In April of 2009, with the encouragement of the ravishing Maureen Johnson and the many others who followed suit, I participated in BEDA, or Blog Every Day April. I would be lying to you if I said I haven't been looking forward to doing it again. In fact, my excitement over the whole idea is at an almost embarrassing level. So despite the fact that the Great Jar Mother will not be going forward with Blog Every Day August this year (I can only assume it changed months because it is categorically awesome that way), I will attempt. The keyword here being, of course, "attempt." My blogging skills are far from refined and my thoughts are in a constantly scattered state, leaving me to journal privately as to not alarm the masses with my crazy.
Yet here we are. Welcome. I may very well be the only one to read or appreciate this, which--really--wouldn't be the worst thing to ever happen in this world. As I say, my mad blogging skills aren't up to any sort of par. I may be a ninja, but I still have a lot of training to do.
This is the part where I tell you EXCITING THINGS and then babble about how I wish my words would just fit together as I wish they would. I have many thoughts--skeins and skeins of them, by the handful and bucket and butterfly net and what-have-you. They exist, yet to make them permanent and whole in the written word is not something I will ever master. Which, you know, isn't my favorite thing. I love writing, dearly, but for all that I love about it it is destined to drive me crazy.
Possibly all conjecture. My thoughts exist, yes, but this doesn't mean that they are rational or righteous or golden. They keep me company, and that is something I would usually apologize for. Not today. Not at this particular moment, anyway. I apologize a lot, quite often just to myself.
Well, I am on a grand adventure in the form of a youth group lock-in this evening. I am not social. We'll see how this goes! News and actual life information (you're welcome, stalkers) tomorrow, hopefully?
Ta da! Ninjas and confetti forever and things.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Monday, March 8, 2010
Right...
I feel like I should be writing something. Technically, I should be attempting to write a definition essay and not sitting playing on my phone while watching Netflix. 'What is my definition of a woman'? Complicated, much?
I am conflicted. Not only in this essay, which I have not yet started, but in everything. So many things to do. I cannot articulate all the things that go through my head, which is really most beneficial to you, dear reader.
I don't know that it actually IS funny, but I've always found it funny that I stumble over words so. Maybe that's the beauty of writing. Maybe writing is the ultimate stumbling ground.
Pardon my ramblings. Good day to you.
I am conflicted. Not only in this essay, which I have not yet started, but in everything. So many things to do. I cannot articulate all the things that go through my head, which is really most beneficial to you, dear reader.
I don't know that it actually IS funny, but I've always found it funny that I stumble over words so. Maybe that's the beauty of writing. Maybe writing is the ultimate stumbling ground.
Pardon my ramblings. Good day to you.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Books Read in 2009
For posterity:
1. Wake
2. The Tall Pine Polka
3. Atlas
4. The World According to Bertie
5. The Red Tent
6. The Book Thief
7. Ransom My Heart
8. Love Walked In
9. Diary of an Unlikely Call Girl
10. The Luxe
11. Sloppy Firsts
12. Rumors
13. How to Build a House
14. The Time Traveler’s Wife
15. Envy
16. The Hunger Games
17. I Am the Messenger
18. Along for the Ride
19. Airhead
20. Fade
21. Tales of Beedle the Bard
22. Property
23. The Bright Forever
24. Alphabet Weekends
25. Body Surfing
26. Sea glass
27. Hard Love
28. Kissing Kate
29. A Brief Chapter In My Impossible Life
30. The View from Mount Joy
31. The Scarlet Letter
32. Poison Study
33. Violet On the Runway
34. Rebel Angels
35. Welcome to the Great Mysterious
36. Firefly Lane
37. Looking for Alibrandi
38. The Undomestic Goddess
39. Boy Meets Boy
40. Saving Francesca
41. Harry, A History
42. Good Grief
43. A Step from Heaven
44. The Lovely Bones
45. The Things They Carried
46. Going Bovine
47. Catching Fire
48. Let It Snow
49. Can You Keep a Secret?
50. Splendor
Please join me here as I attempt to read 100 books in 2010.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Old Drama Brought Up
Today has not been a good day, for reasons that are complicated and just... ugh. An old topic brought up for no reason but to get into a snit about it. I don't know about the other parties, but I have my own opinions on the matter. Don't try to change what I believe. Fighting, lecturing and simplifying situations that I didn't begin or ask to bring up isn't going to change anything. It's just going to ruin a day.
