Blog Every Day August: 8/4

Having set up the appointment in late May (gosh, so long!), my mom and I visited with my school counselor about a great many things this afternoon. The counselor, who has been a godsend this past year as my credits experienced incredible and extreme wonkiness, has just returned from her own vacation. Orientations start next week, the school has been completely rearranged and grades/schedules are wreaking havoc. This is pretty much to be expected, I admit, but a quick note about my school: it has been added on to multiple times. The layout is confusing as it is and includes enclosed courtyards no one is allowed to enter, several twenty wings that were added on later and other buildings scattered across several streets nearby. They are moving--deep breath--everything. I am duly panicked.

A main topic of conversation at this meeting was college applications. Deep breaths. No, I do not know where I want to go to college. Not at all. And what about financial aid/scholarships/grants/epic magic ninjas? What do I want to do with my life? I can only imagine the questions will continue to be poured over me as my senior year (insert dramatic music here) begins. For some reason I am picturing an egg being cracked over my head. Also disillusionment charms. What about the SATs? What about our state's standardized tests, which I'm scared for but assured that I will be able to pass? Will any college desire my fantastical wonder and grace? These are valid questions, but I have great difficulty in taking things one step at a time. I want to tackle everything RIGHT NOW, so my thoughts become many and everywhere and surround me until I'm drowning. As a result, I get nothing done. I love being a multitasker, but sometimes it just gets really, really confusing.

Having sorted through various issues I will doubtless besiege you with information on before this month is over, we asked about the required reading my school has suddenly decided to bring forth and were sent on a grand mission to locate them on the school grounds. First we went to the library, where we spoke to the librarian. Why this is a big deal: my school has a Work Co-Op program, and in June I inquired about working in library. I spoke with the teacher who runs the program and interviewed with the librarian (forms, my first ever resume, scary anticipation), and several weeks later I learned that I've received the position for next school year. I still have to set things up with the teacher (probably more forms), who is still on vacation at the moment, but I am insanely excited about working in the library. Seeing the librarian again for the first time (and with no notice) since my interview was a potentially frightening prospect, as I am definitely one to think myself into a tizzy in preparation for events and encounters. No preparation! All things considered, having it this way was probably the best thing that could have happened, as I was given only about two minutes to panic before we were in the library and speaking to her. We asked about the required reading and she sent us along to another room because the books had been moved, but it gave me confirmation that she is still gung ho to have me working there. I felt awkward, but then I find almost all social situations awkward. She is very nice, and my interview in June didn't leave me feeling too utterly embarrassed, and I am (ahh, this word) so stoked to have this opportunity.

Locating the Keeper Of The Books, we picked up my required reading (Frankenstein) and were sent on a wild goose chase to find my sister's. The high school claimed the junior high has her reading. The junior high claimed the high school has it. Useful information, hrm? Since then I have been sitting at my computer attempting to compose this and finding distractions at every turn. As a result, I am now registered for the SAT in October. Game on.

Blog Every Day August: 8/3

I am interrupting my usual evening of chair dancing and mindless internet creeping to bring you this glorious blog post. I'm not saying you should be grateful. Or maybe that is what I'm saying. I hadn't really considered it, so feel free to choose your own team.

Summer vacation is now a scant three weeks from coming to a close. While I have battled the dragons of confusion and settled into it a bit by now, summer is a strange concept for me. Having attempted online high school courses that didn't work for me in my sophomore year, I entered public school again last year needing to complete two years of schoolwork in one. Emotionally drained and sketchy as it is, all I have been able to fathom these past few years is work work work breakdown work work work breakdown AHHHHHH work. And while I was able to make up that work (really, I could go on for ages about the brain mush I experienced), I'm now left making up the things I missed as a result: the SATs, our state's final standardized tests and whatever college research I might have done otherwise. I have no clue what I'm doing. But as I was saying, summer (and breathing) as a concept has been a bit lost to me.

So. Summer. What have I done with it? I was meant to do things regarding college research and SAT study, but (excuses, excuses!) without guidance I find myself lost. As I learned during my stint as a homeschooler, without specific instruction I tend to end up paralytic and getting absolutely nowhere. The same goes for times where I have a great many things to accomplish. I have been undertaking a huge project in many pieces this summer, however, and that is reorganizing everything I own. It's all very poignant and frazzling. Maybe I'll never finish, as it is definitely a whelming and huge task. This is not an indicator of mass so much as content. As a military child, we moved often and were constantly purging our possessions in order to make weight. While I certainly have a lot of stuff, I do mourn the things I had to leave behind, and what's left tells a story. Maybe my life is a shrine of ornaments; I don't know. Also notable, a Great And Terrible Situation involving a boy leading me on and then dumping me in a text message played a large part of my summer. Maybe he'll get a blog post sometime this month. He doesn't deserve it, but my thoughts are existent and valid and writing is a great helpmate.

This afternoon my brethren and I drove into San Antonio, the closest city to our charming and teeny tiny town, for several appointments. Firstly I had an appointment with a (my?) dermatologist, which was started off in spectacular fashion as we waited in an ocean themed waiting room for longer than I would have cared to be in an ocean themed waiting room with many rambunctious children. Yay, ocean phobias? Now I get to try another acne medication. Maybe this time my face won't peel off. Following this was my, er, therapy session (?). I love my counselor. She makes Harry Potter references and jumps up and happy dances when good things happen. So that happened, and then we went out to dinner, which doesn't happen often but remains one of my favorite things. Our waitress was really nice and I ate food, 2/3 of which ended up coming home with me in a take home box. My stomach hasn't been behaving very well since April, but I think it's getting a bit better. I can eat more now without becoming bedridden, which I appreciate. Course, I'm also not averse to losing weight, so then we come to the part where I just don't *want* to eat. But I'm actually pretty okay right now. I've started walking on our treadmill (yet unnamed, suggestions welcome) every night, and it's lifting my mood somewhat. I haven't exercised this frequently... ever. I'm pretty chuffed with myself. So what if I spend most of my time at 2.5 miles per hour? I AM STILL COOL.

