happy new years

Rihanna looks like a very cold Cat in the Hat lolzorz
She is lip synching (or not) with absolutely no shame. Musicians of the world, this is the future

Just a Thought

If Michael Jackson had been the leader of a gang, he would have had the largest gang in the world. It would have spanned everyone, from Crips and Bloods to rockers who grew up in love with Dirty Diana to the baby boomers throughout the world.

Christmas Rocks--Yay Santa.

Well, as I said in the previous post, I've been babysitting my cousin for the past two days. We just sent Santa Claus an "email" it was pretty awesome how there was an instant response. Nuri said to me, "You know, I think I believe in Santa now, he knew my age, so he must know I'm tall and everything!"

He gave me another Christmas gift too.

"Next year, I'm not going to ask for any shooting games. They're violent and it's bad. And when my children have Christmas, I'm going to make sure they never get shooting games for Christmas."-- Nuri

:D ADORABLE

The Future is in His Eyes

I am an only child, but I never have been a lonely child. I had the good fortune of growing up with a cousin who was a year younger than I was. I was his boss and he was my demon. We were as thick as thieves, as the saying goes. Of course, I was the mastermind, and he was the lackey. Whenever we did something wrong, I ran as quickly as I could to hide. My cousin always stood there and took the brunt of the blame. We fought each other like hell, but in retrospect, I know that it was only because we loved each other so much.

I feel terribly sorry for my younger cousin. I've been babysitting him for the past two days, but he's eight. And something about being twice his age makes me lose my patience with his antics. I can't understand his inner intrigues. It's hard for me to understand him most of the time because he speaks so sweetly and softly.

I can hear him, even now, as I write this blog post, gallivanting in the small space of the hallway, trying to devise a game for himself. Every couple of minutes he comes in and dances and asks me to put something on the internet, but I cannot. I haven't the time. I'm rewriting an essay that I bombed with a capital B, so I've been very short and impatient with him.

I'm letting him down, just like every psuedo-adult in his life. He's got no one to share his little inner turmoils and triumphs. I can't be that person for him. I don't understand what he wants the way I used to when I took care of him and I was ten and he was two, or when I was twelve and he was four. Something about those ages before fourteen made being those ages mutually intelligible. I was always the nice one to him back then. Now I seem like the bitch in comparison to my other cousin who used to play too roughly.

I play too roughly with his self-esteem. I'm sorry.

Abominable. Still

So I went to walk the dog this morning and it was a veritable wonderland of snow. For some reason, I'm always interested in walking haltingly in the knee-deep snow and watching my dog (he's probs a little less than a foot off the ground) attempt to navigate the snowdrifts. There is honestly nothing to compare to this experience. Zeus and I arrived at the park, and it was just so white and untouched that he and I ran to sully it as quickly as possible. We both got a bit tired, so we paused on the path. Suddenly, someone from behind me said,

"Hi do you have the time?" I was a little perplexed as to how this guy arrived, but I turned around and gave him the time. I made a move to leave, but he pinned me with an intense stare, and said... "Hey, so I don't know my name."

RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN

That's what I should have done, but it sure is hard to run when you can't navigate the nine inches of snow quickly enough to make any sort of quick getaway. Plus I had a tiny, elderly dog who is a bajillion times slower. This was not a time for quick reactions.

"There's a police precinct; I'm sure they'll know your name or at least be able to identify you."
"Okay. Well...."

I flagged down a dude who happened to be walking through the park ( just like advised in CPR, I pointed at him and called him so that he could not be mistaken that I was talking to him and not a tree) and asked him whether he knew if there was a police precinct nearby. He pulled his head from the left side of his hoodie, and held his phone in astonishment at my question. I repeated it a few more times to let it sink in. "Oh no" he said, "oh no." And he hurried off to get back on his phone with his friend.

