Monday, August 31, 2009

You're a person. That person over there's a person.

This is going to be another one of those bullet-point skeleton blogs, because it's past eleven o'clock and I've been tired since four this afternoon. I could remedy my tiredness, like a normal person, by closing my laptop and savoring my third-to-last night in my big princess bed... but no. No, I'll prop up some extra pillows to keep my head from nodding, pry my eyelids open with my fingers, and haul ass through a quick post. Because frankly, Blogger, I'm a slave for you.

Today, I:

--Drank an extremely expensive blackberry smoothie and went for a walk with my godmother, during which we discussed our mutual friends and my nerves about college. She's like my Sirius Black, in that she's a second mother figure to me, but still sort of feels like my peer. I always feel better after talking with her, and besides the fact that my leather flipflops practically burned a hole through the pads on my feet, our walk was really nice.

--Had a short conversation with my roommate. We had once (very) briefly considered picking out matching bedroom decor for our dorm, but decided that dormitories are doomed to be ugly anyway, and that we might as well flex our individuality. I picked purple and black, and she picked pink and brown. It's a dumb thing to bond over, but I like that we both understood why that combination was funny without having to explain it. I'm looking forward to meeting her.

--Watched Japanese horror films. I experimented with Ringu and Rasen, which are both parts of the trilogy on which The Ring was based. While there were a few strange aspects of the Japanese movies (like, for example, how Reiko Asakawa hugged a decrepit corpse, played dead when she got tired, and killed her father with the video tape?) they were pretty freaking great. I learned a few cultural things, reader-chan (I'm so, so, so sorry to anyone who sees that and realizes what an ill-informed jackass I sound like!), and was thoroughly frightened a few times.

--Went to visit Jess and Sebastian at school. Jess's roommate listens to movie soundtracks. Like, she was doing homework, and the background track of some epic battle scene was playing on her computer. Jess and I are both taken aback by how interesting that is; it seems like the kind of Default Quirky Character Trait a screenwriter would pull out of a jar to give to a Manic Pixie Dream Girl. This alone is reason enough for me to like the idea of her, but she appears to be genuinely pleasant and nice, too. Oh, and their dorm is really cute. It's long and narrow, so both Jess and her roommate have separate halves, unlike most boxy rooms that are difficult to divide down the middle. I'm kind of jealous.

--Was kind of inexplicably moody. Nothing was wrong, but I was tired all day long, irritated easily, didn't want to eat much, and got mad when people kept trying to shove masses of food down my throat. I mean, Lord knows I can scarf more junk than a truckload of grown men on an average day, so when I'm not hungry, can't you just allow me to be not hungry? I think what was really setting me off, deep down, was the fact that I'm moving away from my friends. Just like the other week, when Lor and I had a lame conversation because I was thinking too hard about the fact that I'll be gone. What a counterproductive attitude! I wish I had more control over my latent feelings.

Sexy: Lauren Fairweather's YouTube Backdrop Challenge! What a great idea!
Unsexy: The temperature situation in Ohio lately. It's hot, then it's cold, it's yes, then it's no. It's like living inside a freaking pizza roll!

Chipotle burritos this year: 28
Subscribers: 19,971

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

Sunday, August 30, 2009

Things I Hit Today

Jess keeps this hilarious, self-explanatory blog entitled "Things I Ate Today." So, to honor my best friend, this entry will be called, for a plethora of reasons, "Things I Hit Today." Today, I hit:

--On whataboutadam. I attended his live show this afternoon, during which he sang a rousing version of "Boom Boom Pow," looked freaking gorgeous, and fanned the fire of my passion by repeatedly calling me a "wee dote," which in Northern Ireland, apparently means I'm cute. He also begged to be the "sexy" item in my blog, so, like, here.*

--A metal road sign. There's this stupid crossing guard sign that sits in the middle of a busy street in my city, and I've always thought it was inches away from causing damage to somebody's car. Well, as I had to swerve away from a minivan that edged into my lane this afternoon, the damage finally occurred. A large chunk of the thick plastic that surrounds my driver's side mirror is now MIA, probably popping someone's tire.

--My face with my palm. Sometimes the creeper comments I receive on videos outright stun me. And they always happen to appear in slews! Today, I was asked for my underwear, to film amateur porn, and on a date in California. Don't think I can make it, man.

--The shopping mall jackpot. I bought a cute blue dress on sale, a t-shirt with Dan Radcliffe's face on it and "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince" written across the bottom, a highlighter yellow cardigan, and earrings and a long necklace, both of which are made of different shades of little fake purple stones. I found the perfect brown Hermione boots, but I don't quite have the disposable income to justify them, and my mom's given me enough presents lately. Ah, well.

--Nearly 20,000 subscribers! So close.

--On a corny hook for this blog post, so it looks like I put in some thought when, in reality, I have nothing entertaining to say. I went to church, cleaned the family business building, had lunch with my family, had dinner with my extended family, and showed my angry/frustrated parents how to use the DVD player as if it hasn't been there for the past five years... like every Sunday. I also had an uncomfortable almost-argument with a friend, leaving me in a bit of an edgy mood. It's okay, though, because I ate two pieces of homemade strawberry pie tonight, and I think moodiness can be suffocated by the ingestion of heaps of junk food.

Sexy: *Whataboutadam, obviously. His twisted pinky fingers twist at my heartstrings. I see images of him dancing in my eyes whenever I see my reflection in the murr. He's the dopest dote to ever combine my middle initial and last name into one word.
Unsexy: Considering making terribly destructive decisions despite knowing better and having positive influences in your life reminding you not to.

Chipotle burritos this year: 28
Subscribers: 19,929

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

Saturday, August 29, 2009

Brad Paisley: Hey, glory, glory. Hallelujah!

For all of you (sweet, adorable, kind) readers concerned about me, I want to assure you that both today and yesterday were very good days. I, thankfully, got to hang out with Sebastian for a good portion of Friday afternoon. We bought a beanbag chair for his dorm, made out a lot, and then he made me the most delicious and gorgeous grilled cheese sandwich anyone has ever seen. Oh, and he also gave me these incredible knee-high white boots with two-inch heels that just SCREAM Sailor Venus. So, you know, now I have to find an opportunity to dress up like an anime character. How unusual for me!

That night, I went with my brothers and one of my sisters to see my favorite (don't laugh) country singer, Brad Paisley. A raging thunderstorm started up as soon as we made our way onto the lawn, and we were head-to-toe drenched before the openers finished. Nobody really cared, though, because it wasn't cold or anything. It just made the whole atmosphere a little more exciting. I had more fun in those few hours than I've had over the course of full weeks before. You're standing in a massive crowd, half the people around you are laughing, wearing trashbags on their heads to avoid the rain, and the other half are embracing the muddy surroundings and sliding around happily with their Natty Light.

I've seen Brad live three times, and it never gets old. His songs are funny and geeky, and all his lovey lyrics are about his long-time wife. He also, singlehandedly, makes short animated films to play on the big screen at his shows; in this year's, he was a scrawny, cowboy hat-clad superhero who had to fly over the world to save Carrie Underwood and other country stars from dinosaurs and such likely obstacles. He's so frigging cute. Pretty much everything about Brad Paisley appeals to me, from his stage personality ("Raise your beer if you're having the best night of your life! They can't arrest all of us.") to his lyrics, to his suspicious little smile. Y'all can hate if it makes you feel better, but frankly, I'm a little bit country, and I'm a lot proud of it.

This morning, I woke up looking like I'd been at a concert in a rainstorm the night before, with my hair a curly, congealed mess and my new purse on the floor smelling slightly like mildew. My parents were gone, moving my sister into school (she's a senior at OU with an actual apartment, so she's going a week earlier than I can move into my dorm), so I took advantage of the silence by taking a two-hour bath, reading, making waffles for one, and watching Flight of the Conchords. Lor and I decided to go buy designer cupcakes from a cute little shop a town over, and we each scarfed a shimmery pink one that tasted like berries and champagne. We then wasted some time driving around and, as usual, sang Miley Cyrus. This hangout was a lot less melancholy than a few days ago... but I suppose we'll really only get to see each other about once more before I leave.

After I dropped Lauren off, I went for a long walk with my mom and dog, and here I am now. I guess nothing hugely exciting has happened since I last wrote, but I feel like I'm entering into a new stage of grief. Or something. I'm still nervous and upset, but it's been plaguing me less. For now, at least-- no telling how I'll feel tomorrow. Ah, teenagerhood. How I adore your unpredictable, unavoidable mood swings.

Sexy: Um, duh. He's so nerdy! And so cute! I'm not asking you to strip to a wifebeater and grab a fiddle, but just listen to this song and admit that it's funny. That's all I need from you.
Unsexy: Refer to my tweet from this morning. I accidentally cut my leg while I was shaving, but I didn't notice it. It wasn't until I got home an hour later that I saw the bright red blood stain on my new shorts, which looks, obviously, like something other than a shaving nick. FML.

Chipotle burritos this year: 28
S'mores this summer: 6
Subscribers: 19,897

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Crying/Such a Huge Eagle

I read a few chapters of Sarah Dessen's This Lullaby last night, as I said I would, and it actually helped to make me feel a little bit better. I was worried it would be immature and irritating, but besides the fact that Dexter's character is unlikely to exist in the real world, it appears to be just as satisfying all these years later.

