I decided to post again, today, because I just have so much to say. Well, kind of.
So Ryan's new favorite word is "derp." I'm not sure why. He's said it like 83 times today. 84. 85. He just said it twice. It's his new replacement word for swear words and other stupid stuff. So dumb. It's cute though.
Today was (I believe) our last color guard day this year, and our captain's last day altogether. We will miss her. Bunches. I only have one year left after this. I hope that my future college has a good color guard program. If I go to college. I'm thinking about applying to Columbus in Chicago, majoring in performing arts and whatnot.
We only recently got T.V. (dish, I think) and I'm already tired of it. I never really liked T.V. but now it's just old. I can't just sit and watch something for hours like my fat little sister or football-obsessive brother. The only things I use it for are Dexter, House, Durarara, and I record those to watch when I'm not tired. I record Thundercats for the boyfriend, and that's about it.
I am addicted to caffeine. Is that healthy? My mom got me a mini fridge sometime over the summer (I think after I got back from Cali?) and it's usually full of soda. Soda is the reason I got the fridge. If I go too long without soda, I go through withdrawals. Yeah, I'd say that's unhealthy. At least I'm not a crack or coke addict. I'm perfectly healthy otherwise.
Ryan is laying on the bed in a tank top playing Runescape. The good: his tank shows off his muscly-muscles. The bad: He's playing Runescape. Runescape? Why? Gross! If I wanted to play something stupid I would play WoW. Or Aion. They go hand-in-hand. I just quit Lineage 2 because of that stupid Goddess of Destruction update (reset my skills? I don't think so) and am still playing Guild Wars after 6 or 7 years. (Can't wait for Guild Wars 2!)
I figure I'll play Guild Wars and/or WoW until Skyrim and GW2, or even that new Star Wars game.
Monday, November 7, 2011
I don't smile in pictures
People have actually asked what's up with my post titles. The answer: nothing, I type in there the first thing that comes to my mind besides song lyrics (because I always have something stuck in my head, usually Phantom.) Hey, look... Parentheses!
I love parentheses, although I tend to use them more often than not. It's because I'm just ninja like that.
Today I have a band concert. Now, normally I play trumpet for band, but since it's still pep band I'm in color guard. (color guard is amazing. I wish we had winter guard. When this season's over I'm going to cry. Also, if anyone wants to go, it's in the Sam Young gym at 7).
During creative writing today (yet, another English class. We started a new quarter, for those readers who don't attend my school, and creative writing is a class) I got finished with some of chapter four. No, this does not mean I was slacking. I worked on it at the end of class, and also at the end of first block. For some odd reason I have computer apps 1. This class is pointless to my skills. It's just like taking keyboarding, only they call it "advanced". I type at 97+ WPM... That's with the speedskin. The name "speedskin" is kind of ironic. Why? Because the stupid thing always presses more than one button at a time, and moves. How fast do we have to type in order to get it off? 50 WPM. I feel like the teacher should know by now that I can get everything done within the first five minutes of class.
WOW! I got off topic. I was going to go on to say that I don't have anything super great to share from the story, but it is okay:
"Amoetta motioned towards a harp, which wasn't there before. It was a pretty silver, with details of flowers and vines along the sides. As Gwen stepped towards it, she felt a force of magic coming off it. She caressed the details softly and slowly, moving her fingers delicately over each side. The strings hummed gorgeously when she touched them."
That's straight out of the written version. That part I already have typed on Ryan's laptop, so it may be a little different when I actually (MAYBE) publish it. I am still considering making it a novel, yes. I have also thought about handing it to my creative writing teacher for a bit so he could give me suggestions, but I thought it too inappropriate (with swearing and whatnot) for school, really. I feel bad, not being able to name my teachers. I think I'll just call him Mr. Flannel, from now on, since I don't know if he's okay with me putting his last name up here. I do have some Russian viewers. (yes, I see your stats).
SPOILER ALERT:
I know, I come up with some weird names. Here's the list: Gwenith, Alister, Agathe, Katsa Jade, Amoetta. Gwen's mom is Sarah Slate, her stepdad is Mike. Some of these are based off of real people, and inspired by my life very much so. (My name is Sarah, my ex is Mike, except Gwen and Alister's relationship is based off of my relationship.) Maybe I said too much?