I was alone with the strangest person I had ever met. Again. He shifted sideways, and I said as uncomfortably as possible "Well, good luck." He began walking up the pathway, and I took a totally different path into the park.

Why is it that when I go to enjoy myself for the morning, I meet all the sketchy people in the world who don't know their names?

Abominable

Music: There Goes the Fear-Doves; Mushaboom-Feist


The blizzard is in full force. It's crazy to watch storm clouds of snow hurry down the street. I would hate to be outside right now. OH wait, the snow lulled for a moment. Cute. Anyhow, I was outside for the second time today to walk the dog (and the first time I was outside it was to walk the dog) and the snow was absolutely blinding. But I had the soundtrack from 500 Days of Summer in my ears and no lie, that album is the best for feeling a part of the snow globe the streets become. The snow seemed to bring everything into slow motion. My dog for some reason was walking on three legs rather than the usual four. I don't know what that was about. He went to pee on things, but it seemed like the snow slowed down his urinary tract as well. It was very funny to see him look so earnest and then have nothing to show for it. The harder the wind blew, the more I felt as if I were kissing the scarf covering my face rather than using it as a shield. I could feel the snow, but I didn't feel like it had a personal vendetta against me. It was fantastic.

I wonder how I'll feel tomorrow when it's positively disgusting outside...

Fame

Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be famous in the way that I hope I will, for songwriting or being witty or something to that effect. I wonder more often, however, if I have the guts to do what is required to make the leap from ordinary to extraordinary. Most people who meet me would classify me as a Gryffindor, to use Harry Potter values of virtue. I'm loud, blunt, fun, very honest, and generally a good person. However, as years of reading fanfiction continues to inform me, most Headmasters of Hogwarts were Slytherins. Uh oh spaghetti-o.

What if I lack the ambition to succeed in the girl-eat-girl world of the entertainment world? What if I'm doomed to forever play music in some awkward downtown location with a band called the Unshaven Pirates? Well, Will Smith (and my father) would say that one needs the drive to work harder than you've ever worked before on every project. Pick one thing to specialize in, and work your ass off so badly that you pwn everyone else in the field. That's what my dad wanted me to do when I was seven, and extremely talented in piano. He wanted my mom to become a stage mom and take me from Carnegie Hall to Juilliard to wherever else. In this fantasy of his, we could always afford this, and my talent would be recognized by the entire world (or as close as he could get to that).

That's fantastic. My mom was of a different opinion, though, and she was the one who was actually on-the-ground in the situation. My dad, you see, lives in North Carolina. No biggie for most situations, but when his request was that my mom quit her job and work her ass off to further my career (which I did not want at the time), she did not take his suggestion well. She stopped taking me to piano lessons because I stopped practicing and told her I didn't want to go anymore. She decided that it wasn't worth the time and money to take me to lessons I did not want. Her reasoning was that if it wasn't fun, I probably wouldn't want to do this in a few years anyway.

But I was just thinking about how lots of models have these discovery stories like..."I was walking with a friend when [very famous fashion photographer/designer] saw me and decided that i was his muse." And I realized that either the old days had ugly people everywhere, or this had to be a lie. Honestly, any career in the arts takes more than just talent, as Will Smith says, it takes skill. Hours and hours of practice that I have not done recently. However, that's going to change, because I am going to practice every day; writing and playing my repertoire. I am determined not to fail myself when I have the time.

Give Thanks

For all the craziness that is my life...I suppose I wouldn't miss it for the world.

So, what's going on with me?

Between my family issues that seem to be a symptom of our general issues but also look like they're going to blow up at my graduation if I just let loose.

I'm not observing Thanksgiving today. Unless you call watching the Thanksgiving parade while secretly seething and not having any food to eat celebrating. Pretty freaking awesome. But luckily, I have my work to fulfill me. lolz. That means that I'm blasting Christmas music on my iMac and writing college supplements (I've already finished three!), and then rewriting the essay I bombed, and then starting another essay which I don't plan on bombing.