I didn't have a ton of time to think about this, though, because I was only two chapters in when Jess texted and we had a joint mini meltdown. Around 1AM, she was letting tears drip into the brownie batter she stood alone eating, while I cried into tissues in my room with all the lights on. The two of us have never been criers-- like, practically ever-- so it was a pretty big deal. Sebastian called to try and console me, but I was too snotty and embarrassed to appreciate it. Instead, I whined to him about things that are pathetically true ("I don't have memories from before Lauren and Jess!") and things that seemed true at the time ("I don't know how to make friends, and I'll spend all my time in a corner, alone!") until all the crying made my head feel heavy and I fell into resigned sleep.

I slept much later than normal, and finally got out of bed around ten, feeling sore and like I'd gained seventy pounds overnight. My sister made me breakfast, but I took one look at it, felt depressed, and put the plate on the floor for my dog. Then Kelly and I went to our grandparents' house for a bit, and I didn't eat until after my stomach was ready to murder me. I hate being all whiny and typical, but I feel flat-out sad. It sucks.

Oh, and I had a special idea for a fiveawesomegirls video, which I even filmed part of, but I couldn't muster the energy to edit and post it, so I just didn't. It's taking a lot out of me to blog right now, but I know there are a lot of readers going through, quite literally, the same thing, and I think it's therapeutic for all of us if I record these feelings while they're ripe. I hope it gets better soon.

Sexy: The fact that Kayley (owlssayhooot) is going to start blogging regularly. You can read/follow it here, and I suggest that you do.
Unsexy: The fact that my sister thought the new Beyonce song, "Ego," was about an eagle. As in, "He's got a big eagle. Such a huge eagle."

Chipotle burritos this year: 27
S'mores this summer: 6
Subscribers: 19,843

Bye, guys. Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Sad Day

As wonderful as yesterday was, much of today was stingingly sad. I had lunch with Lor (TOLauren) in a break between her college classes, but as neither of us has been up to anything exciting, and we both tweet/read each other's facebooks and things, it was a mostly depressing conversation. For the first time, the reality of my leaving sunk in. Lor's a hot art major, meeting the other clarinets in her marching band, preparing for a life that, for the most part, won't involve me. She's been one of my best friends since we wrote short stories together in second grade, and I simply don't know how to function without her small influences. We sat on the swings at the park for a few minutes, trying to talk, but a landscaper with a power lawnmower kept interrupting the conversation with loud noise and the spitting of chopped grass. Perhaps it's the writer inside of me, but I couldn't help but notice the symbolism. My friend and I were together, but we were both aware of the distance that will soon be between us, and the thought of it was enough to spoil one of our last bits of time.

After my melancholy goodbye to Lor, I sat around for a good stretch of time singing songs from A Very Potter Musical to my dog. I'm such a reader and internet freak that I'm not usually prone to boredom, but I felt pressingly alone and useless. Jess and Sebastian came by to try and remedy this, but we didn't really do anything fun. We hung out in Jess's room and watched her pack for her move-in tomorrow, and at one point, there was vegetable lo mein involved. Part of me is glad for the opportunity to see my friends as much as possible, and the other half feels really sick and sad to see Jess gather all the gear she'll need to go meet people I'll never know. Everything Sebastian said and did managed to make me mad or upset tonight, and none of it was his fault. Your boyfriend and best friend should not go to the same school and hang out all the time when you're living hours away. They just shouldn't.

I'm just... I don't know. I'd say none of these feeling are irrational or unpredictable, but it's not like anticipating them makes it easier.

I think I'm going to go take that bath I decided against last night, and, even though I'm in the middle of a million books that are a lot more fulfilling and important, I think I'll reread Sarah Dessen's This Lullaby tonight. It's about the summer before starting college, and when it became one of my favorite books of all time, I was in eighth grade. I'm interested to find out if I like it as much now that I'm Remy's age and all the glamour of eighteen-year-olds has faded. I'll let you know.

Sexy: Darren Criss, cowriter and star of the Potter musical. I've never met him, and I know nothing about him as a person, but he sure is talented and super-mega-foxy-awesome-hot. I have a big crush on him.
Unsexy: My current state of mind/emotion. Boo.

Chipotle burritos this year: 27
S'mores this summer: 6
Subscribers: 19,817

Bye, guys. Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Purely Good Day

Today was one of the best days I've ever had. I woke up to the sound of my mother putting together a little gift basket of tea and honey for my dorm room. I stretched out of bed with my hair still curled nicely from the day before, pulled on one of the dresses I bought yesterday (out of laziness, because I didn't feel like unpacking both a top and bottoms), and ended up looking about twice as cute as I ever would after trying. My sister made me scrambled eggs for breakfast, because she's awesome, and the two of us had a funny little chat while we ate.

I then sat with my gorgeous laptop on the leather couch, drank two cups of tea that were the perfect temperature and perfect level of sweetness, and read some of your responses to yesterday's book survey. I spent the whole morning laughing and smiling and commenting, because you, readers, are fantastic people. In the twelve or so blogs I got to, not a single one passed without amusing me. I'm honored to be read by such a witty and entertaining group, and my heart just leaped with giddiness when I saw how many new responses came in while I was out all day. I can't wait to read through the rest!

I left the house at about noon, after making plans to have lunch with TOLauren tomorrow afternoon between her college classes, and spent some time with Jess, painting our nails and eating Taco Bell. Along with our lack of sleepovers, Jess and I appear to have never taken a decent picture of the two of us, so we tried with her Polaroid camera. They're all ridiculous, obviously, because we're practically twelve-year-olds, but we now have three shots that truly represent our mouths-open-stupid-expressions friendship. After we argued about who got to keep them (I tried to sneak one into my purse, but got caught), we got to see our good friend, Elise, after her first day of 11th grade. We went for ice cream together and sat on Jess's roof outside her room, savoring the sun and the shade of a tree. Elise had to leave pretty early, unfortunately, so we said some sad goodbyes, and Jess and I had more adventures.

Conditions were perfect for swinging. It wasn't too hot, and the breeze lifted up the skirt of my dress and felt really summery and great. Our park was empty, as the moody middle school frequenters were probably doing homework (HA!), and as some kind of freak act of God, my mother decided not to text me every twenty minutes today. Like the world wanted to leave Jess and I alone to savor one of our final days together before we move. We walked from the park to my church in the later afternoon to quench our ice cream-induced thirst, where we discovered a new air hockey table in the youth group room. "Let's play!" Jess yelled enthusiastically, mostly to be funny. "No," I whined from the couch. "I don't even know how." Jess responded that she didn't know either, so that was reason enough for me to try.

AIR HOCKEY IS FUN. We're still not entirely sure we were even playing correctly, but we were evenly matched in our spasticity. We spent what felt like minutes but was probably hours jumping from side to side and screaming, pushing the little handle things much harder than necessary, and falling into fits of laughter. We played one round with two little handle things each, using one as a goalie and the other as offense, another round one-handed, and the last with the actual air on. I won the first match, but that stupid skank won the championship after I accidentally made several goals for her side. I never would have dreamt I could have the time of my life playing a simulated sport on a table in the youth room, but we left the church practically glowing with joy. Just one of those days, I guess, where everything is funnier and more exhilarating than usual.

By far the best part of the day, I unfortunately can't blog about. Jess loves having insignificant secrets that don't actually matter or hurt anybody, and this event will remain between the two of us. We pinky swore and marked the occasion in my phone's calendar. All I can say is that everything was perfectly legal, pure, kind, and in no way rebellious. We laughed so hard, however, you would have thought we'd gotten away with the greatest caper in history. And in a way, we did. Isn't cryptic ambiguity sweet of me?

We ended the night with a short, ceremonial trip back to our park, sang along to our cheesy summer anthem when God put it on the radio for the ride home, and now I'm going to go take a bath. Just to top things off. I realize I didn't really do anything all day, and that to anyone living outside the farmlands, we sound totally pathetic... but I feel purely, comfortably wonderful.

Sexy: My blog readers! I truly mean it when I say you're often the best part of my day. Also, captainO on twitter, who @replied me a long sound file of rain falling because he remembered from my blog how much I love thunderstorms.
Unsexy: When people have bad days at the same time I have awesome ones. If you can, send some twitter love to @sshephe (Sebastian) and @marlenanargle (Marlena) and, I don't know... tell them to smile and have a nice day. You could also tell @lnpage (TOLauren) to have a good first week at school. I'm not sure, actually, if you can send @replies to users with protected updates, but somebody ought to try. That'd be cute.

Chipotle burritos this year: 27
S'mores this summer: 6
Subscribers: 19,792

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. If you'd still like to complete the book survey, leave a comment with your blog address in the comments of yesterday's entry! <3

Monday, August 24, 2009

Shopping and a Book Survey

For perhaps the first time in my life, I had a lot of fun shopping today with my mom, grandma, and sisters. I usually tire of clothes within fifteen minutes, then spend the rest of an hour vetoing the ugly things my frustrated mother suggests, until we're both steamed and empty-handed. This time, however, my sisters were more funny than annoying, and nobody told me to wear more makeup or suck in my stomach. We had a pleasant time chatting, acting like we were about eight years old ("My toe looks like it's growing a nipple!" said Grandma in the car ride there) and had good salads and awesome desserts at Bahama Breeze.

I bought two cute cotton dresses on sale at American Eagle, along with underwear, a black cami, black leather flipflops, and a short-sleeved orange cardigan. I got two pairs of jeans from Express (not that I, like, ever choose to wear jeans), and yellow shorts and a purple top from H&M, but my sister and I aren't really sure which of us they belong to, because my mom paid for them and we wear the same size. I positively drooled over a pair of obnoxious gold, sequined pumps, but they didn't have my size. I guess now I'll never get the chance to feel like Hannah Montana... unless I'm wearing all the other sequined crap I bought solely to feel like Hannah Montana.

