Firstly, I just called my dog, Hermione. His name is Loakie. He's annoying and whines a lot, so I find myself yelling "Oh my God Loakie, SHUT UP."
Secondly, my friend didn't watch AVPS last night, so we're watching it tonight.
Thirdly, I've been watching HOUSE all day, and therefore have nothing to blog about. OH, except that in the Sims, my Sim me drowned, leaving my 3 sets of twin girls to be raised by a crazy person. Needless to say, I didn't save that shit. I didn't even know you could actually drown if there were ladders in the pool. WTF.
Lastly, Maggie, I completely agree with you. :) It's freakishly disturbing, but I like it.
AND THAT IS THE END OF THE STORY
today is awesome because more Harry Potter Fan Made Musical watching is in my immediate future.
Books Read 36
Currently Reading: Skinny by Ibi Kaslik (who wants to take bets on how long it will take me to write "Ibi Basilisk)
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Friday, August 13, 2010
Guess who got a job??
Snape?
NO, ME!
Every time someone asks me a question my immediate answer is Snape? NO ONE EVER GETS IT. Except you guys, because you guys are Made of Win.
Before I get into Blogging mode, Thank you very much Maggie for your comment yesterday. I'm glad you liked it, and publication is my eventual goal. Perhaps one day, you will receive a magical advanced Reader's copy. :)
Back to the blogging! In the quest to get sad crappy part time job, I had to make a phone call to my former boss. If I'm going to be 100% honest with you, I have probably have the weirdest collective group of friends anyone one person had. It includes my 11th grade English Teacher, Random Improv comics, my Former Boss, who is a legit CRAZY PERSON, and three people I've never met that live far, far away, and you guys, I've decided you guys are my friends. I hope you're okay with this.
The person I'm probably the closest to lives the farthest. I have no friends that are either a. my age or b. live within hang out for the day driving distance. most of them live in this box I'm typing into. How did this happen? How did I become that person with no "real life" friends? It's so weird to think about. Not that I don't truly love my Nerd Girls, but it's weird. I've never met them and yet it feels like I've known them forever in a good way.
Laura, wrote a post yesterday about this same thing, which is why I was thinking about it. If I was to sit down and think about this, Laura is my best friend. We talk almost all the time. Today we became Pen Pals, because we're awesome, and we've never met.
This was going to be about how I got a job and how weird My Former Boss is, so is SO WEIRD, but I love her.
Actual Google Massage chat we had while she was on the phone with my new employer:
HER: Are you a terrorist?
ME: Not that I'm aware of.
HER: OK.
HER Have you ever been trained or plotted terrorist actions?
ME: No, WTF are you talking about?
HER: Have you ever trained anyone in the ways of terrorist?
ME: still no, seriously WTF?
HER: Just the questions they're asking me. LOL
This was my background check I guess.
I think I've rambled about nothing long enough, right? *omnipresent voice* RIGHT! right.
My phone alarm went off, it says it's "Joe Walker in a dress time."
AND THAT IS THE END OF THE STORY
today is awesome because soon I'll be able to buy t-shirts and get an oil change!
Books read 36.
NO, ME!
Every time someone asks me a question my immediate answer is Snape? NO ONE EVER GETS IT. Except you guys, because you guys are Made of Win.
Before I get into Blogging mode, Thank you very much Maggie for your comment yesterday. I'm glad you liked it, and publication is my eventual goal. Perhaps one day, you will receive a magical advanced Reader's copy. :)
Back to the blogging! In the quest to get sad crappy part time job, I had to make a phone call to my former boss. If I'm going to be 100% honest with you, I have probably have the weirdest collective group of friends anyone one person had. It includes my 11th grade English Teacher, Random Improv comics, my Former Boss, who is a legit CRAZY PERSON, and three people I've never met that live far, far away, and you guys, I've decided you guys are my friends. I hope you're okay with this.
