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I'unno, man. You're talking to a chick who openly believes in Paranormal Activity, who saw the Jersey Devil, but the concept of the Government hiding Zombies...? Just doesn't seem plausible that the government COULD hide it, what with how stuff gets around these days. If Zombies pop up, I feel like we'd know about it, you know? And it wouldn't be limited to Zombie Wikia articles that get their source information from George Romero.
Maybe it's just me.
- Mood:
sleepy
So, Alison. What have YOU been doing all week that you've had off school?
Why, watching NCIS!
(I'm really not an artist, but I thought Tony and McGee came out looking cute.)
THIS SHOW. IS EATING. MY BRAAAAAAAAAIN.
- Mood:
amused - Music:Fidelity--Regina Spektor
My family is the sort of family that very often randomly finds relatives we didn't know we had.
But, it's not often we find one while my mom is checking the Florida news.
Mom's family stretches through the Fowler line, all the way down in the Florida Everglades. Mom's Great-Uncle Truman was the ferry driver on the Suwannee River until he got sick and died. The rest of his family died in a car accident some years later.
Or so we believed.
Two sons, Everett Orby Fowler and his older brother, are still alive. Everett survived the crash, and his brother wasn't in the car. My cousin Everett is 49 now, and lives homeless in Florida. My mom found an article about him while checking a paper she reads from down there.
His father Truman Fowler was my mom's Uncle, which I am pretty sure makes him my cousin.
He doesn't know how to read, in school he would become horribly frustrated, and simply couldn't learn. ADHD runs pretty heavily in our family. Cousin Everett says in the article that the hardest part about being homeless is being alone. But he isn't alone, he has family all up here in Jersey, and he has relatives in Florida that he just doesn't know about. He says the only photo he has is one of the ferry to remind him of his childhood, and we have pictures of his family! We have pictures of Truman Fowler, his father.
He says the one thing he wants most is to stand on his own two feet, have his own place. I don't know how, but my mom and I are going to help him do that. Mom is going to try and get ahold of him via the newspaper we got the article from, and work on helping him down there in Florida with our cousin Christine, who is a judge.
No Fowler or Farrell gets left behind.
- Mood:
blank
So I just read this article and quite frankly, these so-called 'Pirates' need to do a little research.
What happened to the days when Pirates looted ships, antagonised people, then went on their merry way? Why do they need to hold hostages? It's not like authorities are seriously going to fuck with them out in international waters, it's not like if they let the people leave safely they're going to be found.
What happened to the days when Pirates had some form of decency? Most pirate ships, from Bartholomew Roberts to Edward Low, had, da-da-da-DAA: a code of conduct/ethics.
I did a little digging, and in most of the piratical codes on record, they have a rule similar to this of John Phillips' code. (captain of 'The Revenge'.)
V. That Man that shall strike another whilst these Articles are in force, shall receive Moses’s Law (that is, 40 Stripes lacking one) on the bare Back.
There are also a bunch of nuggets that claim 'No snapping of guns', which pretty much means 'Hey jackass, don't threaten anybody on board. Who hired him?'
Piracy's existed for hundreds of years, I don't expect it to stop or get any better. But dammit, people, where did the decency go? When pirates looted ships, doled it out, voted democratically whether to kill or not kill the people onboard the other ship, and then left. Why is it that the Somalian pirates are stripping everything of value, then holding people hostage? Couldn't they do the slightly more intelligent thing of stealing all the person's stuff, then dropping them off on some mildly populated island before high-tailing it outta there, so they don't have to deal with the distinct possibility of getting their asses handed to them when they ask for a ransom? Are they that confident in their abilities?
Frankly, I'd trust John Rackham if he had a blood-stained cutlass at my throat than a scrawny Somali man with an Assault Rifle.
Because man, John Rackham had class!
- Mood:
groggy
Jesus H. Tapdancing Christ, Facebook. Look what you do to me.
French Project done.(sortof)
Need to do English paper.
Need to do Creative Writing essay.
Algebra 2, done.
Chemistry, done.
American History, test tomorrow.
Boyfriend? Broken up with, mutually, still pals. (That was a waste of a week and a half.)