Besides that, though, my evening was pretty uneventful. I spent a little bit of time with Sebastian, took a nice walk with my sister, and finally cleared the piles of clothes from my floor. The room looks great, and now I just have to dig through boxes to dress myself for the next week and a half. *thumbs down*

This is about the most boring blog on the whole internet. To spice it up (um, yeah right) here's a facebook survey I filled out the other night. If you guys want to fill it out as well and link to your blogs in the comments, I'd be interested to read them!

1. What author do you own the most books by?
Sarah Dessen (9) and Jo Rowling: 10 different books, and up to 6 multiples of each Potter volume

2. What book do you own the most copies of?
Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (6)

3. Did it bother you that both those questions ended with prepositions?
I'm going to leave Matt [Lauren Fairweather's boyfriend, of The Whomping Willows]'s answer, because I wholeheartedly agree and am sick of explaining myself. "No. I write like I talk, and I'd honestly never say, "Of which book do you own the most copies?" That's just silly. I'm aware that sentences shouldn't end with prepositions, and that's good enough for me. "

4. What fictional character are you secretly in love with?
Secret? I'll tell anyone who'll listen. Colin Singleton, Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Marcus Flutie, Remus Lupin, Seb Mantegna, Nick Carraway, Holden Caulfield, Hamlet, Pudge Halter, Q Jacobsen... and that's just for books. If I got into movies, we'd be here all night.

5. What book have you read the most times in your life (excluding picture books read to children; i.e., Goodnight Moon does not count)?
I'm so glad Matt's only read the Potter series twice, because fellow fans usually go through convulsions when I tell them Half-Blood Prince is the only one I've read four times, and the others I've been through twice. I have, however, reread The Catcher in the Rye every year since I was fourteen, and I've read Jaclyn Moriarty's Ashbury/Brookfield trilogy about three times.

6. What was your favorite book when you were ten years old?
Beverly Cleary's Beezus and Ramona. My mom used to beg me to read other authors, but Beverly was my first literary love. Little did my mother know that, to this day, I'd still harbor a special love for the eight-to-eleven age group. I want to write for them. They're my calling.

7. What is the worst book you've read in the past year?
I don't know if it counts as this year, but Stephenie Meyer's Breaking Dawn, without a doubt. Quickly followed by Heart of Darkness. (Not because I'm too vapid to understand it. Just because it's exhaustingly masculine, and the few good bits fight and struggle in my mind to be remembered among all the droning descriptions of boats.)

8. What is the best book you've read in the past year?
HAMLET, which I cannot believe I hadn't read before. Another contender is Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. On a more superficial (but still beautiful and fulfilling) note, Perfect Fifths by Megan McCafferty. John Green's Paper Towns is also somewhere in the running.

9. If you could force everyone you tagged to read one book, what would it be?
J.D. Salinger's Franny and Zooey. It contains my soul.

10. What book would you most like to see made into a movie?
I would never wish that fate upon a book I liked. I'm really looking forward to Breaking Dawn, though, because HOW HILARIOUS WILL THAT BE?

11. What book would you least like to see made into a movie?
I have faith that the ghost of Salinger will prompty choke to death any bastard who attempts to rape Catcher after it hits the public domain. For those beloved books that are less-well protected, I cross my heart. If Kristen Stewart ever auditions for Jessica Darling, I'm moving to Antarctica.

12. Describe your weirdest dream involving a writer, book, or literary character.
Just two nights ago, I dreamt John and Hank Green were my eighth grade English teachers, and that they'd assigned me to make Draco Malfoy out of Sculpey. I also have a recurring dream in which I have to fly a Comet 260 to reach a light switch on the ceiling of a Sam's Club warehouse.

13. What is the most lowbrow book you've read as an adult?
I suppose I started the Twilight series when I was eighteen.

14. What is the most difficult book you've ever read?
Le Petit Prince, as I read it in its original French, and I have a very elementary understanding of the language. The experience was totally rewarding, though, as that book changed my life.

15. What is the most obscure Shakespeare play you've seen?
I've sadly never seen a Shakespearean play performed live that wasn't one of the obvious favorites. Hamlet, Othello, Macbeth, Midsummer, As You Like It, Taming of the Shrew, Romeo and Juliet, Much Ado About Nothing. Probably another or two, but nothing obscure.

16. Do you prefer the French or the Russians?
I like me some Chekhov (emphasis on the SOME), but, as I've already said, Antoine de Saint-Exupery means a lot to me. French FTW.

17. Roth or Updike?
I'm amused by the little Updike I've read, but I'm no huge fan.

18. David Sedaris or Dave Eggers?
Sigh. I've read neither. BUT I WILL. GIVE ME TIME.

19. Shakespeare, Milton, or Chaucer?
Shakespeare. Not to sound like a cop-out or anything.

20. Austen or Eliot?
Austen! My God. Austen.

21. What is the biggest or most embarrassing gap in your reading?
Let's just say that whenever I watch one of Rosianna's videos, I hang my head in shame. Then perk up a little, because her voice sounds like chocolate.

22. What is your favorite novel?
I've already given them enough attention, but the true answer is a tie between The Catcher in the Rye and Half-Blood Prince. But I'm also partial to The Bell Jar, and, call me cliche, but I love The Great Gatsby.

23. Play?
The Crucible. Then Midsummer Night's Dream.

24. Poem?
John Donne's "A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning" will never, as long as the world is round, cease to make my head go all foggy with appreciation. Emily Dickinson and I also have a very unique relationship of note, but she's not my favorite.

25. Essay?
I've never read many essays outside of obligation. Chuck Klosterman's Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs, however, made me tilt my head and smile a lot.

26. Work of nonfiction?
Stephen Greenblatt wrote a pretty great biography on Shakespeare. I'm big on those. I have Will in the World in hardcover. (...Because I stole it from my unpleasant AP Literature teacher. She deserved it.)

27. Who is your favorite writer?

28. Who is the most overrated writer alive today?
Sigh. I'd rather avoid the drama. Chances are, you know my answer to this question already. If you agree, bite your lower lip and smile to yourself. If you disagree, put down the pitchfork; it's an opinion. If you don't know what I'm talking about, you're probably better for it.

29. What is your desert island book?

30. And... what are you reading right now?
The Spell Book of Listen Taylor by Jaclyn Moriarty, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Seth Grahame-Smith, Velvet Elvis by Rob Bell. And I ought to start House of Leaves, for Sebastian's sake.

Sexy: My lunch. A salad with strawberries, mandarin oranges, grapes, roasted almonds, goat cheese crumbles, and yummy vinaigrette dressing, served with crisp flatbread. Followed up, healthily, with a mousse-covered brownie surrounded by a sea of melted vanilla ice cream and topped with whipped cream.
Unsexy: The zit on my thigh! I keep rubbing things against it, and it hurts!

Chipotle burritos this year: 27
S'mores this summer: 6
Subscribers: 19,763

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Smelly Musings on Packing and Sex Jokes

I went to see Julie and Julia this afternoon with my mother and sister. We were the only people in the packed theater not on the senior citizen discount, and the permed white heads behind me had the elderly habit of chuckling at things that weren't funny, but I still really liked the movie. Films usually ignore the existence of technology such as instant messaging and facebook for the sake of plot advancement, so it was surreal to see a story about a blog told realistically. I felt like a loser for tweeting so, but every time Amy Adams's character mentioned her readers, I whimpered a little bit. I wrote to you guys last night, and I was somehow missing you. Excuse me while I palm my eyes, shake my head, and giggle. What my life has become.

My mom just came into my (much more organized, yet still unpacked) room to tell me she's been downstairs, reading Julie Powell's blog. She also thinks my sexual joke about milkshakes in the other day's un/sexy was gross, and advised me not to write things like that. I opened my mouth to make some kind of excuse, and instead, I had an epiphany. "Wait!" I said, feeling empowered. "I can write whatever I want in my blog! I'm an adult and it's funny!" My mother, who has a habit of trying to govern her children even after they've moved out and gotten married, responded with this really cute laugh that escapes whenever she realizes her kids are right. "People from church could read that," she said, failing to force down her smile. We laughed together, and swatted each other's hands away from my laptop keyboard, as she tried to make me appropriate, and I tried to think of the most offensive thing possible to say.

Guess what, Mom? GENITALIA.

Anyway, the packing situation has calmed down a lot since yesterday. I now have a tupperware container full of sweaters, sweatshirts and jackets stowed away in the closet, with a box of pants, cardigans, and long sleeves stacked on top of it. I'm now left with the gigantic stack of underwear on the unoccupied side of my bed, an array of tights/hose/leggings on the carpet, and various piles on the rug: t-shirts, tank tops and camisoles, zippies, short-sleeved tops, sweatpants, pajamas, shorts, towels, dresses, skirts. Add to that all the shoes, toiletries, books, scarves, and the ever-growing ocean of nail polish bottles accumulating on my desk, and you've got yourself a headache.

Oh, but fear not. I'm going to calm the madness by getting up early tomorrow to go SHOPPING in Cleveland with my sisters, mom and grandma, for MORE CLOTHES. That'll diminish the piles. Sigh... I only really own one pair of jeans, though, and despite the heap to my left, you can never have too much underwear. Right? Right.

