This week is homecoming week. Today is Greek/Roman/Toga day as far as the seniors go. In my middle school and Freshman year I donned nothing but costumes--why am I so nervous now?


Additionally, the scarf Miranda gave me is alive. You all laugh, but I'm serious. It shifts and moves on my neck when I'm not looking. :|

( My Pumpkin is way cooler than yours )

Not really. xDD I did this today. Kids are probably gonna come over, eat the paint, and I'll get sued by some crazy PTA parents. :) YAY

People always go "Oh you write? What do you write?" I think they expect an answer like "mystery," "young adult," or "romance." Presently, I'm trying to think of an equally simple way to say "Well I REALLY like breaking and messing with the reader's beliefs and moral compass using characters that may break expectations in very possibly offensive manners. ♥"

"It's complicated," sounds like I'm describing a relationship. :\


[Edit: I've erased the first part of the original post because I've decided that stupidity is something I want to forget a year from now.]

Busch Gardens has an aviary.

We went in.


Birdies

Apparently the HTML doesn't work. :\

After much deliberation on the subject (passing the issue back and forth in my mind between rigorous debate and thoughtful contemplation) I have concluded that my future will include a more brazen, less adorable agenda--though whichever way I go I can certainly be just as obnoxious as any other loser. Understand, the future is not something I often give a great amount of thought to but the various issues surrounding the subject seemed important enough to motivate me to sit down and think about it for once. Immaturity, delusions, pretentiousness, etc. can hardly be ignored and if I don't plan ahead I fear what will happen when I finally can be considered old enough to pine for my youth. In which outrageous manner will I conduct myself to try and forget that I'm 29? 35? 43? What if I can't decide when the time comes and flounder as I try to simultaneously fit into all the misfitted stereotypes that made it to the finals, and that by attempting to be childishly cute on one end and adolescent and slutty on the other I reach neither goal and come off as nothing but some crazy bipolar lady? When I reach adulthood I need to be prepared to jump into a stereotype and not be myself or, in a lot of cases, not acknowledge my increasing age. That's why I've taken the time now to think about just what kind of person I'm not that I want to play and can't pull off.

My finals were really between a cutsie little thing, a teenager, and a femme fatale. In the end I chose the latter, specifically a biker chick gig. I felt the other two required a lot more work on my part. I don't want to spend my life focusing on getting my voice to the perfectly high, squeaky-cute pitch and memorizing ways to say things adorably like lolcats: "do you has candy for me? ♥" Sure, I could do it but really I'm rather lazy and that's much too much work on my part. The same thing goes for being an irresponsible, slutty adolescent--the valley girl thing may take too much to get a grasp on--online acronyms are hard enough for me as it is. A femme fatale seemed more fun and practical on the whole, and biker babe perhaps because it's fun to wear leather when it just does not work on you at all. :)

So I'm all set for faking, not being myself, and denying reality. I am so pumped! When I get to the point when I can delude myself into thinking I'm cooler than I actually am because I'm emulating something I see on TV and it be even more pathetic because I'm an adult? Holy shit, man. I'm gonna OWN that time. What are you guys gonna do?


Yeah, short version of this post is on facebook. xDDD

I know very little about this gift card other than the fact that it has $53.12 on it and that the person who gave it to me asked "Hey you go to Dillards?"

"Yes?"

"You want this giftcard? I don't know how much money is on it."

I think I was expecting somewhere in the range of $5-10 left, maybe even less. Fifty is hardly the typical amount that people give high schoolers, let alone plus three which seems to imply it was probably either originally $75, $100 or more. Nonetheless, fifty dollars, even if it exists as only half of the original value (and it could), is a lot of money just to hand off to a person on the basis that "I don't go do Dillards." In all liklihood, the person probably expected--eh roughly--$5-10 left, maybe even less. Of course, I don't remember who gave it to me. Zach Ohanlon? Ed?

I've resolved to ask around, and figure it out, so I can ask them "HEY YOU! Do you have any idea how much money you gave me? Do you want it back?"

That's just too much, too nonchalantly for me not to feel guilty about.

That being said, hell yeah I hope they're like "Eh. You can keep it~" but still. Not putting forth the effort makes me feel terrible.

I was tagged for a meme by katenator. But I'm going to also utilize this post for some quick updates:

I think there was a large, black truck following me on my walk home Thursday. It passed by slowly four times. When Zach, Katie and I were walking around Lake Charm last night a black truck passed us very slowly. Due to my freaking out we immediately went home. Scared, OK? >> Zach offered to drive me home Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays from now on and Katie suggested I ride my bike.