And so we said nothing all day. I stayed in here all day, venturing out only to fetch provisions (bananas, a burnt muffin and eventually a peanut butter and jelly sandwhich), brooding over something that I didn't do or want to talk about. In fact, I didn't say anything. What could I have said to change anything? Nothing. I didn't start this, whatever guilt is thrust at me.
I went outside when the yelling started. I sat by the river, pretended that bugs weren't crawling on me. Eventually I went and sat on the second step of the deck. You came out, talked at me, left.
I didn't ask you to say anything. That's why I went outside. I didn't say anything, do anything. Please don't try to convince me. It just makes me hurt inside.
And so we said nothing all day. I stayed in here all day, venturing out only to fetch provisions (bananas, a burnt muffin and eventually a peanut butter and jelly sandwhich), brooding over something that I didn't do or want to talk about. In fact, I didn't say anything. What could I have said to change anything? Nothing. I didn't start this, whatever guilt is thrust at me.
I went outside when the yelling started. I sat by the river, pretended that bugs weren't crawling on me. Eventually I went and sat on the second step of the deck. You came out, talked at me, left.
I didn't ask you to say anything. That's why I went outside. I didn't say anything, do anything. Please don't try to convince me. It just makes me hurt inside.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Things I Love.
Indescribable feelings, smells. The ones I live for. The ones that creep up on me.
Balmy summer evenings, just dim enough, just quiet enough.
Trees. Ivy. Trellises.
Remembering.
Knowing what song is playing within seconds of it starting.
Vanessa.
Nerdfighters.
Balmy summer evenings, just dim enough, just quiet enough.
Trees. Ivy. Trellises.
Remembering.
Knowing what song is playing within seconds of it starting.
Vanessa.
Nerdfighters.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Reflections
I don't know what's up with me lately. Maybe nothing, maybe something. Maybe everything. It hasn't been an easy year. I've made mistakes, and I continue to make them. I'm trying to finish my courses and struggling. I'm worrying, procrastinating, hoping, wallowing... any number of things. There are a lot of things I'd like to say, but feel like I can't--what if so and so saw this, would they hate me, would it be disrespectful, ahhhh screaming.
But as simply I can put it: My dad left us, going off to live in Colorado. My mom has gotten certified to teach and is looking for a job. I've been homeschooling. Which hasn't gone so well. So now I'm behind and -trying- to finish my courses so I can go back to public school.
The thing with this is, people didn't want me to try it. Many thought it was a bad idea, hated the idea, fought the idea... but it was something I wanted to try, so I found a way to do it. Now, being behind, I look really bad to all those people. Among other things, of course. Things I could go on and on about that would end in me getting very worked up about it and probably close to tears.
When I think about it, my life hasn't been so great for a while. Two years ago, I was pretty depressed. I spoke to a school counselor regularly, who charted my 'happiness' and came up with something along the lines of 'you aren't getting any happier. You should be by now.' Don't get me wrong, I liked her as a person, but as a counselor she kept trying to get me to ACT on my problems, which only made me more miserable and upset.
I skipped class whenever I could, but with permission from the counselor. I had a science teacher that was pretty inappropriate and once accused me of doing drugs (oh, the stories I could tell about him). My journalism class disliked me for finding their mistakes, as well as a large portion of the school itself when I started writing an advice column that everyone could tell I wrote. The fact that we lived in Gricignano di Aversa, Italy, didn't help either--besides the fact that the air was so polluted I couldn't go out without getting a headache, it just isn't that fun living in a place where you don't speak the language and your 'civilization' of sorts is a navy base. It just gets old, horrible and isolated.
