I See No Reason Why Gunpowder, Treason Should Ever Be Forgot

I just read Brenda's post and it got me thinking. She's right. We're born from love, and yetwe are so afraid of it because it makes us weak, vulnerable. All we want is love, and allwe get is apprehension to love. The only way that we can ever truly be happy is if we do not hate, and are not hated. But we should not strive for others' love. People should be able to love you, accept you for who you are. And if our world can't do that, if our society can't do that, then we'll all die. It's as simple as that. What's so scary about three words? I love you. We better embrace those words, because we don't know how much longer we'll be alive to have the opportunity to speak those words. So I wanted to put the fact out there that I love you all. Perhaps I don't know you, but you make up some aspect of my life, and give my life a little more excitement. And for those of you I do know...well, you should know that I love you because only people I'm friendds with read this blog. And even people who don't read this blog, like Millie. I know it seems rediculous, but I only just realized it myself. When I found out months ago about her parents getting a divorce, I was shaken. And I felt sorry for her. And I wished that I could stop it from happening. Don't you only feel that when you care about someone? And who says that you have to know someone, or be friends with them just to care about them? I'm thinking about the line from V For Vendetta: "What I hope most of all is that you understand what I mean when I tell you that though I do not know you and even though I may never meet you, laugh with you, cry with you, or kiss you, I love you. With all my heart, I love you."

Okay, I think I spent a little too long talking about Brenda's post, but I think I got the point across. So today I finally got around to printing out Built On Secrets, which was amilestone for me. It seriously took forty-five minutes to print out, and even longer to punch those stupid little holes in it so I could put it in a binder... The hole-puncher-thing could only do six sheets of paper at a time *twitch*. But what a difference it makes! Nearly every page (and I mean almost every single one; only about ten pages were unmarked) had something to correct on it. Just think of my parents' horror when I have to reprint it all again.... Of course, they don't know I printed this one, so that should make things a little more favorable for me.

Alright, I don't really have much left to write so I'll leave it at that.

Tschüs

This Day Is Not Going Well

Wow, my post yesterday was long.... See that's what happens when I get started on something. And I blame that post for my inability to sleep last night because I was thinking too much. NOTE TO SELF: Do not discuss intellectual matters right before bedtime. It is not conducive to a good night's sleep.

Anyways, back to this post. I'm not sure if I told you all about my little raining-in-the-kitchen discovery. Long story short: leak in the bathroom upstairs created a little (and I use that word lightly) stream of water from a light socket in the kitchen. Today I come downstairs and find a tarp covering most of the living room. Why? More water coming from light sockets. And this time the water's not coming from just one socket. The entire ceiling is dripping wet. We (padre and I) believe there's a problem with the shower drain in my parents' bathroom. This incident has lead me to ponder the design flaws when you put in overhead lighting. See, what happens is that the water runs through the drywall until it finds a hole in said drywall. The only holes in the ceiling are from light fixtures. Now, you'd think that when the electrician puts in the lights that he would cover the top of the fixture (meaning the part that is in the drywall). Nope. I believe it would be in everyone's best interest to put some sort of covering on so that the water cannot drip into the light fixture. Water + Electricity = short-circuiting or electrocution. And on another note, I think it would be beneficial to have some sort of alarm/beeping noise when the drywall does become wet.

You know, I don't have anything good for an excerpt. Sure, I have 26 pages of work to choose from, but none of it's really good to use.

Ah....shhhhhhhhhhit.....oh my God.... I'm watching Criss Angel Mindfreak...."Body Suspension" is the episode. Very few things freak me out, in all honesty. Only paranormal shows scare me. But this! Oh shit. I feel like I'm about to pass out. Shit. I'm even doing that girlish waving-hand-in-front-of-face thing. Okay, the stunt's over. I'm seriously hyperventalating...dizzy...HEADACHE! I've only ever hyperventilated once...and that was when there was a huge spider. And now I feel so dizzy....

That show is not good for me.

Okay, I'll post later. I need to go make sure I'm not going to faint or anything.