I'm thinking of going with this trend thing that's been going on and changing my LJ name too. To midgetwhisp (god, I love damselflies). Opinions? Isitworthit? xD

I realized I'm screwing up my own characterization for Agamemnon for ease; and I'm fixing that now.

I gave Ms. Gibbs my Van Gogh ceiling tile. It looks great up there.

When the ruckus of the younger group of GSA dies down and the chattering (cutely) monkies go home it leaves a handful of people including Duffy, Kelly, Helen, Miranda, Casey Hayes, Ed, and myself. And from this group the GSA morphs into the philosophy club (using that loosely as we are... Rather young) in secret. We munch on cookies and spout out the most abstract ideas and opinions.

01. If you've been tagged, you must write your answers in your own LJ and replace any question that you dislike with a new, original question.
02. Tag eight people. Don't refuse to do that. Don't tag who tagged you.

I'm tagging: { tably, ravynstoneabbey, mechaphilia, mechanical_masq, penguinexpert, prying_pandora, notlynn, and inseaweedswim} (I'm sorry because I hate tagging, and I'm also sorry because you might've already been tagged; I'm a little late to the game here.)

( Meme )

So apparently my computer is "super corrupted." "Something's fucked up there," daddy says, and though he didn't state it explicitly I'm guessing he meant "that's why you get a bitchy error message before it all DIES on you."

That being said, jar_of_coins? My darling sister? (I forgot your codename) I've hijacked your computer, thanksverymuch, and by the way it kind of sucks.

I may be a little more scarce if only because I really, really hate Meebo but if you NEED me for something, email me and I'll come on. Tania, my love, can we go by email as opposed to AIM until I get Mr. Winkle fixed (yes, that is what I have just named my computer just now)?

[Also, due to the analysis in AP Lit class that we did today, I like Frost's The Road Not Taken a lot better now--even though it seemed to crush most of the class' childhood/hopes/dreams.]

( The rest applies to no one but myself. It's my business, not yours. But I'm leaving it public under a cut to tantalize you. I AM TEMPTATION. I AM THE THE FORBIDDEN FRUIT OF THE TREE OF KNOWLEDGE. Click this link and read and you get to feel guilty for the rest of the day. On the other hand, God won't pitch a fit as if you've just divided by zero (you're really gonna screw up all his shit if you do that, man) but still! Guuuuiiiiillllt. Guuuiiiilllt. :3 ilu? )

I agreed, a few weeks ago, to do a ceiling tile for Gibbs--the AP Art History/Creative Writing teacher. She likes her ceiling tiles to be copies of famous art pieces (like how Doc Star's need to be connected to literature and Vitali's to Italy). I took the ceiling tile home. Stared at it for a while. Flipped through art books and decided it'd be fun to try Van Gogh's A Cornfield with Cypresses when I got the time.

Today I was home sick.

I had the time.

I slaaaaaaaave. About... Three hours? I'm not sure. I didn't keep track.

The product under the cut. I had to compress the picture a little--the tile wasn't big enough, either being a square or my sizing being poor. LIKE A LITTLE FLEXIBILITY THOUGH? >> Really. I don't think the camera pictures do it justice. Not to be egotistic or anything like that.

( *cuts off ear* :3 )

Watch it. :|



Well, you know guys, if smoking doesn't kill me--something else will. Ahem.

Just sayin'. I'll remain vague. It really speaks for itself.

I won't take a shower if there is lightning within the state of Florida within a ten mile radius of me. I check my alarm clock five times to make sure I actually set it. Every time I go past the oven, deep frier, etc. I make sure to see that it's off. I won't plug appliances in because I'm afraid of the spark. Every time there is a storm I'm convinced there's a tornado coming. If I think about it too much, late at night when everyone else is asleep, I can convince myself there's a killer in my house or outside my window--watching. As a matter of fact, when someone knocks at the side door of my house (that leads to the laundry room and has a window) I'm afraid when I look to answer it it'll be a stranger's face or, worse, nobody will be there. I get nervous when UPS guys don't just drop the package off and instead linger at the door. I don't drink or do drugs not because I'm a nice young girl but because I'm afraid I'll let some secrets out during.

