insert title here

I'm a traitor, I know.

2009-01-25T19:05:00.001-08:00

But wordpress is just... so pretty!

http://lostinateacup.wordpress.com/

In other news, my room smells like pumpkin pie.

my name kind of fails

2009-01-14T15:24:00.000-08:00

Type your name into Google with the verb that comes after in the question. Answer with your favorites from the first page of google results. Have fun!

Q: Type in "[your name] needs" in the Google search.
A: "Gabby needs a new boyfriend." "Gabby needs a home." "Gabby needs dentures."

Q: Type in "[your name] looks like" in Google search.
A: "Gabriella looks like a doll in her cute red hat and sweater." "Gabriella looks like she'd rather be dead." "Gabriella looks like a triangle." ..this also came up: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4499994/1/Chipmunk_Tour_Saga_Wildcat_Spirits_Forever. See what I have to deal with?

Q: Type in "[your name] says" in Google search.
A: "Gabby says, 'Tinatanong din sa akin kung gusto ko bumalik sa pelikula.'" "Gabby says it’s nothing personal." "Gabby says: Girlfriends can sometimes be annoying."

Q: Type in "[your name] wants" in Google search.
A: "Gabriella wants to put a fence around the outside of the 5 foot wide walkway, how much fencing does she need?"

Q:Type in "[your name] does" in Google search.
A: "Gabriella does a dangerous trick." "Does gabriella fancy troy?" (answer: NO.)

Q: Type in "[your name] hates" in Google search.
A: "Gabriella hates him and gets angrier every day, but one of the builders happens to be 19 year old Troy Bolton who calms her.." Seriously?! HSM fanfiction?! Jesus Christ.

Q: Type in "[your name] asks" in Google search.
A: "Gabby Asks:. If you ran out of food on the ship what would you eat?"

Q: Type in "[your name] likes " in Google search.
A: "Gabby likes to burrow in her blankets"

Q: Type in "[your name] eats " in Google search.
A: "gabby eats hobos." (um. what?)

Q: Type in "[your name] wears " in Google search.
A: "Gabriella wears a super trendy necklace."

Q: Type in "[your name] was arrested for" in Google Search.
A: "Gabriella was arrested for drinking underaged." "gabby was arrested for related topics." "Gabby was arrested for Cyber stalking." "Gabby was arrested for robbing drug dealers."

Q: Type in "[your name] loves" in Google Search.
A. "Gabby loves to sleep in the sunlight." "Gabriella loves girl power."

D.A.R.E.

2008-12-15T03:41:00.000-08:00

I will always be a D.A.R.E. kid.

thoughts on procrastination

2008-12-15T00:42:00.000-08:00

I don't know why I procrastinate. Maybe I believe that I'll make all my work disappear? I don't know. Maybe I just work better under stress. Or at least, I used to, so now my brain/body is used to not starting until the last minute.

But I hate being under constant stress. I hate always complaining about how much work I have to do juxtaposed with the little sleep I get. It's not completely my fault that I rarely get enough sleep, but I know that I would get a lot more if I just sat down and concentrated on my work. But I don't until really late at night, most of the time. And when I actually do it, it doesn't take that long. It's getting to the state of mind in which I can overcome all pressures placed on that takes forever.

But now I'm almost half-way done with my government essay. Hurrah! Progress. Granted, it's almost 2 A.M., but the last time I had a government paper, I started it two days after it was due.

So now, I'm sitting here with my box of CCJJs and mug of Earl Grey, listening to the noisy heater by my bedroom door and the rain outside my window. I know I can get it done. I know I can memorize the monologues for my audition tomorrow, as well. I can do anything I set my mind to. I can. I can. I can.

On another note, earlier today I told my dear friend Evan that I hate being alone and awake at night. I'm not sure if that's true, though. Well, it was true when I said it. But now, I'm comfortable. I'm okay with being alone. I'm not sure why, though. Maybe I'm just calmer. Or maybe I'm just more delusional. Or...I don't know, I'm bipolar or something. Or maybe I just change a lot. That must be it. I guess I'm just in a constant state of change.