The person I'm probably the closest to lives the farthest. I have no friends that are either a. my age or b. live within hang out for the day driving distance. most of them live in this box I'm typing into. How did this happen? How did I become that person with no "real life" friends? It's so weird to think about. Not that I don't truly love my Nerd Girls, but it's weird. I've never met them and yet it feels like I've known them forever in a good way.
Laura, wrote a post yesterday about this same thing, which is why I was thinking about it. If I was to sit down and think about this, Laura is my best friend. We talk almost all the time. Today we became Pen Pals, because we're awesome, and we've never met.
This was going to be about how I got a job and how weird My Former Boss is, so is SO WEIRD, but I love her.
Actual Google Massage chat we had while she was on the phone with my new employer:
HER: Are you a terrorist?
ME: Not that I'm aware of.
HER: OK.
HER Have you ever been trained or plotted terrorist actions?
ME: No, WTF are you talking about?
HER: Have you ever trained anyone in the ways of terrorist?
ME: still no, seriously WTF?
HER: Just the questions they're asking me. LOL
This was my background check I guess.
I think I've rambled about nothing long enough, right? *omnipresent voice* RIGHT! right.
My phone alarm went off, it says it's "Joe Walker in a dress time."
AND THAT IS THE END OF THE STORY
today is awesome because soon I'll be able to buy t-shirts and get an oil change!
Books read 36.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
A little bit of writing
So yesterday, I said I would post some writing. Below is the 85th draft of the first chapter of the novel I've been writing since I was in 6th grade. Some form of this story has existed in my head/in countless notebooks since I was 12 or 13. This version contains a large amount of swearing, just so you know. I'd like to know what ya'll think. :)
From the Center of Our Universe (I may be changing this)
“Let’s get fucked up and die,” Rio sang horribly off key from atop his grey beast of a car, a Buick Century he rather sarcastically called “The Pearl,” not because of its boat-like shape and driving style. He just thought calling it “The Diamond” was overdoing it.
“I’m speaking figuratively of course!” I joined, from the hood. We were sixteen, but we could smell seventeen from that mid-September day. Both our birthdays were at the end of October. Nothing could stop us from living the lives we wanted then, Rio especially. We were carefree and innocent, as carefree and innocent as any high school junior could be. He spun onto his stomach and stared down the windshield at me, an almost full moon reflected off it into his face, making it hard to see his eyes.
“Like the last time I committed suicide,” he whispered.
“Social suicide,” Motion City Soundtrack finished. Rio never said that particular lyric. I didn’t understand why, it was one of the thousands of little quirks that Rio had.
I stared into his crayon green eyes, unblinking as the song continued, a sly smirk growing across this face. I’d fallen in love with that smirk in the summer before our seventh grade year. I don’t remember exactly why I remember the date, but I knew that at some point it would be of critical importance.
I had every detail of his smile memorized; the gap where his older brother, Harper, had punched out one of his eyeteeth peeked out at me. I giggled and spread out over the hood of his car. We listened in silence to the rest of the song. The best part was the beginning; there was no point in singing the rest of it. When it ended, and the sound of crickets was the only thing making noise around us, I felt Rio climb in through the driver’s window of The Pearl.
There was something oddly peaceful about our lake at night. The way the floodlights on the backside of the school, across the mirror black water lit up the middle school playground, making it glow almost heavenly. It was almost as if the chain link fence was covered in glitter at night. The moon even made a nearly perfect reflection into the lake, slightly distorted, but nearly perfect.
“Teagan,” Rio called from the driver’s seat. “It’s nearly ten, I should get you home. Your mom may change her mind about Layla’s party if I’m late getting you back again.”
“Fuck it, River,” I yelled, disturbing the peacefulness of the croaking frogs and crickets.
No one ever called Rio by his given name, not even his parents. He liked to pretend that he’d given himself his nickname because someone that dressed like him, in a beat up and burned jean jacket, with jeans cuffed to meet the high top of his red Chuck Taylor All Stars, didn’t have a “pansy” name like River. Being “Rio” was his slap in the face of society and self-fulfilling prophecies. His name wasn’t going to dictate the rest of his life.