All in all, it's going to be a good day.

Perfect Day

So much has occurred since I last posted here. Let's do a tally!

Number of meetings with Paolo Montalbán: 2
Number of life goals fulfilled: 1
Number of homework assignments: innumerable
Number of octaves vocally achieved: 3
Number of friends: 51 (yay senior grade!)

Okay, so it's a Saturday and it's a long weekend (although I have to come into school on Columbus Day because of the Founder's Day Extravaganza), and I am insanely contented now.

I was utterly exhausted this week, and I often didn't get home until 7 or later. Woot.

However, I am pleased with the turn my weekend has taken. Chrissie and I have contacted Paolo, and he has contacted us back, which is insanely wonderfully and almost not possible. But, to quote Rodgers and Hammerstein, impossible things are happening every day. It is a lovely day for me to get on the homework bus. The sky is cloudy and white, the air is not too cold, but pleasantly 60s (autumn sixties, not summer sixties that always seem to be trying to be the seventies). I am still in my jammies, as yesterday was Senior PJ day and I just decided to go back to bed post Yearbook craziness. Friday night/Saturday mornings have tended to be awesome. Anyhow, my plan for the day is to sit on my bed and read the Stats textbook with the whitish light of the sky, and then work on my essay and proceed to work on Radio by Beyonce for the a cappella group. I would love to accomplish everything I've set out to do, and it seems that the Good Lord has enabled the conditions for contentment to be met. It's up to me to do what needs to be done!


<3
Olivia

stranger than you dreamt it

Hi again! I'm back, though it has been eons since I have last posted. I will attribute that in part to China, peer pressure, and other stuff. So I was in China for most of June, which was also a terrible time to post anyway, considering all the work I had due. July I have spent lazing about. Also, no one else in the blogosphere of friends I have has recently posted, so I felt like I was entitled to a break.

Anyhow, last night/this morning I had a nice dream. It was FOTC related. I dreamed that I saw Bret and some other dude in concert. They were supposedly FOTC, but I didn't recognize that the other man wasn't who he should have been until later. After the concert, I was in the subway waiting for the train to go home, and the other dude, who was blonde-ish/brownish with straight hair bangs falling his face, came up to me and asked me if I liked the performance. I smiled this weird smug/coy smile (trust me I remember that weird smile!) and said I did. He asked me what I was planning to do. And I said, "I'm a songwriter" and he was interested in that off-hand way that people who tend to not believe what you're saying are. And I said, "no really". And then I sang a little ditty about songwriting, which unfortunately I can't remember. It rhymed, though. He was excited about the song, and he gave me his card. I can vaguely remember that his last name was de ________. So was Bret's in this dream. It was around this time that I realized that this dude was not Jemaine. And I must have been half awake, because I started seeing flashbacks of the FOTC show where Jemaine is being a little smarmy/awkward/creepy.

I woke up.

why none of my friends have updated their blogs

We are dying of a disease called "Two Week Pile-Up Syndrome"

Such where teachers assign us WAY too many assignments, and then laugh as we try to do the work while dying instead. It's really quite fantastic. Congratulations to all of you who are hanging in there..

Momentous

I celebrate the momentous rediscovery of the Filipino (or Flip as Christine calls it) prince, Paolo Montalban. His voice is like the voice of a thousand male angels; it is wondrous. He sings in church and is really pretty as well. I love him. HEARTS <3>

I can't find his fan page yet; it looks like he doesn't have a big fan club in America. Christine and I will start one! JUST WATCH. 

SO EXCITED

Searching For the Stars

When it is darkest, men see the stars- Emerson

I will love the light for it shows me the way, yet I will endure the darkness for it shows me the stars- Og Mandino

Well, this week has certainly been strange.

The most I can truly comment about is the fact that life has a knack for attempting to suckerpunch a girl just when everything possible could be going wrong. The good news is the arrival of the weekend has also meant the arrival of better spirits.

