My parents and younger brother have gone out of town for the night. Which is quite odd to begin with, you know? I mean, they would never just leave me here, alone, without a catch. Wait, there is. I'm spending the night at Her house.
Oh, yeah, and I cut my hair. Impressed, aren't you? It actually doesn't look that bad once you look at it. I mean, yeah, it's lopsided (purposely) and short enough not to be able to tie back, but that means nothing. It looks cutesy on me. I feel cutesy with it. It lets my neck breathe.
Maybe I should explain something here. I like reading riothero.com. It's a bad habit to go online, open up Hotmail, Blogger, and riothero.com. And, none the less, I've noticed a few things that we have in common with each other that kind of scares me. Here's a short list:
- We both redesign to our current designs on the same day.
- We both have parents who leave to go out of town near the exact same day.
- We both had dreams about other webloggers on the same night. (Mine had a few cameos from Jerwin, Meg, and a few others that escape my mind.)
There are probably other things, but I don't want to spend a whole thing talking about him (even though he did it for spent one on me), so I'll just end this tacky post by giving you a tacky search engine referral: people magazine eligible bachelors steve burns.
My top five favorite songs of the moment (in no particular order):
Prince - "The Most Beautiful Girl in the World"
Janet Jackson - "Again"
Grateful Dead - "Touch of Grey"
Smashing Pumpkins - "Tonight, Tonight"
Travis - "Baby One More Time"
There was this spider. Glorious, beautiful spider that was a tan color and had long, slender legs that made it seem as if it were gliding across ice rather than pawing its way over an old, rickety wooden floor. It knew I was watching it, because it started getting faster and faster. Some people started watching it from their chairs, amazed at how far it had gotten.
And then a boy came out of nowhere, and stepped on it, kicked it's flattened body against the discolored walls, and smiled his way over to a few friends.
I was crushed. There it was, a beautiful, small creature trying to get across a crowded classroom without being killed. I felt sorry for it. I almost cried. Some people around me kind of looked the other way, making conversation. I had this image in my head all evening of the spider disappearing under the dirty, old shoe. I felt sorry for it. I wanted to die with it. I wanted the boy to feel the pain.
But, instead, I sat there. Waiting for it to be a Disney death, with the innocent doing a dance number after they died and the evil, raggedy bad guy gets crushed under a rock. It never happened. I am holding it all in.
This has got to be the best I've heard of Eminem lately. As some people know, Eminem/Marshall Mathers, III, and his wife of one year, Kim Mathers, are finally filed for divorce, which only follows after a month after she attempted suicide. Smooth moves, boy.
I rented 200 Cigarettes for myself last night. I would've rented Go, but I couldn't find it under any section. IMDb (or whatever) says that it's under "Crime" (which isn't a section at Hollywood Video) and "Comedy". (Which, I swear, I went through three times.) But 200 Cigarettes is a good enough movie for now. I'll end up watching it tonight, after He leaves (He's visiting me for the first time in two weeks.), then going to bed before "The Daily Show" comes on. I'm already tired.
I found out what I am going to be in the future: a chef. A few other jobs that I find likable are on that list, too. An artist (#4), author (#5), movie star (#11), rock star (#12), FBI agent (#16), and reporter (#25). The link, by the way, was supplied by the ever-yummy melty.com, which also is the owner of my newest best friend.
I have also decided to cut my hair. I'm dedicated on this idea. It's going to look sort of like this, except choppier because I can't stand all the perfectionistic views of it. It seems that no one really can imagine me with that short of hair, but believe me, it was done before. I have proof. But I'm sick and tired of my hair sitting there in a ponytail all the time, and I just want to rid of all this extra fizzle in my life.
Oh, yeah, and there was an intruder in the school. Which caused everyone to lock doors and (in my case) do mathwork while every now and then, saying under our breaths, phrases like "Who's yo daddy?" (I did that, sorry to say. And it wasn't under my breath.)
I haven't done my homework yet, either.