BE KIND TO ARACHNIDS THIS WEEK. IT'S ARACHNID WEEK, LOOK IT UP. (Invented by my very own creative writing teacher.)
Oh God, I need to go to sleep.
- Mood:
awake
I'm gonna let you in on a little secret.
Since seventh grade or so, I've been secretly lusting after Christian Scherm. He's fucking batshit insane, but in my mind he hides fears and insecurities behind the crazy. I have always dropped hints around him, the very few times I've ever been close enough to drop hints, anyway. You'll be amused to learn that more often than not, I am not flirting or attempting to garner romantic attention.
Nope, I'm looking for friendship.
Just, roll with me on this, mmkay?
Most of the time, if I'm trying my best to make you laugh, or if it seems like I'm flirting, I really just want to get to be your pal. Purely because I never developed the skills of friendly conversation with my own age bracket. I only ever learned mildly-stalkerish tendencies of talking loudly while that person is in earshot, and doing my damndest to be near them at all times. I never learned standard 'friendship' protocol, so that's what I do.
It either ends one of two ways- Success, or horrid failure. See, I can make friends with just about anybody, because I'm a pretty diverse person. I have no singular view on politics or religion, I don't descriminate or dislike people for who or what they are, what they look like or believe in. I have many diverse tastes in music, games, social stuffs, and I can string together a good few anecdotes and jokes. I am always, without fail, a shoulder to lean on if someone needs me to be. I'm not trying to toot my own horn here, I by no means claim to be emotionally stable for all the people I care about, but I have made it my goal in life to always be there for a person if they need me. It's just the maternal, snuggly person I am.
(and I have been told I am quite snuggly.)
So tomorrow is another day where I can try and befriend Christian Scherm, in my own strange, inexperienced way.
I don't really know why I'm writing this all down. It just felt like the thing to do right this moment.
If nothing else, it was cathartic.
- Mood: blank
So I lied last time about not much being up.
Thursday before last, I was asked to be Anthony Sabelli's girlfriend. I accepted, of course. We'd been crushing on each other without knowing the other was for weeks. I asked him if maybe we could go to the movies that weekend, but I got sick and asked if we could take a rain check, seeing as I would really hate to get him sick too. (That's not very girlfriendly, really, getting your man sick on the first date.) He said it was okay, he had plans. With his Aunt.
We didn't talk for more than fifteen minutes after that. All week long. No texts, no IMs, no facebook chat, no emails, no calls, when I make jokes and smile at him in Gym class, he giggles at me, and talks to Ramones and Fischer about football.
Today I sat down and tried to talk to him about our lack of communication. I don't ask for much, really, a hug here and there, maybe a smooch, but for the love of God, talk to me. Talk to me about nothing at all, anything. The other day he walked right past me and said nothing, so Jhestarri shouted across the parking lot why he doesn't 'Talk to his girl'. He shrugged, unsure of what to say.
Text message later that night:
'Hey I know we haven't talked much. I'm not good at making conversation."
'Yeah, and I'm not good for much other than making bad jokes... :('
'lol'
*twenty minutes later*
'Whats your favorite food?'
And that was it. So, today I sat down and tried to talk this out with him. Why don't we talk? About anything? I though relationships involved communication. His response? "Well, since neither of us really know what to say, I don't see the problem."
Dammit, that IS the problem.
Everybody, Fischer, Liz, Steph, they keep telling me to 'give him a chance', I thought the chance I gave him was being his girlfriend? I thought the chance was 'Hey, I really like you. You're funny, smart, and kind, let's be something more.' What other chances am I supposed to give? They make me feel friggin' guilty, like I'm the one whose not trying hard enough.
And I'm on my period and I feel fffffffffffffeotywe;fq;fhvm
I have bronchitus-ridden lungs.
Backpain.
And a questionable relationship.
What a week.
- Mood:
crushed - Music:Cheap Trick-- 'I want you to want me'
Title: Tunnel O' Love
Rating: Very G
Summary: What exactly happened after Rhonda dragged Harold into the Tunnel of Love... Rhonda/Harold
Stuff: I do not own Hey Arnold! Craig Bartlett does.