The Midnight Train Going Anywhere

I've stared at this blank text box for about ten minutes now, racking my brain for any possible thing to write about. Sad, isn't it, when your life is so boring that all you have to write about it how boring said life is. And then I began to wonder when I last posted an excerpt from my sequel. Being pathetially lazy, as usual, I decided not to check and just post something. But as I am writing this, I realize that I should probably check, forcing me to open a new Internet Explorer browser. Ah, alright. The last thing I posted was from chapter 43; I am currently writing chapter 50. I'll post the excerpt at the end.

So it seems that today my life took a downhill turn. I cut my finger open on a knife and, sadly, did not slice a nerve (...Sarah...). Along with that, I have to read a book on World History. I admit freely that I greatly despise nonfiction, my passion for reading and writing aside. And what's worse, it's the history of the world through drinks. Yes, I get to read about wine, beer, tea, coffee, and soda. The ironic part? It's school-assigned. I'm supposed to read it for AP World History next year. Now don't get me wrong, I love world history. Just as long as I don't have to read a novel about it.

Alright, I wrote the first paragraph of this post at 10 am. It is now 8 pm. The reason is that I started looking for an excerpt then needed to cross-reference something with the first book, so I opened that document. Then I got distracted reading it; I'm about halfway through at the moment. It astounds me how much my writing has changed. Besides that, the first book seems so much lighter. Funnier. More innocent. All the characters are much more serious in the second one. My little children are growing up! *Tear* It's hard for me to recognize how I feel about my writing in the first book. It's pretty good, in my opinion (sorry if I sound ridiculously conceited), but I think I like my recent writing style more. But I suppose the second book is supposed to be more serious. And damn, is it going to be long. I've covered about two weeks of Kia's life so far and there's one week left. Or six and a half days, to be exact. Right now the page count is at 142 pages, just five pages short of the first one. And there lies another oddity: though the second one is only five pages shorter (as of now) than the first, it's nearly five thousand words less. The first one has 42,891 words, and the second only 37,007. Strange. So I suppose I've done two-thirds of the sequel. That means I have half of what I've already done to do. Half of 142 is...seventy-one. 142 plus seventy-one is...213. And if you add a few pages for an epic ending...215-220 pages. Dear God. And the third one is going to definitely be longer. Am I looking at a three-hundred page ordeal for the final book? Lord knows I might have shot myself in the head by then.... And how am I going to manage this all when school starts?

I'll be taking all honors classes, which guarantees several hours of homework each night. Not only that, but we have a year-long research project for biology. Lord knows English will be as easy as it's always been for me (except when some teachers decide my essays are too long....), and I've never had a problem with History/Civics. Biology (nix the research project) will be simple enough since I love science. And then we have Geometry. I hate math; I always have. I'm not very good at it (just taking a different grade-level of it), and it doesn't seem to like me. I nearly failed 6th grade math, although I blame it on a totally different curriculum and a horrible teacher. Seventh grade math was perhaps the easiest class I've ever taken since it was so simple it could have reduced me to tears. And then last year.... I had an amazing teacher, but still managed to get mostly B's all year. I did end up with a 4.0 in the end, but only because of my final exam. If you look at my report card it goes: A, B+, B, B+, and then the final exam was an A. Thank God that my average first quarter was a 98 or I never would have made it. So I ended up with an A. But enough about that.

That's why I have to at least semi-secure an agent before the summer ends in September (all you starting-school-in-August-people fail epically). If I don't, I'll be absolutely swamped. my writing will trickle to a slow halt around October, before starting back up again at Thanksgiving. I'll have to put away my storytelling until midterms are over, but during winter break I can revitalize my writing. After that is a myriad of three-day weekends, then the inevitable trip to Cancun. Before I know it it'll be spring break and I hope to go somewhere. Whether it be on a school trip (probably France since I'm taking French, although I wonder if I could go to Germany if the German department does a trip there) or with my family (New York, please!) is yet to be decided. And then it'll be my birthday, which will lead into final exam season at school where the life will be sucked out of me by studying for Geometry. Finally I'll finish all the tests, and I won't give a damn about the score because I'll be happy it's over. Then the week-long movie marathon in classes starts. Before I know it, it'll be the last day of school and Susannah will be crying of course, and she'll make me cry like last time. The next day I'll be sitting at home, lounging around being my old boring self. Two weeks later I'll be off to camp and get to escape Virginia. I'll see everyone again, and I'll be an LIT so it'll be even more enjoyable. I'll get to see Annah, and Hollis, and Sarah, and JR, and Papi, and Mommy.... And then, three weeks later, it'll end. I'll fly back home with Sarah. And a year from today, I would have only recently dropped Sarah at the airport so she could fly back down to Alabama. Who knows: perhaps I'll be writing a blog post a year from now. Maybe I'll be a published author. Maybe I'll have a boyfriend. Who knows? Who knows what the future's going to bring?

