oh how i love my lists

things that i'm going to miss next year:

• my best friend Jess; she will be away at college
• weekly starbucks with Allie
• being able to say, 'i still have a year to decide what to do'

things that i'm not going to miss next year:

• royalaires and the majority of the people on it
• being at the high school
• alex being 10 hours away from me; because next year he will be only about 5 hours away. win.

i have nothing better to post today, sorry for the boring-awfulness of this.
Song of the Day:

i'm officially bad luck on sundays.

to begin with, i changed the looks and title of my blog. i liked this backround and setup better, but my old title looked odd because it was rather long. that's all with that.

Favorite Quote of the Day: "You know what? You’re an individual, and that makes people nervous. And it’s gonna keep making people nervous for the rest of your life."

Now, anyways. With the bad luck. So last week I told you all about my flood then fire escapades. This week, not nearly as bad, but pretty good evidence that if I'm scheduled for satellite (side) concessions on a sunday, it shall be an interesting day. Pretty much, I started at 1 o'clock and it was around 1:20 when Joe and I were almost ready to flip the lightswitch on and open up our concession stand. Our popcorn popper just wasn't working so he had to go to the main concession stand and tell a manager about that situation. After he was gone for about twenty seconds, the power decides to go out. Cool. So I run through the back door of the stand and out to see my manager telling me to get the people out of the two theatres closest to me and send them to the lobby. No big deal, not at all. Except when people are in a theatre and the power goes out they think it's only them. Then they flip out and get angry. I don't like to deal with those sorts of customers. Joe and I were then told to stay on our east side concession stand and watch the registers, because they're known to randomly pop open when the power goes out, or something, and we wouldn't want anybody to steal anything. So Joe and I go into party mode, and I literally pull out my phone and play one of the five songs that happen to be on my phone, 'Party in the USA,' perfect choice. Dancing on the concession stand is what we do best, literally on it, not behind it. That would be too... normal. After that, the fun was over when we were told to help clean every single theatre (I think there are 24?) with the ushers and EVERYONE. So I guess it wasn't all that bad because it took about five minutes with all the people we had. Then we were pretty much given busy work: Clean the windows, dust the movie posters, stainless steel EVERYTHING. The stainless steel was my job. Cool. "Anything that's silver," were Kera's exact words when I asked her what to clean. But it was fine because I had Antonio near me who was playing his rap loudly on his phone, then a manager comes over and turns on his walkie next to it. So this ghetto rap is playing throughout the whole place. That was silly. Then Joe and I were sent back to our stand to clean everything up that we had originally opened for nothing. We kinda cleaned it... somewhat. Then we got to leave. It was actually kind of fun, but on the downside Cinemark lost a lot of money today.

So, that story was one of those 'you had to be there' kind of things. Did I mention that MY register, of ALL the registers was one of the few things to keep power throughout the whole thing. So that was odd, and partially why I assume it was my fault.

Song of the Day (courtesy of iTunes shuffle):

i just recently watched 'the wedding singer' for the first time.

I pretty much am biased towards any movie with both Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore in it. Not that they're my favorite actor and actress or anything, but as a pair I feel like the connect really well. And the movies always end up with the cutest endings that inevitably make me smile. That's all I have to say right now.

Song of the Day:

When You Leave Me

When you tell me that you don’t
want me, I can just feel the burning
water slapping me across the face.

The smell of dirt becoming mud
creeps to my nose throughout
the steam that is rising to the ceiling.

The hazy droplets from my hair
combine with the foggy tears
as they slip through the drain.

When you tell me that you don’t
need me, the combination of water
and of air pricks my skin.

I become ice and fire at the
exact same time, but the freezing
and burning are counter reactive.

The freshness of the conditioner
barely glides through my ruddy
haystack hair. I’m ready to get out.

When you tell me that you don’t
care, I reach for the warm brown
towel waiting to make me dry.

Smoothing over every area of my
bare skin, thinking nothing of you,
but instead of what to wear.

