Chatham Hall Prep School

So I get home after a long, annoying day and what do I find on the counter? Boarding school information. For girls, no less. Now, using my extreme process-of-elimination skills, I was able to count out my brothers and my dad. And considering my half-sister-in-law is out of college, I ruled her out. And my mom is obviously not going back to high school. And then there was me, my cat, and my dog. I could obviously eliminate the pets. In conclusion: my father got me boarding school stuff. AS IF I MIGHT WANT TO GO. This is the site:

http://www.chathamhall.com/

Damn.

On the main page, it says, "The question isn't 'Why?' It's 'Why not?'" Um, let me list.

1) Hello, it's bad enough that I have to go to school for 7 hours each day. I DON'T WANT TO LIVE THERE.
2) Expensive, anyone?
3) WHERE ARE THE GUYS?! I cannot have a normal teenage life if there are no boys. Even I must draw the line. Sure, they're obnoxious and annoying, but they also provide comic relief, as well as relief from girls. I swear, sometimes I like guys more than other girls.
4) Again, going to this fancy prep school would seriously prevent me from having a normal childhood.
5) What would I study? Definitely not athletics or horseback, which seem to take of part of their main focus.
6) I don't want to leave my friends.
7) EVERYONE IS PREPPY. They would probably shove me off a cliff.
8) I JUST DON'T WANT TO. >:P

Sure, when I was younger I thought it would be seriously awesome to go to a boarding school with my best friends. And maybe I would go here if EVERYONE came with me. So whaddya say? Dita? Sarykins? Manders? Will you come to the preppy, expensive, boy-free high school with me?

So just kidding.

Anyways, nice to write to all of you. For those in Alabama: isn't school already out? Camp starts in like five days, correct? Alright, I'll say byebye now because I have to finish my algebra homework. Oh, joy oh joy.

~x4x

EDIT: the signature I wrote (x4x) is the name of my gang. It consists of me, Brenda, Kira, Sarah Snyder (just wanted to make sure that the two Sarahs knew who I was talking aboout), and TyTy is our manager. We kill people, rip out their hearts, and hang them on walls. If we get hungry, we might eat them. :)

Because I'm totally that kind of person. *rolls eyes*

Hate

OMFG I just spent four hours working/editing a video and finally finished it. THEN THE PROGRAM COMMITED SUICIDE AND WE LOST EVERYTHING. *eye twitch*

MY NAME IS FLUFFERS HEAR ME ROAR

Hi. My name is Fluffers and I'm a kitty cat. I have soft, grey fur and light green eyes. I enjoy long walks on the beach, plotting- I mean, praying, and eating the stupid humans' food. I have a very adorable meow but if you piss me off I WILL EAT YOUR EYEBALLS FOR BREAKFAST.



Hello, people. Or Brenda and Sarah as I like to call them. Or Adnerb and Haras. Or even Adverb and Harass. :)

Okay, so I bought my dress for the dance and I was going to try to find a picture of it online, but I couldn't. So I just put the picture of Fluffers there instead (by the way, that isn't my cat). Um, I have an SOL on Wednesday and Friday of this week. And an audition for chorus on Thursday. And then I have all the stupid finals. Including the PALS for French. Damn.

I'm posting a bit of my new story (which is probably going to end up epically dying in a week or so) just because I'm bored.