On that note, I'm going to go take a shower, because if I were a Sim, my hygiene meter would be pretty damn low. My legs feel a lot like sandpaper, and my hair feels a little bit like a Slip 'n' Slide covered in oil. Isn't it charming, the things I share with you? I like to keep a certain mystique to my online personality. I only tell you the things you absolutely need to hear. Like how gross and frumpy I look, virtually all the time. You're welcome.

Sexy: Charlie's new video. It's an original, and therefore, one of his best.
Unsexy: My outfit. Light blue shorts, teal-green t-shirt, Jazzercise teal nail polish, turquoise flipflops. I didn't intend to dress head-to-toe in clashing shades of the same basic color, but I appear to have done so.

Chipotle burritos this year: 27
S'mores this summer: 6
Subscribers: 19,724

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

Saturday, August 22, 2009

Packing Procrastination

Firstly, (500) Days of Summer was everything I was promised it'd be. I laughed louder than I ordinarily would in a theater, I smiled uncontrollably a few times, and whenever something was depressing, I felt that literal sinking feeling in my chest as if I were being dumped. I recommend Summer to anybody who loves movies, has ever been attracted to another person, or needs to feel a story intensely.

Secondly, I did absolutely nothing today but clean and pack for college. The floor of my bedroom is a labyrinth of clothes I haven't seen in years, my hands are sick of refolding stubborn sweaters, and I'm more concerned than ever about the probable chance that I won't fit half my crap into my little dorm. I know I should be a big girl and choose ONE of the six white camisoles, but I keep catching glimpses into the future, in which I'm wearing one white camisole, and all hell is breaking loose. All hell that could have been contained, were I wearing a different white camisole. What if I spill something bright red and stainy on the white camisole, and I have some kind of twist-of-fate need for a white camisole later that day? What if the white camisole gets lonely? If I bring two, will the others feel left out? Can I really pick favorites like that? What if the previously-specified hell is destined to break loose unless all six white camisoles are in Athens at my disposal?

It's realistic, troubling internal debates like this that have been plaguing me all day long. I've let my mind wander to the point that I nearly justified packing my junior prom dress. When they're all in one place, I appear to have enough t-shirts to clothe the von Trapps for the next decade, and I can't seem to narrow down the stack. I never before fancied myself a pack-rat, but I guess my room's just big enough that I never needed to face the reality that I am. I seriously, seriously am. And it's wreaking havoc on my mother's temper to see the ever-growing mass of pajamas and Soffe shorts accumulate on my rug.

I have a really good grasp on the situation, though, as I'm curled into the only uncovered corner of my bed, observing the surrounding chaos, and writing a blog. If Mom asks, blogging is an essential aspect of packing. For example, I need to recharge and meditate on pressing issues like white camisoles, or the pressure of college will get to me. Yeah. And I need to be listening to Miley Cyrus Radio on Pandora, because it will, um, energize me. And I need to be writing facebook notes, because... I... need to.

Sigh. Fine. I'll finish cleaning, but it's not just because I can sense your disapproving head-shakes, reader. I'll finish cleaning out of unadulterated fear that my mother will come back in here and turn into the Incredible Hulk. See what I do for you guys? I RISK MY VERY LIFE.

Sexy: Joseph Gordon-Levitt. He's too skinny for my taste, but he has a dreamy face. It took an imdb article and an entire movie of my drooling and fantasizing before I realized who he is. He's Cameron from 10 Things I Hate About You! But with his voice fully changed! There you go, Cameron. You went from a cute teenager to a smokin' man.
Unsexy: The fact that Kathleen leaves tomorrow for school. She stopped over to hug me goodbye, and it frigging sucks with how many more friends I'm going to have to have similar encounters.

Chipotle burritos this year: 27
S'mores this summer: 6
White camisoles on my floor: 6
Subscribers: 19,673

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

Friday, August 21, 2009

Today was beautiful!

I was in pajamas at 10:30 last night, singing along to songs from the Potter musical, when Jess called and asked me to come over. We'd planned to hang out all day long today, but Jess wanted a head start. I'm a morning person, and neither of us really like having people in our houses, so Jess and I have somehow never been prone to slumber parties. Fourteen years of inseparable friendship, and I couldn't remember more than one time we'd had a one-on-one sleepover. Through my whines of protest, Jess decided it was time to fix that problem. And as much as I hate sleeping on couches and forgoing proper hygiene for candy and TV, my best friend is more persuasive. I went.

We suck at sleepovers. We stood in her living room for a few seconds, looking at each other expectantly. What were we supposed to do? Gossip about boys? Read magazines? We ended up discussing food in great detail, as always, and falling asleep. I value every second with Jess, and I have more fun talking to her about salsa than I do having important conversations with most other people, but as far as slumber parties go, I don't think we were missing out on much by omitting them.

It was okay, though, because the next afternoon, today, was big and blue and beautiful. We went to our park, wearing what we'd slept in, and had our minds blown by the gorgeousness of the day. Descriptions of blue skies bore me, but today's sky was the kind of blue that makes you care about blue skies. The sun hit every bit of our bodies, making every color seem like it'd been photoshopped. Jess's pale skin was paper white, her hair was burnt red, and her eyes went from their usual blue to a crazy cyan reflection of the sky. We sprawled out in the grass with the bottoms of our shirts folded over so our bellybuttons could breathe, we rolled downhill, we ran in nonsensical circles. We pretended to bite the clouds as we swung toward them on the swings. My serotonin-flooded brain could think of nothing else but how amazing everything was, how much I felt like Lily Evans, and how the present would turn into one of those memories I'll replay in my head for the rest of my life. Today was a Patronus.

Even hours later, it ended too soon. We had Robeks smoothies for lunch at 3:00, and before we could finish painting our nails together (such a slumber party activity! Why didn't we do that last night?!) my mother text-message-harassed me to come home. I took a shower and pouted for a bit, but she consented to me leaving to see a movie with Jess. I'm leaving now to see 500 Days of Summer, which I'm superexcited to soak up. I'll let you know how it goes tomorrow!

Sexy: Oh my gosh. Everything. I'm still on a high.
Unsexy: Spending money. Booo.

Chipotle burritos this year: 27
S'mores this summer: 6
Wheat grass shots this lifetime: 0, but I'm dying to try it, as of this evening.
Subscribers: 19,633

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Shoes, Twilight, MASCULINITY!

The sky was threatening to rain all morning. A gloomy disposition, a couple hiccups of thunder, a few droplets escaping here and there. Well, I don't know what you guys did to make it so upset, but now the sky is outright bawling. Water is flying in every direction at record speeds, my street looks like a mote, and I couldn't be cozier, sitting cross-legged on my bed in the near-dark, listening to Jack Johnson. I've told you before about my obsession with rain. I swear, sometimes I feel like it's a present just for me. It's a Thursday, I'm comfortable, and my microcosm is taking a shower.

On the same subject, I've spent some time today looking for a good pair of rainboots for school. Rubber boots usually seem impractical, but on the brick hills of Athens, everyone seems to think they're a necessity. After searching online a little bit, I'm happy with this decision. Rainboots are cute. So far, I like these ones, in either that purple or the kelly green on the left, and these ones, and these in yellow, like Coraline's.

I'll also need these-- not because I know or care anything about shoes, but because I already have these and a similar white pair, but they're worn out, and it's as if they were made specifically for my feet and color preferences. Oh, and I'm dying to find the boots Emma Watson wears in the Hogsmeade scene of the Half-Blood Prince movie. I searched google for their name, and it turns out a few other girls have been looking as well. Said search also led me to this, which is quite possibly the funniest non-sexual Hermione fanfic I've ever read.

Anyway, I'm going to go film a fiveawesomegirls video. I have a ton of unused footage from the past couple of weeks that I'll have to dig through, and I need to address all the people who took the video I made with Lauren and Nina the wrong way.

Sigh. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I actually like Eclipse, and parts of the first two books are rather good. It wasn't until Breaking Dawn that I lost most of my respect for the series, and it wasn't until all the exaggerated, mostly undeserved hype that I tired of the fan response. Guys, I like the Twilight movie enough to own it. My relationship with Twilight is similar to my relationship with Degrassi. They're entertaining in the mind-numbing way, part of me will always feel connected to them, and I would probably be willing to own a small piece of fan paraphernalia for both... but if everywhere I turned, girls were dressed head to toe in pictures of Craig Manning, or threatening my friends with the information that JT York is so much hotter than their boyfriends, who should just go die... I would grow to hate Degrassi. I may not wait up at midnight for the New Moon movie, but I'm going to go see it. And I'll probably make jokes about it. Just as I make jokes at my own expense, and about the tendencies of people my age. Most of my channel is made up of jokes! I can't comprehend why the Twilight ones are the only jokes people take to heart.

Wow. I don't think this blog has ever been so gagtastically girly. We need unbiased balance! Quick! Watch something masculine!

Sexy: Chick-fil-A milkshakes. I had my first this afternoon, Cookies & Cream. Despite the fact that it was only a "small" and I feel like it'll be the cause on my death certificate, it was pretty great. It was as if they packed the thickest, hardest ice cream into an airless cup, then covered it with a good two inches of whipped cream. I've never had to suck so hard.
Unsexy: Whatever just went through your gutter-bound brain after reading my previous sentence. Come on, you perv.

Chipotle burritos this year: 27
S'mores this summer: 6
Subscribers: 19,545

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Wedding, Friends, Harry Potter & SO MUCH MORE

No, I'm not dying. No, I haven't broken both hands. No, I'm not a werewolf. It's just that if I take a break from blogging, even for only a couple of days, it becomes really hard to get back into the swing of things. But here I am, a-swingin' once more.

