break. I was even dreaming about them. I never dream about anybody. Well, anybody except my friends or celebrities (like Daniel Radcliffe--that's another story). It's never a guy. Never a crush. Never anyone I have a particular interest in.

I want to have someone.

I have my best friends.

I have my other friends.

I have other people that are there for me.

I just want a him.

I want an Edward and Bella romance. A Bill and Fleur love. A Jaimie and Landon miracle. A Jesse and Winnie story. I want someone to love, and who loves me. I want a guy to call. I guy to hug.

I would even settle for an obsession like Piper for Charlie.

Just something. I want to have other things to do than sit at my computer and type blog entries for the rest of my life. I want to be so wrapped up in a guy that people think I dropped off the face of the earth because I stopped posting.

I haven't even felt anything towards anyone since my last him. That was last year. A really long time ago.

Screw this. I just need someone to notice me.

the sad realization...

Now that emilea decided to rejoin the world, I have come to a sad realization--it had already been realized just not so...largely? no. not the right word...oh well.

Why do fictional characters have to be so darn lovable. We've all fallen in love with at least one of them. In the case of most readers, it's a lot more than just one.

With me:
Kartik--Great and Terrible Beauty
Edward--Twilight Series
Ron--Harry Potter
Fred--" "
Charlie--" "
Bill--" "
George--" "
Hunter--Angels in Pink
August Rush--August Rush(that was an obvious one)
Louis Connelly--August Rush
Nix--Breathe My Name
Jesse--Tuck Everlasting
Landon--A Walk to Remember
Tom(my)--Pants on Fire

And so many more that have escaped my mind right now.

And tell me, haven't you? Fallen in love with a fictional character? Multiple times? Millions of times?

The sad part of this not-so-new realization is that they are fictional characters. They aren't real. And this truth is one of the most unfortunate I've heard in my life.

Besides coming to this conclusion, today I've

Had tons of fun, laughed way too much, said oompa loompa in a british accent about a billion times, eaten too many cookies and toffees and hershey's kisses and twixes and chips with salsa, given plenty of hugs, wished to recieve on from someone special, had an actual conversation with zac that lasted more than 30 seconds, and missed all my friends--just knowing that, unless we go shopping tomorrow, I won't see them for at least a week or so.

One of the best days since Disney World.

I love it.

♥Heather

it ends tonight

*Whew*

finally

It's over.

My governer's school application is complete. Ok, so not all of it, but the green part and the recommendations and most of the portfolio. That word just sounds so...so...formal!

But yea, glad that's over. All that I can do is done. All except for printing out my chapter, stapling it, labeling it, writing a 'clear statement' of how it relates to the projected novel, and putting it all in an envelope. All except for that seemingly long list that really isn't that much to do. It's all kind of one thing, just multiple things at the same time--wow, that makes a lot of sense...

I'm looking forward to other things being over. Things such as, the first in-person conversation with my long lost cousin(I'll probably want it to go on forever once it actually begins), my aunt's visit even though I miss seeing her, this week of school, Friday(I'll be thinking about how I'm missing out on Ashley's party), the Legend's In Concert thing that I'm going to tonight, Christmas shopping, the wait for City of Bones, the wait for Breaking Dawn(even thought that's still got almost 9 months left), the wait for the August Rush soundtrack and DVD, the wait for Christmas...all these things need to be over just like me doing my gov. school app.

That really is a long list. Maybe I should enjoy the moments that are here now instead of waiting for others to come and/or be over.

maybe I should stop analyzing stuff and setting up my career as a psychologist or psychiatrist...

Yea, I agree with the latter.

♥Heather

Savior--part 3

final post of my story/novel:

₪ ₪ ₪

I step over the threshold. The music is blaring. Everyone has at least one partner. Girl or boy, just someone. Some have more. I, however, am left in eternal solitude. Left to wander alone and just hear scraps of other people’s conversations and never to have my own.

One girl’s voice stands out to me as I walk past the stairs. She is saying, “You need a new purse I’m tired of that one.”

I miss what the girl she is talking to says but I can hear the first girl’s laugh. It carries through the air over the music.

Other pieces of conversations reach me. Three girls are standing by the refrigerator, talking fast about a trip they are going on in a week. I think they are going to Disney World. I wish I could go with them. Be a part of their group. I’ve never been to Disney World.

I turn the corner into the living room and see two girls who seem just as alone as I am, except together—if that makes sense. One is writing in a little notebook that she has just pulled out of her over-large bag and the other is sitting next to her reading and occasionally glancing at what the other is writing.

They might be nothing like me, but their solitude makes me feel connected to them somehow. At the same time, I know I’m nothing like them. They have each other. I’m left with no one.

I’m not usually interested in joining conversations with people I don’t know, but anybody would do right now.

I make it through the entire house—upstairs and down, front yard and back—one and a half times. I turn to go—

“Hi.”

Is he talking to me?

“Hello?”

God, he must be. He’s looking right at me. Looking right at me with those gorgeous golden-brown eyes. Now that I see them up close, I see that they look like caramel. They even look like they are melting.

“Hi,” I manage to mutter. He doesn’t hear me and I can tell he’s debating whether or not to leave.

“Hi,” I say louder. He hears this time. His eyes smile.

“I’m Charlie. Brown. Charlie Brown,” he says grinning. I can’t help but laugh.

“Well, my names nothing that great, but I think it’s something special. I’m Piper Sutton,” I say. I reach out and grab his outstretched hand. Nobody shakes hands anymore.

“Piper’s a good name. I think it’s special, too. Uncommon. Not common.” He repeats things a lot. It’s cute.

I find myself staring at his mouth when he talks. It turns out, his eyes aren’t his only amazing feature. The curve of his smile, the shape of his lips, the way his teeth fit together perfectly. They are all perfect.

And it’s surprisingly easy for me to talk to him. I’ve never been able to talk to a guy. Okay, so I’ve been able to talk to the outcasts that sit at my lunch table, but that’s different. They’re not hot guys. Not like him. Not like Charlie. Charlie. What a wonderful name.

“You go to Waccamaw, don’t you?” he asks, interrupting my thoughts about him. I don’t mind.

“Yea…unfortunately,” I say, sighing. He gives a little laugh.

“I know. I’ve been here for one day and I already hate it. Hate it. But it’s getting better every second.”

My heart flutters. I can’t breathe. I really can’t breathe. Someone bumps up against me and the air comes back into my lungs. But then, I fall into him and he catches me, and my breath is gone again.

His arms are so warm. I want to stay there forever, but he stands me back up. My face is hot, and, looking up into his eyes, I feel goose bumps crawl up my arms.

Take a deep breath.

I do. The new air is helping. It’s washing out the embarrassment. Slowly I become normal again. I can breathe. I’m not shaking anymore.

