who made you king of anything?

you think you know me. but really, you don't.
you think my writing is horrible, it doesn't show who i really am. who are you to say that? you don't know me. you may think you do, but you don't. you think that all you're doing is "helping me to be successful." you don't know how wrong you are. you take me out of everything and insert what you think is me into it. that's not me. this is. and if you can't accept it, i don't care. i'm out of your life next year, and good riddance. think i'm coming back? yeah right. not anytime soon.
you think that being undecided is the worst way to go. in fact, it's not. i know what i want to do, in a general sense. just because i don't have myself planned out step-by-step doesn't mean that you can't invest in my future. you're a horrible person, you don't know what you're talking about, you don't know who i am, so you keep your opinion to yourself.

so really, who made you queen of anything? certainly not me. so get off that pedestal and start living with the plebes.

this is what it means to say... CITY, STATE. eavesdropping. ep.

this is what it means to say phoenix, arizona:
so i really liked this story, like a lot.
sherman alexie just has this amazing style (and it really comes out through thomas builds-the-fire, who is just All Sorts of Awesome and Things Made of Win) and he's super hilarious and it made me lol. like for serious, guys, i laughed out loud. anyway.
dialogue.
it's super short, clipped, sounds like normal dialogue. (why is not this a way to spell dialog? what if i like the fancy british spelling? also, if this is not the british spelling and i'm just being half-delusional, oops i fail. like a lot.) that's part of the fun in writing stories, trying to come up with life-like conversation (which really isn't that hard) although our speech patterns are actually pretty hard. we speak in short sentences strung together although we don't realize it. though, tbqh, prism kids speak in long-winded sentences because we are tres verbose. anyway.

eavesdropping:
i really can't remember anyone's conversations because they were really boring and mundane, and i just don't do mundane. it's gotta be wild, huge, crazy! that's how i remember it, at least. really. like:
"i didn't know that grapes came in different flavors!"
and yeah. something like that. idk. maybe i'll just make stuff up i definitely remember the mundane. no, seriously, halp what do i dooooo.

ep:
so right now i'm blasting my brains out with just random musical crap and by crap i mean bass-heavy stuff that you'd listen to at mindless dances LIKE HOMECOMING all because of things that went down today. basically to say it wax poetic:
every time i see my laundry, you're there. you're in my head 'cuz that's when you call. folding laundry is always the logically equivalent time to talk to you. it just makes me feel like we're together (which will never ever happen) even though we really shouldn't be and it makes me feel like we're just friends, which would be really nice, quite honestly. i looked up at the moon this evening, and empty october skies make me think of you. it's cold, maybe you'd offer me your jacket and walk with me through a park. maybe we'd talk about everything, or maybe we'd talk about nothing. but we'd be there together. and thinking of december nights just makes me feel so cold. 'cuz we could enjoy a movie. maybe something about sled dogs. warm, and enjoying each other's company with some others. on a black leather couch (because those are coziest) with other things that have connotations of winter. but, really, i know that it's not possible. we haven't even gotten past square one of friendship 101, being honest. because though as hard as i try, i can't really be honest with you. i try really hard, i do.

ep:if you snark and muse:record

so, i was considering things to write about for abp#5 and was thinking "douche" and along the lines of that is "let your lab partner collect data all by himself while you go out to lunch and totally don't help him at all." said person that is being addressed doesn't seem to really mind what happened, although i and certain others feel very inflamed and up-in-arms about it. why do people suck, seriously? when people pull their weight, things work. but when they don't people get angry. also, another thing that pisses me off is when people complain, but do not have a solution slash are not planning the stupid thing. homecoming planning for dinner was extremely difficult, people, SO DO NOT SNARK AT ME IF YOU DON'T ENJOY THE RESTAURANT. YOU MAY GO EAT DINNER BY YOURSELF AND THEN COME TO THE DANCE WITH THAT FABULOUS SNARKY ATTITUDE AND THEN DANCE BY YOURSELF IN THE CORNER. 


anyway.
a muse. once again inspired by the ending of bones.
muse:
i'd told her that he likes records, especially a certain one by a certain band. the record itself turned different colors when the light hit it at different angles, making for a rather psychedelic effect. i knew he'd love it, but it wasn't my place to give it to him.

that night, we were all sitting around in their comfortably cramped apartment, waiting for him to come home. wine glasses were on the table, and all of us (me, her, and our two friends) were sipping our drinks. white dessert wine, the type that is sweet and then kicks you in the mouth as a reward. the black leather couches were warm and comfortable, and i thought that i could never bring myself to stand up. as the door clicks open, our two friends stand up. they manage to mumble something before pushing their way out the doorway. it's just me, him, and her left. he notices the iridescent record on a table next to the couch.

"what's this?"

"oh, avery told me that you love records. especially this band, and it has your favorite song on it."

she stands up, padding her way over to his side.