Honestly, the story he made up was a lot more interesting than his mom’s mild insanity. His mom had named him after River Phoenix, but apparently, it’s bad luck to name your child after someone who dies of a drug overdose. She figured it would lead to a similar fate for him. Giving him the Spanish equivalent was the best thing she could think of, because calling him by his middle name, Gregory, would be excessively complicated, a lot of paperwork to file with the school district, or something.
The driver’s door of The Pearl slowly opened, making a rusty sound. I don’t really think rust actually makes a noise, but that’s what I thought of when that door opened, rust rubbing on rust. Rio climbed onto the hood next to me. “The lake does look quite pretty tonight,” he said
“It’s the moon. It’s always makes everything look more amazing.” I answered as his arm came to rest around my shoulder. My stomach did that sickening I-have-a-crush-on-him-but-shhhh back flip it always did when Rio got too close to me. “I’ll just tell my mom that we were on our way back and my phone was on silent so I didn’t know she called. She can’t get too upset being five minutes late on a Friday night.”
“If you say so,” I heard his voice through his crocked smile. “She’s just looking out for you, you know, being out at night with the dangerous Davenport boy. You never know what kind of shenanigans I’ll get you involved in.”
I placed my head against his chest, letting the knot in my stomach tighten. “It’s not like I haven’t been hanging out with you every day since we were five. I mean, she should get by now that you’re not going to kill me.”
“Parents are hard to convince sometimes,” he said in a way that made me believe that there was nothing Rio didn’t know, like he’d lived a thousand past lives. “Maybe in another twelve years she’ll start to trust me.”
“Maybe, you can never tell with Rebecca, though. How long has she been pissed at your mom now?”
“Like twenty years,” Rio laughed. “Old cheerleading rivalries die hard in Kurtwood.”
I heard my cell phone vibrate on the passenger’s seat of The Pearl, then turned Rio’s arm to see the time: 10:02. A deep sigh escaped my lungs.
“If you don’t answer that, your mom’s going to send a search party out for you,” he said taking his arm back and sliding off the car. I rolled my eyes, as I slid off the opposite side.
My mom had always been strict about rules: home by eight on school nights, ten on weekends, call even if you’re going to be ten seconds late. It was ridiculous. My sister never had to deal with the crap my parents did to me. I’d never done anything that would lead her to distrust me, but then again I was best friends with the middle Davenport boy.
“Just drive, Rio. We’ll be back before she calls again.”
“If she tries to murder me with a spoon for kidnapping you, I hope you’ll jump in front of me.”
“I always do.”
I turned to watch him as he drove. It was painfully obvious how I felt about him, yet he seemed to ignore it. I guess he didn’t want anything to change, in a way I didn’t really want it to change either. It would have messed up our whole relationship. I mean, we’d been friends since preschool. I couldn’t go around playing with relationship that runs deep like that. We were friends before boys and girls were even supposed to like each other. But there is always something that draws the messed-up kids together. Not that we were actually messed up when we were five, but I think, subconsciously we knew our families would drive both of us completely insane.
Rio slid The Pearl seamlessly around the sharp curve and into my driveway.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” I whispered, opening the door. “Layla’s birthday party is a little bit more important than whatever my mom’s going to make me do. I’ll escape.”
“Don’t do anything stupid, Teag,” Rio warned, as I closed the rusty door. I stood by our never used basketball hoop as he backed out of the driveway, watching the headlights as they slowly moved down my body and out into the road, turned, and illuminated the trees and rocks across the street.
____
If you would like to read more I have it posted online here: http://www.webook.com/project/From-the-Center-of-Our-Universe-1
AND THAT IS THE END OF THE STORY
Today is awesome because I'm one chapter closer to actually finishing a complete draft of "Universe," and I actually like it. :)
Books read 36
Currently between books.
From the Center of Our Universe (I may be changing this)
“Let’s get fucked up and die,” Rio sang horribly off key from atop his grey beast of a car, a Buick Century he rather sarcastically called “The Pearl,” not because of its boat-like shape and driving style. He just thought calling it “The Diamond” was overdoing it.