Anyway, I just need to get through this week. I just need to get through tomorrow.

Good night. Good morning.

plan of action

2008-12-04T02:40:00.000-08:00

Still up doing homework. Probably will not sleep tonight.
So here's what I'm doing instead:

1. Finish writing and answering Brave New World questions.

2. Finish writing paper for French.

3. Finish reading chapters 5 and 6 of Brave New World.

4. Take a nice, hot, long shower.

5. Get ready for school.

6. Sleep in car on the way to school. Or something like that.

Feh. At least I took a nap earlier.
OH. And did I mention that I didn't have time to eat anything until 5 p.m. yesterday?

momentarily brain dead & pictures

2008-12-03T23:04:00.000-08:00

I'm physically and mentally exhausted. Today was absolutely horrible from the moment I woke up. Tonight has been productive, I suppose, but I still have a lot of work to do.
Bleh.

I've spent the past few hours reading Brave New World for English, which I actually really like. But now I have to write something on L'étranger for French and in French. And then I have to read more of Brave New World, and write stuff on it.

But I'm kind of brain dead. So I took some pictures.

omglonghair. Should I grow it out?

fifth sentence from the 56th page of six books.

2008-12-02T21:01:00.000-08:00

"There were no napkins." -Tuck Everlasting

"She felt as if she rather liked to hear her, and at last she thought she would ask her a question." -The Secret Garden

"I figure it to be the East Wing, the one destroyed by the fire." -A Great and Terrible Beauty

"'It's not funny, Ron,' said Hermione sharply."-Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

"'You are a little out of your way,' said the elf: 'that is, if you are making across the only water to the house beyond.'" -The Hobbit

"When I got to the twenty-fifth floor, Margo was standing on the landing, waiting for me." -Paper Towns

applying to UCs

2008-11-24T23:53:00.000-08:00

So there was this one time, actually, many times, when I said I wasn't going to apply to the UCs. And then, in an attempt to avoid doing my government and french homework, I filled out most of the application. Ha. Ha. Ha. I guess I'll apply, after all.

therapy

2008-11-18T23:09:00.001-08:00

I'm kind of tired of playing the part of the therapist for all of my friends.

I have my own problems. I guess listen because theirs are manageable.

But hey, it's the bitch of living. Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.

And that's the end.

The Beatles said it best.

2008-11-13T23:35:00.000-08:00

I'm so tired, I haven't slept a wink
I'm so tired, my mind is on the blink
I wonder should I get up and fix myself a drink
No,no,no.

I'm so tired I don't know what to do
I'm so tired my mind is set on you
I wonder should I call you but I know what you would do

You'd say I'm putting you on
But it's no joke, it's doing me harm
You know I can't sleep, I can't stop my brain
You know it's three weeks, I'm going insane
You know I'd give you everything I've got
for a little peace of mind

I'm so tired, I'm feeling so upset
Although I'm so tired I'll have another cigarette
And curse Sir Walter Raleigh
He was such a stupid git.

You'd say I'm putting you on
But it's no joke, it's doing me harm
You know I can't sleep, I can't stop my brain
You know it's three weeks, I'm going insane
You know I'd give you everything I've got
for a little peace of mind
I'd give you everything I've got for a little peace of mind
I'd give you everything I've got for a little peace of mind

sometimes

2008-11-12T23:49:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I wish you would lie to me.
Tell me things I need to hear. I mean, I know honesty is the best policy and whatnot..but some things would be easier if you lied. Tell me you hate me. Or that you love me. Either is better than indifference.

I'm tired. I'm going to sleep now. Hopefully, forever.
Heh. I wish.

I hate.

2008-11-09T01:21:00.000-08:00

I hate it when my friends are sad and I can't make them feel better.
I hate it when my friends are sad because their friends act stupidly.
I hate it when my friends are sad and they don't tell me why.
Gah.

basically

2008-10-27T00:13:00.000-07:00

Dreams could never be this heartbreaking.

sigh

2008-10-17T23:05:00.000-07:00

Raise your hand if you're feeling emo and depressed?