Time is never time at all
You can never ever leave without leaving a piece of youth
And our lives are forever changed
We will never be the same
The more you change the less you feel
Believe... believe in me... believe, believe
That life can change, that you're not stuck in vain
We're not the same, we're different tonight, tonight
Tonight, so bright
And you know you're never sure
But you're sure you could be right
If you held yourself up to the light
And the embers never fade in your city by the lake
The place where you were born
Believe... believe in me... believe, believe
In the resolute urgency of now
And if you believe there's not a chance tonight, tonight
Tonight, so bright
We'll crucify the insincere tonight
We'll make things right, we'll feel it all tonight
We'll find a way to offer up the night tonight
The indescribable moments of your life tonight
The impossible is possible tonight
Believe in me as I believe in you, tonight, tonight
"Tonight, Tonight", Smashing Pumpkins
The pager is gone. I cancelled it because no one bothers to page me anymore. It's not that I don't feel any more or less important. It's just the fact that I don't go anywhere, and I have no life to have people trying to track me down with a simple little pink thing.
So, my mother will discontinue paying the bill. I'll turn it off and probably put it somewhere where no one will find it, yet everyone knows it's there, showing it's pink broken face back at us clearly saying without a word that I do nothing with my life.
I designed. Again. And, for once, I sort of like it. Kind of tight, not as pretty as the other design, but still it is a design. A nice change. I guess. Just to keep people amused while I try to keep up with school. Which isn't too hard now, but just give it time.
My mom is buying me the Go soundtrack, which is exceptionally good. I actually loved the movie to death, but it seems that there are few people that I know who have seen it. Maybe it all has to do with Jay Mohr. Jay Mohr is in three movies that I love to death: Go, 200 Cigarettes, and Playing By Heart. I feel like watching 200 Cigarettes right now, actually. I might have to rent that movie this weekend. And maybe get a few more other good ones and have my own little private party in the so-called "family room". (Which is downstairs, secluded from the actual family.) It actually doesn't sound too bad right now. Renting 200 Cigarettes, Go, perhaps even Clue (If they replaced it by now, at least), Wishful Thinking (again), and some other movie. A romantic comedy.
Speaking of romantic, I need people's help. My parents bought a 45 of their wedding song (Tavares, "Penny For Your Thoughts"). The thing is, we don't have the little piece to play the 45 on my record player. So, if you have one and you don't use it (and would like to send it to me, perhaps), please send me email about it. It would make my parents happy people.
I cannot think of a new design. I had a new one on here last night with a medical theme and all, but it didn't look right to me. So I'm trying to find a new idea in here somewhere. Just give me time.
I'm wearing a skirt today. It's one that I got at Goodwill a week before school started. Very long, very silky, very tight around the ankles. It's one of those kind that are light-colored at the top and darker at the bottom, kind of Asian-inspired design decorated on it. I'm wearing that, with some really uncomfortable shoes (but they look great with the outfit) and a tank top. Nothing too special that you're missing out on.
I finally got my Rolling Stone a week or so after Jerwin got his. Well, no. I got it six days after he did. Anyway. There's an article in there about Playboy's Hugh Hefner. I found it to be one of the nicer articles that I have ever read. It displays a sadder side to his fame that I guess I never realized. After I read the article, I sat there and thought. I thought about the price of his fame, and how he had to change his whole image just to mold into somebody everybody but him wanted to be. This is not the guy that runs around a big mansion in silky pajamas with thong-clad Playmates. This is the man who would rather sit in a library reading a classic rather than schmooze with Hollywood's finest. This isn't the Mr. Playboy that everything thinks. This is the Hugh Hefner that everyone ignores. Amazing.
I think I'll write more later. I need to get ready to leave.
There's a light/ In the darkness of everybody's life...
Yeah, goodmorning. I woke up an hour later than my alarm-- 6:30 AM. I think my alarm hates me. I swore that I set it to 5:30 AM. Idiots.