It turned out that Careen had the same schedule for the first part of the day as me. So after Ancient History, Advanced Writing, Geometry, and Science, we headed to lunch.
The dining hall was a separate building, the entrance guarded by double, wooden doors with intricate metal designs. Inside, it had long wooden tables in the center, all aligned horizontally. Along the edges were two-person tables, and in the very corners were four-person tables. I sat at the table farthest back in the room.
“So the lunch line is over there,” I, from the doors, gestured across the room. “The salad bar there is there, and the places where us freshmen sit are over there, in the back. You should sit at that four-seater with Grady, Shiloh, and Becca.” The Loser Table, as we called it. But I didn’t say that.
Once I had my salad, I slid into one of the chairs at my usual table, right next to Greg. The wooden chair scraped against the linoleum floor loudly, causing me to wince.
“Hey,” he flipped his light brown hair.
“My name’s Hayley. Not Hey. Get it right,” I punched his shoulder jokingly. Then I noticed Careen still standing behind me. Ugh. “Honey,” I said sweetly, “I told you that you could go sit over there,” I pointed. “I’m trying to have a conversation.”
“Ooh,” Dakota howled, “burn!” I elbowed him (he sat on my other side) in the ribs. Careen blinked at me. I fought to keep the imminent scowl off my face.
“Sweetie, I know you’re not deaf of retarded. Please, I’m trying to have a life.” Careen turned on heel and left, carrying her tray of food and bulging backpack.
“What’s in there?” Dakota marveled, “A dead body?”
“Ha, ha,” I said dryly. “No. Books, apparently. And I’m stuck with her for the next week. How seriously suckish is that? The dance is in five days and I’ll have her tailing me the entire time.” I sighed. I seem to be sighing a lot today.

Yeah, the main character is this preppy, blonde, b*tchy girl. But don't worry, she gets nicer.

EDIT: Sorry about my last post ("Kamakazi"). I have noo I idea why it got posted three times. But I fixed it, don't worry.

EDIT TWO: Okay, I forgot to post this on the normal part of blog. Funny video!
http://www.cnn.com/video/#/video/living/2009/05/18/bellini.daily.distraction.mon.cnn?iref=videosearch

Kamakazi!!

I want to apologize in advance for my lack of text organization. My paragraphs are completely random and may confuse the reader. If reading this post results in mild confusion, fainting, or dizziness, I am not liable. If you faint and trip down a flight of stairs then fall into a coma for fifty years and when you wake up everyone's been taken over by aliens so you steal their spaceships and become a kamakazi, I am still not liable. You have been warned.

http://www.montgomeryacademy.org/page.cfm?p=1

That was one of my prior schools. I was on the site because I was bored, and suddenly felt like a huuge nerd. I mean, LOOK AT IT. If you google search it, it comes up with: "independent college preparatory school." (As a side note to Sarah: On the homepage, they didnt have that jungle gym thing when we were there! It looks pretty kick-ass.)

Anyways, ADD moment is over. My uncles are visiting from God-Knows-Where-They-Live. All of my dad's brothers. I swear, the tetosterone in this house is killing me. They're playing some racing game on the Wii that I can hear from the second floor (they're in the basement). So we have my dad, his three brothers, my two brothers, and Jack's friend. Hm, does anyone else see how that might be annoying? Just thank God that my other brother isn't here. SEVEN BOYS. Ugh. I hate having company. It only makes me more reclusive.

I got my course list for mext year! Hooray! I'm taking all AP classes, along with French 2 and Chorus (choral group to be determined by next Tuesday's audition). And, of course, gym class. But I was honestly quite happy with my classes. I got everything I wanted. Plus the two or three clubs I'm going to end up doing (Creative Writing, GSA, Guitar Club), guitar lessons, piano lessons, and maybe cross-country.

Wow, looking at that list gave me a serious headache. And I thought my life now was tiring. I seriously better get moving on the whole getting-book-published thing so next year I don't die.

The end-of-the-year dance is on June 5th. I'm actually excited, although I'm not so sure why. I like dressing up. Although I'm going to end up wearing a black and white dress, studded bracelets, and my mom's combat boots (I refuse to say "Army boots" because every time I even think those words I hear Ben in my head, laughing. Trust me, Ben is not a good person to have in your head.). I must go to the mall! Only not this weekend. Because I have company. Which also means I cannot do my video project this weekend. Fluff, it's due Friday. I hope madame Safavi gives us time in class like she promised because of all the testing.

I just realized that I don't really want to inform the entire world about my life. What I want to do is rant about my life which, incidently, makes my entire life open to the public. *Sigh* We can't always have it all.

Anyways, I started a new story. I'm taking a break from my sequel and trying out a new persona. I don't really know if this story has any potential or not, but what the hell. I'm stuck in a bit of a rut when it comes to my sequel. Speaking of the sequel, I've thought of a nice name, but only if I change the first book's title to Built On Secrets. Then the second one would be Breaking Foundation and the third one is gonna be whatever the third one wants to be.