I'm currently on the floor of the entrance hallway at Sebastian's house, watching him take apart and fix his family's computer out of pure skill and technological brilliance. It's sort of like watching somebody sleepwalk-- he keeps mumbling half-sentences under his breath, narrating his actions, occasionally yelling. Now his mother is calmly raising her voice at Sebastian's younger brother, who is passionately fighting from upstairs about something he claims not to have done. Their dad sits next to me in an armchair, talking about a combination of American politics and family politics, both of which I feel rather uncomfortable hearing about.

They're all gone now. I shall continue to eat the chocolate bar Sebastian bought for me (I know, right? I think it's mostly because he made me mad by correcting my punctuation the other night, but either way, it's chocolate and he's more a grammarian than I am), studying the lineage of the remaining pureblood Harry Potter families, and rereading chapter 34 of Deathly Hallows. That's about all for today, besides the fact that I went to a local bookstore and got a free HUGE (albeit ugly) poster with pictures of the Potter books on it. I also had tomato soup for breakfast. It was delightful. Now I shall proceed to list the events that occurred since my last blog.

Later on Saturday, August 15:

Sarah and Graham had a pretty outdoor wedding on a grassy hilltop, overlooking a pond. The bride's side sat in the sunshine, as Sarah's family is mostly from Texas, and the midwestern groom's side sat under the shade of a green, branchy tree. It was a very religious ceremony, which I thought was sweet and fitting for my friends. The wedding party walked down the aisle to the couple's favorite hymns, and their vows were traditional and faith-based. They had me do a reading, which was really sweet of them. The bridesmaids wore their hair up and all different styles of blueish-teal dresses. Sarah's gown was long and white with shimmery detail along the waist, halter top, and intricate back. She wore a tiara and a flowy veil over her updo, as well as long, dangly earrings. Graham looked mature and happy, but, you know, not much of a sight compared to his gorgeous wife.

The reception took place inside the barn at the bottom of the hill, which was big and pretty inside, with wooden dance-floor and long, decorated tables. The meal was awesome and local-flavored: big ears of corn from a nearby farm, ribs or some other gross, unidentified meat for the carnivores, yummy salad, fresh fruit, rolls, and a detailed vegan cake. The DJ played an assortment of fandom-requested pop songs from the '70s and '80s, spurring on "Don't Stop Believing" dance pits and "Bohemian Rhaspody" singalongs. Most of the boys and some of the girls congregated outside to smoke cigars. That's when I learned how bad I am at smoking cigars. Lauren Fairweather also took a lot of ugly candid photographs of me during this time (unfortunately just of my sweaty hair; no pictures have yet surfaced of me with a cigar), Liane blew bubbles in everybody's faces, and Nina and I bonded even more.

Afterwards, Lauren, Nina and I made a video that I'll be posting on my channel tomorrow or Friday, depending on when natural traffic slows to my latest video. We were tired and it was dark in the room we were filming, so it isn't overflowing with caliber or anything (I understand that doesn't make sense), but I think you guys'll really like it, regardless. We rushed through it so that the Myrtles could go to bed, having driven eight hours that day to get to my house, and so I could go to Kathleen's house for the after-party bonfire. There, I learned a little bit more about how much I love the fandom, searched blindly in the dark with Adam (acheronwalthers) for s'more sticks I never used, and sat obnoxiously on my friends' laps, all while making jokes about Sarah and Graham's wedding night.

Sunday, August 16

Sunday was depressing, as everybody left one after the other to go home. As much stress as there had been figuring out directions, driving all around the county, making trip after trip to the airport, figuring out where people could sleep, it still hurt to say goodbye. Marlena (fluffvondanger) and Jackie (gymmidget415) left first, and at Jackie's hotel, I got to hug goodbye to Jenn (soozfive) and Lena (butterbeerwrocks), as well as awkwardly nod to Justin Timberlake. We got to the airport calling time really close, but the girls got safely on their plane.

When I returned home, Lauren and I filmed a video for Kristina to cheer her up in London, and while it was too hot to be outside filming, turning my camera off meant it was time for the Myrtles to head out. Hugging Lauren and Nina SUCKED that time, because now I don't know exactly when I'll see them again. Luckily for us, our friendships are the solid kind that can be started back exactly where they were left off.

Leah (professorspork), Amanda (gir1inthemirror) and I followed Lauren's car out the driveway and made our way to the movie theater for our last hurrah, to see Half-Blood Prince together. Nothing beats talking about Harry Potter with those who truly get it. We made a lot of whispered jokes about the phallic shape of the Dark Mark's snake, held up counting fingers every time Draco took the blanket off the Vanishing Cabinet (4), pointed out mistakes in the props (No hyphen in Half-Blood, "Thomas" Riddle on the memory), and aww'd over Harry's relationship with Luna. With every viewing, I become happier with certain scenes, like Sectumsempra, and more irritated with others, like the ending with Ron six yards away from Harry and Hermione. All in all, though, it was hard to mourn the death of that terrible excuse for an actor, Michael Gambon, when my friends were about to be gone for an undetermined length of time.

After a quickly averted scare that their flight had been delayed to the point that they'd miss their connector flight, I waited with Leah and Amanda at an airport Subway for about half an hour, in which we discussed Harry Potter characters some more and noticed how unfun it is to say goodbye to friends. When that time finally came, we hugged, and I listened to my car radio halfheartedly, alone, for the first time in a week.

Monday, August 17

If Monday existed this week, I didn't notice it. I think I did a lot of reading, and maybe saw Jess? It's possible that I saw her on Sunday night. Either way, there was Chipotle involved, even though we were full, and Sebastian was there. He and I were both tired and irritable, so we spend a lot of the time brandishing plastic knives at each other while Jess watched out of the corner of her eye, when she wasn't stealing our phones to send nonsensical tweets. I posted my High School Freshmen video, and I think I'm pretty sure I went to bed before the time contained double digits before the colon.

Tuesday, August 18

Oh! I remember what I did on Monday, but as I did absolutely nothing of note on Tuesday, I'll just write it in this space to sound like more of a balanced person. I had my laptop in the kitchen, uploading the freshmen video, my camera plugged into the desktop computer in the living room, importing the Kristina video and the Lauren and Nina video, and I was running between the two Macs, checking progress. Playing on the radio in the background was a hiphop remix of a country song, and just as I was thinking about how depressing it is that such a thing would exist, a barrage of cars filled my driveway and street. I squinted through the window to see what kind of uninvited guests would attack during a heavy rainstorm, to see a very large sampling of my male friends heading up to my front door. I feared all kinds of disasters: kidnapping, surprise parties, interventions.

It turns out they just wanted me to go over to Graham's house before he left again for New York. The parade of us headed down to his part of town, where we ate ice cream and watched Coraline. We even saw the first half of it in 3D, before we decided that the eye pain coming from the glasses wasn't worthwhile. I knew I was going to love Coraline, which is the reason I didn't see it in theaters-- I like to appreciate fantastic movies in a comfortable place, after the hype has died down, so I can feel like it's mine-- but I didn't know it was going to be the most frightening film I'd ever seen! I really don't understand how it's rated PG when The Ring is PG-13. Decrepit Asian girls crawling out of household appliances are terrifying, yeah, but so is having buttons sewn in place of your eyes! I don't understand why people think live action makes it seem more real, because Coraline is the REAL kind of scary!

Back to now, now.

Sebastian left twenty minutes ago to take pictures of a local political event, because I think he has this thing for feeling like he's preserving history, and he really likes taking pictures. I didn't want to go for a whole assortment of reasons, so I'm alone in his house, but for his brother who's upstairs either chatting on the phone or talking to himself, and his dog, who is licking herself and wagging whenever I acknowledge her. Oreo (the dog, not the brother) is now pawing at her own face in quite the adorable fashion, and I'm considering playing the piano to my right. Just so I can upset myself over how much I forget how to play the piano.

Okay, so this has been one of my longer blog posts, and if you care about your mental health or are opposed to boredom, I doubt you've made it this far. I just needed to get every droplet of blog material out onto the internet so I can feel free again.

Sexy: Chapter 34 of Deathly Hallows. My pastor once said in a church service, "How many people do you know who would die for his loved ones, as well as the souls of people he'd never met?" My sister and I squinted our eyes from laughter and had to fight, hard, not to shout, "HARRY POTTER DID!"
Unsexy: Not blogging for several days. I didn't even realize how off-kilter I felt until I put fingers to keys!

Chipotle burritos this year: 27
S'mores this summer: 6
Subscribers: 19,510

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow, for real. <3

Saturday, August 15, 2009


Right now, I'm sitting on the floor of my living room. Adam (acheronwalthers), Nina (ninjapiano), Marlena (fluffvondanger), Liane (lianeandthemusic) and Lauren (devilishlypure) are scattered around the room, watching Music and Lyrics in our only downtime before our friends' wedding this afternoon. The girls are all wearing rather content movie-watching expressions, and Adam keeps laughing and smiling at the jokes. "I'm really worried!" he says. "This movie has yet to have the romantic conflict, and I don't want to see it happen!" It's all kinds of cute. Nina just threw money at me. I realize it's because I bought them pizza, but I like to think it's for last night. Let me tell you... there are few things more exciting to a Harry Potter fangirl than waking up, rolling over, and seeing The Moaning Myrtles next to you.