So, consequently to that, I couldn't catch the bus. This has happened for two reasons, in no particular order: 1) The bus driver asked me, "You ride only in the afternoons, right?" And I nodded. Perhaps a bad mistake, and 2) My bus would have swerved through the parking lot at 6:45. Which in 15 minutes' time, I can not (in any possibly way) take a shower, eat some breakfast, get all my stuff together, write an entry, and actually -- gasp! -- talk to my mother. Yeah, I know. I'm stunned about the last one, too.
Sigh. Another day of school. Another day of freshman piling around the doorways at lunch when there's a whole damn field over there with no one on it. (We, as a group, sat in the same areas we did last year, which is a slight distance from the door. There is no way in hell you can move us... unless it rains.) Another day of preppy, smiley faces going, "OMIGOD!" and hugging people when there's a crowd of people walking behind them. Another day of flaky, pretend-happy intercom messages. Another day of people saying the wrong thing.
Jesus. I just made my school seem like hell.
During dinner ---
Younger brother: "I need magazines for school tomorrow."
Mother: "We can arrange that."
Father: "Playboys." [chuckle]
Mother: "Oh, that'd be good. A little boy brings his father's Playboys, with the pages sticking together."
[everyone pushes away their dinner plates]
Here I sit, eating warmed-up Chinese and drinking Gatorade. And I want to tell you so much about my first day back into the reality we call "school", but I just want to hold back. Let's just say that the bus never showed up, the school's field seems a hell of a lot more crowded, my Algebra teacher reminds me of Ben Stein's role in Ferris Bueller's Day Off, His mother is pretty strict, and French isn't that bad of a language.
My godmother/aunt sent me a check today since she "never get a chance to take you anywhere or do anything special for you" since she's located in Pennsylvania and I'm down here, in the south. The check was written out for $100, which is a hell of a lot more than what I have gotten in awhile. I'll probably spend it on CDs (eventually), but I'm still doing the anti-RIAA thingie, even though I haven't downloaded a song from Napster in weeks. And I deleted a lot of them recently, too. And this looks really worth its money... but the check says "for school", so I guess I should use it for school purposes. It only seems right.
By the way, since I will have quite a bit more free time this week, I will be (finally) redesigning. It's amazing that this one lasted so damn long.
Here I am. Six-freaking-AM in the morning, in a puffy white shirt and brand-spanking-new dark-blue JNCOs that are probably the most comfortable things in the world. My hair is up in a towel (taking a shower this early in the morning is heaven, believe me), my socks are sitting in a bundle next to my mouse and a bottle of Gatorade is beside my calf. I'm wearing my favorite pair of underwear and got Sarah McLachlan in my CD player, ready for the 6:43 AM bus. No one else is up at the moment, and the only thing that is lighting up the house at this time is the computer's bright white screen.
Yes, yes. Goodmorning.
So, yes, this is the first day of school. Cue the tacky music. I catch the bus (first stop, and the only one at the stop. Where's the justice?) at 6:43 AM, I think. The busdriver will proceed to curse under her breath (I feel it's female this year) and do a u-turn in the middle of a major road... which, coincidentally, is a road that I'll be picked up and dropped off on. I'll see my little pals on the bus that I mentioned decades ago. (I'll link to it later.) I get to watch the freshman mingle out front of the school like lost sheep. I'll get to listen to a CD on the bus as it rolls through the west side ("bad side", people say) of town, past all the other people with droopy eyes waiting for their yellow hell to skirt around the corners. Yep, yep, excitement in the morning.
I think I'm going crazy.
I've been looking at "ghost" photos for awhile. One site in particular made me scared and laugh at the same time. It's aparrant (or whatever) that lots of the photos are indeed fake, but they still have this evil to them. Don't get me wrong, one or two of them may be coincidential or even "ghosts". But there are others that look really fake, and those that scare the hell out of you. Take, for instance, the Photo Shop-edited woman with no legs in the background, or the incredibly-eerie 3D girl in the hallway.
A way you can kind of tell that some of these are fake: all the really good photos (IE, the ones that look professional with everyone looking very clear) are the fakes. The ones that have you in that ugly outfit from your younger years are better considered to be the real deal.
Since my guestbook isn't working all the time, I made a slambook for you to sign. Or view. Whatever. (But I will really like it if you signed, because I want to know what kind of people read this website.)