“I’m speaking figuratively of course!” I joined, from the hood. We were sixteen, but we could smell seventeen from that mid-September day. Both our birthdays were at the end of October. Nothing could stop us from living the lives we wanted then, Rio especially. We were carefree and innocent, as carefree and innocent as any high school junior could be. He spun onto his stomach and stared down the windshield at me, an almost full moon reflected off it into his face, making it hard to see his eyes.
“Like the last time I committed suicide,” he whispered.
“Social suicide,” Motion City Soundtrack finished. Rio never said that particular lyric. I didn’t understand why, it was one of the thousands of little quirks that Rio had.
I stared into his crayon green eyes, unblinking as the song continued, a sly smirk growing across this face. I’d fallen in love with that smirk in the summer before our seventh grade year. I don’t remember exactly why I remember the date, but I knew that at some point it would be of critical importance.
I had every detail of his smile memorized; the gap where his older brother, Harper, had punched out one of his eyeteeth peeked out at me. I giggled and spread out over the hood of his car. We listened in silence to the rest of the song. The best part was the beginning; there was no point in singing the rest of it. When it ended, and the sound of crickets was the only thing making noise around us, I felt Rio climb in through the driver’s window of The Pearl.
There was something oddly peaceful about our lake at night. The way the floodlights on the backside of the school, across the mirror black water lit up the middle school playground, making it glow almost heavenly. It was almost as if the chain link fence was covered in glitter at night. The moon even made a nearly perfect reflection into the lake, slightly distorted, but nearly perfect.
“Teagan,” Rio called from the driver’s seat. “It’s nearly ten, I should get you home. Your mom may change her mind about Layla’s party if I’m late getting you back again.”
“Fuck it, River,” I yelled, disturbing the peacefulness of the croaking frogs and crickets.
No one ever called Rio by his given name, not even his parents. He liked to pretend that he’d given himself his nickname because someone that dressed like him, in a beat up and burned jean jacket, with jeans cuffed to meet the high top of his red Chuck Taylor All Stars, didn’t have a “pansy” name like River. Being “Rio” was his slap in the face of society and self-fulfilling prophecies. His name wasn’t going to dictate the rest of his life.
Honestly, the story he made up was a lot more interesting than his mom’s mild insanity. His mom had named him after River Phoenix, but apparently, it’s bad luck to name your child after someone who dies of a drug overdose. She figured it would lead to a similar fate for him. Giving him the Spanish equivalent was the best thing she could think of, because calling him by his middle name, Gregory, would be excessively complicated, a lot of paperwork to file with the school district, or something.
The driver’s door of The Pearl slowly opened, making a rusty sound. I don’t really think rust actually makes a noise, but that’s what I thought of when that door opened, rust rubbing on rust. Rio climbed onto the hood next to me. “The lake does look quite pretty tonight,” he said
“It’s the moon. It’s always makes everything look more amazing.” I answered as his arm came to rest around my shoulder. My stomach did that sickening I-have-a-crush-on-him-but-shhhh back flip it always did when Rio got too close to me. “I’ll just tell my mom that we were on our way back and my phone was on silent so I didn’t know she called. She can’t get too upset being five minutes late on a Friday night.”
“If you say so,” I heard his voice through his crocked smile. “She’s just looking out for you, you know, being out at night with the dangerous Davenport boy. You never know what kind of shenanigans I’ll get you involved in.”
I placed my head against his chest, letting the knot in my stomach tighten. “It’s not like I haven’t been hanging out with you every day since we were five. I mean, she should get by now that you’re not going to kill me.”
“Parents are hard to convince sometimes,” he said in a way that made me believe that there was nothing Rio didn’t know, like he’d lived a thousand past lives. “Maybe in another twelve years she’ll start to trust me.”
“Maybe, you can never tell with Rebecca, though. How long has she been pissed at your mom now?”
“Like twenty years,” Rio laughed. “Old cheerleading rivalries die hard in Kurtwood.”