I'm really, really excited for Graham and Sarah's wedding. The rehearsal yesterday was beautiful enough to make me almost cry, and that was without all the guests and dresses and flowers. I'm doing a reading after the "I do"s, so I'm going to have to look my two close friends in the eye, read about everlasting love, and not get emotional.

Despite the stress of driving people around and staying up late and absentmindedly spending money, I've been having a lot of fun. I've made a new friend, Jackie, and gotten closer to a lot of others. Adam and I seem to hit it off in person more than online, which is an almost unexpected awesome blessing. I got to meet a friend, Jenn, for the first time in person, and she's sort of responsible for my getting into the Harry Potter fandom, so that's cool. Justin Timberlake and I have exchanged a few TERRIBLY AWKWARD words. I feel bad for him, because it's obvious he feels out of place and uncomfortable, and whenever I try to sit next to him, my friends try to rescue me. Our only real conversation was mostly carried out through eye contact amidst lots of small talk and nervous gesturing. Ah, well. He'll be fine.

The conflict has started in the movie. Marlena is hugging a pillow and whining. Adam has a blanket over his mouth, is in the fetal position, and keeps yelling "NO! STOP!" and whimpering.

On that note, I think I'm going to go upstairs and join Nina in my room to put on a dress and mascara and whatnot. I also somehow managed this morning to shave my left leg, but only my right thigh. I have no idea how. It's like smooth, smooth, smooth, PRICKLE. But then again, Sarah's going to look so beautiful, I doubt anyone will be inspecting my hairy right calf.

Sexy: The Harry Potter fandom. For psychotic freaks of nature, we're a kind of hot group.
Unsexy: My right calf! But you knew that already.

Chipotle burritos this year: 26
S'mores this summer: 6
Subscribers: 19,338

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

Friday, August 14, 2009

Having friends is so freaking hard.

Having friends live across the country is incredibly difficult. Today, I screamed the Rent soundtrack, ate potato teasers, discussed theology, and had an all-around fantastic time with awesome people with whom I share all kinds of nerdy interests. I kick myself when they're having a bad day or an issue and I'm too far away to make it better. And yet, at the same time, it's really upsetting that this week, of all weeks, another out-of-town friend and Jess are both having really awful things happen in their lives. I can't reach the out-of-towner, and I'm down the road from Jess, but don't have the time or means to see her. Friendship, for all the good, is really hard sometimes.

For example, I had to go get my hair done this afternoon, because it was my last chance before going off to college, and I had to leave the girls I rarely get to see with Sebastian while he ran errands (taking him away from his close friend's bachelor party!) and then drop them at a Barnes & Noble for like two hours, so that I could pay way too much for my hair to be way too dramatic. I feel bad, because I want to spend time with them. Lots and lots of time. And all the while, I have a whole lot of stuff I need to do before I leave, and while I'm used to long-distance friendships, I am not used to long-distance Jess. She was on vacation, without a phone, and now she's home, but I can't see her. I'm seriously feeling the pain of having not hung out with Jess in, like, two weeks, and as soon as the New Jersey girls leave, I'm going to be mourning the loss of them. Raaawr.

Oh. I'm also mourning the loss of my hair. Everyone young seems to like it enough, but my parents share my feelings. It's not BAD or anything, but it's sort of trashy. Lots of chunky dark and blonde low/highlights, and a bright magenta peeking underneath the front. It looks a little bit like a cosmetology student's first taste of freedom, and while it cost as much as a whole shelfful of books, it resembles the results of a drug store boxed dye. As I sat in that uncomfortable spinny chair with foil covering my hair, wondering what the stylist meant by "it's going to look unnatural in a good way," I really wanted to cry. Not about my hair, I mean, but it was sort of icing on the cake. 

I'm heartsick about my one friend's drama, weirded out about my lack of post-nearly-fatal-car-accident best friend, regretful for wasting my limited time with my internet friends, feeling guilty about stressing Sebastian, shaking on the inside about my earlier encounter with Justin Timberlake and thoughts of those to come, uncomfortable about the way I have to interrupt my parents' busy lives by filling their house with guests, nervous about school, excited about school, on edge for not having any time to blog or make videos, and missing the money I've lately had to spend.

So yeah, I'm feeling all of this, and in the meantime, my hair is soaking up chemicals that will make me look like a honky tonk dancer.

And now I'm not looking forward to sleeping, because in the morning I have to wake up early to transport people somewhere I've never driven before (which is sort of my biggest cause of anxiety in this world) to either assist with things outside my job description or watch other people. Then I get to use a lot more gas, still not see Jess, and suffer a million mini heart attacks every time I make eye contact with my first love. And to top it all off, the fiveawesomegirls video I made didn't even upload after hours, for reasons totally unknown, and now it isn't Thursday anymore. So there won't be a single video on the channel all week. Great.

I don't know how this happened. I was happy when I left my friend's bachelorette party, which consisted of vegan snacks and lingerie and Harry Potter and Jesus, and now I feel awful. Sorry to drag you down after two days of no new posts. Hopefully tomorrow will bring better stories.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009


I flopped onto my bed this evening with little to no intention of blogging. I could think of nothing to say. There are some things on my mind, but I don't feel like elaborating on any of them. The sparknotes version:
--Tomorrow morning, I pick up Leah and Amanda to start off my week of hanging out with out-of-town guests. 
--I just bought most of my dorm stuff, and it's all purple and black and cute.
--I'm getting my hair done on Thursday, so the pink may or may not be done. 
--Jess and her family got in a car accident on their way home from vacation, and I found out about it an hour after I dreamt that she died. She's fine, but I still haven't calmed down.
--I like my class schedule for the fall quarter a lot; I don't have any classes before 10AM, and only one on Tuesdays and Thursdays. 
--A few minutes ago, after I watched Bo Burnham's little info vlog about his tour, I accidentally said, to my computer, aloud, "I love you." Like, quietly and sincerely. I told Bo Burnham, whom I've never met, through a screen, that I love him. If you're creeped out, SO AM I.
--I want another chocolate ricecake.

Other than that, I'm fresh out of entertainment value for tonight. This ricecake is stale, but I'm content now.

Chipotle burritos this year: 26
S'mores this summer: 6
Subscribers: 19,192

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

Monday, August 10, 2009

OU Orientation

A few notes about Ohio University:

--It is not Oklahoma University or Ohio State University, and it is certainly not a "lesser branch of Ohio State University." You've probably heard about OSU because it's the biggest college in America (with 60,000 students), and it has a famous football team. OU is also a very large school compared to the rest of the world (with 20,000 students) and is one of the oldest in the country. We're also better.

--It is frequently voted one of the most beautiful campuses in America. Save the national parks around my house, OU is, in my opinion, the prettiest place that has ever existed. It's a big, open, secluded town in Appalachia with mountainous hills in every direction, vast patches of thick green grass, and ancient trees that change brilliant colors in the fall. All the buildings and streets are worn red brick. Whereas the local university I took classes at during high school was all glass and whitewashed cinderblock, the OU dining hall I've visited has dark wood paneling on the walls and long tables with comfy green chairs. The mealtime atmosphere is so Hogwartsian, I wouldn't be surprised if the lights were replaced with floating candles. Though I haven't yet seen the inside of my dorm, it's a gorgeous brick building in the (still sunlit) umbra of trees that line the sidewalk and create a canopy over the street. The campus is very similar to Joey Potter's fictional college in Dawson's Creek, except OU is SO beautiful, it'd be less believable on screen.

--I'd always worried before that perhaps I chose OU because, as my siblings all went, it was easy. I feared I'd be suffocated by the wild party scene for which it's known, or that I'd feel like I was constantly at a Cool Kids' Party that I hadn't been invited to. But sitting in classrooms with other Creative Writing majors, listening to them discuss their passions for linguistics and literature in their downtime, I feel truly comfortable. Instead of characteristically rolling my eyes when the upperclassmen advisors tell us that pretty soon Athens will feel more like home than home will, I can seriously understand where they're coming from. I think I could feel at home here. 

--While I will forever despise having handouts read aloud to me by some doofus with a microphone, today's orientation didn't make me want to puke. This, I'm going to assume, is a good sign. Justin Timberlake found during his college orientation that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with his school at the time, and I think he's been waiting for me to tell him I feel the same about mine. But even after session after session about scheduling classes and not drinking and remembering to use the library, I felt energized and excited. It's as if high school never happened, and I'm back buying fresh crayons for third grade, when school was the greatest thing imaginable.

As content as I am, I'm also really tired from huffing up the hills all day long. I'm going to go take a good shower and sleep sleep sleep before round two of orienting myself tomorrow morning.

Chipotle burritos this year: 26
S'mores this summer: 6
Subscribers: 19,196

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

Sunday, August 9, 2009

Medieval Pickles

I flopped out of bed this morning at 7:00AM, after having not been able to sleep more than two hours, to go with friends to a medieval faire. We met at Kathleen's house, her mother made me unsolicited buttered toast out of the kindness of her heart, I jumped wildly into Graham's arms (my good friend who recently moved to New York with his fiance, Sarah), and we proceeded to drive an hour and a half to be the nerds that we are, but freely, and in public. The bride- and groom-to-be decked themselves out in full-on period dress, my friends Chris and Jack wore peasant outfits, and my friend Brad wore a Dumbledore beard for reasons of which I'm unsure. Kathleen strutted around with a long black cloak over her tank top and pants, Sebastian gave up trying and just wore normal clothes, and I wore a normal dress with unnecessarily insulating tights, because tights are medieval. I was disappointed in myself for not finding a better costume, but we were one of the only groups there that had even attempted. Next time, though, I'll blow 'em out of the dirty well water.