Then we moved to Key West, Florida- also isolated, if not more so considering it's an island. However, it gets props for the fact that people speak English there. Of course, there was the culture shock. We had lived in Italy for 6 years, and things were very different and, frankly, odd. Even in Italy I had been out of touch with what everyone else thought was cool. I loved my youth group, but there were problems with it that I can't really distinguish clearly and would take a long time to explain. One could write several posts on a certain boy alone.
I suppose one thing that made me uncomfortable was the fact that I felt pressured to raise my hands during worship. This is something I have trouble with, whether by the mere presence of others doing so or people themselves requesting I do so (encouraging or not, it confuses me). If I raise my hands, I want to do it because I feel called to myself- not by others. I guess you could say I have trouble worshipping in a group in general.
That's not such a big thing, though... the people weren't mean--most were very nice, in fact. Maybe you have to have lived in Key West to get it. Maybe you have to be me to get what's going on in my head. It was a positive experience in my life, but a negative one in some ways. Does that make sense? Probably not.
School in Key West wasn't fantastic, either. Besides the two from Youth Group, I didn't really have any friends besides others from Youth Group who weren't in any of my classes. Most students didn't appear to care about their grades, nonchalantly citing Ds like they didn't matter. Taking regular science was a mistake-- insanely chaotic, mostly book work, and no one did any schoolwork but me. I think I kept the teacher sane, but seriously.. it was very, very bad. This also brings to mind a certain girl who sat in my group, the thought of whom makes me kind of angry. I could say a lot of negative things about her. I probably shouldn't. This is another thing I could go on and on about.
Moving on with school--every day without fail, I sat outside to eat my lunch. Key West is continuously sunny (one of the positive things I have to say about it), so I had seating problems only a few times the whole year. Whilst eating said lunch, I would call my mom. I don't have any shame in this, but others seemed to have a problem with it. In fact, I was insulted one time that ended in me bursting into tears (after which the person in question came back, said sorry, and told me to tell my mother that I'd met a new friend. I never sat there again.)
I'm somewhat of a misfit, and I'm constantly battling to be at peace with it. I realize that I'm imperfect and mess up. I realize that I say and do the wrong things. I realize that I've made mistakes, and continue to, and always will. But in the same way, I don't see all of these things. I see them, but I don't. I can't realize everything. I can't fix everything, though I want to. I can't be perfect... I really can't.
When I think about it, though, I believe I'd rather belong to the land of the 'misfit' toys than any other land. At least here I know I'm in good company. Here, other people make mistakes and at least want to admit them. Maybe one of us toys are missing an arm or an eye, but guess what--we still love each other.
If only I knew how to get there in a world beyond my dreams.
I haven't found it yet. Not yet.
But as simply I can put it: My dad left us, going off to live in Colorado. My mom has gotten certified to teach and is looking for a job. I've been homeschooling. Which hasn't gone so well. So now I'm behind and -trying- to finish my courses so I can go back to public school.
The thing with this is, people didn't want me to try it. Many thought it was a bad idea, hated the idea, fought the idea... but it was something I wanted to try, so I found a way to do it. Now, being behind, I look really bad to all those people. Among other things, of course. Things I could go on and on about that would end in me getting very worked up about it and probably close to tears.
When I think about it, my life hasn't been so great for a while. Two years ago, I was pretty depressed. I spoke to a school counselor regularly, who charted my 'happiness' and came up with something along the lines of 'you aren't getting any happier. You should be by now.' Don't get me wrong, I liked her as a person, but as a counselor she kept trying to get me to ACT on my problems, which only made me more miserable and upset.
I skipped class whenever I could, but with permission from the counselor. I had a science teacher that was pretty inappropriate and once accused me of doing drugs (oh, the stories I could tell about him). My journalism class disliked me for finding their mistakes, as well as a large portion of the school itself when I started writing an advice column that everyone could tell I wrote. The fact that we lived in Gricignano di Aversa, Italy, didn't help either--besides the fact that the air was so polluted I couldn't go out without getting a headache, it just isn't that fun living in a place where you don't speak the language and your 'civilization' of sorts is a navy base. It just gets old, horrible and isolated.