Gosh, that did spiral into something. I suppose what the point of that evolved into was that time goes by so quickly. Time is a curious thing, after all. It absolutely fascinates me. If you're ever in a horrid situation, I'll probably something along the lines of: "Just think: in no time at all you'll be lying in bed, waiting to fall asleep. And this'll all be over." Most people don't truly understand that. What I think I mean is that time goes by so fast. And there's always something to look forward to. Because you won't be stuck in one moment forever. (I won't even start on what just came to mind because I fear this blog will explode from too much content.) It must sound horribly cliché to say this, but: things will get better. If you wait it out, it'll be okay. And by wait it out, I do not, by any means, mean to sit back and watch it happen. Change comes to those who instigate change. If there's something wrong in your life, only you can change it. The future isn't set in stone, and you can't take back things that have already happened. Time's a tricky fellow, if nothing else. He gives nothing back and gives no hints as to the future. Forgiveness is the only key to changing the past, and then you are only changing your feelings about an incident. And the only gateway to the future is planning. Even then, you don't know for certain. But time will pass, and soon the present will be what you used to know as "the future." And the present will become the past. I doubt that there should really be anything called "the present." Because even when you finish the word "present", that word has already become the past, and it is already describing what you though of as "the future." So how do you make the most of your time? You become perfect in your own eyes. Yours. No one else's. Be the person who you truly want to be, or I fear that time will envelop you and you will be naught but a memory to those of us in the future. Care about not what people think, but about what you think. Learn to think as a single entity, rather than in a group. Personalize your opinions and ideas. Do not apply general labels to your beliefs. I say that I am a Christian, but that I do not agree with everything in the Bible. Does that make me not a Christian? If someone belittles you, stand up for yourself. And if some belittles someone else who is not strong enough to stand up for themselves, stand up for them.

I feel almost hypocritical. Seeing as a year ago, I was on the brink of suicide. Now I sound like a brochure for a fucking self-empowerment seminar. Anyways, I think I should just publish this post now since Internet Explorer just crashed as I was writing this.

I’ll post an excerpt tomorrow, I promise. It just seems that this post has become a bit too long for it to be an acceptable length.

Ciao

Sleeping With Band Dudes Doesn't Make You Famous

So I finally found the Song of the Lioness series...it's a bit low of a reading level for me seeing as how I read it in the fifth grade, but these books are amazing. And, of course, the fact that the main character's name is Alanna doesn't hurt. I started reading the series last night and am now in the third book. I had forgotten that this was the book where she finally gets with George! (No one make any witty cracks about me and another person named George....) I'd also forgotten how funny Faithful is (although Alanna's style of naming things is not very creative - Moonlight the white-and-gold horse, Faithful the cat who follows her around, and Lightning the sword which she found before a horrid storm). For instance, Alanna starts crying about something and Faithful says, "Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You provoked him to say such things. If you weren't so proud and kept arguing, he might not have brought up your unfeminine-ness."

Anyways, I'm totally dreading the trip to Wisconsin. I'm hoping to work on getting an agent while there, but still need to print out the samples. My parents are going to be so angry about that: it's over a hundred pages worth of stuff. Considering that two of the agents require the first 50 pages.... And then there's the query, synopsis, and all that other crap. Well whoop-dee-doo, I get to spend my summer killing trees!