Squeezing into my jeans and my new
black pumps, it’s time to get filthy
and unclean so I can wash up again.

if someone bought me a moleskin journal, i would love them.

that title has nothing to do with what i'm going to type here. well, sort of, but not entirely. this post is about my idea of the perfect boyfriend. i feel like this is sort of a cliche topic to talk about, but i don't care. i'm really happy in my own dreamworld imagination and this is what i'm thinking about so yes. if you don't want to read it, then don't, but here it goes;

he would scream 'i love you' even if i was one hundred meters away from him, not caring who heard him. he would go on walks with me in 40 degree weather, holding hot cocoa in one hand and my own hand in the other. he would brush my hair out of my face when it was in the way, and then give me that cute crooked smile when i brushed it back. he would be able to tell when something was wrong, but never ask me about it just give me the most sincere kiss on the forehead because that's what he knows he can to do make it better. he would be able to sing and dance in front of me and let me call him a weirdo. but he'd let me do the same thing in front of him and enjoy every minute of it. he wouldn't be shy around my family, but be part of it. he would come over my house at 8 o'clock in the morning whenever we didn't have school and take me to a park just to push me on the swings. we could sit on my front porch all day long because there is nothing else to do, but never be bored. we'd also watch thunderstorms together and play in the rain when it's safe. he would lay in bed all day with me with the windows wide open and sun streaming in listening to the new downloaded music of the week. he'll remember our anniversaries before i do. he will know when i'm craving mac n' cheese or when i hate it; same goes for grilled cheese, ramen, and tortellini because i have to be in the right mood. he'll walk through walmart (or target) with me laughing at all the ludicrous products that we don't understand why people buy them; and then we'd buy them and laugh while using them. he'll give me his sweatshirt when he's freezing and not making me feel guilty about it. he would rent all the chick flicks he could find and watch them with me on days that i'm feeling ill. he'll let me look like crap, but not let me feel like i'm anything less than beautiful. he'll call me at night right before i go to bed to make sure he's the last voice i hear. he's smarter than me, but not cocky or arrogant. he'll spend my birthday with me and my crazy family. we'll ride rollercoasters together, often, and hold our hands in the air together the entire time. he won't ever buy me flowers, but rather more exciting, random, and useful things. he'd run up and hug me whenever he sees me. he'll believe in me, and my life, and my writing. he will argue with my best friends about who loves me more. he'll understand that i don't like kissing in front of people, but still do it randomly because it's surprising. he will have hot cocoa ready for me every morning when i wake up, even in 100 degree weather. he will have random tv show marathons with me for hours while eating cookie dough. he'll hold me tight when i'm crying, just simply hold me. he picks his friends over me sometimes, and let's me do the same with mine. he'll love all the dinners that i ever cook for him, even though i can't cook in the least. we would learn something new about eachother every day.he will remember everything i say, and care about it. he'll let me laugh at him when he's being silly and laugh back at me when i act like a dork. every day he'll tell me he worries about me because i'm such a clutz. we'll sit in the basement and read a book outloud to eachother playing 'popcorn' while our clothes are in the washing machine because it's more time together. he won't pressure me into drinking or anything else. he'll let me be me, all day every day, and he'll love it. and he won't ever get jealous because he already knows that i love him more than anything and when he says forever he means it, no matter what. he's my perfect guy, but he's no where near perfect all at the same time.

seriously, does he exist? and i apologize for the grammar in that because i'm sure the verb tenses change every two seconds. and there's also probably a million more things i could name. the end.


Song of the Day:

i'm way too awkward of a person at interviews.

Song of the Day:

These kids looked like they were enjoying themselves, therefore I chose this video.

To add to my blog today;
I was reading a random article online about why men cheat. Or something like that. I don't believe it's valid at all, maybe that's because I'm not a man so I just don't get it. But if you're a male can you please read this article and agree with me that it is false. Just please, because this just sounds horrible. Thank goodness the author is listed as anonymous or I'd find him and kick him in that place where the sun don't shine. But maybe it shines for him, that's just awkward. Ew, his wife needs to get a clue or something. But no, he's a pro. How about I just stop talking about it and you read it??
http://www.esquire.com/features/reasons-why-men-cheat-0410#ixzz0iuqq8402
p.s. I'm sorry I couldn't get the 'attach a link' thing to work, I tried about 7 times before giving up. So just copy and paste that into your browser and I'm sure you'll find the article just splendidly.

i was really counting on getting called off work today.