We continue talking for hours. I don’t actually leave the party until almost midnight. He drives me home since I don’t have a car and Anna left me. I would normally hate her right now, but I love her.

Sitting in his car is perfect. It feels right. The whole ride is comfortable—besides my unsteady heart—and much different from the ride to the party. He is much better than Anna.

Going home feels awful now, whereas before I met Charlie, it would have felt amazing. Charlie is my savior. I’ve never believed in love at first sight before, but it must be something similar to that feeling I had when I looked into his eyes. Something similar to seeing him. To seeing Charlie.


End of chapter. End of posts. Begging for comments. This is the one I'm sending in. I've decided.

♥Heather

not what I wanted to hear

I just read your blog, Caroline. I just read the bad things that happened/are happening to you and feel completely bad about causing part of it.

I feel like the worst friend. To you. To Courtney. To Allison. To Danielle. The only person I feel like I've been a good friend to recently is Chloe. And that's saying something because, before we got back from Disney, I hadn't had a real conversation with her in a long time. But, since we did get back, I've had real conversations with her. Note the plural conversations.

And I feel like I really haven't with any of the rest of you (excluding the one we had in Space Mountain).

And, once again, I feel like a bad friend.

And I feel like an even worse friend for thinking about something else as I write this. I'm not even thinking about something bad, just something hard.

I want the same thing as you. I want to spend every waking moment of my life knowing that I'll always have you guys. Knowing that you'll always be there and we'll always be friends. I want you guys to be my brides maids and you my maid of honor. I want my kids to grow up knowing you guys as second moms. I want to be old in a nursing home with all of you in the other room and have you guys walk through the door announcing that we are going to disney world and we are going to ride Rockin' Roller Coaster. I want to spend my last moments laughing with you guys and knowing that you love me. I want my last moments with you to be my very last moments. I don't want to spend my last moments without you wondering where you are. I don't want my last moments with you to be before my last moments on the earth. I don't want to last see you at our high-school reunion after many years of being seperated.

It doesn't sound stupid and cliche. It sounds perfect and us. I want it too.

I'm sorry. I love you. I hope tomorrow is better for you. I'll try to talk with Courtney. I'll comfort Allison(without telling her that I know, just comfort her when she's ready). I'll pay more attention to Danielle. I'll be a better friend.

♥Heather (signs off with tears welling up)

Savior--part two

ok, part two of the second chapter that is now titled as above. titled 'Savior'.
It hasn't been edited at all. just the regular spell check on Word.(I decided I was too lazy to edit it yet)
Please read and comment.
there will only be one post after this of my story unless I steal the separate blog idea which I don't think I will....

₪ ₪ ₪

My body is shaking. I’m rocking back and forth. No, someone else is shaking me, rocking me back and forth. I’ve been sleeping. My consciousness is just spurring into action.

I remember. I fell asleep on the bench. On my bench, and missed fourth block. But I’m not on the bench. I don’t feel the cold, black metal bars on my back. I’m not even sitting up. I’m in my bed, covers wrapped tightly around me. I had to have come home and gone to sleep. Yea, that’s it.

Anna’s hands are the ones shaking me.

“Wake up,” she says.

I groan and open my eyes. My eyes focus only enough to read the bright, gleaming red numbers of my alarm clock. 5:32. I can’t see anything other than that. 5:32. I shake off the covers and walk blindly into my bathroom. I grip the sink and look into the mirror. My vision finally clears and I see the red splotches on my face. They are a great contrast to the rest of my skin.

I unclench my fingers from the sink and turn on the faucet. I splash the icy water on my face. My senses become more alert. My hand stretches out, elbow stiff, to grab the last towel on the shelf and I dry off my face.

I make my way back to my bed and slump down on the warm covers. Tap. Tap. Tap. Anna taps her foot on the hardwood floor. Tap. Tap. Tap. Won’t she just stop? Tap. Tap! TAP!

“What?” I ask, jerking my head towards her and almost shouting.

She shrinks back form the unexpected response, then regains her composure.

“Oh, nothing. I was just wondering why you weren’t getting ready for the party…” She says in her perfect taunting, sing-song voice.

“I’ve got an hour and a half!” Besides, why get ready for a party I don’t want to go to?”

“You obviously have no idea how much work it takes to prepare for a party.”

“Ugh.” She disgusts me. “Leave.”

“Fine. Whatever.” she says, walking out the door into the hallway.

I jump up from my bed and slam the door shut. I hear the muffled sound of her saying “cranky…” from the other side of the closed door. I stand there, fuming and trying to calm down. Once I’ve done so, I grab a towel from the laundry I haven’t folded yet, and go back into the bathroom. I hang the towel on the hook, take down my ponytail, and begin brushing my stubborn blonde hair. As I look in the mirror, I realize he’ll never remember me. I’m to plain and ordinary for him.

Once I’m out of the shower and dressed, I blow-dry my hair. It doesn’t take long for it to dry, but it does take a long time to make it not look bad(I’m unsuccessful and give up after almost thirty minutes).

I still have nearly forty-five minutes left until the party so I go over to my bookcase and pull out a battered and torn copy of Pride and Prejudice that I’ve read about a thousand times. I open to the first page and start reading as I walk slowly back to my bed where I plop down and wait.

By the time Anna is done staring at herself in the mirror, doing her makeup and perfecting her already perfect hair, I’ve finished half of the book. She walks in and starts yelling at me.

“What are you doing reading? We should be leaving in a few minutes. And…oh my god…you’re wearing that?” She rolls her eyes and runs over to my closet. She tears through the clothes, looking for something ‘suitable’.

I look down at my clothes. Dark jeans and a gray camisole and sweater. What’s wrong with what I’m wearing? I look up at Anna, still digging through my closet, throwing out clothes she thinks are hideous—she throws out most of them. She’s wearing a pink and white striped blouse and a mini skirt. Oh, now I know what’s wrong with mine. It’s not preppy and girly.


I refuse all the options Anna gives me, so she reluctantly leaves the room to get her car keys. It’s been fifteen minutes and so we leave way later than she wanted us to. The ride to the party is unbearable. Full of awkward silences, unspoken irritation, and evil glares. At least sixteen times—in the fourteen minutes it takes to get there—Anna looks down at my clothes with her face crumpled in disgust. I give a disgusted look right back at her every single time.

After the fourteen minutes—I was counting—of pure agony, we arrive at the party. The front lawn is crowded with people talking to each other and making their way to the front door. Some of them are drinking. Most of the kids live in this neighborhood and walked, so it’s easy to find a spot to park not too far away.

Anna cuts off the engine of her shiny blue corvette, and, with the sudden silence, the music becomes distinguishable and I can hear every word. It’s some hip-hop song I hate with a dance movie I can’t do. Anna starts nodding her head to the beast and mouthing the words. She grabs her purse and opens the door. I just sit here, staring. I don’t want to go in. Ever.