I heard my cell phone vibrate on the passenger’s seat of The Pearl, then turned Rio’s arm to see the time: 10:02. A deep sigh escaped my lungs.
“If you don’t answer that, your mom’s going to send a search party out for you,” he said taking his arm back and sliding off the car. I rolled my eyes, as I slid off the opposite side.
My mom had always been strict about rules: home by eight on school nights, ten on weekends, call even if you’re going to be ten seconds late. It was ridiculous. My sister never had to deal with the crap my parents did to me. I’d never done anything that would lead her to distrust me, but then again I was best friends with the middle Davenport boy.
“Just drive, Rio. We’ll be back before she calls again.”
“If she tries to murder me with a spoon for kidnapping you, I hope you’ll jump in front of me.”
“I always do.”
I turned to watch him as he drove. It was painfully obvious how I felt about him, yet he seemed to ignore it. I guess he didn’t want anything to change, in a way I didn’t really want it to change either. It would have messed up our whole relationship. I mean, we’d been friends since preschool. I couldn’t go around playing with relationship that runs deep like that. We were friends before boys and girls were even supposed to like each other. But there is always something that draws the messed-up kids together. Not that we were actually messed up when we were five, but I think, subconsciously we knew our families would drive both of us completely insane.
Rio slid The Pearl seamlessly around the sharp curve and into my driveway.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” I whispered, opening the door. “Layla’s birthday party is a little bit more important than whatever my mom’s going to make me do. I’ll escape.”
“Don’t do anything stupid, Teag,” Rio warned, as I closed the rusty door. I stood by our never used basketball hoop as he backed out of the driveway, watching the headlights as they slowly moved down my body and out into the road, turned, and illuminated the trees and rocks across the street.
____
If you would like to read more I have it posted online here: http://www.webook.com/project/From-the-Center-of-Our-Universe-1
AND THAT IS THE END OF THE STORY
Today is awesome because I'm one chapter closer to actually finishing a complete draft of "Universe," and I actually like it. :)
Books read 36
Currently between books.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Jobs!?! and I have weird friend
I had a job interview today! It was at Walmart, but still JOB! I basically have it, but they have to check my references and awesomely enough both of my former bosses are on vacation this week... So possibly by this time next week, I might have a job!! Unless Adam is a totally douche canoe, which is oddly likely but still #yes
Did I just hash tag my blog? Yes, yes I did.
My dad also believes that Neville will come home. I'm interested to see how he reacts to have three cats if this happens, especially considering that Spencer hisses at everything, Indy is mentally unstable and Neville will eat anything that moves.
I got questions in the comments, this is also a reminder to ask me questions, so that I don't bore you to death with my boringly boring life.
My friend, asked me which I preferred, Tumbr or Blogger. This is an unfair question. There is no comparing. Yes, there are both blogging websites, but I see Tumblr more like a twitter with more Harry Potter, and by Harry Potter, I mean StarKid, and by StarKid, I believe Jen will know what I mean.
OH! Speaking of Tumblr, I saw the most amazing thing, which probably no one else will find funny. There is a video that's a behind the scenes StarKid scene and there's a .gif of Joe Walker eating Ice Cream and a comment from the video labeled "BEST youtube video comment ever: Is there any reason one of the kids is eating ice cream with a fork?" /things only I find hilarious.
Anyways, I like blogger for writing. I prefer it for writing. Tumblr is for short things, I tend to be long winded even when I'm not talking about anything, which I'm sure ya'll have noticed. I'm not, like, good at making things, but I like seeing things that other people have made. I enjoy reblogging them and giggling at things until iced tea squirts out my nose and I have to explain to my Dad what just happened. My Dad finds youtube comments unfunny
Also JenJen, I FOUND that Kevin is a Hufflepuff.
There is literally no way to end this blog entry in a way that makes any logical sense. So...
AND THAT IS THE END OF THE STORY
Today is awesome because JOB! #notasentence
Books read 35
Currently reading: Twenty Boy Summer by Sarah Ockler
Did I just hash tag my blog? Yes, yes I did.