And yet, the same person wants a motorcycle. She is somewhat enticed by the idea of hitching rides here to there to here to there on big rigs or hiking through deserts alone. I trust these things--which have a terrible track record--more than I trust the pizza man. Part of me, after college, wants to screw my degree, get a job as a waitress, and try for a bit to live off minimum wage--just to see what that's like. I won't go on planes, but I want to live for a bit in poor communities, and I'd kind of like to visit third world countries.

I'm just sayin'. I rock. I am, very possibly, peculiar.

Ah well.




... Ew. Self-centered. I'm not going to make this private too though. >>

Edit: Oh Jim Greer, my dearest neighbor, you're giving Oviedo a very bad name with your "OBAMA IS GOING TO BRAINWASH/INDOCTRINATE CHILDREN" tantrum. Sadly, most people here agree with you. I'M SLIGHTLY THANKFUL THOUGH. Daddy always says to view these really dumb statements/arguments as an IQ test. You fail the IQ test ohohohohohohohohohoho I'm so clever.

Comment and I'll give you 5 words I associate with you.
Then, explain them in your LJ.

From xxjinxxx
Agamemnon, coffee, awesomeness, likability, hobbits

( I think someone was far too kind with these words... )

I'm sorry for my temporary absence, guys. If you must know why: I haven't finished he summer reading I'm being tested on come Friday.

First day of school today. Went generally OK. Just one small thing I have to note. You see, in previous years the rule was that if you had three absences or less and an A you don't have to take the semester exam. Two absences or less and B, and you still don't have to take it. One absence or less and C, and you just barely do not have to take that two hour test. Oh but this year--this year my friends--

They did away with all exam exemptions.

Wanna know why?

I dare you to guess what they said.

( Because of... )

I don't know whether to sob or laugh. XD

Today was schedule pickup day. :D

You know, to get the incorrect schedule and meet the teachers that weren't there.

And I don't present this in a spiteful manner, my manner might have had the chance to be bitter if the whole thing hadn't been so damn creepy. It wasn't just like the teachers forgot or were lazy, it was like they had disappeared. It was a ghost town. Aliens abducted them. It was the rapture--because, as you know, teachers worship their own seperate god. Just like the Jews.

But the lights would be on and the rooms would be empty. I didn't see anyone at all. It was like they all up and vanished.





... It's been so long since I've last had the flu I forget what feeling nauseous feels like. I might feel nauseous. I don't know. What does that feel like?

I stole from Nelly because.... Because. I am the goddamn "Peacemaker," bitches--and I love nothing more than the violent vocabulary in that phrase. Oh I am so clever.

I only wonder if it's strange for me to want to adorn myself in traditional Native American clothes and smoke something with someone now, or, rather, if that's racist of me.

( Frankie is the Peacemaker )

I don't think I knew the full extent of my fail until just now.

I mean, it was always there. It was always generally apparent--more concentrated in middle school and lessening in appearance as time wore on. I think my fail was something I was born with though. It comes to me naturally. It's a part of me and my character. It will always be there--apparent or not. I just don't think I knew how big it was until now.

See, there's a junebug in my room and I won't go to sleep--I won't even go in--because of it.

I whacked it twice with a copy of Mutiny on the Bounty in my panic. It hit the wall but I don't think it died. Then I fled.

Presently, as you can see, I'm contemplating just how pathetic all that is at my computer, helplessly exhausted, and waiting for daddy to get up (I won't ask him to kill it. He just hates getting up to no one being awake and as long as I'm shunning my bed and sleep I might as well stay up for him). In addition to that, I'm constantly plagued with delusions. That is to say, that I keep on feeling like there is a junebug climbing up my shirt or on my jeans, etc. I swat at it and there is nothing there. I don't think I'd know what to do if it turned out there was.

Probably cry. :P

I may grab a pillow and blanket and chill on the couch with the dog.




Stupid beetle.


Edit: Crap. Today is Sunday. Daddy will not be getting up any time soon.

I just found out that when I was little(r), mommy used to tell my sisters and I, when we heard the ice cream truck coming around, that it wasn't the ice cream truck but the music truck (so we wouldn't grab her monies and go running after it).

And I believed her sob

I was destined to be a tremendous dumbass like Paris was destined to be tremendous fail ;D. The early signs of my stupidity are proof. PROOF.

Happy Birthday, Mr. President?

Because I was tagged, because I'm bored, and because I'm tired of wiggling my toes (that's what I do when I'm bored).