She places the soles of her pink Jimmy Choos on the pavement and starts o get up, but looks back at me, still sitting and staring.

“Are you coming?” she asks.

I sit and stare some more.

“Hello? Piper? Are you with us?”

Still sitting and staring.

“Are—you—coming?” she says, spacing out the words as if I’m dumb.

I finally move and grunt, then reach for the door handle and step out. When my converse hits the pavement, the sound is far from that of Anna’s heels.

My body moves like a robot. One small movement at a time. Not thinking about what I’m doing is the best option. I’m not walking towards my death. Just to a party where I’m not going to know anyone—or at lest, no one who know me.

The sound of Anna’s steps join mine, maybe a foot back. We get closer and closer. Someone shouts her name. She runs off to greet whoever it was, leaving me alone, walking towards my version of hell.

₪ ₪ ₪

there it is. part two of chapter two.

comment please...especially you, caroline because you were the one who told me to post this.

and emilea too.
luvya
♥Heather

i can't wait...

wow. two posts in one night. a record

I'm completely angry.

I've been waiting for this day since sometime in August when this particular movie left the theaters. It's not the movie's fault. It didn't know how much I wanted to see it. It left the theater without me, completely oblivious to the fact that I hadn't seen it.

and now, I won't. Not for a while at least. Or by some miracle for a few days if I remember to ask Caroline to borrow it or if she just knows. If she just knows that I didn't get it. If she just knows that my mom is evil and won't get it for me.

I hope she knows. I hope you, Caroline know it. I hope that that weird bond between us will allow you to realize my pain and suffering without the hopes of getting this movie and that you will know that I need this movie.

I can't wait until I get it. I can't wait until I watch it. I can't wait until I'm able to be mad at how different it is. It'll be great. Fantastic. I can't wait for a lot of things.

I can't wait to see Courtney's pictures for the umpteenth time. I can't wait to get my pictures and see them for the first time. I can't wait until everyone else gets their pictures developed so I can see them for the first time. I can't wait until we go back next year. I can't wait until I have a digital camera.

All these things a closely and far-ly(my own word) related. They're both.

I can't wait.

multiple songs floating around...

for once I just like that to happen to me...

not that specifically. not him specifically. just that. just him. sometime in this life, I want it to happen to me.

stuck at a stand-still with deadline approaching(exactly a month away specifically)

stress of written portion of math exam in 2 days. I don't think it will be hard but it's still intimidating to think it's so close.

stress of test in math. that I do think will be slightly hard because I missed two days of class last week where they learned two sections and I'm confused by what they did. I guess I should be studying right now...

the only thing I have is reading. the only thing to get my mind off of other things that have bombarded my life recently. but reading isn't an option if you're as tired as I am right now. I'll fall asleep and never get to my math homework.

I miss the last half of this semester. when we actually performed plays in drama. when math was the simplest thing ever. when he wasn't an ass(pardon the french--not french technically, but whatever). when I wasn't so stressed and tired. when things were fun. when we hung out more. before everything that happened.

just having a bad day. not awful. just kind of bad.

out. going to do math. going to read outside in the gray weather. going to do something.
♥Heather

Back

I have reentered to the blogosphere.

I am back from Disney World.

And I, for one, had a really good time. Some of it sucked. Like standing on a stage for two really long concerts and not moving and holding a candle(battery operated, not dangerous lol). But some was great. Like the guy I met that was really amazingly funny and nice and cute(I wouldn't have said he was if I hadn't met him, but his personality made me realize how cute he was).

And that makes me wonder, What is wrong with this world that other schools have hot guys in their chorus and we don't. What is wrong with this world that I would meet a guy that I like and I probably won't ever see him again.

But whatever. It was incredibly fun and filled with unforgettable moments. One perfect example of the unforgettable was Caroline ripping her pants. Yes, hilarious(sorry caroline, but only one other person reads this so I had to bring it up)

Another was a french guy who was behind us when me, courtney, and allison were looking at bags. Courtney sneezed and the guy said "Sneeze American. Say Bless You."

It was so funny.

I loved this trip and can't wait to do it again--maybe even next year(crossing my fingers).

I'll stop talking about Disney World now.

It's nice to be back.
Im out
luvya
♥Heather

Golden Brown(possible chapter title)

The 2nd chapter of my novel is possibly titled as above. It's rough and raw. Not edited at all, so beware of adverbs, nonsensical babbling and mistakes. It's not that long at all so without further ado, I present to you Chapter II Part I:


You know that feeling you get when you're absolutely dreading something, but you can't wait for it to happen? Where the time varies speeds, one day going by fast, the next slow? And the whole time, you have this queasy feeling and everything feels so surreal?

It sucks, doesn't it? I would know. The last three days of school have been filled with that feeling. I walk through the halls in a daze, not seeing, not hearing, not noticing. The only one I've payed attention to is Felicia. There is no way to ignore her. There's no way to ignore her incessant comments on my parents decision about the party.

"Your mother is seriously mental."
"How about I come with you, then you come to my house whenever we leave."
"At least you don't have to stay and can leave whenever you want."
"Why should you be more like Anna?"
"Ugh. I would hate to have your mom."

None of the penetrate my ears. I hear the words but I don't realize what she's saying. Sometimes, I wish she'd just shut-up. She always talks excessively. My own little chatter-box.

Sitting at the table in the cafeteria that we share with other outcasts, I stare at my lunch. A baked potato and salad. The salad if full of hard, white lettuce and other mysterious vegetables, and the potato is the size of my palm. Some lunch this is. I attempt to eat some of my baked potato, then push it away, disgusted.

All the while, Felicia is busy chatting away about something-or-another. I should be listening. I'm not. I have no interest in what she's saying. Some best friend I am. Instead of listening to the one person conversation, I glance around at the tables. Here and there people that I know dot the sea of ones I don't.

There's Anna, surrounded by the usual twenty or so friends, all yammering away about something useless. My eyes continue past them, following the line of people awaiting a disgusting lunch. I pity them. moving on, my eyes take in the bulletin boards tacked with notices for sports and clubs--ones I wish to be a part of--and fliers on ways to show your school spirit. Haha. School Spirit? For this school. Yea right. That's the best joke I've heard all day.

My eyes stop trailing around the cafeteria. They're stuck on someone. Someone new. Someone I've never seen before.

He's followed in the door by two others--a girl and a boy--that look related to him. They're all gorgeous. He's especially gorgeous. Even from all the way across the room, i can see his golden brown eyes. They cut into my soul. I can feel his gaze penetrate mine. He sees me staring at him, but I can't tear my eyes from his. I can't severe this magnificent connection. It's the best I've felt in a long time.