Song of the Day:

and that's pretty much all i have for you today. but it's a quite good song so i suggest that you actually listen to it rather than scrapping this post.

So I originally wasn't planning on posting a legit story today or anything, but then again when I go to work it's always going to be an interesting day. So anyways, I was on the side concession stand (the most boring place to be working ever) and I was all alone. I think in the five hours that I was at work I had a total of fifteen customers. Well, anyways. I was on maybe my second customer and she ordered a Rootbeer, so obviously I was filling her rootbeer at the poptower when the whole thing decided to blow up. At least that's pretty much what it did. Water was spraying everywhere; all over me, the customer, the floor, just.. EVERYWHERE. So after me being drenched for about five minutes an usher finally decides to walk by and they rush to call a manager and one comes to the rescue. Except for it wasn't a very quick rescue, because it took nearly twenty minutes to figure out how to stop the waterworks. So now we're both wet, the pop tower is torn into a million pieces, and we smell smoke. Awesome. Now that I've flooded the place it's going to be set on fire. What a great day, don't you think? The water from the poptower got over these really really hot lightbulbs that are in a sign that we have. Mind you, these lightbulbs are never really ever turned off so they're extremely hot. So we open up the top of the advertisement and smoke starts flooding the entire area. It smelled awful. So my manager like starts walking towards the main concession stand and I don't even know what to do because it smells and looks like fire. So obviously fire extinguisher right, maybe I should have paid attention to those safety videos. Luckily, it was right behind me within arms reach so I grabbed it and started extinguishing the possibility of a huge fire burning down the entire building. In the end, I had to use the other poptower and clean up the entire wet concession stand by myself and work for three more hours while still slightly damp. Thank you Cinemark.

we were all out of baking soda.

today when i was making cookie dough i realized that we didn't have baking soda. all i had measured out at this point was the flour and i didn't know if i just wanted to stop becaue of the lack of the baking soda. after about ten minutes of thinking, and having a major brain fart, i realized that since i'm just making the cookie dough to eat the dough and not BAKING the cookies that the BAKING soda wouldn't really actually make a difference. lucky for me, it didn't. also, when i licked a small bit of butter that made it onto my finger when measuring that out it made me think of when i was a little girl and i enjoyed eating butter. literally, i would take a spoon full of butter whenever my mom was baking and just eat it. i'm convinced i liked that more than the actual food my mom ended up making. ohhhh six year old me.

Song of the Day:

because i'm a big fan of traditions

here are a few that i have that may be new or old:

1) Starbucks with Allie weekly
2) Download a new song daily (and just so 'Elena aka Suzy' knowwsss i AM titling my playlist 'inspired by suzy' because that's pretty muchhh where i got the idea)
3) Buy a new outfit weekly (mostly so I have a wardrobe other than tshirts and jeans for my senior year)
4) Go to the Kiln and paint pottery with my cousins monthly
5) Walk for a half hour to an hour daily
6) Write at least three poems per week (kind of a tradition?)

have any other good ideas for traditions that i would probably enjoy, then please do let me know!

Song of the Day:

That Old Bench in the Grass by the Playground

The bench is a rusted old red
that has been mushed into this
muddy green grass for roughly
twenty years. A lot can happen
in just twenty years. Terrorists
terrorize cities, wars can
bring home warriors and,
the dead. The dead die, but
never leave. How many people
have filled their cheeks
with cold tears while hanging
over the handrail on this bench?

Or what about first kisses,
girls blushing their hearts
out and young boys sweating
through the process?

How many birds have left
the remains of this morning’s
tasty worm?

Or kids with scrapes being
comforted?

What about novels? Has
anybody spent seven hundred
plus hours crouching on this
now pink bench and written a
New York Times Best Seller?

How many?

