In Virginia Wolf’s To The Light House, which I didn’t really care for, was a character named Mr. Ramsey. He infuriated me more than any of the other characters. Though there was one thing about him that fascinated me. He had this idea that the average man only reached a certain point which he called K, (meaning a certain level of intelligence, success, wisdom, wealth etc.) but he was feeling like if a man could even just surpass Q it would be an accomplishment. Mr. Ramsey wanted desperately to get to R though. (why R we don’t know why..) but at this point in the book I was finally paying attention… Mr. Ramsey wanted to be a “better” man. Better in his eyes was probably a man who was more successful in work, made more money than the majority, had a perfect relationship with his wife, had a wife who took perfect care of the children (of whom he did not wish to deal with). I didn’t think much of this while reading it since I was barely 14 and rather confused about everything at the time… looking back on it though, I notice it is very relevant in many people lives. Although they don’t specifically say; “If only I were to get to R…” and ponder the predicament that they were involved in and how to maneuver out of it in order to get what they want. Most people just say “I want to get a good job and get by.” or some aspire higher and say: “I dream of becoming the CEO of Microsoft.” or “I want to be the new Justin.” or “I want to be President.” (That in some people’s book would be getting to Z) People don’t give it a letter, they say the place they fantasize about.)
I havent read this book since 9th grade, 4 ish years ago but I remembered it reading my Writing Fiction: A Guide to Narrative Craft 7th Edition book by Janet Burroway and Elizabeth Stuck-French. (Mr.Teacher is very amused at the last name of Elizabeth and her husband who helped write the 8th edition for some odd reason. I don’t find it too amusing, more silly and stupid. The whole “Stucky-French” thing is simply a combination of the couple last names which are both generic and ridiculous, sorry to be obnoxious…#sorrynotsorry) It was in the chapter about crafting your words in a sentence to find detail but not to tell, but to show the detail of characters with their surroundings and such. It was probably my favorite part of the reading so far since we finally got to something interesting instead of just reteaching ourselves discipline. Which as you all can identify and testify that I have done by keeping up my blog for this long…. it is insane I must admit having this much commitment to a thing.
…..I have just had an epiphany about why I can’t commit in relationships. I am much too committed to my arts and expressions than to give any emotional and physical time to one person for the rest of my high school experience, which surprisingly is not turning out too horridly. (stress of the “not too”.)
Away from those things… I hope I get to T. Because T is much better than R. R is silly compared to the majestic T. X would be a miracle.
Just you wait T. Just you wait.
Eh. Blah. Gah. Ickh. Mehh. Err. Mhhm. Argh. These are words that are not actually words. And depending on the tone of voice, person, and activity they change meanings. I do not believe all of them are acronyms, “Blah” and “Ickh” maybe. All though, Gah, Ickh, Meh, Mhhm, and Argh are, according to this website, misspelled.
In the past 2 days, I’ve read almost all Twilight aloud, and about half of Eclipse. I know that’s out-of-order. Ali was sitting behind me, reading New Moon. She is very engrossed even without her contacts that were dumped down the drain.
Most the time, I have a lot to say about something interesting to the general populace of humans. Right now, I have nothing particularly interesting to the third-party of the internet. Tomorrow is New Years Eve, and I am throwing a party for the weirdo’s like me. Usually weirdos that are not like me do not attend even though invited, this is not an insult, this is probably a compliment considering how strange I seriously am.
Mr. Teacher was a good and did not give us paper homework, he gave us mental, which I can handle. Dr. Teacher was nice also, and gave me leeway for some incomplete things. THANK YOU!
Two days ago, I think it was, I was on Facebook perusing the news feed, when I saw a post from the super star I subscribed too. He wrote, “How many people cried to this song?” and under was a link to one of his band’s songs “Sing”. I commented below, “I cried while singing.” I wasn’t expecting him to actually respond, he did though. After a small comment conversation, I posted on his wall, and then made my status say I was talking to him, and we talked for some time…
Frank Iero, you are amazing, a true artist, and you inspire me.
Though, my conversation was trivial, and virtual, I really enjoyed it. My mother thinks I’m crazy, but sing my nick name literally means “Crazy but likable” I know I chose right to name myself that…
Today was the last day of New Hope Tutorials, and Mr. Teacher is going to read my short story about Arachibutyrophobia in the next few days. (And I spelled that with out googling it, and google can be both a verb and a noun, says Mr. Teacher.)
Merry Christmas Readers! And Happy New Year!