I hear a word break off halfway through somewhere near me. It's Felicia. She's stopped talking. She knows I'm staring at something. God, please, don't let her see.

She does, of course. I know because she shrieks with pleasure. I force myself to pull out of his eyes and back to reality. I look over at Felicia. Her metal covered teeth are showing in a wide grin. She looks at me.

"OMG! Piper, did you see that guy? Hot. Incredibly. The best. God. Catch your breath, Felicia. Did you? Did you see him?" she asks, yet again.

The words are caught in my throat. A bemused expression is locked in place on my face. I can't move. She doesn't care if I answer. She goes on anyway.

"Wow. It must have hurt falling from heaven like that. Wow. They must be his brother and sister. Those other two. Wow. Is that all I can say. Wow."

Finally, my voice finds it's way out of my mouth. "Yea. I saw him," I say. "And yea, wow."

That's all I can muster. The rest of her words are lost to me. My mind is still back there, in his eyes. For a moment, there was nothing but us. Nothing but our eyes, intertwined in one of those suspended-in-time, heart-pounding, palm-sweating moments. In other words, the greatest moment of my life.

I look around again. Past the doors, past the bulletin boards, past the lines, searching for him. Of course, my vision fails me. He's not anywhere.

My heart sinks. I push back my chair, pick up my books, and walk out of the cafeteria, ignoring Felicia's shouts. I go to my favorite spot in the whole school, the bench right outside. The day is sunny. I take a seat on the bench, setting down my books, and pull my knees up to my chest. I press my forehead to my knees and close my eyes.

* * *

Comments? Please?

Thank you!

luvya

♥Heather

i love you much(most beautiful darling)

i love you much(most beautiful darling)

more than anyone on the earth and i
like you better than everything in the sky

-sunlight and singing welcome your coming

although winter may be everywhere
with such a silence and such a darkness
noone can quite begin to guess

(except my life)the true time of year-

and if what calls itself a world should have
the luck to hear such singing(or glimpse such
sunlight as will leap higher than high
through gayer than gayest someone's heart at your each

nearness)everyone certainly would(my
most beautiful darling)believe in nothing but love

wow. I love this poem. Its by ee cummings(and yes caroline, I do realize that you posted a poem by him too) I was looking for a poem by robert frost and for some reason, ee cummings somehow entered into my search and I found this masterpiece. Alot of his poetry is...oddly written and so I don't like a few of them, but this one is amazing. I love it. New favorite.

luvya
♥heather

*Charades*

Ok, so here's the story: I started with an idea. An idea for a story--sorry, wrong word...novel? yea, I'll go with that--for a novel with a pretty great plot line. The details were missing, but the plot line was there and solid. But you can't write anything without some details, can you? And the details weren't there because it was set in the Victorian Era and, well, I don't live in the Victorian Era and never have.

I started to research that time period, but, because the magic of the internet has decided to cease to exist, I couldn't anything good. My first few chapters sound like pieces of...crap(with a few momentarily spots of brilliance{yea, I sound full of myself}).

So, a new novel was born. One with a similar plot line but more vague, unfinished. But the details are all there(well, most of them). That's the important part. And so I began and here it is in all it's wordy glory, The First Chapter:


It’s too late. She’s made up her mind. I’m going to have to go to that stupid party. There is no way around it. I knew it would come to this, but I give one last feeble attempt to convince her otherwise. My voice comes out a strained sound, just above a whisper, “But Mom, why in the world are you forcing me to go to a party? Shouldn’t you be doing the opposite, trying to keep me from having any fun? Even though that’s basically what you’re doing by forcing me to go.”

I mumble the last sentence under my breath. She hears it—I can always tell—but goes on as if I’ve said nothing.

“Piper, that’s enough. You’re being ridiculous,” she replies. “Your sister is going. You can go as well.”

“But she has nothing else to do. That’s what her life is. Her thought process basically goes like this: partying, me, friends, me, pretty, me, money, me. Besides, I don’t want to go with her. Going is bad enough, but with her?”

I’m lying. I’ve found I do that a lot lately. The truth is, I am completely, and totally, one hundred percent jealous of Anna. She’s the most popular girl in school—and a year older than me. I have maybe two good friends—at the most. She gets invited to everything. I get invited to nothing. She’s absolutely beautiful and looks just like mom. I look nothing like either of them. There is no resemblance at all between my mother and I. the difference is almost abnormal, a total anomaly. My mother and sister are fully gorgeous, like angels. I wouldn’t be surprised if they sprouted wings and flew off to heaven.

They have perfect, tanned complexions. Their noses are small and straight, and their faces are heart-shaped. Their full lips are perfectly shaped and just the right shade of almost-scarlet, fitting in perfectly with the roses in their cheeks. Long, wavy, chocolate-brown hair falls in cascades over their shoulders, twisting and turning at just the right spots, always perfectly messy. Perfectly in place. Never a strand hanging in the wrong spot. How can curly hair look that perfect?

My hair could never look like that. It’s a ridiculous mess of blonde, inflexibly straight and utterly screwed up. I can never get it to do what I want it to do; I can’t pin it, put it up in a bun, braid it, pigtail it, or even keep it down without it looking pitiful. The lank strands fall where they may, and I cant do anything about it.

None of our other features are remotely alike either. My nose is nowhere near small and my lips form a thin, rose-colored line, breaking up my face, dividing chin from upper lip. My face is long and ovular and my cheeks are never rosy. My entire face is pale as can be. A ghost. That’s what I’ve been frequently called since I move to this sunny, little hell-hole people like to call South Carolina. I could attempt to tan, but no sun would ever bring color to my face. I will always be pale. Always. I can’t even get through a day of school without someone telling me I look sick or telling me that I’m pale—as if I didn’t already know. My eyes are the same way. Not a day passes that I don’t get a comment on them. They are a bright, luminescent green—almost like an emerald, hard and solid—nothing like the delicate, cerulean eyes of my mother and sister.

The only other person I’ve seen with eyes like mine is Miss Abby, my tutor. Her real name is Abigail ­­____—she actually wants me to call her Miss Abby. Weird, right? She used to be my nanny, but when I got older, and didn’t need a nanny anymore, she took her place as my tutor. My family has always had that kind of money. My dad is a lawyer and my mom is a real-estate agent. The perfect example of a Pawley’s mom—it’s too bad we’re about fifteen miles north of Pawley’s Island.

I’ve always secretly wished to look and be like my mom. I put on this façade that I can’t stand her or the rest of my family—the rebellious teen act—but just like it is with my sister, I really do aspire to be like her. I don't hate her at all. But nothing about us is the same. Nothing. We aren’t even the same size or body-type. She’s a size two. Skinny as can be, but yet still not small. She’s not because she’s tall. About five foot seven. Not small at all, but she just looks so tiny compared to me. I’m already up to five-nine and still growing. I wouldn’t call myself a monster, but I am tall. I wouldn’t call myself fat either; I’m just…not a size two. My hips are larger, and my legs are longer. My body is disproportionate. I’ve learned to live with it…to an extent.