The Dangers Of Smoking

Okay, I've been bored lately so I started watching Punk'd on MTV.com. This is my favorite episode so far.

http://www.mtv.com/videos/misc/145495/dangers-of-smoking.jhtml#id=1557912

Elijah Wood is so adorable... :)

Random Updates About My Life

Well I feel pretty sad right now. I've watched Cristina Aguilera's ideo for "Beautiful" about a thousand times then read Brenda's blog. About the video thing, I never realized how amazing it was. It's totally not my type of music, but it's so amazing. And since I'm feeling as mushy inside, I want to say thank you to people for paying attention to my posts and putting up with me (I understand that's probably a challenge). And I luffs you all.

You know how on email forwards they're like "would you be freinds with yourself if you weren't you?" and everyone else will put "yeah, I guess?" Okay, well, I usually put "proabably not." Does that say something about me? Or am I the only one being thruthful? Hell, I could barely tolerate myself for about six months last year.

Oh, I got my old enV to work! You know, the one I...er...dropped in the washing machine? It's been broken and incapable of turning on until today. And it happened at such a good time! My Alias won't charge anymore (unless I knock it violently off the bed; no, I am so not kidding about that) so maybe if I find my enV charger I can have it reactivated.... (By the way, the Alias isn't working because I dropped it in the sink when it was full of water.) You know, I never reeally realized how long my hair was until I looked through the picture on my old phone. I mean, the shortest parts of my hair were six inches past my shoulder. But it was weird looking at the pictures because all of them were taken during the time where my depression was really bad. And I swear to God that i look like the happiest person in Earth in those pictures. Looks really can be decieving. Oh, not to mention the fact that I have the sexiest pictures of Bill on that phone *dies*.

I did things I haven't done in a while today: went to the grocery store, sat outside with my dog, and scrolled through 69 pages of Tokio Hotel pictures and gave myself a fangirl-type happiness overload. It made me embarassingly giggly.

Okay, I better go finish a french poster now. I'll update tomorrow!

~Awkward Fangirl

I Hate My Computer

Okay, so I was trying to post this last night, but my computer decided to be a total retard and have Firefox crash every time I hit "publish post." Grr.... So I'm posting this on Internet Explorer (which is what I usually use for blogging since the crashing is a normal thing on Firefox). Here it is:

I guess I'll get around to my important stuff. So I finally got pissed going through publisher websites and it saying "...does not accept unsolicited works...." Talk about seriously annoying. So instead of sending it to a publisher straight away, I am going to try and get a literary agent. It feels weird saying that, but yes, I am going to contact agents and see if any of them are interested. Most of the agents say to submit a sample chapter, and I want to know which one I should submit. I have a few ideas, but am not sure yet. So could people please give me some feedback? Sorry if this post is going to end up being huge because most of the chapters are longer than the rest.
This is a part of a chapter from the middle of the story. Not a whole one, just a part.