END OF SPOILER.
Despite alot of the mistakes I make on this blog, I can honestly say I am a spelling and grammar Nazi. The only reason I don't care when I'm typing informally like this is because, well... It's a blog. It's like a journal to me, I don't care how it looks.
For one of my assignments I was told to write a "life story"... We might as well call it an autobiography. Which we do at least once a year. Here you go, Mr. Flannel:
I was born in Springfield, Missouri. Yeah, I know, the "hillbilly" state. I was only there for a little bit of preschool. The only things I remember are a green house with a nice old lady, and playing follow-the-leader in the courtyard of the school building. I remember these with my partial photographic memory.
We moved to Brady, Texas. I'm not sure why we moved, but we did. From my house there, I would walk to my grandparents' house a lot. My dad was a truck driver, and would be gone a lot, and at the time worked for J.B. Hunt. The only thing I remember from that house are an empty back room, making nachos and tea in the microwave, and getting my cat, Kiwi.
After that, we ended up in Stephenville, Texas, where we owned a beautiful yellow house. We lived there for nine years. I started out in a private kindergarten (yeah, they have those) and went on to public school. For the longest while I was forced to go to church. I never saw the point of it. I feel I have always known that wasn't the right path for me. In the Texas schools, I was never picked on. I was an A-B honor roll student, and an advanced trumpet player. When I was halfway through sixth grade, we moved, right after a band concert.
We came to Black River Falls, Wisconsin. The reason we moved here was a mixture of some things. One was money. This economy sucks. Another was because we had just adopted Jenny, and did not want to be in eyesight of her grandparents. When we got here, my grades went down. I found the homework pointless, the ways the teachers taught were horrible. My learning style was/is much different than that of most of the students here. By the time I hit seventh grade, I was the most outcast person in the middle school. Why? I don't know. I actually dared to ask someone why they treated me so horrible.
"Because... the way you look," he said. I looked down, but didn't find anything wrong with it. I'll say this now, I'm sorry if the way I dress offends you. It's none of your business, only mine. I don't have a problem with it, neither should you.
I went into 7th grade and barely passed all of my classes. By the end of eighth grade I failed all of them.
When I got into high school my wardrobe changed dramatically (and my friends hated it). But I think it was for the better. I stopped getting picked on. My grades went up. I got involved in choir and band again, got into color guard, made friends. Life is going good for me now. I am of the opinion that I have too many talents. What use could I have for any more?
Sometimes people are still nasty to me, but just think. Someday, my signature will be worth something, and they'll be the jealous ones.
Last night we had our typical cast party for You Have the Right to Remain Dead at Rozario's. I was singing "Wishing you were somehow here again" out of boredom, and my director calls my name from the other table, and tells me to sing louder. It boosted my self esteem. Not that I don't know I'm a good singer. I just like compliments. A lot. No, this does not mean I'll sing for you. Only if you're special. (evil laugh). Sometimes I'll tell people I'm not a good singer, but this is really my way of fishing for compliments, even though half the time it doesn't work. Women. We do it. All. The. Time.
This has got to be my longest blog post. I had some other things to say, but I forgot, so I'll just leave it at that.
I love parentheses, although I tend to use them more often than not. It's because I'm just ninja like that.
Today I have a band concert. Now, normally I play trumpet for band, but since it's still pep band I'm in color guard. (color guard is amazing. I wish we had winter guard. When this season's over I'm going to cry. Also, if anyone wants to go, it's in the Sam Young gym at 7).
During creative writing today (yet, another English class. We started a new quarter, for those readers who don't attend my school, and creative writing is a class) I got finished with some of chapter four. No, this does not mean I was slacking. I worked on it at the end of class, and also at the end of first block. For some odd reason I have computer apps 1. This class is pointless to my skills. It's just like taking keyboarding, only they call it "advanced". I type at 97+ WPM... That's with the speedskin. The name "speedskin" is kind of ironic. Why? Because the stupid thing always presses more than one button at a time, and moves. How fast do we have to type in order to get it off? 50 WPM. I feel like the teacher should know by now that I can get everything done within the first five minutes of class.