The differences don’t stop there. They go deeper. If you compare our personalities, it’s even worse. We are farther from each other in that aspect than we are in any other. Her happy demeanor follows her everywhere. She’s one of those people you can’t help but love. I’m nothing like that. Sometimes, I try to be, but my miserable attempt at appearing cheerful doesn’t work. It doesn’t fool anybody. Everyone can see right through my charade. They know I’m not the happiest person.

I’m not depressed. I just have a lot of trouble calling this place home. It never feels right, the word ‘home’. When I say it in my mind, it’s like that one puzzle piece that never fits, no matter how hard you cram it. When I say it out loud, I have even more trouble. I try to refrain from using that word in reference to my…current living situation. Living is South Carolina is not the jolly experience it’s cracked up to be. It’s hot, humid, and has mosquitoes that eat you alive.

The day we moved here, when I was in second grade, was the worst eighteen hours of my life. We spent forever loading up the moving van and then we drove all the way from New York. That’s a lot of time to be cramped in a tiny Honda with a bunchy of bags and suitcases. The worst experience of my eight-year-old life.

New York. That’s the place I call home. That’s where my family is. My real family. That’s where we left them behind. This family here is different. Not the same. Fake.

People ask me how I remember what it was like…I was just eight, but I remember everything. Like how we used to sit in the living room after dinner and tell stories. Stories of school. Stories of work. Made-up stories. Ghost stories. Just stories. We would laugh, scream, and cry together. Whatever we did, it was always together, as a family. As a whole. It was always real. Here, nothing’s real. We never sit after dinner and tell stories. We never talk like we used to. We never do anything together. We aren’t a family. I know it sounds lame coming from a seventeen-year-old, but it’s true. I miss the ridiculous stories. I miss talking to them. I miss my family.

I look up into my mother’s sky blue eyes. They are searching mine, trying to fathom my thoughts. She’s caring. That’s important. I can’t tell what she’s thinking, but I know she’s caring about me. That’s all that matters right now.

“There will always be another Saturday to go to Felicia’s house or hole-up in your room—whatever you’re planning,” she says. “This weekend your are going to go to this party.”

What is wrong with her?

“Fine,” I say, groaning. I shouldn’t cop an attitude with her. It will just make everything worse, but the frustration and resentment is building up inside of me. My blood's boiling. My skin prickles and my lips purse. I can’t just do nothing. I can’t be forced to go against my own will.

“But—”

“But nothing!” she says, raising her voice and cutting me off. “This is final. Conversation over!”

I hate it when she does this. I can’t handle the pressure. A person yelling never helps calm me down. It does the exact opposite. Shouting just makes me upset. And once I cry, I can’t just cut it out. As soon as the first tear drops, a hundred more will follow. My eyes sting with the burn of oncoming tears. They threaten to flood over the ledge, to run down my face in a pouring river, falling fast. I have to close my eyes to hold them back; my eyelids act as a dam, keeping the tears inside.

Thomas Sutton, my father, walks around the corner. I know it’s him even with my eyes closed. The way he steps, placing one foot after the other in a steady pattern. The way his presence feels. I can just feel him standing there. He has a commanding quality about him. Walking in, he stops the tears from bubbling up. I am free to open my eyes and take in the sight of him. He is tall and broad shouldered—a football players build. His hair is the perfect shade of sandy brown, matching his tanned, olive skin. Despite his rough looks, he has laugh lines etched into his face. The laugh lines that come from many years of his joyous character. He is very well known for his lively personality in and out of the courtroom. His kind nature is what I prize most about having him for a father.

“Now, what’s going on here?” he asks jokingly, as if he hasn’t heard every word from the other room. He’s trying to break the tension. It works. He doesn’t have to put much effort into it. He easily cuts through the strain in the air.

He has this effect on my mother. Before the words are even out of his mouth, she puts on this would-be charming smile and swoons over him. It’s like he’s her drug-dealer and she’s in some serious need of crack. Maybe that’s not the best way to describe it, but going to a school like Waccamaw—where there are a bunch of druggies—drug references are the first to come to mind.

But, anyway, you get the picture. It’s disgusting. Public displays of affection are not on the top of my ‘favorite things list’. When my mom is done falling all over my father, he looks at me with sympathetic eyes.

“You know, honey,” he says to my mom. “Maybe you shouldn’t force Piper to go to this party. She obviously doesn’t want to go…”

“No. I want her to be more social,” she says. “I want her to be more like Anna, and go out with her friends.”

Typical.

“But none of those people are even my friends!” I say, practically shouting. “And why can’t I, just for once, be like myself instead of Anna?”

“You don’t want to be more like yourself if yourself is a hermit. You’ll end up alone with tons of cats.”

“No. I do want to be myself. And I am not a hermit! Just because I don’t decide to act fake like all of you, doesn’t mean I’m an unsociable hermit!”

I see it. The look on her face. A look like I’ve just slapped her. I knew that it would hurt her. It just…came out. I didn’t mean it. Okay, so I did, but I didn’t mean to say it.

“Piper, please. Stop shouting,” my father says, consolingly. Then he turns to my mother. “Sweetie, maybe Piper can go and if she feels like leaving, she can. It doesn’t matter if she stays.”

I roll my eyes. My father sees it.

“I don’t care if you go for an hour, or a second. Just go. It will make your mother happy and it will stop all this god-damn arguing.”

There he goes again. Making peace. Why does he have to be so good at it?

“All right, but I am going to leave. I know I will,” I say.

“That’s fine with me,” he says.

Here, my mother joins the conversation again, “Fine. I just wish she’d be more sociable.”

There’s my cue to roll my eyes again, so I do. He sees it, again. He grins, and, of course, starts to laugh. He’s done it again and so proud of himself. He can’t help but laugh. And when he does, I’m reminded of just how much I love that sound.


That's it. How is it?

P.S. Emilea: You will be happy to know, I only edited this 1 1/2 times(it may need just a little bit more though) I did the whole thing once just for typos(errors in spelling, accidental letters--and numbers--etc.) Then, I did it again actually editing the content.(I count this collectively as once)
Then, I did the 3rd and 4th paragraphs once more because they were stubbornly adverb-filled(and still kind of are)

P.P.S. Caroline: Definitely not as good as yours but still hoping it's good. Is it? I'm dying to know. Was I mistaken in posting it for all the world to see? Was I right in doing it?

Questions? Comments? Concerns?
Comments especially. please.
luvya
♥Heather

It's official...

I'm going with the modern version...way better.