I suppose I should talk about camp at some point; I'll write about a few people today. But stories will come later. First off, I got to see SARAH again, which made me very happy. I've been friends with her for about six years now and is probably the person that I've known the longest whom I still keep in touch with/ see on a semi-regular basis. Second, Hollis was there again this year and was in my cabin both weeks. I met her last year and she's really awesome, though I, admittedly, do not enjoy her perverted jokes to their full extent. Julianne was also there this year, though as an LIT. For those who do not know, she was one of the amazing pioneers last year. Hm...who else? Dawson was there, and I actually got to spend time with her this year. However, her boyfriend was also there every waking second of the day. It's not that I don't like Taylor, necessarily. I'm not sure whether I do or not. It is true that the first week I was there, I would have been happy to shoot him with a very dull arrow (making the death more painful). Second week I did not think as badly of him, and I even got to put eyeliner on him over the weekend. Part of the reason that I didn't like him the first week was because we (Pioneers) got many updates about him from Lucas. What can I say about Lucas? He's absolutely hilarious, was the only guy in our pioneering group, and probably had ODD (from what I've observed). For those who are unaware of that particular disorder, google it. Then I suppose there's Summer (Hollis's friend, not the counselor). She's really awesome and a lot like me, actually. Honestly, I felt almost motherly towards her and Dawson while at camp. I kept complaining about Dawson being too young to have a boyfriend (she's twelve!) and to be kissing said boyfriend. And then there was Kyle with Summer. At first, it was me that Kyle stalked. But after glaring at him under heavily made-up eyelids, and threatening to kick his ass if he touched me, he soon left me alone. Summer, however, was different. She's far more good-natured than I, and more soft-spoken. So when Kyle grabbed her ass, she did nothing. I, however, was on the verge of smashing his head into something. Literally. Hollis and I had to stand outside for several minutes before going back inside. I kicked things while outside to get my anger out. But that's enough about Kyle. I suppose I'll have a whole other post about him and his creepery-ness. Who am I forgetting? Well there's the camp family, fo sho. And mommies and daddies.... Daddies: Justin and Thomas. Mommies: Caroline, Madison, Kelley, and Will. And don't forget Grammy Jacobie. More about the family later. Ah, and JR. He was an LIT this year, so I didn't really meet him until the weekend between camp sessions. How can I talk about him without having Sarah point out all sorts of wonderful things? He's really cool, nice, wants to join the Marines when he's older (not so cool), really funny, and totally fails at comebacks. Ha ha. Fail. Um...he got yelled at several times by Sarah and Jacey (LOL) for "flirting" with me.

Alright, I think I've posted enough for one night. Any more and I'll probably be sucked into the blogosphere and never come back.

Crazy

Splatter-painting has to be the best therapy in the world. Just enclose yourself in a room with the ceiling, floor, and windows covered. Just grab a few buckets of paint, paint brushes, and turn up the music until it feels like the sound waves are pulsing through your body. I originally not intending on doing so much paint, but I got really into it and it looks cool. I'm going to paint the rest of the room the same grey as the base color, but gradually move to no splatter at all.

___________

I I

I I
I I

I..... I
I::::::: ______I

I:::::::I

So that's basically the shape of my room. The three italicized I's on the left are windows, and the one on the right is the door. I paited the alcove today (dotted area), which is about four-by-six feet. I'm going to lightly splatter the red parts, using less paint as it nears the back wall (blue). The last wall will have a little splattering along the edges, but only some in the midddle.

Standing On Stage Doesn't Make You Cool

I am seriously getting annoyed with SafeEyes (filter program). I can't get on my new facebook, I can't get on buzznet, I can't watch videos from bands I like, I can't listen to any new singles from said bands, and I can't use the computer past 10 pm. Anyways, enough about that. I'm ver excited: I get to redo my room over this week and next week. I've already got a loveseat for the alcove (it's a freakishly big alcove), a new bookcase (since my old one's broken), a bedside table (never had one before), and paint. I'm doing a base color of a light grey, then splatter-painting over it with red, purple, green, and blue. Now all I really have to change is the color of my bed, get rid of my dresser since I don't actually use it, and repaint two of my mirrors. The reapainting-the-bed thing is going to be difficult. I'm trying to transition to all black wood, and my bed is white and brown. My parents have been saying that we'll redo my room for the past year or so, but nothing's been done. So this is, obviously, a huge step forward.



It's amazing how much I missed while I was at camp. Three couples within my group of friends broke up, my mom seriously injured herself, and my grandmother was hospitalized. Honestly, the only person I've known that has died was a girl whom I never met and one i was not related to. If my grandmother dies I'll probably go into shock.



I'm watching Benny & Joon again. Gosh, what a phenomenal movie. Johnny Depp is perfect in it as always. Both acting-wise and looks-wise.