How many people,
exactly,
have seen a person,
a brown eyed blonde girl
spending an entire day
scribbling nothing on
a pad of paper that doesn’t
exist to her—or anybody else?
And how many,
how many have cared?

precalculus m/w five thirty to seven fourty-five

every monday and wednesday night,
i slouch in my night precalc class.
the young adults and old women
sitting around me looking to further
their education seem appalled
that i know all the answers.

there’s this boy, this kid, roughly
twenty years old with a baseball cap.
he sits in the opposite corner
from me, in the back while my
face is pressed against the chalkboard.
he probably thinks i’m such a geek.

stereotypes are so last year,
but it’s not like i even know his name.
at least not yet. tonight is a monday,
it’s our seventeenth class out of thirty.
i’ll get my chance one day, maybe,
probably not.

so i shut up and slouch in my seat.
scribbling fake notes and pretending
to text. pretending to look like i don’t
care. why pretend? so that he feels
connected to a me that isn’t really me?
but maybe that is me, i mean,
i am writing this poem
instead of solving number fourteen.

glances at the scratchy chalk
it might be helpful to know
how to actually do that. because
when the test is passed out, in
seven days, i need more than just my
lame excuses for teenage prayers
of getting a good grade.

i slyly throw my pencil on the
mangled carpet, it looks like i dropped it.
i didn’t. i let out a silent yawn
as i curve my torso towards that boy.

i pick up my pencil
and,
he looks at me.
progress,

that’s enough for today.
i still have twelve more days,
give or take a few,
i should start paying more
attention in math.

two things on my mind today while reading poetry and listening to music.

first of all, my title is going to be almost as long as my post. second of all, my thoughts:

1. i've decided that i want kids. that's whether or not i get married. i'll adopt. i won't marry just to have kids, duh. because i'm still not so sure i'll ever even find the person i love or whatever anyways. p.s. i'm kind of liking the names russell and katherine.

2. rather than being the kind of person who buys a coffee every morning on their way to school/work (now and later in life) i'm going to buy a new song or two per day. to add to my music collection. because i feel like that'll make me just as awake as caffiene in a cup.

p.s. i'm adding this on a day after i originally posted this. i also like the name charlotte.
update (october 5, 2010): i like the name oliver as well.

"someone gave you flowers..."

My aunt handed me the simple vase. Daisies sprouted out bending in every direction. The yellow petals gleamed in my pupils, the water was fresh and translucent - I could see the green stems creating a labyrinth near the bottom. I imagined the small H20 molecules getting lost, searching and finding nothing. A maze that leads to nowhere. I whispered a polite "thank you" as I opened my palm and she placed the flowers into my grip. It was heavier than I thought, but still beautiful in a weak sort of way. I didn't want them.

My eyes shifted over to my mom as I waited for her approving glance. It took me a while to realize that I had gotten the only daisies in the room. They weren't really from my aunt, they were from one of the hundreds of people who knew my cousin. The ones in my hands were from Christine something-or-other. I'll never know her. I wish I did, I wish I knew why she chose daisies. Was it something special between her and my cousin? It wasn't something special between my aunt and I.

But I was taught to be courteous. I wrapped my free arm around my aunt's everlastingly trembling body. She sobbed - I reminded her. My blonde hair soaking up her tears while I supported her; my thin body against hers. I'm not Jessie - I reminded myself - and then I distanced myself from everyone for as long as I could. I didn't want to be known as the reminder.

But I still have my own reminder of that day so long ago. A shriveled up, gray old daisy gently sleeping on my bedside table day and night. It's my favorite kind of flower.

we're telepathic, or something

Just a short, short, short story to tell that I probably laughed about for 30 minutes straight. But it won't be funny to you guys, I can pretty much guarantee it.

My cousin Nikki and I were driving home from the movies last night when this song came on the radio. Sadly, I don't remember what song it was. We were in the middle of a conversation when we both stopped and started singing it at the same time. Stopped singing at the same time, started singing at the same time again. Chuckled softly. Then basically punched eachother's hands while reaching for the volume at the same time. We laughed forever, it was crazarrr. I don't even know what telepathic means, but that's the explanation that I gave to my mom when I told her the story. Hahaha.. ha.. ha.

we watched a video that talked about tuning forks today in physics.