I would post some of the first chapter, but I'm completely shy about it until it's edited absolutely and completely down to the bone. All scraps and extras gone. Just the necessities and best left.

But things I've definitely decided on:

~her name is Piper Marie Sutton
~her sister's name is Anna Leigh Sutton
~her father's name is Thomas John Sutton
~she live about fifteen miles north of Pawley's Island
~she moved here from New York in second grade
~her real mother's name is Abigail _____(last name to be determined)
~her best friend's name is Felicia Jane Forester(totally stole Dean's last name for that one)
~her real mother poses as her used-to-be-nanny turned tutor
~she's real close to Miss Abby^^
~she hates South Carolina
~the guy's name is Jackson ____ _____

that's all I've got for now on definite facts
I'll post more later
luvya

August Rush

I went to go see August Rush today, with Caroline.

I'm in love.

With the movie August Rush and with the kid August Rush a.k.a. Evan Taylor a.k.a. Freddie Highmore and with Louis Connelly and the people who wrote the story, Nick Castle and James V. Hart and Paul Castro.(oh, and Jonathan Rhys Meyers, because he's awesome and because he plays Louis)

It is now my favorite movie.

It might possibly be the best movie I've ever seen.

It really was that great.

And Freddie Highmore has always been one of my favorite actors, but now it's official. He is my favorite actor. By far. It's a landslide win. No doubt about it. And I love his eyes. His gorgeous, blue eyes that I could just stare at forever. But that's another story. I shouldn't dwell too long on his eyes, else you might get bored, and I don't want that.

That movie even made me forget about the horrible choice for Bella Swan in Twilight the movie.

For hours I didn't think about it once. And even now, it's not making me depressed because of the happy, internal impression that August Rush made on me. (person and movie)

I now want to buy a guitar or cello and name it August.

I can't wait until it comes out on DVD. I'm buying it instantly.

I am totally jealous of Daniel Radcliffe just for being friends with Freddie Highmore.

I want to be him. I am willing to play a guy in Harry Potter--Harry Potter specifically--just to be friends with Freddie Highmore.

He's one of those people that I would die to meet. I want to meet him more than Johnny Depp.

Scary isn't it?

But I'm not in love with just him by himself. It's his acting skills, his sweet nature, his altogether embodiment.

Same with the movie. It's the whole entirety of the movie, every character in it has depth and a story. Everyone is connected. Every actor is amazing.

But my obsession with this movie has only begun. I've only seen it once. The obsession will grow the more I see this movie. The more I learn about the movie. The more I learn about Freddie Highmore(like the shocking news that he turns 16 on Valentines Day, yes it's true, he's not really as young as he looks).

I love it.

And all in all, it turned out to be a fantastic day. Actually, yesterday was pretty good too. That's like a record for the past few weeks. Two days back-to-back that were good? Weird.

Well, anyway. The whole point is that I strongly advise going to see August Rush. It's amazing.

But, then again, you is Caroline and I went to see it with Caroline. And it's not like anyone else reads my blog...
ok
Im out
luvya♥

♥♥"I believe in music the way some people believe in fairy tales. But I hear it came from my mother and father. Once upon a time, they fell in love..."♥♥

Friends

after everything has been said and done
after the food has been cooked and eaten
after the dishes have been cleared and the table wiped down
I realize...There is at least one thing I can be thankful for.

The arguments, the fights, the make-ups, the break-ups, the insults, the bickering, the orders, and the annoyances can be ignored and the spotlight can be put on the thing I'm grateful for, My Best Friends.

Of all the things in my life, my best friends are what holds me together, help me handle the tough times, and give me honest criticism without being painfully harsh. They are the ones standing in a circle around me, pillars holding up the heavens, holding up my hope, keeping it from crashing down.

Whenever I need them, they're always there. I don't need my biological family, they are my real family. They are my real sisters.

They are always waiting in the wings to catch me if I fall. Always there to pick me up whenever I can't get up on my own. Always there to help me forget the bad memories, feelings, and thoughts and remember the good times we've had. They are always there, preparing for the worst, and making these times the best.

I am grateful for:

Caroline--My best best friend. For always being there to spend hours discussing books that we've already spent collective days discussing. For being such a good writer and inspiring me. For sharing common interests with me and making me feel like there is someone else out there as crazy as I am. For helping me become myself and not fear what people think of me. For being the perfect other half of those ridiculous best friend heart necklaces, you know what I'm talking about and your the one with Best written on it because you are the best. For always listening to what I have to say, even if I'm not saying anything. For knowing me. For being my best friend.

Courtney--God, how I love you in all your insane drama. For always being the strongest needle and thread I know, being able to patch things up after we have an argument. For being a friend amongst enemies. For staying by my side, even when you don't want to be there. For following me and keeping in step, never missing a beat. For being a good friend and understanding how I feel. For helping me let out my thoughts in angry rants. For giving me an outlet to turn to when I need someone. For being there.

Chloe--My rock. My steady hand. For being there to drop everything when I need someone to help me laugh. For being the hug that I need. For not letting petty things ruin our friendship. For being as ambitious as you are. For your insane hand gestures :). For letting our joke arguments go on and on, keeping something constant in my life. For being ready to kick anybody's ass that ever hurts me. For loving me.

Danielle--The abnormal creature. For being so ever-changing, bringing new spice to my life every day. For being so insanely crazy(and yes I do know that is redundant). For being an amazing artist. For helping me create the stories that I call my good times. For making me realize how great I've had it the past 5 years. For holding on through all of these years. For sticking with me no matter what. For being you.

Allison--My entertainment--in a good way. For being my sun, able to light up any day. For being so ditsy sometimes and accepting it(because you aren't really that dumb). For helping me accept myself. For making it through one year and sticking around for plenty more. For loving unconditionally. For being so nice whenever I need something nice said about me. For joining us willingly without fear. For being happy.

I love you all 10 times over, no 100 times, no 1,000,000:)♥
couldnt live without any of you. You are my life.

Not Quite a Chain Letter...a blog letter??

You know those stupid chain letters?? The ones that say if you dont send this to 20 people in the next 3 hours, you will see a dead girl hovering above your bed tonight with a sickle, stabbing you whilst kicking your nose intending to break it and cutting your hair until you look like a stray cat that's been starving for ten years with your tears turning into blood??

Yea, those things.

I hate those.

Alot.

So, Caroline, my one and only reader,(and whomever else may actually read this-not likely) I propose a task to you--something I stole from Libba Bray.

There is this game, and here are the rules:

The rules are that "each player lists 8 facts/habits about themselves. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning before those facts/habits are listed. At the end of the post, the player then tags 8 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog."

Sounds confusing the first time you read it...or at least...it did to me...anyway moving on.