I guess I'll post some interesting camp stories later.... After all, the Little Mermaid is a ho.

If We Could All Be Brave

I suppose there are endless ways I could start this blog post, and even more things to write about. Since I only just returned from camp, I suppose I have many-a-story to tell. But I am going to talk about something that happened to me at the last possible moment before I was truly reunited with Virginia. Yes, this story takes place while I was sitting aboard my plane, after we had finished taxiing into the gate. See, riding underneath me, in the cargo area, was a casket of a fallen soldier. I was seated just above the opening to the cargo hold, directly over the hatch. I was to sit there until the rest of the passengers got off, since I was flying unaccompanied. I watched as they lined up the conveyor belt and as the colorguardsmen and the family walked out on the tarmac. The colorguardsmen stood at attention, their faces impassive. A few minutes later, the soldiers raised their rights hands in a silent salute as the casket was unloaded. The family cried. Most of the passengers who had not yet unboarded cried. Even I cried. For although I could not hear them, or see them clearly, and though I never knew the man who died. I felt as if Cyril was my brother, and my father, and my friend. As if he was a part of me. And, for the second time in my life, I felt like I had a responsibility to fight. Recently, I told Sarah somthing I don't believe I've ever mentioned to anyone before: I do not want to die a quiet death. I do not want to die in my sleep as an old woman. That would be my second choice. I would prefer to die fighting. Whether it be for my rights, for my country, for my family, or for my friends, I would like to die a noble death. A hero's death. Perhaps that is a forgotten desire. Perhaps it should be kept in the time of knights, princesses, and poor hygiene. Now, I am aware that I have said many-a-time that the military has destroyed my life. And for the most part, I do not have happy feelings for it. But while they were honoring that fallen soldier, I wanted to be a part of it. I considered it. That it something I have only done once before in my life, and it was not done so lightly. The first time was after Tom joined the Coast Guard. Funny that seeing a fallen soldier should make me want to be a soldier. I do not think I will be joining the military. I may never have any ties to the military outside my family and friends.

But before I stepped off that plane, I raised my right hand in a small salute to a man who died heroically.

Let The Memories Never Die

Am I annoying everyone by posting so much? I mean, it is the third time today. Just realize that I do this for me and not for you. Actually, this post will probably not be understood by everyone but Sarah. And maybe people who've read essays I've written. But today I was thinking a lot about camp, especially about my first week last year. Let me start off by saying that it was probably the best week of my life. Of course there have been days better than those individual days, but as a week it was simply amazing. No other week has been subject to so many essays. I even used one of the days as my essay for an exam. Of course, I nearly failed one of those other essays. (The teacher said it was "too long" after saying there was no limit to the number of pages. So it reflected neither the subject nor the actual writing. Fifteen pages isn't that long anyways.)

Okay, back to the purpose of the post. I was just remembering those quirky little moments at camp that seem insignificant, but make me laugh when I remember them.

~Memory one: when Evan threw that plastic thing into the fire and Richie started yelling at the top of his lungs that we were all going to die because burning plastic gives off toxic fumes (it does).
~Memory two: Richie as a girl. And also how horrible our skit was because we had like ten minutes to think of an idea and sort-of practice it.
~Memory three: Playing in the lake really late at night when we were at the island. Andrew kept jumping off the boat and practically landing on me. And Hollis's little problem....
~Memory four: sitting with Julianne during skeet shooting because we both didn't want to. I don't remember why she wouldn't, but I didn't want to because of my childhood nightmares of my dad dying in war. And Andrew let me wear his hat (a major triumph).
~Memory five: ART MASON, THE COOSA RIVER GOD!
~Memory six: the wicked water slides at the Y. And there was no one there so we just got to run back to the top. We ate sooo much candy that day.
~Memory seven: playing Signs every waking second of the day. I swear I can never play that game again because it just isn't the same without everyone.
~Memory eight: mud fight with Matt, Richie, and Andrew right after we had showered. I think it was only Julianne and me against them.
~Memory nine: that God-awful storm when we were driving back to camp. The stable area looked like a lake!
~Memory ten: all the LIT's. They were so funny. "FAIL! FAIL! WINNER! WINNER!" And them wearing gowns and stuff. Or was that the second week?
~Memory eleven: singing "I'm Yours" so much. That was before it was way popular.
~Memory twelve: getting our own shower house! That was absolutely amazing.
~Memory thirteen: having to stand on Richie's back so I could get through that top hole in the spider web. And everyone grabbed me on the other side. Scary as hell!
~Random memory that didn't happen that week but is still pertinent: Yelling "I MISS RICHIE!" the second week. Haha. I still miss him.