*raises hand*

BLAH.
I don't even know why.
Well maybe I do.
Sort of.
Part of the reason.
VAGUENESS FTW.

I'm just conflicted. Ahhhhhhh. And all alone in sunny California. And...stressed. And tired. And feeling left out.
And I still don't have Paper Towns. At least it's on hold. But still.

I hate these phases that I go through. These phases of...nondescript depression that usually lasts a few hours. Maybe a few days.

I'll be okay. I always am.

All I want to say is.

2008-10-15T23:38:00.000-07:00

Tu me plaîs.

hm.

2008-10-14T23:54:00.000-07:00

You confuse me. Or maybe I confuse myself.

Point being: I'm confused.

Or at least I wish I were, because it would be easier. I'm just kind of freaking out.

On another note, I'm going to send some postcards to postsecret.

Fuck.

2008-10-13T00:18:00.000-07:00

I have so much to do still, it's actually quite hilarious. I have to design a clown for my Commedia d'elle Arte class, I have to study for two tests, I have to half-ass an English paper, answer some ridiculous questions for my government class, finish my math homework....

But of course, I'm not doing any of it. I get distracted. I get bored. I don't care enough. I need to do it. Everything would be so much easier if I just finished it right away, so why don't I do that?

Right now, I'm just... I don't even know what the hell I'm doing. I'm being an angsty teenager. No I'm not. Fuuuuuuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I'm listening to Sigur Ros. Maybe that's why I'm in a weird mood. Their music makes me feel very surreal. It's beautiful.

Looking at my government book, I know I should do my homework... but it's the most redundant piece of shit ever. Actually.. that would by my physics book.

Ugh. My feet are cold. This is jumbled and incoherent. But what can I say? I'm tired. I'm out of it. Time for caffeinated tea.

scones is a cult of polygamist youtubers

2008-10-12T14:57:00.000-07:00

I wish Wikipedia didn't delete things right away.

p.s.
you know you love my plethora of tabs.

scones

2008-10-10T22:12:00.000-07:00

My life.

I have nothing to say.

night bird

2008-10-09T01:17:00.001-07:00

I am, once again, finishing my English homework, which I started at 12:00 AM. Sort of. Maybe a bit later.

I have a lot to do, but I still have around..6.5 hours until I have to leave for school, so I should be able to get it done.

...It's kind of sad that I'm not thinking of sleep. Just thinking of how long it will take me. Oh jesus. People should not be used to this.

I figured out why I can't start my homework early, though. For one, it's really, really boring. I mean, I get the book. I like it. Why do I have to answer your brainless questions? So, the natural thing to do when one is bored, is to entertain oneself. So that's what I do, usually by talking to PEOPLE WHOM I LOVE. <3 href="http://icanhascheezburger.com/">pictures.

But late at night, there are less distractions, so I can crack down and concentrate on what I need to do. On the flip side, sometimes I pass out before I can finish. And that doesn't end well for anyone.

So now, I return to my homework. It will be finished. And hopefully I'll have time to sleep.

p.s.- scones did not help this situation. <3

this is familiar

2008-09-08T00:15:00.000-07:00

Once again, it is past midnight on a school night and I am not done with my English homework.
I love my life. I really, really do. No sarcasm there. Seriously.

I mean.. everything has just been going well, fantastically, great for the past few weeks, and I've been really happy.

I mean, I'm even enjoying physics, math, and AP gov. That is saying something.

Also, most of my friends are going away to college this year. At first I was in shock and bawling and whatnot, but now I just can't wait for them to leave (it sounds horrible, I know.) I feel like, with them gone, I can just start over, and leave all the drama they caused (aka A LOT) behind.

oh, and in a past blog post, I mention a few things that I promised to discuss later.