Making up my mind, I slid the door open and stepped outside onto the small deck and leaned over the rail, looking onto the ground below. Even at four in the morning, cars jammed the streets and lights sparkled from buildings. It was captivating.
The Capitol. I had never been here before, and yet I felt a connection to it as I eyed the monuments that were scattered around the city. The cast of characters I watched below were stark opposites. There were the women who jogged aimlessly in the early morning, locals for whom the city’s wonder had faded. And the tourists, marveling in astonishment at the remarkable city. I watched the nightlife until the sun began to light the eastern sky. Obviously I couldn’t see the sun because of the huge buildings blocking the horizon line. Shivering, I let myself back in and began to cross the large room, hoping to get a little more sleep.
“It’s nice here, isn’t it?” I whirled in disbelief. Greene sat on the couch.
“What the hell?!” Greene’s hand disappeared into his pocket and produced a key card.
“Your friend, Thomas, left this in his chair.”
“Tom,” I spat. “Not Thomas.” Greene made a move out of the seat, and I spun, ready to run and shout and do whatever the hell else I could.
A click sounded behind me. “Don’t move.” Greene’s voice was cold. Turning slowly, I registered the black handgun aimed straight at my head.
“That’s a very pretty gun,” I said slowly. “Thank you for showing me. Now you can put away, it might be a hazard.” I wished fervently that that comment wouldn’t get me killed.
“This gun, is far to good to be put away. Far to expensive.” It sounded like he was talking about a wife or girlfriend. So first, he hits on a fourteen year old. Then he wants to shoot her. Talk about mixed signals.
“Which is why you’ll be putting it away.” Oh please, please, please think of something! What do I do?! Then I remembered the pocketknife I stole from the hotel room in Maine.
“Strip.”
“Excuse me?” What the hell?
“Now.” The gun pointed between my eyes. Suddenly his command was a good thing. Trying not to grin, I unbuckled my belt and began sliding it off. When I reached to take it out from the back loop, I grabbed the knife from my pocket and flipped it out. With a smirk, I raised the knife above my head, ready the throw it if I had to. “Drop it!” Greene commanded me.
“How about you tell me why the hell you’re going to shoot me and then I’ll consider it.”
Greene readjusted his hold on the gun and spoke. “The vice-president pays better. That’s all.” I lowered the knife to my shoulder, where I could use it more effectively if needed.
The wicked blade shone in the dim light filtering through the windows of the hotel room and glittered off the black metal of the gun. The quiet echoed loudly in my ears.
I was either crazy or really stupid. I think it’s both, Tom muttered in my head. I nearly jumped out of my skin.
“Don’t move!” Greene commanded me again. What, like I moved on purpose with a gun aimed at my head?

Feedback? So that was Sample 1, and now we have Sample 2.

My feet pounded heavily on the pavement and I focused on keeping pace. The men in suits started running too, but I had more reason to run then they ever would, my long legs easily propelling me faster and faster. The three men on the other side of the street ran through traffic and came up not more than five yards behind us. A few beads of sweat dripped down my face in the midday heat.
Veering sharply, I darted through traffic, narrowly dodging being hit by cars. We ran in the middle of the road, the cars speeding past us while honking and cussing us out. I dodged a Honda Civic as it screeched to a halt beside me.
Flashing lights and a siren came from behind us. Silently, I cursed whatever I had done to deserve this. I ducked and almost fell on the black pavement when a bullet rocketed past my ear, shattering the glass on the window of a car. Crap, who was shooting?! Another round pierced the trunk of a Toyota.
I finally caught sight of a door on one side of the road was labeled “Metro Personnel Only.” Jumping onto the hood of a stopped car, I slid across it and sprung off onto the sidewalk. I pulled the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. I kicked out at the door, my patience wearing thin, and it flew open with a crash.
A dimly lit staircase went down, and apparently, to the metro. I heard yells and more gunshots from outside. I reached the end of the dark staircase. Pulling a door open, I stumbled out onto the walkway by the trains. We were all breathing heavily.
“Where to?” I asked Cody, who was doubled over, trying to get air.
“No where. The trains are shut down,” he waved a hand at the spectacle before us, “they close it down when there are criminals running around.” I looked around. Sure enough, every train was stopped.
“Can’t we ever get a break?” I groaned as adrenaline pumped through my veins and we began sprinting again, shoving panicked train goers aside.
“Stop!” a man (not a cop) yelled behind us. Bullets fired in rapid succession at the ceiling caused more turmoil than he bargained for. More cops rounded the corner in front of us. Turning sharply, I sprinted up the escalator, knocking a few people over. (Sorry.)
Half of the police chased the shooter, and the other half followed us. The panicking throng of people pushed the cops aside. We raced in a circle, going to the next down escalator, and then back up the one we took before. A policeman who had been knocked out was lying on the ground, beneath the raging crowd’s feet.
I grabbed his hands and pulled him over to the side, where people weren’t stampeding. I reached into the cop’s holster and pulled out a handgun. Checking the bullets, I had enough. I brushed some hair out of the man’s face.
Who was he? He was young, early twenties probably. With a new wife, a little baby perhaps? He didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve what we caused. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered to the unconscious man. Tears blurred my vision as I cocked the gun. “Let’s go.” I tried for a hard, expressionless voice, but my voice broke. No need for emotion, the cops were heading up the escalator.