( Click for Fic!! )
- Mood:
calm
Dude, last night was sooooo much fun. I won 'Most Creative Costume', which was weird seeing as there was definitely way better outfits than mine. Plus, I cobbled mine together in all of twenty minutes with stuff we just happen to have in our house.
( Picspam!! )
- Mood:
busy
Uhhhh. Nothing MUCH to report, really.
Oh! I'm sick, yeah, there's that. Erm.
La la la la la la la~
- Mood:
bored
Title: Shove With Your Hips.
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Spike/Fred
Summary: Fred and Spike take part in an old teenage pasttime... (Probably takes place some inordinate amount of time after my fic Retrieval and Return.)
Notes: omgod. I've been so dead right now, with school and acting and all. But the other day I was listening to my sister talk about her exploits as a teenager and I thought about what Sock Monkey said about Fred and Spike like two big, crazy kids romping around, and was like- 'skdfwlkdhgf she would DO THAT.'
THIS is the result.
==========
- Mood:
tired - Music:Michael Franti-- 'Say Hey(I love you)
For those curious, my Creative Writing teacher assigned us to use a Thesaurus and write the most AWFUL purple prose fantasy. This is how far I've gotten on mine.
Oh, oh it makes me sad to look at it.
AAAUUUGGGHH I didn't do my ENGLISH homework on Benjamin Franklin's Autobiography!!
Shiiiiiiiiiit! Why did I wait until ten to do this? I still have to shower and sleep. ( Current feelings beneath cut. )( Current Feelings Beneath Cut. )
I've decided to take out my plan to be Beetlejuice for Halloween. Rather, I've decided to go as a Slasher character of mine.
See, last Halloween I got really into the great Maniac Murderer Movies of all Time. You know, Michael Myers, Freddy Krueger, Jason Voorhees- the greats. Well, I ended up writing this short story that included an origin/motive for a Serial killer character. She's this generic college girl, goes camping with some friends, and as a joke, they tie her to a tree while she's napping, planning to go back for her after an hour or so. Instead, a murderer whose been terrorizing the local town finds her, and drags her back to this little shack in the woods where he tortures her, and then cuts out her left eye.(I was watching a lot of serial killer documentaries, BTW, and I kept hearing about how some of them take 'souveniers'.)
So he kills her, dumps her in the woods, and she makes a pact with the Devil to come back with immortality, on the condition that she kill people for him. Her first act as Devil's Advocate(lololol) is slaughtering the man who killed her. After that, she kind of gains a taste for murder, and blah blah blah I never wrote an ending.
ANYHOW, she was effin' cool, because she wore a yellow hoodie, converse, and carried around a big carving knife. Combined with the bloody clothes and missing eye, wandering around in foggy woods and picking off panicky teenagers... well it was a fun concept at the time. So I'm going to put together a little costume and paint my face all Zombie Grey. It'll be sexy and creepy and NOBODY will get it but It'll still be fun.
Ooh, you know what, it'd be cool if at the end of her story, the survivors trap her in a cement mixer, and in the block of cement, all you see is her hand sticking out... and at the end, her fingers wiggle. I'm digging too into this.
I LOVE HALLOWEEN~
- Mood: busy
- Music:Michael Franti-- 'Say Hey(I love you)'
So, sorry, Angel, no romantic dinnerdate with Nina for you. In compensation... Cuddles?
Anyway, with that part out, the rest should flow smoothly from here on out.
I have an awful Algebra 2 teacher. Seriously, I haven't had such an issue with a teacher in a long time. (Well... No, I could fight back with Tufaro last year, she just kicked me out when I was snippy.)
Mrs. Hiering is awful. She makes the entire class feel like idiots, she gives us all dumbass nicknames and insults us. She asked me if I was stupid or just nervous the other day, and she told Frank Rizzo he needed exercise. Tufaro was a bitch last year, but she didn't humiliate us in front of the class, she just kicked us out of the room, and even then, she never held anything against us, outside the classroom, she was pretty cool. Hiering's just a bitch.