Since I only know one person with a blog and that is you, Caroline you are the person I am tagging and I encourage you to pass this on, and I promise you will not wake up tonight with a dead girl hovering over you stabbing you, kicking you, and chopping off all your hair.

If you do...well...I'll know why you end up in the hospital with a broken nose and multiple stab wounds, with your hair chopped off. I will understand. I promise.

So here goes the eight wonderful facts:

1. I have so many inside jokes that I could go on and on with a list of things that even you, caroline, wouldn't understand. Such as... bunny in the sky; Swirling pink pile of DOOM; our mommy might take our dinosaurs away again; solid or liquid??; pronounciate or pronunciate?? and of course tons more I can't think of right now...
2. I walk, talk, eat, read, and do many other things fast. At an abnormally fast rate for a few of them, eating especially. Such as the other night for dinner when I ate 3 helpings before they all finished their first.
3. Me and Lorena have this Daniel Radcliffe thing where we tell stories about him and his crazy fans all the time even though both of us think he's funny looking and gay...yea...good times...
4. I bite my nails, as a matter of fact...while I was thinking of what to write for this fact, I was biting my middle finger nail on my left hand, it is now shorter. But that's something common...I wish I had something else cooler to say.
5. I absolutely love writing poetry but I hate how it sounds when I'm done. It's kind of like the writer's self-hatred I mentioned(and stole from caroline) earlier in a previous posting. Either I write using rhyming and have a love/hate relationship with the turn out or I write free verse and I think it sounds unrythmical(my own word invention) and I have another love/hate relationship with that. And I love the way poetry creates vivid images that just seem so emotional and I love it. But, alas, I hate my poetry...
6. The only time I eat mayonnaise is on a bananamayo sandwich(that sounds gross but it's actually good, and I dont even like mayonnaise)
7. One of my friends(who's practically being stalked--story for a later time) yells at me for reading all the time in my drama class and then she yelled at me for passing on my joy of reading to my friend zac and so she started reading and she's so into her book that if she has it with her, she reads more than me. So that brings being yelled at for reading up to about a billion times and sadly about 2 billion of those times are from my friend Katlyn, previously mentioned above.
8. I haven't gotten my mom to sign a required gradesheet in about a year, I've forged them all, most of the time because I've forgotten

Ok so here it is, pass it on Caroline, this game could get very interesting...or not, whichever

Im Out; luvya

so...like I told you--I haven't been able to get past this one paragraph in my story for Gov. school application. And this writer's self-hatred(yes I am stealing that phrase from you, Caroline. Who cares if it's plagiarism--WAIT! Its not because I just cited you! HAHA! found my way around that one! anyway...) is really annoying me! The irritation of it is nawing at every corner of my mind whenver I try to relax and get some sleep so I'm just going to edit the paragraph best I can, take a couple days break, then go back to my story.

It will be a great thing to do and fill the empty time of my miserable Thanksgiving break, when I will be forever doomed to hole-up in my room reading, writing, or sleeping because I will have absolutely nothing to do because my family isn't coming, I'm not going anywhere, my sister will be here but doing other things,--you know, the usual, hanging out with friends, arguing with my mom, that stuff--and most of my friends either have plans or for some reason we won't be able to do anything because thats what always happens(except for possibly on wednesday)

And because I have to take a break from writing to get over my writer's self-hatred, I won't, of course, be writing the very necessary part of my Gov. school application, and since I don't really like rhyming poetry and I'm not good at free verse, and it's physically--mentally, as well--impossible for me to write a good story 10 pages or less, I basically have no other option but to write a chapter of a novel and I can't just send in the first chapter and be done with it!

I have to write at least like 4-5 chapters of my novel for me to choose a good one that's under 10 pages that I like and gives an idea of what my novel is going to be about.

well right now, I'm going to stop wasting my time and writing energy on this blog and conserve it for when I do go to write my story in a couple days. That being said, I probably won't write anything else for the next couple days, so goodbye for now, and you can stop listening to me--or reading--talk(write) about my writing problems
Im out, for a bit longer
luvya

I hate that...

this abnormal tiredness is completely throwing me off.

The past two days after school I've taken a "nap" that has lasted at least 2 hours. That is such an anomoly that it's almost scaring me. So now its 6:40 and I'm completely worn out from my "nap"--ironic, huh?--and so I can't concentrate on reading and I'm not particularly fond of the TV right now, so I'm left to sit here and otherwise 'talk' to you(the one person that will ever read this).

And I'm completely fretting about my governor's school story because the last paragraph I wrote completely sucks and I don't know how to fix it. I would say just screw it and use a different chapter, but this is the key chapter of the book and even if I didnt use it, I'm such a perfectionist with my writing that there's no way I'll ever be able to ignore this dreadful paragraph.

And there's no way I can cut this paragraph out because it is kind of important. So whatever form of writer's block this is called--if it is writer's block and not just perfectionism--I have it. I hate it. I can't get around it. I want to strangle it and fling it off the Empire State Building.

My hatred for writing stories is somewhat ridiculous because I love to write. Writing is one of my favorite ways to use big words because I know that no matter how many I use, I don't need the criticism of my more vocabulary incompetent friends--I need the help of my friends with more extensive vocabulary--I won't have to repeatedly explain what words mean.

But I do hate writing when I get stuck and my mind refuses to work like this particular moment, where, all I can write, are stupid blog entries that will not get me into governor's school and therefore are of no use to me at all but yet I insist on continuing to waste my time writing them to vent my anger and frustration or otherwise just ramble as previously warned I would.

Continue to ponder that while I continue to ponder my story
I'm out--and tired
luvya

It's absolutely insane when...

...life throws curve balls at you. And I mean insane curve balls that not even Babe Ruth could even brush his bat against. Curve balls that--let's say--the likes of which haven't been seen or heard of in about 12 years.

All these years and I never thought I would ever hear from or about my cousin ever again and sadly also thought that I would never hear about my grandparents either. But shockingly, out of nowhere, my cousin found me--starting with my sisters--on myspace and has updated me--basically starting, once again, with my sisters--on things that have recently happened. The good, the bad, and everything in between. It's so crazy...

But what do you do when the good doesn't seem all that great because the bad and the in between are obscuring your vision of the good?

What do you do when you find out that your father does exist somewhere out there in the world and that he would like contact with you after 12 years?

Well...I say screw it, and if I would actually be willing to talk to him, I would say it to his face, I hate him.

He basically ruins my life, isn't there, doesn't even come in to contact with us at all in 10-12 years, and then all of the sudden wants to be there??

I think not. Now you can see the bad, or at least the in between because my indifference to him kind of makes it fall into the in between. The bad however, is joined with the good and vice-versa. So now that my cousin has gotten into contact with us, she tells us that my grandfather(on my father's side obviously) would like to talk to us too. Curiously enough, she says just grandfather not grandparents or grandmother. No just grandfather. Because, apparently, while the estrangement was continuing, my grandmother died of some sort of cancer. This is awful because, I loved my grandmother. And this happened two years ago and I just now found out.