My dad also believes that Neville will come home. I'm interested to see how he reacts to have three cats if this happens, especially considering that Spencer hisses at everything, Indy is mentally unstable and Neville will eat anything that moves.
I got questions in the comments, this is also a reminder to ask me questions, so that I don't bore you to death with my boringly boring life.
My friend, asked me which I preferred, Tumbr or Blogger. This is an unfair question. There is no comparing. Yes, there are both blogging websites, but I see Tumblr more like a twitter with more Harry Potter, and by Harry Potter, I mean StarKid, and by StarKid, I believe Jen will know what I mean.
OH! Speaking of Tumblr, I saw the most amazing thing, which probably no one else will find funny. There is a video that's a behind the scenes StarKid scene and there's a .gif of Joe Walker eating Ice Cream and a comment from the video labeled "BEST youtube video comment ever: Is there any reason one of the kids is eating ice cream with a fork?" /things only I find hilarious.
Anyways, I like blogger for writing. I prefer it for writing. Tumblr is for short things, I tend to be long winded even when I'm not talking about anything, which I'm sure ya'll have noticed. I'm not, like, good at making things, but I like seeing things that other people have made. I enjoy reblogging them and giggling at things until iced tea squirts out my nose and I have to explain to my Dad what just happened. My Dad finds youtube comments unfunny
Also JenJen, I FOUND that Kevin is a Hufflepuff.
There is literally no way to end this blog entry in a way that makes any logical sense. So...
AND THAT IS THE END OF THE STORY
Today is awesome because JOB! #notasentence
Books read 35
Currently reading: Twenty Boy Summer by Sarah Ockler
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Everyone is posting pictures of cats!
I was reading the BEDA's that have been posted today so far, and it seems that EVERYONE is posting adorable cat pictures. This makes me miss my cat even more.
My cat, Neville, I believe I've talked about him before and how he ran away, is the best cat of all time. I know everyone thinks this, but Neville, much like his namesake, was a totally BAMF. He used to beat up our dog and kill mice, squirrels, frogs, and one time, he ATE A SNAKE. I rescued him, when he was a baby, his previous owners broke his back legs, and he was four months old when I got him.
Neville, the most adorable BAMF ever.
My parents seem to believe that he has died. I still believe that he will come back, but today my grandmother sent y mom and e-mail telling her she could keep the kitten we got her for mother's day. So, we took in Spencer, so named after the elder brother of the title character of Maureen Johnson's latest novel Scarlet Fever.
Since moving into our home, little Spencer has spent 3 hours hiding in our bathtub terrified of our giant dog. It would be funny if Loakie (the dog) didn't keep trying to lick him. He also doesn't want the cat to play with his toys. Loakie is a horrible dog, in case you were wondering.
I really miss Neville. He was so awesome, and I really hope he isn't dead, but if he doesn't come home, I hope that whomever has him is good to him. I just want him to come back to where he belongs. I hope that if he does, he doesn't think that I've replaced him. There's no replacing Neville. Spencer is just another kitten that needed a home, much like Nevz was when my dad almost backed him over with the Uhaul truck.
AND THAT IS THE END OF THE STORY
Today is awesome because Spencer is trying to catch a fly, and it may be the cutest thing I've ever seen.
Books read 35
Currently reading: 20 boy summer by Sarah Ockler
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Oh, wow, I need some excitement.
Today was, as I guess anyone who has read more than one post this month can imagine, a rather boring and non-eventful day. It involved looking for Strawberry Hill Wine because my brother wanted it, and my mother getting annoyed that I think Strawberry Hill Wine is "funny." It's not funny, it's just I know my brother doesn't read and therefore doesn't understand Strawberry Hill's effect on popular culture, and neither of them know what a Nerdfighter is.