Tomorrow I'm going to meet with my school counselor. Hopefully I can get some answers regarding about five hundred different things and update you on my panic levels.

Are you doing BEDA, too? Let me know! We are destined to be buddies. I feel it. And even on the chance that you aren't--this still needs to happen. I have hugs! Also confetti.

Blog Every Day August: 8/2

Story time. When we (my sister, mom and I) moved to this (itsy bitsy hick magical) town two years ago, we began attending the local United Methodist Church. To put it as simply as I can, our youth pastor was offered a (non-volunteer, ahem) position as youth director at a church in a neighboring city. As a result of this and other factors (i.e. the pastor retiring and church politics being what they are), we don't really have a home church at the moment but continue to associate with our former youth pastor's group and participate in some of the events at their church. It's all very confusing but existent, and you don't really need to know all of this, but there's some groundwork for you.

Yesterday the youth group had a lock-in for the girls. It was really almost merely an excuse to get us to paint bluebonnets on canvas bags for the United Methodist Women to sell. I am somewhat insulted at being continually asked to do this. I know they sell them, but where does the money go? The UMW, supposedly, but where does it go from there? I am told that I am--wait for it--"the future." That gets to me too. Fumes. However, I do go willingly to these events, so maybe I'm bringing this frustration onto myself. We were also asked to write letters to soldiers, which I didn't mind as much. I may feel ignorant and jaded writing them, but I am much more comfortable at writing than painting bluebonnets. Just so you know.

Other main events at this lock-in included ridiculous dancing to Jesus songs and a talent show. I am not averse to Jesus songs. I like many of them, even. However, gesticulating wildly while singing "Pharaoh, pharaoh, whoa baby let your people go! Huh! Yeah yeah yeah yeah!" did not feel historically accurate. Maybe that's just me. As for the talent show... it included a lot of dancing to songs playing as loudly as my poor little phone could manage, as the girls were "borrowing" it to use music off of YouTube and the sound system was not behaving as they would have liked. I did not want to part with my phone, as it ties me to great land of the internet in scary social situations, but I was pretty much cornered into this act of supreme kindness. Woe is me. I get weird about my writing when people I don't know very well read it, but I read something I had with me at the time about puzzle pieces (don't ask) for my "TALENT" and earned the grand title of "Best Poet" for my efforts. I am not a poet, so this irks me a bit, but it is to be noted that I did take great care in not bending the certificate I received. Maybe I just don't like bending things. We'll go with that one.

Upon completing these perilous tasks, we scampered over to the youth building to set up camp with air mattresses, sleeping bags and more junk food than I've ever seen in a setting such as this in my life. I did eat a bowl of ice cream. It was ice cream. Junk food makes me nauseous, which I find to be quite unfortunate. I tend towards hanging out with the adults/chaperones when I attend group events, which is what happened in this instance. While the girls pushed their air mattresses together on the other side of the room, as to make mattress hopping a critical life skill to have mastered, I ended up on a love-seat in a group of couches the adults were sleeping on. I can't help but think that I probably slept better curled strategically on this love-seat than I would have on an air mattress, the supply of which quickly dwindled to none. With sugar at hand and florescent lighting assuring wakefulness, the girls quickly turned to utterly fascinating subjects. Such as thongs, boys, booty dancing, boys, the great need for gay best friends, boys and tan circles. Also notable is the fact that many of these girls wear very little in the way of pajamas, and I now am both scarred and almost convinced that I may be the last girl on earth without a flat stomach and hair on no places other than my head.

Sleep occurred at some point, and this morning I woke up achy and required to do some more Jesus dancing ("pharaoh, pharaoh, ohhhhh baby let your people go! Huh! Yeah yeah yeah yeah!"). Maybe it is a lost art that I am shamelessly shunning, but I really did not appreciate the Jesus dancing at that hour. Following this and more letters to soldiers, we returned again to the youth room where more junk food was consumed and people began readying themselves to go. Soon there were just a few of us left, and after straightening things quite excellently and being given lunch by the Children's Lunch Program the church runs (adorable! Jamwiches!), my sister and I were kindly given a ride home with the youth pastor's wife (who is really more of a co-leader, considering how much work she does for the group), her daughter and sister-in-law in their truck. They are the only family I know that actually, you know, needs a truck. We have trucks practically coming out of our ears here, but that is a rant for another day. The family has horses and does rodeo and probably other things I am unaware of. In any event, we were a bit squishy. There were pop up seats and I couldn't feel various appendages for a while, but all things considered it went pretty well.

And guess what? Now I am HOME. I could sprinkle you with possibly amusing anecdotes from my great and magical adventure, but my mom is home again now and I am compelled to go say hello to her and things because I missed her. Thank you for reading this incomplete (yet charming) brain mush I have somehow produced. Welcome to the fold, and I shall see you again tomorrow for more exciting things.

Blog Every Day August: 8/1

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.

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.

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.

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.