I have to do a project today for A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. At first, I was thinking of the idea for having a piece of cement (taken from Him) and a small tree to signify the tree in the book that grows outside their apartment building. But then I started thinking about that one part of the book where the father knows he's dying (I know I'm ruining it for you) and he and Francie (I think that's her name) are on the roof of the building and look at the Brooklyn Bridge. I mean, it seems like a reasonable thing. I have the supplies: pencils, brushes, paint, canvas, everything. Maybe it won't look too bad, either.
(Personal note: I'll be blogging a lot today.)
Wait around, I'll smile again...
I decided to make the best of my last night of freedom, so I just sat around and watched "Entertainment Tonight".
Around 12:30 AM, a special on the NRA came on channel six (CBS?) and suddenly started bashing everything possible, including the whole Million Mom March. As for my personal thoughts on the issue, I am mostly anti-gun. I've fired a few guns before, and yes I did feel some sort of power when I did that, and perhaps even liked it, but I still cannot see the reason why so many people in the world have guns.
During a "boring" part of the NRA special, I turned to MTV and caught it just in time: a commercial that was made for the benefit of KMart to put some Route 66 (a KMart clothing brand, I believe) on the cast of the season nine "Road Rules" team. With last year's "Road Rules", it was that Citrus or SunKist drink that I ended up forgetting about. This year's "Road Rules" is, in short, confusing. In the earlier seasons, the teams didn't have a pretty little blue light that flashes to indicate a clue. They had crowds of people hold up letters to the clue, they had it on a cheap little tape recorder. They didn't have a blue/gray/whatever guy tell them to "check your email" and "nighty-night." I don't see what they're trying to achieve with these people. Something tells me it won't last that much longer, anyway.
I can't argue about the "Real World" going on, or Mark will kill me for bashing Julie. (That was a cute tie in, wasn't it? I don't hate Julie. Really.) Speaking of Mark, he did a little fashion show-slash-strip tease last night before it started getting bad here. I saved a few pictures that I promised myself that I would upload, but none the less it didn't happen because it started getting really bad here. By the way, I like outfit one the best.
It's been raining a lot lately. It rained yesterday evening, with this loud thunder and blinding lightning that kind of light up the sky like a Christmas tree. It rained on Friday, on the way to open house. It rained during the time we were in open house. The floor inside the school was slippery. It's funny watching everyone just kind of slide a little.
Open house itself wasn't too bad. I kind of liked it, in a demented sort of way. I saw some people that I didn't want to see, but on the rebound, I saw a few familiar faces that I didn't want to detach from. Mostly people who rode my bus and all. I don't know, it seems kind of weird knowing that I'm going back there tomorrow. And I'm panicky because I, for one, didn't see any of my teachers except for, like, one when I went to open house. Which means that I have no idea if they have any supply lists or whatnot. I don't know. Guess I'll find out tomorrow.
The incoming freshmen are just hilarious to me for some reason. They're all preppy and smiley and happy. Whereas, I (and Patsy, who stayed by my side the whole time at open house) wore these baggy pants and baggy shirts and just looked... scared. Or determined. Whichever. One thing about the freshman that bothered me, however, was that a great quantity of them are mean. Or spoiled, or maybe just nervous. Patsy and I passed by this one girl who was with her mother. A cockroach went across the floor, and the mother tries to stomp on it with her shoe, the girl is kind of just in a corner, and Patsy and I just stand there, having our heads follow the direction of this huge cockroach. The little critter gets away from death, and the mother looks sort of worried that her daughter, her pride and joy, is going to a school where there are cockroaches. The daughter said, "Mom, I don't want to go here anymore", the mother nodded (I guess), and they both walked away. We kind of just stood there in a sense of surprise because it was just plain funny. The school's maximum amount of students (600) has been achieved, there is no need for her to be here anymore than I do. There are 60 more students this year than there were last year. That means there will be 60 students (possibly even more) walking around in a frenzy trying to find out where the gym is.
And you know what? I might be one of them.