My Chemical Romance, no matter how much that proves that they are ingenious musicians, there is no way to disprove that they are obsessed with death and destruction of everything breathing…. But, I still love them just as much. Even though they are psychotic, but who do you think is writing? I am definitely not all right. “I’m not okay, (I promise)” Best MCR song EVER!
So its been 12 days since I wrote that. I’m slacking in my commitment to this blog. Majorly slacking.
In the past hour, and few days, I’ve been very…well pissed off about my schools regulations on “proper forms of affection”. I do not think that being a couple, or love struck teenager, is a sin that could damn me and my signficant other to hell. I believe the opposite. That, when in love, though there be restrictions according my beliefs, those are over come by marriage which is the union of goodness. Not damnation. This is risky for me to write, since one of my teachers has knowledge of this site. But, there is such thing as speaking one’s mind without being rude, but I am not well versed in that. Too bad.
My interest in Zombies, is declining with a sad and ungrateful noise. And my love for Aliens is now that I have become one in many ways to my peers.
Snitches. I call them snitches even though that probably isn’t the correct term for someone who complains of being uncomfortable around the hidden hormones of their friends, when really it is their own hormones they are uncomfortable with. The power of hormones is unstoppable, the public school is still trying to hide this despite of it’s blatantly obviousness in their halls.
My fashion sence has disappeared with the rules that constrict me. I am now submitting to the sad place where fashion becomes knife earings.
I wanted her to have her own post. She is special ya know?
Went to Youth Group, but Shaina was going too come with, but she didn’t. Sadness. Ali and I, (Ali is an almost 16 year-old friend of mine, I’ve known since I was 4, she attends Youth group) we were squealing and jumping and admiring hair, and laughing about my purple, blue and green high-heeled shoes that I decided to gallavant in.
I just read Shaina’s blog on Tumblr. It was really interesting. I think I just looked inside her brain, truly, peering at her insides, watching as they moved and pulsed. Okay, sorry reader that was a little, ah, very repulsive. Sorry, I’m try not to do it again.
I wonder if I have any interesting thought….AH HA! I’m getting one of my poems published! I showed it to Mr. Teacher yesterday because he requested I bring it to class. I read it aloud and every was speechless. I believe it was because it was amazing because they were very astonished in a good way, Mr. Teacher included largely.
I had another Zombie dream. I just cant remember what happened sadly. Sorry to leave you hanging there. Make something up for me and post it in the comments. That’d be fun! Maybe the one I like most, the person that posted gets to ask me a question! Yeah its a competition then! Compete away!
Now, on too another friend of mine, they think I have gorgeous knees. I’m not sure what I think about that yet, other than hilarious. That boy child, I call him my player, or boy toy usually, because he’s so suave…kinda silly. I would never date him in a million years, he’s just…..that boy/child/player/boy-toy over there in that not so lonely corner.
Someone very important to me sent me a text with a ” ❤ ” in it. I squealed like a little girl. Feeling like a very….ah put in simple words immature and retarded. What a dumb thing to be excited about. I a teenager with a large future, and all I can think about it that little text message, just made my day, and my gossip girl partay!!
Well, aside from being a spaz… I think I accomplished school well. Boring….
This title actually for once has to do with my topic of blog. I went to this meeting for my school thingy, and I disagreed with a lot of the things they were discussing. I felt that Mr. Teacher was subtly defending me even though I didn’t speak up for myself. Mrs. Administrator was speaking, and she just got that sound in her voice that every kid I know despises. That soft tone, that even if you try to raise your voice to it, you wont be able to. impenetrable like the evil demon skin I was talking about earlier. I felt like emailing him and telling him, “Thanks for defending me on the modesty thing, because if I had spoken for myself, I think I would have bit her head off!” I was extremely conscious of the way she was hinting in her speech that many of her modesty rules probably were based off of judgments or complaints for what I wear. I wonder how many of those there are? What if the entire school gets all their feathers ruffled because of me? (laughs extremely hard) That would be the best day of my life.
I forgot how much I like getting a rise out of people. Especially Christian people who think I’m “blasphemous”.
A small thing that makes me think better of my frustrations: “Dear Lord…” Giles said taking his glasses with practiced grace from his bent nose and cleaning them with a handkerchief flipped out of his front vest pocket and wiping them meticulously.
I love Anthony Head that plays Rupert Giles in Buffy! Best surprised and disappointed lines ever. Joss Whedon must have really enjoyed writing the script for him..