Okay, and now for number 3. I’m putting this on one just to mock Brenda. (This is basically modeled after real people and real conversations.)

My seventh period class was Spanish (A.K.A. “The Twitchy Class”), which was the one class Cody wasn’t in with me. And it was the one I needed him most in.
The tables are arranged in groups, and we always have to work in our groups. I have the worst table out of all, I think.
“Hi, Kia,” the creepy guy said. He sounds like a stalker when he talks. I don’t know how, but you can totally see him being a pedophile. I twitched. I introduce my creepy stalker, Geoff.
“Kia, will you marry me?” one of the other boys said. He took my hand, but I jerked it away from him. “I love you,” he then declared. And my infatuated stalker, Brandon.
“He loves you,” the guy who sits across from me, Ned, whispered unhelpfully.
“I love you too, Kia,” the creepy stalker said.
“I love you more,” my infatuated stalker said.
“I hate your shirt,” Ned said distastefully. I ignored all of them.
“I love you so much,” Brandon said, stroking my hair softly. My hand, which was holding my pencil, tightened and the pencil snapped in half. “Oh, do you need a new pencil? I know you can’t resist me.” I twitched.
“You can’t resist his body,” Ned whispered again. I glared at him.
“Te amo, Kia,” Brandon sighed.
“Te odio,” I snapped. He tried to look hurt.
“I love you so much, you’re so hot,” he murmured. I twitched.
“So hot,” Ned whispered. My hand shot in the air.
“Senorita, may I get some water?” I asked.
“Of course.” She nodded. I stumbled out of the room and to the water fountain. I hate Spanish. After taking a moment to let myself calm down, I got a drink then turned unwillingly back towards the direction of my classroom.
“Was the water cold?” Geoff asked. “Was it good? Did it run down your smooth throat like ice? Was it amazing? I could go get you water next time.” I calculated how big the window was, compared to how big I was. Crap. I could never fit. “If you want, I could put ice in it. My hand is cold like ice. You wanna hold it? Do you like cold? I know I do. I wanna see you cold.”
Ned looked at me with a “W.T.F.” expression. I grimaced.
“Are you cold? Here, I’ll come give you a hug.” Geoff started to get out of the chair.
“Don’t touch my baby!” Brandon put his arm around me.
“I don’t think she’s your baby,” Ned pointed out, finally deciding to do (and say) something productive.
“If you don’t let go of me in the next two seconds, you will die,” I hissed.
“She’s my honey bun,” Brandon said, moving to kiss me. I shoved him out of his chair.
“Alright, we’ll wait until we’re in private,” he said, as if agreeing with something I said. He put his arm around me again when he got into his chair.
“I hope you’re not planning to reproduce.” I muttered darkly, trying to shrug off his arm.
“You and me, baby!”
“Sexual harassment!” I yelled. “He’s going to rape me! Help, help!”
“Kia,” the teacher warned.
“He’s touching me,” I wailed. Brandon quickly removed his arm. Everyone was staring at us by now.


Alright, can you just leave a comment about the best one? I’ll try to find other excerpt, but that’s all I could find in a few minutes.

~Luffs

Kitty Cats Make Fluffy Noises

Hello. I'll post my important post that will actually require reader participation/comments tomorrow. I just dont have time right now to scroll through 250 pages of writing. I just wanted to say hi. And ask if anyone else has noticed that all of tTaylor Swift's music videos are on the top 100 on iTunes? I noticed that today since she has 2 new videos out. They're both amazing, of course. I love "You Belong With Me."

Okay, I'm gonna go now and try to remember if I have any homework that I forgot about. And watch American Idol. I luffs Adam!

:) Do you like my title?