Then we moved to Key West, Florida- also isolated, if not more so considering it's an island. However, it gets props for the fact that people speak English there. Of course, there was the culture shock. We had lived in Italy for 6 years, and things were very different and, frankly, odd. Even in Italy I had been out of touch with what everyone else thought was cool. I loved my youth group, but there were problems with it that I can't really distinguish clearly and would take a long time to explain. One could write several posts on a certain boy alone.
I suppose one thing that made me uncomfortable was the fact that I felt pressured to raise my hands during worship. This is something I have trouble with, whether by the mere presence of others doing so or people themselves requesting I do so (encouraging or not, it confuses me). If I raise my hands, I want to do it because I feel called to myself- not by others. I guess you could say I have trouble worshipping in a group in general.
That's not such a big thing, though... the people weren't mean--most were very nice, in fact. Maybe you have to have lived in Key West to get it. Maybe you have to be me to get what's going on in my head. It was a positive experience in my life, but a negative one in some ways. Does that make sense? Probably not.
School in Key West wasn't fantastic, either. Besides the two from Youth Group, I didn't really have any friends besides others from Youth Group who weren't in any of my classes. Most students didn't appear to care about their grades, nonchalantly citing Ds like they didn't matter. Taking regular science was a mistake-- insanely chaotic, mostly book work, and no one did any schoolwork but me. I think I kept the teacher sane, but seriously.. it was very, very bad. This also brings to mind a certain girl who sat in my group, the thought of whom makes me kind of angry. I could say a lot of negative things about her. I probably shouldn't. This is another thing I could go on and on about.
Moving on with school--every day without fail, I sat outside to eat my lunch. Key West is continuously sunny (one of the positive things I have to say about it), so I had seating problems only a few times the whole year. Whilst eating said lunch, I would call my mom. I don't have any shame in this, but others seemed to have a problem with it. In fact, I was insulted one time that ended in me bursting into tears (after which the person in question came back, said sorry, and told me to tell my mother that I'd met a new friend. I never sat there again.)
I'm somewhat of a misfit, and I'm constantly battling to be at peace with it. I realize that I'm imperfect and mess up. I realize that I say and do the wrong things. I realize that I've made mistakes, and continue to, and always will. But in the same way, I don't see all of these things. I see them, but I don't. I can't realize everything. I can't fix everything, though I want to. I can't be perfect... I really can't.
When I think about it, though, I believe I'd rather belong to the land of the 'misfit' toys than any other land. At least here I know I'm in good company. Here, other people make mistakes and at least want to admit them. Maybe one of us toys are missing an arm or an eye, but guess what--we still love each other.
If only I knew how to get there in a world beyond my dreams.
I haven't found it yet. Not yet.
Monday, June 1, 2009
To Be Jeeves
If you've seen Jeeves & Wooster with Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie, or perchance read (gasp!) the stories of P.G. Wodehouse, you know that Jeeves is Bertie Wooster's valet.
Well--and this will sound weird--I've come to the conclusion that, when I *grow up*, I want to be a valet. I'm pretty sure girls aren't usually valets. In fact, I'm almost certain valets aren't really in existance anymore, which is a shame.
However, I plan to defeat the odds. I will be a Jeeves. I will wear a spiffy outfit and inflect my voice in that Jeeves-ly way that solves all problems.
...and with this I will live happily ever after.
Well--and this will sound weird--I've come to the conclusion that, when I *grow up*, I want to be a valet. I'm pretty sure girls aren't usually valets. In fact, I'm almost certain valets aren't really in existance anymore, which is a shame.
However, I plan to defeat the odds. I will be a Jeeves. I will wear a spiffy outfit and inflect my voice in that Jeeves-ly way that solves all problems.
...and with this I will live happily ever after.
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