My Mother's car is broken, so I now either have to go everywhere with her, or let her drive my car, and seeing how she isn't going to put gas in my car either way I might as well go. She gets highly annoyed with my taste in music and likes to change my station or switch CD's and not change them back which is, rude? annoying? something anyway. I always change it back, it's just the right thing to do. I feel it's in the best interest of my sanity when I turn my car on to make sure nothing happens, and the Bonnie Gruesen/ Hermione Granger sings "Coolest Bitch on Earth God Damn it" every time I turn on my car, you know, strictly for self esteem purposes.
Anyways, I am currently listening exclusively to Team StarKid music in my car, I have manged to sneak some music not written by Darren Criss into the rest of my life. It's a slow process, but I did miss Pete Townsend and Scar from the Lion King (don't judge, Be Prepared is the #1 song on my Ipod, even after listening to the StarKid album for almost 3 week straight). As we get to the store the Cho Chang song plays and my mother says "This song is stupid Skinny doesn't even come close to rhyming with Cho Chang." Yes, mother, that is, in fact, the whole point of the song.
I know I listen to ridiculous music, I don't need you to tell me that it's stupid because you don't see the point. Don't make me explain the Harry Potter Musical to you AGAIN. Just shhh, I don't complain about whatever stupid music you play when you're driving.
Have I ever mentioned I hate living here? Yes? Okay, just checking.
In other things, Thank you Rachel and Hannah for your comments on yesterday posts. :) *Interwebz Hugz* It really does help my lack of self everything to know that are people that think I'm a little bit awesome, even if I don't see it anymore.
I promise I will try to be less annoying and 15 year-old girl like, and do something awesome by the end of this month that is worth blogging about. That is my promise to the rest of the BEDA-ers.
My Mother's car is broken, so I now either have to go everywhere with her, or let her drive my car, and seeing how she isn't going to put gas in my car either way I might as well go. She gets highly annoyed with my taste in music and likes to change my station or switch CD's and not change them back which is, rude? annoying? something anyway. I always change it back, it's just the right thing to do. I feel it's in the best interest of my sanity when I turn my car on to make sure nothing happens, and the Bonnie Gruesen/ Hermione Granger sings "Coolest Bitch on Earth God Damn it" every time I turn on my car, you know, strictly for self esteem purposes.
Anyways, I am currently listening exclusively to Team StarKid music in my car, I have manged to sneak some music not written by Darren Criss into the rest of my life. It's a slow process, but I did miss Pete Townsend and Scar from the Lion King (don't judge, Be Prepared is the #1 song on my Ipod, even after listening to the StarKid album for almost 3 week straight). As we get to the store the Cho Chang song plays and my mother says "This song is stupid Skinny doesn't even come close to rhyming with Cho Chang." Yes, mother, that is, in fact, the whole point of the song.
I know I listen to ridiculous music, I don't need you to tell me that it's stupid because you don't see the point. Don't make me explain the Harry Potter Musical to you AGAIN. Just shhh, I don't complain about whatever stupid music you play when you're driving.
Have I ever mentioned I hate living here? Yes? Okay, just checking.
In other things, Thank you Rachel and Hannah for your comments on yesterday posts. :) *Interwebz Hugz* It really does help my lack of self everything to know that are people that think I'm a little bit awesome, even if I don't see it anymore.
I promise I will try to be less annoying and 15 year-old girl like, and do something awesome by the end of this month that is worth blogging about. That is my promise to the rest of the BEDA-ers.
ALSO! I made this!!
I am very proud of it. :)
AND THAT IS THE END OF THE STORY
Today is awesome for the same reason yesterday was awesome, except there is a new video. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dyBiOBVnukc No singing in this one, but some pseudo-break dancing. Wizarding God I love this Improv troupe SO MUCH.
Books read: 35
Currently reading Twenty Boy Summer by Sarah Ockler
Friday, August 6, 2010
And on Friday, Nothing Happened.
Seriously, I have to be the single most boring 23 year old in the world.
I can imagine all the other cool people going out on Friday night, drinking, or clubbing, or watching {Harry Potter} movies with a large group of friends, or just hanging out. I honestly can't remember the last time I did something on a Friday night that wasn't sitting alone in my room. This saddens me greatly.