So, I named this guy I know called Spencer. He kind of freaks me out. A lot. What happened that day.....basically he told me about his Scientology stuff, which really creeped the fuck out of me. I feel bad for being prejudice against him for that, but that's just how things happen, I suppose. Scientology is just really freaking weird.

I also brought up my middle school friend, Krystal. I haven't seen her for ages, but we were BFFs back in the day.
Anyway, I was hanging out with another old school friend, Lace, when she told me that my dear, 176-year-old friend Krys, was five months pregnant. It was shocking.

Anyway, I have to get my english homework done now. I'm exhausted. I need to sleep more. Damn.

Weird Day

2008-07-31T01:09:00.000-07:00

I had a very unsettling revelation this evening about one of my friends, and it sort of changes my perspective of today. And now I'm in a weird mood. Will discuss more when not half asleep.
Something to do with: spence, krys, people in gen....

love

mmmmm

2008-06-23T00:12:00.001-07:00

Summer is good.

Oh yes it is.

Just finding ways to procrastinate.

2008-06-18T16:45:00.000-07:00

Another story I wrote for English. AND IT'S 100% TRUE! Seriously. It is.

When I was 3 ½ years old, I found a kitten hiding underneath one of the edifices at my preschool. As soon as I saw it, I fell in love with it; it had these huge, gorgeous hazel eyes and long, luxuriant fur... it was the cat I’d always wanted. At my behest, one of my classmates ran to get my teacher, whilst I attempted to gently coerce the feline from it’s hiding spot.
As I called to it, it stared at me with its huge, innocent eyes, filled with disquietude.
“Pst, pst, pst. Come here kitty. I won’t hurt you. Come on…” The more I beckoned it approach me, the more curious it became. And as if its curiosity completely pervaded his system, he took a step towards me.
Step by step he advanced. By the time the adults arrived to help, he was in such close propinquity to me that I could almost touch him. I lay down flat on my stomach, arm stretched in front of my, reaching out to close the miniscule distance between us.
I stretched and stretched my arms out towards it, still calling it, as he slowly began to crawl out from under the looming building. Before the grown-ups could do anything, I pounced onto the small kitten, clutching it to my chest. It was in that moment that I felt the first intimations of attachment to that little creature, the feeling that if anything ever sundered us, I would be forever shaken.
After searching the school for its progenitors, only to discover it was abandoned, and after indefatigably begging my mother to let me keep it, I brought the kitten home in a cardboard box.
Home, my mother and I discovered that the cat was, in fact, male. I refused to believe her at first, demanding we call “her” Cherry. My mother, being wise and almighty, however, denied my exigencies, suggesting, instead, the name Puck. I was fine with that. And so Puck the cat came into our home, imbuing a previously unknown sense of jocularity. He was our magical cat; he was consecratory.
It was a well-known fact, for it had been thoroughly propagated throughout our neighborhood, that we were inseparable. He went everywhere with me; he even stayed with me during my sojourn in Colombia when I was five years old. And it was after the return of this visit, that the incident occurred.
I suppose that it is the propensity of humans, especially those lacking probity, to covet and steal that which they can never have for themselves, so I shouldn’t have been shocked.
The first time my cat was stolen, I was completely unaware of the inimical purport of the action.
We found him the next day, sitting despondently in the window of my aging neighbor, his collar off, as if it had been thrown away to obviate all means of returning him.
So my mother and I visited my autumnal neighbor, who greeted us with what seemed to be obeisance and kindness. We discovered at once that she was the loquacious sort who never let a moment be silent. She claimed she had seen my cat wandering the streets, so, of course, she beneficently brought the poor creature to her home to care for it. But she did not steal the cat, or so she claimed. After that was cleared up, she took a Polaroid picture of me holding Puck, just so that she wouldn’t make the same mistake again. I do not remember hoe long we stayed there, for I shortly after we got there, I fell asleep, due to the somniferous sound of her voice and her lack of social skills. And I was only five.
A few weeks later, my cat went missing again. Looking back on it, it was perforce that she would steal my cat. She was a very unstable person. Prepare yourself.