I mean, she calls me 'Space Cadet' because apparently I space out in her class. I take notes, I listen. Hell, I do NOT claim, by any stretch of the imagination, to be good at math, how on earth I've managed to scrape by is, to me, a bleeding miracle. But I am NOT, I am NOT stupid, I am not unintelligent. She makes me feel like I felt in Saint Joes, dumb, awkward, useless. Hell, she's got me so unnerved in the class, and so freaked in general, I've started biting my fingernails again.
HANGNAILS HURT. D:
AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERE
Halloween is abound~ I still need to find myself a cheap black and white striped suit for my Beetlejuice costume. I need to check out Halloween Headquarters and that new costume store that opened up, but if they fail me, it's internet for me. There's a pretty good one online for like 35 bucks, which isn't so bad. Cheaper than mom's idea for me to go as a bit of Plankton.
- Mood: sleepy
This baby has something to say, and dammit she is going to SAY IT.
I cannot WAIT to have kids of my own, purely for the moments like these.
- Mood: amused
I can safely say that things are definitely... interesting, these days. It's funny, I'm more comfortable with who I am and where I want to go in life than I ever was as a child. People always say Highschool is the most confusing and difficult time in their life, but I'm sort of breezing through it with so much joy. I look around and I see people hating everything, they're grumpy and all assume their lives suck. Life is beautiful, quit'cher whining. :D
Currently suffering from a rather intense case of lovesickness. It's odd-(God, how often do I say 'it's odd' in this journal?)-but he's not even all that attractive, to me anyway. He's sort of pudgy, with big ol' granny glasses and his head shaved. I mean, he's not a bad looking guy by any stretch of the imagination, but he sort of has made fashion choices that make him look unappealing. Usually I have crushes on guys based on what they look like, but I really like him because... He's himself. He doesn't pretend to be anything other than that. He's just... I dunno. Of course I'm too afraid to say anything, so I'll just keep dropping terribly obvious hints and hope he reciprocates. (Really, he's not hot, not cute, he's the first guy I've ever had a crush on whose just handsome.)
Annyway. School continues to keep me from much progress on the next chapter of R&R, but I am trundling along on it slowly. The part I'm working on right now is with Angel and Nina, so I'm trying to get into their minds. Angel's pretty easy, but Nina's tougher.
And now...
GUESS WHO MADE IT INTO THE NEW MYSTICS A
THAT'S RIGHT, WHOSE BAD? I'M BAD! OH YEAH, WHAT WHAT! TAKE THAT, SCOTT MAYER, YOU COCKY LITTLE JERK. WHOSE NOT GOOD ENOUGH TO BE ON STAGE NOO
Sorry, I've been holding that in since I got the email from Dan. :x
God, really though, I am SO excited. I did not expect to get in, there were so many other serious actors there, girls and guys who've had WAY more experience than I have. And I beat them out... I just... I can't believe it. I mean, I know it's a small step, it's a very tiny step towards my career, but it's a step. And the first step is the hardest to take.
By no means do I believe I am going to get discovered and put in a big-budget hollywood film, but this feels like a wonderful beginning for me. All I wanted was to be involved in these things, acting, film, any of it. I wouldn't care if I was only ever cast as Guard # 46 in my life, if only I was allowed to be a part of film.
*sigh* Life... Is good.
- Mood:
accomplished
So, since it's Sunday, I spent the day in my bed playing Pokemon Sapphire and doing homework, whilst curled with a kitten.
Still waiting to hear back from Dan on RE: the callbacks. I think they went pretty well, but I don't think I did good enough. Dan took my aside afterwards and said that even if I don't get the part, he wants me involved with the New Mystics, which made me feel so proud of myself. All my life I've been the last person picked for games, bla bla blaaaaa, usual shunned little bookworm BS. It feels so good to be a part of something, to be wanted in a group.
It's late and why am I still awakkkkeee?
*flop*
I always feel like I should have more to say to you, Journal. Journal sounds pretty formal, maybe I should give you a name, like I gave my creative writing Notebook. That one's name is Charlie, so I can't call you that. How abooouuut... Bruce? I like Bruce, that's a good, strong name. Makes me think of Die Hard, and that's always a good thing.