It's not like I don't want to go out, have fun, met people, have friends, but it's like, I don't know how to do that, or I'm afraid. It's been so long since I've been able to meet someone IRL and be friends with them. The friends I had in college kind of came to me I guess, it's a weird story. I've never been good at making friends, and I suck even worse at keeping them. Every time I'm around a group of people I hear the words of my former best friend saying "You're just to weird to even fucking exist." This was something she used to say all the time. Looking back I have no idea why we were friends in the first place, but whatever. It's become a kind of self fulfilling prophecy. I heard it so many times that I didn't bother to try anymore.
I guess I'm just tired of feeling sorry for myself. I'm sick of being the person that no one talks to because they think I'm weird. Yes, I'm incredibly socially awkward, but no, there's really nothing I can do about it. I mean, I'm less awkward than I was a year ago, I can actually look at people when I talk to them now! Getting away from that girl was probably the best thing I ever did for myself. No, she wasn't the reason for most of my social problems, but she wasn't exactly helping either.
I really don't want this post to be about her.
I'm tired of being that person. I'm tired of being the background but I don't know how to make it so that I'm in the spotlight. I hate yelling "Hey Look At Me!" but I feel like I might have to. Maybe that's what I have to do to be noticed or liked or at least not ignored.
Anyway, sorry for the "poor me" post, I'll do my best to be less annoying and whiny. I'm not normally annoying and whiny, but in this first week of BEDA that seems to be the Deanna ya'll are getting, Sorry 'bout that.
As always, if you have weird questions, or anything like that I would love to answer them tomorrow. Thank you guys for reading. :)
AND THAT IS THE END OF THE STORY
today is awesome because I figured out how to get the video from my camera onto youtube, and I posted THIS video of Stranger Than Fiction. It's a really funny song about Rainbows and Square dancing :)
Books read 35
currently reading: 20 Boy Summer by Sarah Ockler
I can imagine all the other cool people going out on Friday night, drinking, or clubbing, or watching {Harry Potter} movies with a large group of friends, or just hanging out. I honestly can't remember the last time I did something on a Friday night that wasn't sitting alone in my room. This saddens me greatly.
It's not like I don't want to go out, have fun, met people, have friends, but it's like, I don't know how to do that, or I'm afraid. It's been so long since I've been able to meet someone IRL and be friends with them. The friends I had in college kind of came to me I guess, it's a weird story. I've never been good at making friends, and I suck even worse at keeping them. Every time I'm around a group of people I hear the words of my former best friend saying "You're just to weird to even fucking exist." This was something she used to say all the time. Looking back I have no idea why we were friends in the first place, but whatever. It's become a kind of self fulfilling prophecy. I heard it so many times that I didn't bother to try anymore.
I guess I'm just tired of feeling sorry for myself. I'm sick of being the person that no one talks to because they think I'm weird. Yes, I'm incredibly socially awkward, but no, there's really nothing I can do about it. I mean, I'm less awkward than I was a year ago, I can actually look at people when I talk to them now! Getting away from that girl was probably the best thing I ever did for myself. No, she wasn't the reason for most of my social problems, but she wasn't exactly helping either.
I really don't want this post to be about her.
I'm tired of being that person. I'm tired of being the background but I don't know how to make it so that I'm in the spotlight. I hate yelling "Hey Look At Me!" but I feel like I might have to. Maybe that's what I have to do to be noticed or liked or at least not ignored.
Anyway, sorry for the "poor me" post, I'll do my best to be less annoying and whiny. I'm not normally annoying and whiny, but in this first week of BEDA that seems to be the Deanna ya'll are getting, Sorry 'bout that.
As always, if you have weird questions, or anything like that I would love to answer them tomorrow. Thank you guys for reading. :)
AND THAT IS THE END OF THE STORY
today is awesome because I figured out how to get the video from my camera onto youtube, and I posted THIS video of Stranger Than Fiction. It's a really funny song about Rainbows and Square dancing :)
Books read 35
currently reading: 20 Boy Summer by Sarah Ockler
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