When we saw Puck sitting in her window once again, my mother and I made our way over to my neighbor’s, confused as to why she would take my cat again. We noticed the old woman glaring at us through her window, but as we approached her unhallowed door, she quickly turned away, leaving us feeling inauspicious.
We knocked.
No answer.
We knocked again.
Again, no answer.
We knocked one last time.
Footsteps.
She appeared on the other side of the screen door.
“What do you want?” she asked. She sounded completely innocent, but you could see the guilt for what she’d done, as well as the repugnance she felt for me, in her eyes.
“I WANT MY KITTY!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “YOU TOOK MY KITTY! I SAW HIM IN THE WINDOW! YOU’RE A MEAN, MEAN LADY AND I WANT MY KITTY!” I was bawling by that point.
“Look,” my mother added calmly, “we saw him in the window. There’s no use trying to hide him. And can’t you see she’s upset? Please, I’m begging, just give us back our cat.”
The old woman paused, silently debating the current situation. She then turned away, starting to close the front door, when all of a sudden my mother ripped open the flimsy screen door. She grabbed my by the waist, pulling me in with her quickly, before the crazy lady could do anything.
My neighbor ran for what I now presume to be the kitchen. She returned a moment later, barking anathemas at me, and waving a broom around like a scourge, trying to beat me, if not just scare me away.
“You want your kitty, you want your precious little kitty?” she gibed. I nodded eagerly. “WELL YOU’RE NOT GETTING HIM BACK, YOU LITTLE BRAT!”
At that, my heroic mother snatched the broom from that old witch’s hands and slammed it down on the floor. And, then, very coolheaded, but also very menacingly, she said:
“Get the cat. Now.”
There was such power in my mother’s words, the hag ran off. She reappeared moments later, with my darling Puck in her arms. She set him down on the floor, and he ran to me as fast as he could. Immediately, I picked him up, clutching him to my four-year-old body as hard as I could.
And everything was good.

That night, though I slept better than I had in days, something quite unexpected occurred.
It was about 8:30 PM, and I was already in bed, half asleep in my American Girl style nightgown, when there was a knock at the front door. My mother answered it, surprised: she wasn’t expecting any visitors. But she was even more shocked when she noticed who was on the side of the door.
“Excuse me, ma’am. Is Gabriella Ricketts home?” asked the first cop.
She stared.
“Yes she is, but what could you possible want with her?”
“Well ma’am, we received reports that she stole your neighbor’s cat earlier today,” was his armorial reply.
And then my mother burst out laughing. My neighbor, my insane, horrible neighbor, had scurrilously called the cops in an attempt to vilify me, a small innocent four-year-old.
“Honey!” she called out, highly amused. “There’s someone here to see you!”
Now, I don’t know who they were expecting to come into the living room- probably some drugged out teenager- but I do know that they were certainly not expecting me.
Unaware of the situation at hand, and still half asleep, I got out of bed, and made my way to the living room, dazed, looking somnambulistic.
“Yes, mommy?” I inquired tiredly upon my arrival.
Needless to say, the cops were stupefied. Their big arrest for the night turned out to be a sleepy, faultless child, carrying her teddy bear, wearing a big pink and white nightgown, and completely and utterly confused.
They apologized profusely. They, of course, like us, had no idea that my neighbor was insane. But they made note of it.
The funny thing, though, is that, a few years later, if even, this whole thing happened again. This time, however, we called the cops to get the cat back. But even after that, she still tried to convince everyone that I had, yet again, stolen her cat.
They didn’t believe her, obviously. No one does, anymore- not after that. To this day- well, as of four years ago, anyway,- her deranged actions from my youth have been a source of ignominy on her social and legal records. I don’t feel sorry for her, though. How could I? After doing what she did to me, traumatizing me for life, the loss of her reputation doesn’t even begin to cover the retribution she deserves.

I have to do it.

2008-06-18T15:19:00.000-07:00

This 5 page research paper isn't going to write itself.

Oh boy. I've been sitting here, thinking about writing it for the past... 1 1/2 hours. yay.