The heat was nearly unbearable all day long, and even under the shade of the woods, it felt like the sun was on a personal mission out to kill us. My hair expanded to twice its normal volume from the humidity, a layer of sweat covered the back of my neck so that I felt like an unshaven alpaca in the summertime, and I dehydrated myself by refusing to pay four dollars for water. Also, my entire party seemed to be deeply tired, so we dragged a little bit and spent more time sitting on benches under the trees than we would have liked, considering the money we spent. 

Other than that, though, I had a legitimately good time. Sarah and I got the chance to gossip and hug and crack unfunny and uncomfortable Christian Girl Jokes. Kathleen reached that point of exhaustion where everything seems a lot funnier than it is, and she entertained me by speaking in a faux English Renaissance accent and blubbering nonsense all afternoon. We went off alone at one point and spent forever looking at a display of beautiful hand-crafted wooden mugs, and while I contemplated forking over the money for one (I didn't, and I sort of regret it), Kathleen continuously raised chalices and goblets in my face. "Aye, m'lady," she chanted several different times. "Have some mead! Huzzah!"

It was a fascinating and pretty place full of fascinating and strange people, like myself and my friends. A band of mandolins and lutes and other olde timey instruments played Led Zepplin covers (according to Sebastian and my friend Jake, seeing as I wouldn't know a mandolin Led Zepplin song if it beat me over the head). I ate two of the world's most delicious and huge pickles, which were wrapped in foil, and therefore both mobile and awesome. I looked over the countless jewelry stands a million times, but couldn't decide on anything. I wish I'd bought the necklace with a crystal ball charm that looked like a Prophecy. Maybe next year. Oh, and I received messages when I got home from youtube subscribers Maddie, Lisa, and Ashleigh, all of whom recognized me, but none of whom said anything! If you're reading this, girls, thanks for the messages. Next time come say hi, and I'll give you a bite of my pickle.

Anyway, it's eleven thirty, and I'm way tired. I have to wake up at six tomorrow morning for my college orientation, for which I'm equal parts excited and reluctant. I'll probably feel weirdly nervous when I get there, and they'll probably make me play get-ta-know-ya games. I'm taking my laptop with me, so maybe I'll be able to blog later tomorrow night.

Sexy: Pirates! Maybe this is a stereotype I've created based on Johnny Depp, but somehow even balding old men dressed as pirates at Medieval Faire get a second glance from my direction.
Unsexy: Lack of sleep. Leave me alone, reader! I need my rest!

Chipotle burritos this year: 26
S'mores this summer: 6
Giant pickles today: 2
Subscribers: 19,147

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

Saturday, August 8, 2009

Ye Olde Zombies

My parent are home today, after having spent the past three weeks on a rebellious "empty nesters" vacation in Alaska. While it's not like I hide under an ambiguous secret screenname or anything, I still felt too creeped out to mention their absence on the internet. So for all those who asked: yes, I have a curfew, no, my mother would never have let me leave the house at 2AM if she were home, and yes, I had more reason to be stressed yesterday afternoon than I let on. Now they're home, though, so my house is once again full of life and decent food and rules.

I feel like a jerk for complaining about my friends like that yesterday. My sweet friend, Sarah, is getting married next weekend, and she was trying to make me feel better about having to house and transport people. You know you've gone too far when you're making the bride guilty when she's got the weight of the world on her shoulders. I apologize for sounding like a bitch.

Anyway, to prove once more that I have better friends than I deserve, I'm going with the bride and groom (Sarah and Graham), Sebastian, our friend Kathleen, and some other fun company to a Medieval Faire tomorrow morning. As of right now, I'm regrettably wearing boring normal clothes, because apparently garb of the Middle Ages is harder to come by than I'd expected. Even in the magical costume cave I call a bedroom, I'm fresh out of tunics and chain mail, and there isn't a long-sleeved, floor-length gown to be seen. I'm still laughing about a comment from youtube subscriber and blog follower VicMorrowsGhost, in which he suggested we dress as plague victims, sort of like "ye olde zombies." I have also considered burning holes through my street clothes to be Joan of Arc, or Kathleen's suggestion of just wearing opaque tights and a green shirt. We'll see what becomes of these ideas, or whether I'll rough it in ye olde shorts and t-shirt.

Okay, time to go write for real. This blog post is one of today's few irritating distractions from working, along with this quickie video I made, and the Donato's pizza I scarfed. I also went for a quick run, just to burn off some energy, and spent the entire time hearing a conversation between two of my characters play over and over inside my head. They are so real sometimes, it almost makes me sick.

Sexy: Those days when it feels like you've only written a paragraph, because it all comes so smoothly and effortlessly, and then you realize it's been twelve pages. And you're not spent yet. I've come to the realization that I'm no longer at the age where it's a funny, outrageous thing to suggest that I can write a decent novel. I'm doing it for real!
Unsexy: The seventy different colors of my hair growing out. I'm a mess of magenta, pale pink, bleach, brown, blonde, and gross.

Chipotle burritos this year: 26
S'mores this summer: 6
Subscribers: 19,116

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see thee to-morrow. <3

Friday, August 7, 2009

Internet Friend Stress

Two of my good friends are getting married next weekend, and since a lot of our mutual friends live all around the country, I've suddenly turned into the Hoover Hotel and Taxi Service. I don't totally mind, because I genuinely care about these people, and if they were to come into town individually, I would want to shower them with attention. But this time, there are SO MANY coming in at once. I made irresponsible promises to some people months ago, already pushing it, because I live with my very stressed parents, and now others keep appearing and asking for favors every hour. I'm starting to regret extending invitations and accepting proposals from some of my closest friends, let alone those I barely know. I'm just a big ball of stress about it. My parents have always been kind about taking in Internet people, but I know they secretly wish it wouldn't happen. And to be honest, I wish I could go to my friends' wedding as their friend. I want to be the groom's old neighbor and fellow cast member, and the bride's old writing buddy. I don't want to be a fiveawesomegirl or a former Scone or hayleyghoover. It sounds mean and out of character, but I'd rather be with the guys from my high school, as the groom's posse, than a ride or a place to stay for the out-of-towners.

I was stuck in standstill traffic tonight for over an hour, so I called up Kayley (owlssayhooot) for a good rant session. It's incredible how well we get each other. Kayley and I have both taken controversial extended vacations from our electronic lives, and we discussed how much better we feel now that we don't spend all our time on Skype or texting people across the country. I feel happier now than I have in two years, and I chock that up to my decision to go out more often, and to focus more on those around me than on romanticized ideas of what I can't have. Amazingly, by getting away from the computer, I've started using my time on it for writing and making videos, instead of clinging to the thought of my friends' absence. Sure, I miss those people just as much as I always did, but I miss them in a pleasant way. I miss them by remembering fun times and looking forward to the next, instead of staring at a screen all day and fanning my loneliness. When I do see all my online friends, I want to have funny stories about my life to share with them, instead of the nervous, unsettled feeling I sometimes experience.

Kayley and I have both discovered how much brighter the colors are in the real world than through a monitor. We adore each other, we love watching videos, we love texting other youtube nerds, but we also love being real, breathing people. When I hang up from a conversation with Kayley, I feel like I've chatted with a friend I haven't seen in a while, which is what it SHOULD feel like. There's no pining, no promise of calling each other back every hour for the next week. It's just a good talk.

It's sad that I'm too stressed to look forward to seeing everyone. I'm going to college orientation the day before it all starts, guys. In half my mind, I'll be reeling up the summer in preparation for moving across the state, and in the other half, I'll be entertaining people for a whole week. I value my alone time and my space, and I'm not going to get much of it before I move into a tiny dorm room with a stranger. Sigh. It just sucks when what's disguised as fun is really more like torture.

Sexy: Kayley, with her wit and attractiveness and whatnot.
Unsexy: Crazy traffic. I sat on the highway tonight, rolling my eyes and mumbling along with Katy Perry's "Thinking of You," when a carful of cowboy hat-clad hoes honked at me for not moving forward the foot I was allowed. I inched up, barely making any difference at all, and looked in the rearview mirror for their approval. They didn't see, because they were posing for photos on an iPhone. RAWR!

Chipotle burritos this year: 26 (I had to smell it in its bowl for that hour of traffic, as I was spoonless. Aloud to Kayley, I considered eating it with an end of a snow scraper. She advised me against that plan.)
S'mores this summer: 6
Subscribers: 19,093

Bye, guys. Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. :(

P.S. Jaclyn Moriarty just added me as one of her very few facebook friends. Along with my request, I sent a message that said something like, "I understand if you don't accept fans on facebook, but you've changed my life in inconceivable ways." She responded, "I love fans. Especially ones who say surprising things that make me smile, like you just did." My day = a whole lot better.

Thursday, August 6, 2009

I murdered my favorite author.

I always tense up a little bit when asked my favorite author. Shakespeare sounds totally pretentious, so no matter how true it may be, I usually skirt around his name. I feel similarly about Jo Rowling. To non-fans, it sounds like I only read pop culture, or like I can't advance past children's fantasy. And when I preface my answer, "The woman to whom I've devoted my life since I was eleven," I sound like a psycho showoff. John Green, Megan McCafferty and Jaclyn Moriarty are a three-way tie for my... something. I don't know what to call them; their importance in my life at the present time is immeasurable, but none of them individually is my favorite.