WOW! I got off topic. I was going to go on to say that I don't have anything super great to share from the story, but it is okay:
"Amoetta motioned towards a harp, which wasn't there before. It was a pretty silver, with details of flowers and vines along the sides. As Gwen stepped towards it, she felt a force of magic coming off it. She caressed the details softly and slowly, moving her fingers delicately over each side. The strings hummed gorgeously when she touched them."
That's straight out of the written version. That part I already have typed on Ryan's laptop, so it may be a little different when I actually (MAYBE) publish it. I am still considering making it a novel, yes. I have also thought about handing it to my creative writing teacher for a bit so he could give me suggestions, but I thought it too inappropriate (with swearing and whatnot) for school, really. I feel bad, not being able to name my teachers. I think I'll just call him Mr. Flannel, from now on, since I don't know if he's okay with me putting his last name up here. I do have some Russian viewers. (yes, I see your stats).
SPOILER ALERT:
I know, I come up with some weird names. Here's the list: Gwenith, Alister, Agathe, Katsa Jade, Amoetta. Gwen's mom is Sarah Slate, her stepdad is Mike. Some of these are based off of real people, and inspired by my life very much so. (My name is Sarah, my ex is Mike, except Gwen and Alister's relationship is based off of my relationship.) Maybe I said too much?
END OF SPOILER.
Despite alot of the mistakes I make on this blog, I can honestly say I am a spelling and grammar Nazi. The only reason I don't care when I'm typing informally like this is because, well... It's a blog. It's like a journal to me, I don't care how it looks.
For one of my assignments I was told to write a "life story"... We might as well call it an autobiography. Which we do at least once a year. Here you go, Mr. Flannel:
I was born in Springfield, Missouri. Yeah, I know, the "hillbilly" state. I was only there for a little bit of preschool. The only things I remember are a green house with a nice old lady, and playing follow-the-leader in the courtyard of the school building. I remember these with my partial photographic memory.
We moved to Brady, Texas. I'm not sure why we moved, but we did. From my house there, I would walk to my grandparents' house a lot. My dad was a truck driver, and would be gone a lot, and at the time worked for J.B. Hunt. The only thing I remember from that house are an empty back room, making nachos and tea in the microwave, and getting my cat, Kiwi.
After that, we ended up in Stephenville, Texas, where we owned a beautiful yellow house. We lived there for nine years. I started out in a private kindergarten (yeah, they have those) and went on to public school. For the longest while I was forced to go to church. I never saw the point of it. I feel I have always known that wasn't the right path for me. In the Texas schools, I was never picked on. I was an A-B honor roll student, and an advanced trumpet player. When I was halfway through sixth grade, we moved, right after a band concert.
We came to Black River Falls, Wisconsin. The reason we moved here was a mixture of some things. One was money. This economy sucks. Another was because we had just adopted Jenny, and did not want to be in eyesight of her grandparents. When we got here, my grades went down. I found the homework pointless, the ways the teachers taught were horrible. My learning style was/is much different than that of most of the students here. By the time I hit seventh grade, I was the most outcast person in the middle school. Why? I don't know. I actually dared to ask someone why they treated me so horrible.
"Because... the way you look," he said. I looked down, but didn't find anything wrong with it. I'll say this now, I'm sorry if the way I dress offends you. It's none of your business, only mine. I don't have a problem with it, neither should you.
I went into 7th grade and barely passed all of my classes. By the end of eighth grade I failed all of them.
When I got into high school my wardrobe changed dramatically (and my friends hated it). But I think it was for the better. I stopped getting picked on. My grades went up. I got involved in choir and band again, got into color guard, made friends. Life is going good for me now. I am of the opinion that I have too many talents. What use could I have for any more?
Sometimes people are still nasty to me, but just think. Someday, my signature will be worth something, and they'll be the jealous ones.
Last night we had our typical cast party for You Have the Right to Remain Dead at Rozario's. I was singing "Wishing you were somehow here again" out of boredom, and my director calls my name from the other table, and tells me to sing louder. It boosted my self esteem. Not that I don't know I'm a good singer. I just like compliments. A lot. No, this does not mean I'll sing for you. Only if you're special. (evil laugh). Sometimes I'll tell people I'm not a good singer, but this is really my way of fishing for compliments, even though half the time it doesn't work. Women. We do it. All. The. Time.
This has got to be my longest blog post. I had some other things to say, but I forgot, so I'll just leave it at that.
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