"look, it even changes color when you move it around!"

he smiles broadly, winningly. i beam.

"thanks!"

"you're welcome," she and i both answer. they don't seem to hear me, and they kiss simply, but lovingly. i can almost hear my heart shattering on the ground, but this is not my place. i cannot cry here, this is not my place.

"i... i should go. i'll see you tomorrow, glass."

i pick my things up, and i'm almost out the door. his voice grabs my ears, stopping me.

"no, wait, you should stay for dinner."

"yeah," she agrees. "we have enough space for you."

"i'll make that lamb dish i know you like," glass says, his eyes showing something. somehow, i think he's on to me. but that's purely speculation. after all, i just deal with the facts.

"no thanks. you see, normally the first time two people sharing a domicile have dinner together, the person who doesn't live there leaves. so... i'll see you tomorrow."

i turn to face the door, push it open, and brush out without much ceremony. i haven't noticed that devon has followed me until he calls my name.

"avery!"

i whirl around, careful to plaster on an indifferent face.

"yeah?"

he's silent for a moment before mumbling, "see you tomorrow."

i try to smile, i really do, as hard as i can.

"yeah. good night."

as i turn around, i swear he's on to me. he's on to me, but for some reason, the door clicks shut behind me.

reflections, reflections, and ow my head hurts a TON.

so.
half skinned steer.
i didn't even finish reading it.
i can't do it, it's too hardddddd. because it just doesn't make no sense, and emus is bad for claws. (no seriously, i know what that means, but it's just so bad.)

also, if you are following my blog, i apologize for flooding your blogwatch with just a bazillion posts a day. i just realized that this is probably the case for all of y'alls and it's probably a bit ridiculous (and because i just have nothing better to do with my time, apparently).

also, a headache. ouch. pain. like since i got home (around 6ish) and i just took advil and pain. D:

additionally, for anyone who really cared slash noticed, my naming options was the one that wasn't read in class today for obvious reasons (being the fact that we are in high school and apparently we cannot ever ever ever mention booze or sex or drugs or what. seriously.) but i really really think that one of the names sounded super legit! the first one, cognac city, sure, not too classy. but it still does give an air of sophistication. and the second one, lagerton, sounded super legit. like seriously. but, of course, since lager is a type of booze, it can't be there. so, sadface.

ep:convoluted phonecalls.

tonight. confusing me a lot. mainly just me confusing myself.

ep:
my phone vibrates. i have a small inkling of who is calling me, and the phone screen confirms my suspicion. my heart and mind both begin to race as i try to decide whether to pick up or not. on one hand, i want to pick up because i know we have to talk things out. we really do. or... at least you think we do. i just want you to take back what you said, because it sure does make it hard to talk to you ever ever ever. but then, on the other hand, i don't even know what to say. we need to talk? i guess. maybe. and then the topic would get deflected to something mundane (which wouldn't bother me, monday night was great) and things would still not get addressed. i spend about 20 minutes afterwards fretting to a friend, who says that it shouldn't be a big deal. it's just dependent on how much you need me, she says. so, i ask, how much do you need me? on second thought, don't answer that. i'm not sure i could stand the answer.

two kinds (of cheese?)

so. amy tan. the instant i saw that, i was like this is guaranteed to be good. which it was. i've read this story by her before (in 7th grade) and i remember the general gist of the story. but it was fun to read it again.

the narrator's yearnings change throughout the story. she starts off wanting the same thing as her mother: prodigy-dom. (that's so not a word.) she tries with her whole heart only to find that she cannot succeed in the shirley temple fashion. as her mother continues to pull this prodigy out of her, her yearnings change. she wants her mother to accept her as she is. this leads to a bitter argument, although things are slightly reconciled before the narrator's mother dies.

as for my personal connection to the story, i found it resonating a lot with me.
there are many times that i just want to scream at my parents "i'm this way because of you!" when they rag on me for something. i also want to yell "sorry that you can't have that perfect child you were expecting" because... quite frankly, i feel like i'm always striving to do what is "best" in their eyes. when things don't go according to their plan, they fuss. it's annoying. i'm not good enough for my mom, because apparently i don't "talk about the right things" with my friends. the "right things" being "where are you going to college?" or "what did you get on the sat/act?" or "what are you doing over the summer?" those things, while some are okay to ask, i feel are off limits. some people just don't like others finding out what they're doing as it is some sort of invasion of privacy. which would explain why i don't really know anybody very well, i just know lots of people at a superficial level. and to my dad, i never do anything right. driving, it's "you parked horribly!" or "that turn was way too sharp!" schoolwork, it's slightly less but more "why didn't you get an a? do we have to go in to talk to your teacher?" or "why don't you get this? i could do this in like 10 minutes!" (and then he goes and takes forever on it.) i think i'm slightly able to be more myself at school. i let loose my craziness (although it's slightly less now) and people see me for who i (kinda) really am. whew. that was a rant. definitely.