God, I need to stop thinking about that week. Because if I do, I'll probably be really depressed this week when it can't even compete with that week's awesomeness.

On a side note, I have totally misplaced my Tokio Hotel DVD. No idea where it disapeared to....

Alright, happy 4th of July, everyone! After I write the title on this blog post, you won't hear another word from me for the next two and a half weeks.

Make Sure It Actually Exists

Hello again. I finished packing about an hour ago and had nothing to do. So I did this:

You probably have to click "view image" to actually read what it says. I tell you, that was painstaking. I could not, for the life of me, find the font that Google used so I had to copy-paste letters on there. Not fun. In addition, I had to go and delete all the stuff on it that dealt with my personal information (email, bookmarks, etc.). Anyways, I saw something sort of like this on photobucket ("sort of" being the crucial phrase here; I don't want to be stealing someone else's idea) a while back. Either way, I'm proud of it (not really: it's just a thing I did to procrastinate eating lunch). Now I should probably go downstairs and get said meal before I pass out from lack of protein. PEANUT BUTTER SANDWICH, HERE I COME!

NOTE: I hate peanut butter and jelly sandwicches so I only have peanut butter ones.

I'm going to guess that I'll post later out of a lack of better things to do.

EDIT: Damn it, the picture won't get any bigger on the blog >:( Sorry people....

EDIT 2: YES I GOT IT TO WORK!

Anniversary

Today is my last day at home for a few weeks since tomorrow I leave for camp. Truthfully, I haven't even touched a suitcase or made a move to get anything organized for said suitcase. Sometimes my apathy amazes me. Anyways, yesterday we had the windows on the top floor of our house replaced so I was forced downstairs for a couple hours. It actually got me back to writing my sequel, which was nice because I haven't been writing lately.

So, today is the Whateverth anniversary of America being a nation and bla bla bla. I don't really care about that. It's the sixth anniversary of me living in America and the third anniversary of me living in Virginia. Yes, I moved on the fourth of July. Six years ago, I didn't even get to celebrate it. And three years ago there was a huge thunderstorm (we were living in Fort Belvoir at the time, by the way). So you can just tell that I love the fourth of July.

I think this will be my last blog post for a few weeks unless I post later today. I bid you adieu with a picture of a pretty flower that I took!

Not A Clue

I have no idea what that last post was supposed to be about.

Eye Of The Eagle

I can't wait for camp for a variety of reasons. The oddest one being: my hair will get considerably lighter. I hate my hair during the three seasons other than summer. It gets to be this dark blonde color; not brown, not blonde. It's so annoying. Being bleach-blonde is so much nicer. However, I am slightly afraid that since I'm not going to be able to wear eyeliner at camp (sob), that people will mistake me for some preppy girl. Layered blonde hair, blue eyes, suntan (sadly). Yeah, pretty much the typical preppy girl. Gr.

But enough about my hair. I'm watching Eagle Eye, the second-to-last movie I saw in theaters. We finally got it on DVD. I must say, it's a great movie; absolutely fantastic. Eee I'm nearly at my favorite part (when Jerry stands up and shoots during the State of the Union Address)!

Oh, also, Brenda showed me this AMAZING band today. They're called Black Veil Brides, and their lead singer is gorgeous! Gah, I feel like such a girl.... I'll post a picture of him just to make me (I don't care about you) happy.

Ah, almost at my favorite part! Jerry's attacking the policeman now....

Anyways, the guy's name is Andy Sixx. He's sooo cool! Their music is also really amazing; I think they're going to be really famous some day.

ALMOST THERE! The suspense is killing me (ha).... I'm so twitchy now. Yay! There we go! And no, I don't like it because Shia gets shot (though it's a little funny when he falls off the desk). It's just so powerful.... And there I go, about to start on my little patriotism spiel.





ANDY SIXX:





*bursts out in girlish giggles*