Four jobs I’ve had
I'm 17. I've yet to hold a real job; I've yet to need one. Odd jobs aren't important enough to to list. :P

Four movies I can watch over and over
1. Amelie
2. Big Fish
3. The Secret of Nimh
4. Beauty and The Beast

Four places I’ve lived
1. Florida. That's... That's it. I've moved once from... One place in central Florida to another place in central Florida. D:

Four TV shows I love
1. Pushing Daisies
2. Criminal Minds
3. Big Bang Theory
4. Jeopardy :x

Four places I’ve vacationed
1. Mexico
2. NYC
3. Bahamas
4. Las Vegas~♥

Four of my favorite dishes
1. Arancini
2. Tortellini
3. Eclairs (I have a great love for the Italian culture and I make fun of the French on a regular bases but even I cannot deny that eclairs pwn cannoli)
4. Crab Wontons

Four sites I visit daily
1. LJ
2. Wikipedia :D
3. Youtube
4. Subeta

Four places I would rather be right now
1. New Orleans
2. Turkey, India, etc.
3. California
4. FRANCESCA-WORLD. IN MY HEAD. :|

I want to deliver a very serious, mind-blowing punch to my computer--not for how often it messes up and how fail it is (and it is fail) but for the idiocy it's made to bear. To some extent, that stupidity is my own fault, and so it's really me inflicting the machine with this torture and therefore I should be punished. But I feel, in some way, that having to subject myself to this crap is punishment enough. So, naturally, I want to deck my computer (since my real target is only a concept) and I can only hope the the blow is so earth-shattering that it knocks Seminole County school board on their asses and wipes this very important life management bullshit off the map.

Frankly, I can see how, as a council member, you kind of have to move that "Life Management Skills" be required and I can similarly understand how life management skills kind of has to teach this bullshit rather than actual life management skills (why? The general P. T. Fucking A philosophies, people. Soccer moms' and black hawks' perception of valuable education is vicious and highly bowdlerized most of the time). But that understanding of how this "good image" thing and censorship stuff works does not mean I don't find it stupid. It's so stupid. I understand the people but I reject the concept with full-force. It needs to GTFO of my sinful, dirty, unwholesome bubble (otherwise known as life--my one, true love) before it messes up the fantastic.

In all the lessons I've had to suffer through for this class, I feel this one making me grumble the most. The self-esteem shit was kind of stupid but understandable, the food safety made sense--but this retreat to kindergarten kills me. Anyone remember this?

"I feel _______ when you ______ because I __________." And then Ms. Peplo, my kindergarten teacher, would congratulate you all, tell Billy to stop sucking on the glue, turn his good-child-green-bear into a yellow-warning-bear and then tell us to repeat again. "I feel mad when you interrupt me because I need to be heard." And we wondered then wtf this was all about--yes, in that exact wording.

And I understand the concept. I do. Use I instead of you so it doesn't seem to peg blame on the other person and avoids conflict. That's a good idea. It's a nice idea. And these formulas so that you remember too--how marvelous--what a nice idea. But it's an idea I liken to Karl Marx' Communist Manifesto vs. communism in practice. Not in methods, obviously, but in how they play out. Nice idea--just doesn't seem to work out often. And I think it's for a common reason in both cases; Life Management Skills and Karl Marx fail to factor in the less-desirable parts of human nature.

"I feel angry when you desecrate my ideas because I worked very hard on my book and I believe in it a lot," says AU Karl Marx to Stalin. "OK," says Stalin, and shoots him in the head.

Life Management Skills kind of tries to tip-toe and ignore practically everything that's undesirable--I don't think they're allowed to do anything else. And... That's dumb. Because it's life and life has shitty parts to it and so you find yourself teaching how to be prepared for this synthetic world that none of us are going to find ourselves in.

For the moment, I'm just going to sit back and pretend I didn't submit that exam and thus advocate these Brady Bunch practices.

Very short entry comparatively. No parallels, no painstakingly crafted universal message (not because I'm trying to be "deep"--that can be tacky. But rather because my former AP Lang teacher is convinced that I don't grasp the balance of universal to local when it comes to literary theme--well fuck you, Mr. Jesse), none of that. And that's OK. I just want to dedicate a LJ moment to a certain question.

Flist...?

What is it about intuition razors that make them work so much better than the conventional method?

And I'm not talking about the ease in the actual process--though that does help my mood--I'm more referring to how long that glorious smooth stays after intuition rapes and pillages versus the conventional method's fail attempts at viking hobbies.

Ah. I'm in a good place~ (Although I'm sure you didn't need to know why ♥)