So, for at least the last couple of years, I've always provided one of two answers: J.D. Salinger, author of The Catcher in the Rye and Franny and Zooey; and John Hughes, writer/director/producer of Ferris Bueller's Day Off, The Breakfast Club, Sixteen Candles, Home Alone, and just about every other classic film from the 1980s. The former plays to my superiority complex regarding literature, as it's recognizable, but gives off that air of "I'm moody and therefore more cultured than you are." The latter is one of those Jeopardy question names that sit on the tip of your tongue-- someone you've heard of, but have no idea where.

John Hughes died today. He was taking a walk around Manhattan, thinking whatever it is amazing people think, and he had a heart attack at fifty-nine years old. And here I was, going cheerfully about my day, having no idea. I first heard the news from Molly (mememolly)'s blog, and when I ran to google, there weren't even any news stories about him yet. His name wasn't trending on twitter. Not a single facebook status contained any hint of tragedy.

Now, at least, Ferris Bueller is a popular hashtag, and Adam Dubberly has written on my wall that he's watching Weird Science in memorial. It's possible that I included that last bit just to brag that one of The Mudbloods wrote on my facebook wall, but regardless, today is sad.

I can't help but wonder when old J.D. Salinger is due. The man's ninety, and he hasn't peeked a finger out of his little hiding corner of doom and misery for years. I don't want him to die, because I admire him greatly (and am holding out hope that I'll be the last of the young fangirls he flirts with through letters), but I am selfishly and eagerly awaiting all the promised prose that will be released after his death. Imagine, a whole new Salinger canon. My sexual fantasies run wild with it.

Anyway, there's no meaningful conclusion to this blog. I just wanted to say at least a tiny something to recognize a great man. Especially since there are some things heavy on my heart right now-- personal drama, if you will-- I think I'm going to pop in Ferris Bueller, lean against the giant poster on my wall with John Hughes's name in bold, and go to bed.


Remember when I said I wished Michael Jackson would die the day before it happened? According to my tweets, on July 22, I sleep-walked and tore that same Ferris Bueller poster off my wall. "Maybe it's symbolic?" Jess had said. I giggled and tried to imagine how that could be true. Okay, now I'm seriously going to bed. I'm seriously going to bed before I kill any more celebrities. GOODNIGHT.

Sexy: Getting a fake ID not to drink, not to smoke, but to vote. RIP, The Breakfast Club.
Unsexy: The giant "Lil Wayne" concert happening in my county tonight. There are cars hauling in from ONTARIO to hear a man with dreadlocks drop it like it's hot, or whatever it is he does.

Chipotle burritos this year: 25
S'mores this summer: 6
Subscribers: 19,060

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow, without having murdered anybody. <3

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Eleven-year-old at the Dentist's

It's really funny how sometimes "writing" can mean pounding away at a keyboard, chomping away at a pen, filling pages and pages with words... and other times it can mean staring quizzically at a flashing cursor while watching Matilda, pretending like it'll benefit your creative process. What's sad is that no matter how many excuses I devise in my head, in reality, Matilda has absolutely nothing to do with my novel. My friend Leah compared the feel of my narration to the tone of the movie's narrator, but at the end of the day, one is a family flick about the power of reading and telekinesis, and the other is not. This knowledge did not stop me, however, from justifying just ten more minutes, then just ten more, until I'd watched the whole thing and written no more than a paragraph. Sigh.

I wish the love I have for my story and its characters was enough incentive to just get the damn thing typed up in order. My excuse for having no product used to be that I didn't know what happened next. Now I could talk about the plot's goings-on and the inner-workings of every single character's mind for a week straight, yet I'm finding it nearly impossible to sort through my mental clutter and organize it to make sense to readers. To me, the fact that the one guy is a catalyst is obvious, because I know his past and the decisions he's made, but if I don't record them correctly, the reader will just think he's an insignificant background person everyone else has a habit of discussing. Or if I go into every minor character's parents and grade school education and first job and annoying habits, I'll be spinning a confusing web no one will want to bother to decode. 

I was thinking about all this, among other things, as I got my teeth cleaned at the dentist's yesterday afternoon. A pretty Indian woman was dragging a pointy metal stick along the inside of my mouth, making a hanger-against-an-iron-clothes-rack sound of death, and I closed my twitching eyes. "What happened here?" said another dentist in the next room. A feminine-sounding young boy's voice responded, "Okay, so I was riding my bike up next to the school-- there's a school by my house, and it has swings, so I was going to go play on the swings-- and the cement on the sidewalk went up like this, so I thought I could jump over it, but I fell off...." I smiled with the unoccupied part of my face. I'd met that kid, JJ, in the waiting room. He had told me the same story. 

JJ and I hit it off after he complimented my hair, comparing its color to that which he called "the puffy pink stuff they put in attics." I laughed and told him it's called insulation, but for years I just thought of it as sharp cotton candy. He proceeded to tell me about going into fifth grade, his teachers' names, how the classes were divided up. I sprouted out a couple of elementary school memories for JJ, told him I'm going to college, and began a detailed rapport about the merits of trapper keepers. The conversation was endearing and nonchalant, and very reminiscent of the days when it was appropriate to look around a waiting room for the kid closest to your age and strike up a friendship. Along with my nerves about dentists, I was disappointed to see JJ go when I got called back for my appointment.

Now, in response to his story, JJ's dentist said something terribly stupid over in their room. Something, if I'm not mistaken, like "Wowiekabootles! Let's get those teethies checked out, Mr. Man!" I flinched, and the woman flossing my teeth asked if she was hurting me. I gargled the closest thing to "No, I'm fine" you can say when a gloved hand is inside your mouth. The only thing hurting me was how terribly a lot of adults misunderstand pre-teens.

Why is it that when a person hits adulthood, they suddenly lose all ability to conceptualize their eleven-year-old feelings? Fifth grade. It's the year you buy markers for school instead of crayons. Tests start to require studying. Somebody in the class will take to connecting everything to sex, and you'll pretend to know what it means, but refuse to repeat its meaning when asked for confirmation. Talk of who's wearing a bra will spread like wildfire, until boys reach out and snap any strap they see outlined on a girl's back. I can list detail upon detail from fifth grade. My homeroom teacher's name was Mrs. Evans, and she was loud-mouthed and had curly brown hair. I sat with Jess and The Most Popular Girl in one seat on the bus, and together we sang NSYNC songs about things we didn't understand. I realized I was bad at math when I decided not to learn long division. I was the third girl in our grade to get my period, I started growing out my bangs, I was a fairy for Halloween. Maybe all these memories will evaporate in the next ten years, but right now, I remember eleven.

JJ from the dentist's office is, more or less, the reason I want to finish this novel. Although it's not intended for eleven-year-old boys, it's a similar situation, in that the novel is definitely a preservation of my early teenage years, and I want to make sure I can seal the lid of those memories tightly before they go sour. When I was eleven, I knew I wanted to be a writer, I was a vegetarian, and I had the same three close friends I have now. I was a person, and an observant one. I never want to be that man who thinks fifth graders want to hear things like "wowiekabootles."

Sexy: Ben & Jerry's Half-Baked ice cream. I don't love ice cream, but I love chunks of cookie dough and brownies.
Unsexy: Editing through twenty minutes of footage, like I had to tonight for tomorrow's "fiveawesomeboys" video. It turned out to be two amusing minutes, after at least an hour of cutting and viewing and clicking.

Chipotle burritos this year: 25
S'mores this summer: 6
Subscribers: 19,019

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Writing... Dot dot dot.

Once again, I'm sitting on my couch with a laptop propped on my knees, trying to no avail to make monumental progress on my novel. This involves a whole lot of dramatic reading aloud, some running around the room clapping, and a lot of under-the-breath muttering. I nearly had a panic attack earlier, trying to choose between two different versions of a chapter. I know the story like I know my own soul, but the hard part comes in choosing what to include and at what point to include it. This is all part of a process I've never been quick to let others see, but Sebastian, who appeared at my door an hour or so ago, has been allowed to stay in the same room, so long as he doesn't read over my shoulder.

"Hello, Misty," he's currently saying to my little white dog in the kitchen, where he is making me tea, without having been asked. "You are the product of hundreds of years of selective breeding to produce small dogs," he tells her scientifically. "Your ancestors are wolves. They are badass. And you, Misty, smell bad." This one-way conversation is truly representative of Sebastian's character, which is why I've pulled myself away from MS Word long enough to record it in a blog. 

It's later now, and I'm still working away. I'm really happy with what I've accomplished today. I'm sitting at the neglected dining room table (the last time I was in here, without joking, was to write video scripts with the awesomegirls. Liane sat where I am now. By the way, ladies, we still haven't made one of those videos....), playing with the 1970s tablecloth pattern, and praying there will be a day when I see my book between covers, instead of this chaotic abyss inside my mind. I have serious issues with the idea of posting any excerpts here, but maybe someday I'll read a little bit aloud on BlogTV.

Speaking of BlogTV, thanks to all of you who came to my impromptu show last night. I had no idea it went for three hours (time flies when you're talking about Degrassi), and it made me reconsider the idea of doing shows more often. I was just beaming all night from the lovely @replies I received about it, and I am in love with this video response. Thank you!

Unsexy: This guy named Anthony Maggiacomo I found on wikipedia just to complete the joke. I really have no idea whether or not this guy is sexy. Just laugh, dammit.

Chipotle burritos: 25
S'mores this summer: 6
Subscribers: 18,964

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3