HELP ME! PLEASE!!!!!

And then I have to write a poem about chemistry. And study for my chem final. YAY.

The plus side is.... ONLY ONE MORE DAY!!!

And tomorrow, I'm going to the beach/ 3rd St. Promenade!

Coca-Cola

2008-06-18T14:38:00.000-07:00

I am morally against Coca-Cola.
I hate it.
I think it's disgusting (sometimes.0
It's bad for you.

But there's something so irresistible about the glass coke bottles...

just a little more..

2008-06-12T21:42:00.000-07:00

AH! STRESS!

One more week of school. And it is PAINFUL!

To do



Research paper on crazy Hungarian serial killer
Essay on the Great Gatsby about Nick's sexual orientation


History film project


French essay on Le petit prince.. in French, of course

Study for Chemistry test
Study for English final
Study for Chemistry final


Study for History test

PLUS a lot of makeup work for English

Er... I think that's it. But at least I only have school until 12:35 next week. And most of all that should be done by Tuesday...

storytime!

2008-06-01T12:54:00.000-07:00

So I finished my story for English at around 2:30 last night. Fun stuff. Here it is:

That morning, as with every morning, I awoke with one of the recurrent headaches that had become so familiar to me. Groaning, I opened my eyes and sat up, laboriously, looking at the alarm clock on my night table to check the time.
Of course, since my glasses had adventitiously broken the day before, the bright red numbers were too amorphous to read. Oh, the joys of being nearly blind.
I sighed and blinked, hoping to clear my eyesight. As if that would do anything.
And suddenly I was reminded of the pounding in my head.
It was not going to be a fun day.
And so, as slowly as possible, I got up, and walked across my room, to my desk, where my defunct glasses sat pathetically atop a rotogravure picture of John Lennon from a 16-page obituary.
languid

Eyesight blurry and head throbbing, I inched towards the door, careful not to trip over the heaps of junk littered around my room. When I opened it, the old hinges creaked loudly, redolent of dungeon chains, and irreverent to the severe pain in my sensitive noggin. Everyone in the house, my two older brothers and my mother- not my father anymore, he’s been in the nearby penitentiary for a couple of years now, hear the door every time it opens, which makes it difficult for me to sneak out… but that’s besides the point.
The point is, my mother heard the door, and thus knew that I was awake, which I was not exactly happy about. My mother makes me do crazy things when I wake up. Like brushing my teeth before I eat, for example.
“Honey! You’re up late! Brush your teeth” She called out peremptorily. And so I had no choice but to stagger into the bathroom and brush my teeth, blindly. I say I had no choice because my mother inspects my mouth each morning. If I don’t do what she asks, I’m grounded.
Brushing my teeth proved to be relatively easy, though the paste missed the brush the first few times around. And then preceded to precipitately spit the water all on the floor instead of in the sink, but my teeth were clean, and all’s well that ends well.