It's settled then, your name is Bruce.
Bruce, I don't think I'm going to get the part. It's just this feeling in my shoulders, my head, this sort of soon-to-be-disappointed feeling. I'd really love to have this part; I feel like I haven't proven myself as an actress, still. Soon, Bruce, even if I don't get this, I need to keep positive. I can make it, I will make it someday. Just to be a part of the silver screen.
GIVE ME STARVING ARTISTRY, OR GIVE ME DEATH.
- Mood:
cold
I had such an entertaining day in Gym today... It rained, so we stayed inside and mingled with the seniors. They brought down the curtain and cut the Gym in half, so half of us ran off to play Basketball, and the rest of us went to play four-square and volleyball.
Volleyball in Gym class means "Get a beach ball, don't keep score, verbally abuse EVERYONE on your team in a clearly joking manner, and scream 'GOT IT' at the top of your lungs when the ball is in the air."
Gym is so fffffsking entertaining.
Last night I got linked to something with Spock, and I developed a massive crush on him. I also came to the conclusion that Spork and Kirk are gay for each other, and that their pairing name is one of three things: Spirk, Spork, and Kock.
Oh yeah, I was entertained.
Callback is on Saturday, annnnd...
Over the weekend I watched old Hey Arnold! reruns and realised that Harold and Rhonda were totally going to become canon relationship until they introduced Patty to Harold and Curly got all Shakespearian over Rhonda. >:C I disapproved of this, and so, in the only true fannerd way, I wrote a futurefic one-shot for them.
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5381331/1/Ac
I wanted it to be certain that they BOTH thought, originally, that having the one-night stand and ending up preggo was their mistake, their accident. But at the end, they had to realise that wait, this isn't an accident, we got together by ourselves, and we've stuck this out even though we both didn want it originally.
I wanted to make it so the baby wasn't the accident, them falling for each other was the accident, and they were okay with it, in the end. I really hope that came across right, I know I was rather vague. Present tense is such a pain for me, but it seemed right for this one. Oh, and their characterization, in the show, Rhonda's pretty intelligent, but she's also very shallow and concerned with fashion. I wanted to keep that Rich Girl persona around, even through elementary and high school.
And Harold... Let's face it, in the show, he really is not too bright, he's big, he's a bully, he's whiny, he's like a tamer Eric Cartman. But he does have that good, soft, mooshy side, he's a lot like Helga in that he throws up a big toughguy facade to hide his soft side, but while Helga's smart, Harold... Isn't. He's 13 in fourth grade, so he's been held back twice, at least, and I wanted him to get smarter as he got older, but he's still no Einstein. I imagine maybe after fifth grade or so he finally started to buckle down and TRY to learn, so he's a bit more level headed, if afraid to show sweet emotions.
I thought waaaay too hard about a kid's show. XD Man, I miss Hey Arnold.
- Mood: tired
I waited for like, two hours, 'cause there were a ton of people in that place. I went in and read this really nice, serious monologue abouta woman who had been raped on her prom night, and turned to alcohol and drugs to cope. She's in a group therapy session, has never spoke up before, but tells her story and talks bout how she feels no one understands, because her feelings didn't get hurt, her body didn't get hurt, but something in the deep-down places.
Anyway, I read it sort of... almost as if she was reminiscing, but that hurt and sadness kept bubbling up, and sometimes she felt proud of how far she'd come, being 3 months sober, and sometimes she's just dejected as fuck over how hurt she still is.
But I finished and they kept saying how glad they were that I had shown up to audition, and Dan kept saying how good I'd done, which was AWESOME because, here's the kicker; Dan has never seen me do something serious.
Most of what we did at Count Basie was silly little improv and funny stuff, but the look on his face... Man, I'm not trying to like, gloat about how awesome it went or how amazing I am, but he looked pleasantly surprised. And I felt so proud of myself.
I know I've got a long way to go before I'm anything like the famous actress I want to be, but hot damn, this feels like an amazing first step.
Now, pardon me, whilst I do the dance of joy!!
- Mood:
optimistic