and when i was watching some episodes of lost (i'm on season three and it's been about a week and a half!) they had a record player and me being the thinker that i am, thought about it. i honestly don't know how people invented those things, or even thought about it. i mean i'm sure their initial thought was that they wanted to have the amazing music that someone played to be saved and listen to over and over and forever, but how did they manage to actually invent a record? i'm one hundred percent positive that i wouldn't be able to do that. then, dummy me, starring at a tv never even though about how that one worked out. i mean, i guess i may have been told before but because tvs have been around during my entire lifetime so far, i never really thought twice about it. moving talking picture on a screen that SOMETIMES could be happening at the same exact time as the actual event. that's actually pretty intense. that this small video recording device, sometimes called a camera, can just be pointed at whatever it wants and this satellite thingymabob can just send that image.. moving AND talking to wherever it wants to, with the added fact that they need to have this really big glass screen thing in that place where they're sending it. wow, humans really are amazing. thanks, God.

if you're not my manager, please don't yell at me for doing nothing wrong.

so today was a relatively good day at work. nothing too good, nothing too bad. so finally when i was just finishing up closing my side concession stand with hayley, we were pushing a cart of garbage to the other side of the theatre to dispose of it. so it just so happened that at the worst time, in the worst possible place one big bag full of popcorn (tied closed so nothing fell out) rolled off of the cart right in front of a customer. nobody was hit, nobody was hurt. no harm, no foul? right? apparently i was wrong, especially when i laughed.. that was very wrong. it was quite silly, to just see a clear bag of popcorn tumbling across the hallway. somewhat like a tumbleweed. i thought it was funny. mr. blue shirt black hair glasses manager who doesn't even know my name didn't think it was funny. here is what he said, or at least what i remember he said: 'that bag that fell could have hit a customer and could have made a customer very pissed. laughing about it was the last thing that you two should have done.' and then we made our apologies and he walked away. i got a little red in the face, but then remembered that he in fact, doesn't know my name so it would be impossible for me to be written up or suspended or terminated.. or something. so the point is, don't yell at me if you don't know me and if i didn't do anything wrong.

i have this irrational fear that i'm going to die in the shower.

and nobody is going to find me for a very long time therefore i will drown and it will be too late to try cpr on me. that's really all i have to say because it's 3:15 in the morning and i have to wake up for church in roughly five hours and it will take me no less than an hour to even timidly fall asleep so i'm going to begin that treck now. sleeping was just starting to get easy, until wednesday. it's not even like anything life changing happened. just the sleep got bad again. and that makes me mad.

the song that popped up on my iTunes shuffle at this moment:


i thought the chinese people may or may not have added to the song. it was actually just the first result on youtube.

sometimes i wonder who decided to put all the ingredients together to make cookie dough.

that's not the point. my mom told me to clean my room today and i decided against it. i decided to read my favorite blog instead, it's called 'it walked on my pillow dot blogspot dot com.' it's probably my favorite thing to read. more than the great gatspy, which i have read 11 times so i must like this blog quite a bit. if anybody out there is reading this, you should read that blog instead, i promise you that you'll enjoy it more than this.

heather is going to be over my house in a few minutes and i still have to put pants on. i do that sometimes, sit here in my underwear and i apologize if that's on the creepy side, but i'm home alone so who really cares anyways? we are going to see the movie shutter island (which i have already seen but i'm taking heather to go see today) and then cooking ourselves a gluten free dinner. because heather's body chooses to be allergic to everything a normal person isn't. we also will probably watch the movie the great gatspy because we have been trying to find a day to get together since before christmas (when she bought me this movie, and i love her for it). then we are going to do whatever else us girls do for fun. try not to take that in a bad way if you're a pervert or something.

heather's car just pulled in the driveway, now to put on some pants...

i think i may be getting somewhere.