Now there's the good and the bad. My cousin, who I'm so glad to have contact with now, has told me that my grandfather would like to see us too, but that my grandmother is dead, that my father, who abandoned us, would like to see me(never going to happen), and that she lives near us.

The new problem is:

what in the world do you say to a cousin you knew last when you were 2?
what do you say to a grandparent that you last remember seeing age 6?
what do you say about your dead grandmother, that you didn't know died?
what do you say to the family members about your lack of interest in seeing your father?
how do you handle yourself when you finally see them, when just thinking about makes your eyes water?
how do you handle the stress of all this while still trying to go about normal life?

I have no idea.

I would like to answer them simply:

"Hey, I've missed you. I'm so happy that we could meet today."
"Hey, I've missed you too. It's good we could see each other today."
"I loved her so much. I only wish I could have been there that day, or that she could be here today."
"Oh, um, it's just that I have soo many other things on my mind, I haven't had time to think about it."
You walk in with a smile, simple as that.
What stress?

It's too bad none of these are existing options. Too bad you can't just pretend like it hasn't been over 10 years. Too bad you can't just make this have never happened. Too bad your life was this way to begin with.

The next few weeks will be very interesting--and virtually impossible to handle--but I'm ready(I hope) So...
Im out
luvya

Volleyball Fundraiser

it was cold. The wind was wipping across my face. I looked up at the sun. It was still low in the eastern sky. Too early to be really awake. Saturdays are meant for sleeping in. Nobody was coming. So we waited. And waited. And waited...

Oh look! she cried. Theres someone coming...

Ugh! It's just Keri! She's just pulling her car up.

And then it was Brennan.

And then we waited. And waited. And waited...

It was still cold. Not as cold as before. The sun was approaching being directly overhead. Noon was close...

OMG! someone's actually coming!

5 are lined up. Finally people are here!

We finished those five and dried them off. The sun is directly overhead. We were getting hungry...

OH look! Burgers! yumm...

Oh of course they came then. When we were eating.

Scarf them down ladies, scarf them down!

We finally got busy. My hands pruned. I held a torn up sign for about five minutes. Then he called me back.

Drinks! I needed drinks!

Here we go. Its over now. The sun has moved to the western sky. Our time is up. Exhausted and wet, we went home. All in a day's work. 45 came. 275 made. More to be collected.

Funny things to know about Daniel Radcliffe

OK...so here I am, sitting in drama, and Lorena comes up to me and says, "Hey, I've got another Daniel Radcliffe story."

Now this has become a common thing between us--talking about Daniel Radcliffe that is--so this isn't completely weird but still abnormal in the slightest

It started out by talking about the Harry Potter movies and she brought up Equus which is the play that he did where he was on-stage completely nude(her bringing that up, however, was very weird) so we started talking about how so many people went to see that just to see Daniel Radcliffe naked, otherwise they would only get to see it in their dreams. Well when she brought that up I couldn't help but tell her about someone reaching up, while he was doing the nude scene, and grabbing his boxers off the stage. She cracked up about this so we started talking about crazed fan stories.

Then, I said, "What was so funny, was that, there was this interview with him, Rupert Grint, and Emma Watson, and he had to say what the craziest thing was that a fan had ever did, and apparently some girl--they were at a stop light(or traffic light as he calls them in his British lingo)--but she crawled out of her car, through the window, and into the window of his limo while they were stopped, and was suspended across the cars!"

Now she busted up laughing at this just like any sane person would and I said, "But Emma Watson thought that he was going to tell the story about a fan who was wearing nothing but a towel! and apparantly the fan that crawled between the cars had a sign that said something like 'Future Mrs. Daniel Radcliffe' "

so anyway back to today when she said she had a new one to tell...

CRAP! I forgot the story! UGH! well I guess I'll have to get back to it when I remember but for now...I'm going to add the video of the interview on here...

well I was going to but its being ridiculous and not letting me so here's a link to it on YouTube.com

http://youtube.com/watch?v=oAQeUMh02XE

UGH! this blog turned out more aggravating than I thought it would be! but at least I got a good laugh out of watching that video for about the 100th time
well I'm out
luvya

Must find refuge...:(

OK, once again sitting here with nothing in the world to do except let my fingers steadily type away at the keyboard

I would read but what would be the point. It's a great book--Suspicious Origin--but I'm going to be all upset tomorrow when I actually have school and I need something to read to get through the miserable existence that is my second block.

It's absolutely amazing how the world has become so abysmally asinine. That's the reason for taking refuge in books, where I may actually find a big word or two that would otherwise not be spoken in any of my classes

Other than chorus. That is to say where Caroline will be there, who doesn't hate it when you use big words like 'subterfuge' or 'unequivocally'<--a new favorite

But, alas, idiocy seems to be the new thing these days--like hollister, or baby-doll dresses, or ballet flats<--not exactly sure those are the best examples but my brain is drained of all references for the time being

Of course, "do the dishes" "clean the bathroom" "stop having an attitude"--things said to me in the last 12 hrs by my parents none of them fully applying to me seeing as it is amy's job to do the dishes at this point in time, I cleaned the bathroom 3 days ago, I don't have an attitude at this particular moment but...hey that's the norm for what parents say to their teenage children, despite their children not actually having and 'attitude'

Going to go hole up in my room, listening to music, cleaning, reading, watching horrible TV that has been corrupted by the asinine world mentioned above, whichever I feel like doing when I actually get to my room on the other side of the house.

It seems so far away right now...well...
I'm out
luvya

Poem Needs Opinions!!

ok...so...I'm sitting here at my computer on a Monday morning at 10:27 a.m.

Obviously I have nothing to do on my day off from school....

so...I'm going to put one of my poems on here...tell me if it sounds stupid with the rhyming thing because every time I read it my opinion varies
OK, here it is:

A tortured Mind, Body, and Soul,

But that isn't the worst part,

The last one is painful,

A tortured Heart.

A Heart breaking,

Pain that has no end,

The pain you caused,

To a heart unable to mend.

When you walked right by,

Without a smile towards me,

But a smile to her,

That's what killed me.

She received your love,

Warm hand and warm heart,

I received you civility,

Cold shoulder and cold heart.

If only I could switch,

Her for me,

Warm for cold,

And receive more than just courtesy.

To be held by you,

To come first in your eyes,

To be loved by you,

Would be the greatest prize.

It would stop the tears,

It would kill the pain,

It would mend my heart,

I would be happy again.

~Heather~

♥

OK, see, that time it sounded good to me...hmm...idk

opinions please!!!!!!!!! this is important!!!!!

OK I'm out for now

luvya