And If All That Can't Hold You Back

Okay, before I get ot the whole point of this post, I want to write something just to get it out of my system because otherwise I'll be crying for another hour: My parents want to give our dog back to the shelter. It's not like we got her a month ago or anything; no, we've had her for close to two and a half years. I understand some of their reasoning, like the fact that she always smells weird (she likes to roll in the grass) and has a potty problem. She's about eight or nine years old, and came from an abusive home. I understand how frustrating it is to clean up pee nearly every day, but getting rid of Misty doesn't seem right to me. If you adopted a child that had a disability, you wouldn't just give the kid back to the orphanage. It's like that with my dog. She has some problems (such as being very mopey and scared of a lot of things), but we knew that she would when we adopted her. The biggest reason for giving her back to the shelter makes me angry: they want a "real dog". WTF is a real dog? Ask any vet and they'll say that, yes, Misty is a dog. Even more annoying: they want to give her back when she's reaching the end of her lifespan. Bloodhounds only live for about nine years average. Did I mention that she's practically attached to me? I can't go downstairs without her following me. I'm so afraid that if she goes to a different home things will get worse. And I love her. God, I would even cry after we would leave Petsmart when I was younger (I know that sounds pathetic). They expect me to be able to get rid of our dog? At least if she died I'd be glad that she was at least happy. Alright, talking about it did not make me feel any better. It even made me cry more.

I decided I am not going to post what I was originally going to. It can wait 'till tomorrow.

Now I'm going to mope around and listen to Tokio Hotel. It normally makes me feel better. The title is from one of my favorite songs from them (Don't Jump). *Sigh* Lovely song....

Just so people know: my parents have been talking about that for about a year now. I'm just hoping that we won't give her up and that I get to keep my Misty.

~Totally Upset

Kiss Me Never

I miss everyone. Please, what happened? Am I seriously that boring? I wasn't aware it was that extreme. So my birthday was the 21st of April and that was nice. And yesterday we had the big music department trip to Busch Gardens which was nice as well. However, the bus ride back (about three hours) was absolutely horrid. I sat in the back of the bus with a bunch of people that I call my friends, although I'm not so sure that they're worthy of being my friends anymore. Sorry if that sounds conceited, but it's true. See, first we played truth or dare and that was fun and all until all the dares got to be: "Kiss so-and-so." (This totally annoying dude who I would willingly kick in the face kissed my cheek when I wasn't paying attention; ew.) Then I backed out of the game. Sadly, everyone was gathered basically where my seat was so I couldn't exactly escape it. And then, to my utter horror, they started playing spin-the-bottle with an empty plastic bottle. Then people got bored of that since the bottle wouldn't spin right (hello, we're on a moving bus) so they put slips of paper in a hat with people's names on them and you had to kiss that person. Everyone was making out and I felt so sick watching it. And they were daring people to give another person lap dances and such. Gah, even thinking about it now makes me want to hurl. This one boy, Jack, who I've always thought was totally sweet and not "that guy" made out with every girl and sat on every one of their laps. That actually made me sad since Jack's a good friend. They were like humping the seats and UGH. Finally, they moved up a few rows so I lay down on the floor so Elena (who was not part of the game) could sleep on the seats and I could lay beside a heat vent. But I could still hear them talking and that totally did not make me feel any less-sick.



I was so shocked last night, actually. I had no idea that my "friends" or really anyone in the grade was like that. We're fourteen, for Heaven's sake! And they're going around practically having sex on the bus. They have no self-respect. I do not understand how that is rational or acceptable in any culture. And the principal for our grade sat on the bus, listening to what they were saying. Apparently, America is full of sex-craved teenagers with no self-discipline. It makes me absolutely sick. I really don't know if I can ever talk to these people the same way again.

Even thinking about last night makes me want to go take a shower. Does that behavior make sense in any modern society? Or rationally? I can't see how that makes them happy, proud, or comfortable. I get so uncomfortable talking about sex-related things (it almost killed me to write those words, if that fact is any consolation) that I don't get how you can just start Frenching someone because of a game. I'm just an innocent little child, but then again, they should be, too. I'm actually missing Ben since he's the one guy who almost never says anything perverted (despite the fact that all we ever do is argue) and I could never see acting like my friends on the bus last night.

I am going to be a lip-virgin until I am in college, I swear. I'm already going to be a virgin until I'm married, I will never have alcohol in my life, and I will be that crazy cat lady down the street when I'm seventy.

Maybe Brenda and I are the only people who are truly shocked by that behavior, but all I can say now is that I have officially lost any innocence I had left.


~Disgusted