There's a possibility that I may have figured something out about myself today. I'm an extremely independent person and I guess I just never realized that before although it's always been true. I don't need to have someone tell me they love me every day or to hear that I'm beautiful once in a while. Don't get me wrong, those are lovely things, but not necessary. I just want to have fun is all, really, I'm a kid that's my point in life right now. So due to the fact that I feel like I don't need it, maybe that's why when I'm in a relationship with someone I don't always let them know how much they mean to me and all that good stuff. I think that's what happened with Luke. I think I talk about that too much, I always question what went wrong and where it went wrong. It was just so great, it's quite possibly the greatest thing that has happened in my life, yet, because I'm sure there are greater things to come. Because like I stated, I am in fact just a kid. I think that Luke is not such at independent kind of person, like me. He's a very dependent person, as a matter of fact. He always needed my approval, my praise, my everything. But I never really understood why, I guess I just think about myself to much. I'm a little bit selfish in that way, when I don't understand why someone is doing something or why they have this opinion I get a little frustrated and I know that's probably incredibly rude. I'm going to try to work on that. I'm not saying that I'm not an open minded person, because I let other people have their opinion, but I always try to weigh out why they feel that way. And for some reason I never understand it. Kind of like Luke always wanting so much and I never knew why. Now I think I know why. I'm talking in circles, I apologize. I realized this because I invited Bobby over today. I'm a horrible person, so beat me. And Bobby asked me if it bothered me that he didn't text me every day. I said that it doesn't, because that's the truth. I think at first I thought it did, like six months ago, but that's probably because I thought it should have bothered me. I know that doesn't make any sense. But when I'm feeling one way about something and I think that it's odd then I change my opinion, I literally change it. I don't lie, I just change. Because we're only human and we can do that. But today I realized it didn't bother me, it didn't matter at all. Then that got me to thinking, about how it always bothers Luke that I'm not texting him every minute of every day. By the way, I'm really hoping that somehow nobody comes across this and takes any offense to it because that would make me feel really horribly awful. But I don't even understand the point of blogging anyways. It's a way for me to sort out my life I guess, but that sounds dumb. Anyways, the point is is that that's why I think I like Bobby, as a person anyways. He's so honest, and he's a lot like me in a lot of ways. He's helping me figure myself out, because I obviously have no idea. And is that really such a bad thing, am I really being such a bad person? I don't think so.

Royal Flush

Watching TV is playing a poker game.
Potato chips and gummy bears
were always better at bluffing than me.
The vivid colors appearing—alternating
on the screen make my eyes tingle.
I listen for familiar background tunes, but
all I get is Mr. Commercial Voice.
The cold mac n’ cheese has faded to white
throughout my day of being suctioned
to the frozen leather sofa.
I can still taste the crackling
static radiating from the tube.
Barack Obama interrupts my
not-so-interesting show with a
not-so-interesting update on our
not-so-interesting status in Iraq.
I’ve always been intrigued by the war.
TV has yet to become a use of time—days,
minutes, seconds wasted away in living rooms.
I’m obvs going to rot in this place,
because the rays from the TV are beginning
to invade through my skin—surely cancer.
I learned that on TV.
“You’re a twitch,” I recall them telling me.
The monopoly money of the world
will pay for everything eventually.
I’m as picky as a hooker,
chewing through men’s wallets
as I sit here on my sofa.
Australia would never do that to a person,
tomorrow she will pay them all back.
Because this sandy candy will find
treasure buried inside her one day.
I’ll have to learn how to make my own
money to lose it all again.
Das Geld is nicht sehr gut für die Eis.
As the TV kills itself, and the cancer
yanks the hair from my skin; Some day,
I will learn to play poker again.

Cartoon Romance, Age 18

People under, say, eighteen, shouldn’t believe
that their love is ever-lasting,
inevitably pulling them from their mother’s arms, bruised faces

shattered after bruised faces, whole

body systems collapsing, all of it
acted out in pattern. At eighteen we are just beginning

the outlines to our futures,

that if a man creates a friend out of air
only he can talk to it.
Other people who attempt

will be speaking into cold wind. Eighteen-year olds
should stick to soccer games, marching bands,
grades going up and down—earthbound, tangible

events, moments

where they can become winners. You can score
goals in a soccer game, some people

have tutors, the hardships will come
with handbooks, if you fail

you will be forgiven. A child

exhales her breath onto the neck of a stranger,
& soaks his shirts with tears. She knows

the exact spot it will end, at which point
the blood will escape, who will forget sobriety
& who will be drowned under by shame. She will learn

that if she runs into a cave
she will not leave

until she notices her mistake.


Imitation of: Cartoon Physics, Part 1