I finally made my way downstairs, clutching the rail the whole way down so I wouldn’t slip- I’m a klutz when I can see, so I figured that if I didn’t hold onto the handle the ramifications of that, mainly me falling and breaking an appendage, were too great.
Surprisingly, I arrived downstairs without a single wound. But to my horror, I saw I giant jug of orange juice sitting on the dining room table. An ineffable feeling of dread pervaded my body- I had just brushed my teeth.
But of course, I accepted my fate, and strode into the dining room, greeting my mother convivially- even though I was rather annoyed that she doesn’t really that orange juice and toothpaste do not mix.
“Come here, darling,” she called in her sweet, vinous voice. I could tell she had been drinking, even at his hour of the morning. Maybe she hadn’t even slept. Nowadays, she was so out of it, it seemed like she should be a character of her in a pasquinade.
I walked into the dining room, and sat down at the table in my favorite chair.
“Mom,” I began as I poured myself a glass of orange juice, “I need to see an oculist. My glasses broke…and they’re irreparable. I need to get a new pair as soon as possible… you know how nebulous everything looks without glasses. I don’t think I could last a day without them. Please can we go?” I was prepared to extemporize a speech about this urgent contingency- I needed those glasses, and it was difficult to get her to do anything immediately.
She sighed an expostulatory sigh. I took a sip of the orange juice. I nearly spit it out- the septic combination multiplied my headache and almost killed my taste buds.
She looked at me, clutching a corrugated washcloth, and nodded, resigned. Thank god. It was the benediction I hoped I would receive.
My mother opened her mouth to say something, something important I assume, when, all of a sudden, a rambunctious caravansary burst in from the vestibules.
So instead of endowing me with crucial knowledge, she turned to berate who I presumed to be my brothers and the rest of their little gang- I couldn’t see their faces very well... they were too fuzzy.
“And where have you been all night?” she inquired, stridently. It was the most motherly thing she had said in months.
My brothers (& co.) glanced around the room nervously. And then, all at once, they came up with a plethora of excuses, their anxious, caterwauling voices creating a loud echolalia, which did wonders for my brain. They poorly epigrammatized in an attempt to ingratiate my mother. Basically, they sounded like a herd of rambling village idiots.
“Your elocution astounds me.” I deadpanned superciliously. I was trying desperately to keep my cool. They could not know the obstetrical pain they induced on my brain. They’ve yet to let me live a headache down.
They glanced at me, flabbergasted. They had no idea what I had just said. Anyway, I knew it was time for me to escape: I couldn’t see their faces, but I definitely heard their angry growling. What a warm, loving family I come from.
I slyly slunk down in my seat, and onto the floor. And then I crawled towards the back door as fast as possible.

I think it was only around 4:30 AM when I left, or at least that’s what it seems like (so much for getting up late, right?) The air was bitterly cold, and it was pretty dark. But I was free. I was out in the open air. Away from my completely dysfunctional family. The con of this situation was, however, that I could not see. But I didn’t really care. I ran as fast as my legs would take me. And by running, I mean falling and colliding with a lot of things.
After awhile, who knows how long, I ended up on a street filled with local, relatively small shops. As I ran past their storefronts, glowing with neon marquees and cheesy cornices, pandering to the world’s abundant supple of cheapskates, the whole world seemed spectroscopic. Everything was growing hazier and hazier as I ran through street after street, my head still in agony. Everything was whirling. And I could not keep up with it.

The next thing I remember is waking up in the middle of a golf course, my face in a cavity from which a divot had been hacked away. I do not know how I ended up there, nor do I want to know. It was midday, and I think could see little caddies wandering around in the distance. I can’t really be sure though, my vision hadn’t magically repaired itself. And I was still wearing the smashed glasses, which hindered my eyesight even more. My headache, however, had gone away.
I sat up languidly, half in a daze, realizing that a) besides being in a golf course, I had no idea where I was, and b) I had been lying in grass for who knows how many hours. I’m allergic to grass. It really was going to be a fun day.

Woop.

summer, I miss you.

2008-05-31T01:24:00.000-07:00

This year has gone by so quickly....it's kind of insane. And now I only have 3 weeks left of school (which is kind of unfair considering most of my friends get out NEXT WEEK! gr.)

As for now, I have an insane amount of homework. For English, anyway. I have to write a story using 40 vocab words, write an essay, take notes on the entirety of The Great Gatsby, and do this other thing that I don't feel like explaining. Not to mention all the homework for my other classes. Ay ay ay.

I just wish I had some time. Time to read the bajillion books on my list. Time to hang out with my friends. Time to sleep (but who needs it, anyway?) To make videos! To relax. To watch movies. To read. To take dance classes again. To learn guitar. To live.

Oh summer. Hurry up. You have too long of a vacation.

And I can't believe I'm going to be a senior! CRAZY STUFF!!!! One more year of this hellhole. That's it. It's almost over. Finally.

Hm. I think sleep sounds good about now.

(I spend too much time playing with my computadora.)

Hola

2008-05-31T01:16:00.000-07:00

BOOOP