When I say this week was bad, I cannot lie, it was truly one of the worst that I can remember having. Just thinking about it makes me want to cry again; seriously dudes, I'm not going into it again. No rehashment occuring (yes I know the word is rehashing). 

Thankfully, while walking the dog, I remembered how much I love life. Everything about it. Good bad, ugly, they all belong there. Some days are just going to make me want to cry, but it gets so much better on the weekend. Sometimes I live for the weekend. That and Spring Break Disneyworld visits.

 

going other ways- epiphany en route

So today, the bus I was riding and have ridden since I was a very small child did the absolutely bizarre for the first time: it turned another direction. Yes, it eventually got back on track and continued down Jamaica Ave like it usually does, but at first I wasn't sure whether I had gotten on a completely different bus. I desperately desired to shout at the bus driver "Stop! Where are you going? Go the normal way, friend!", but I did not because I "wisely" guessed that since the route number was what it was on the front, I had best keep quiet and let the driver do his job to get us where we needed to go at a faster pace. By trusting him, we did end up getting there much faster than if we had stayed in traffic like most drivers would have. I realized that this driver amongst all drivers realized that above all things, a bus is a vehicle. It can go wherever you want, and invariably, it can also get back on track. 

Epiphany moment: if everyone in the world realized that there were other ways to get to the same point, then everyone would get where they wanted to go much faster. 

This is really relevant to my life right now, particularly in finding a successful career, which indubitably leads to a successful life, as the world knows. Many people assume that the first, best, and only way to be successful is to go to Ivies and get big-shot jobs. Now, I'm not knocking the success of the Ivies, but I am saying that not everyone is going to get into Stanford or Harvard or Yale. It's mathematically impossible. Sometimes, we have to get creative. Sometimes, we have to think about other places that can help enrich our lives and help us achieve our goals. If your goal is to go to an Ivy simply because you like Ivies, hey, have fun. But don't apply with it as your only choices; don't think that if you don't get in, the world will stop, because it won't, and you will be left picking up the pieces with no other game plan.

It's like the SAT problem I was doing today. It asked how many different ways could one get to point C without touching A or B. I only saw the two obvious wide-berth answers, but a friend pointed out to me that there were also two more that brought you closer to the point you weren't supposed to be, but then veered away.

Mini-epiphany: If everyone realized that approaching the not-goal is not failure, but another way to get to the goal,
A. A lot more people would be a lot better at math

B. People would not spending their lives getting the wrong answer.

Wrong answer, how so? As in, when one plugs in the right numbers into the equation, and you're still getting ø. Why does that happen? Did you consider the limit? Or did you continuously try to get to infinity without approaching zero? Sometimes, life is like that, man. You have to take the chance sometimes. You can't always approach your goals the clean way. Besides, you have better stories for your grandkids when you can tell them how crazy your life was when you were working hard to get where you wanted to go.

Well, the epiphany was nice. I guess it's time for me to use this epiphany in conjunction with the leaves and get on with my life.

say a prayer

To my cousin. Keep your head up.

i could have been dead
sleeping in my grave
but God blessed me
to see another day

even when i did wrong he was still there
I'm so glad that God still hear a sinners prayer
I'm so glad that God still hear a sinners prayer
now let me pray let me pray
- A Sinner's Prayer, Deitrick Haddon

My grandmother, the blessed saint that she is, just received a letter from a cousin of mine. She gave me the letter to read, and I, being my sanctimonious sarcastic self, wondered what would be the purpose of a letter that told me what I already knew. That is, my cousin is in jail. But upon reading it, I felt humbled by my cousin's stoicism and strength in the face of 5-10 years of jail, of which I did not realize he had been convicted. He said that he has renewed his faith in God and that sometimes God puts obstacles in our way to test whether we will overcome adversity or let it overcome us.

I wept.

How could I, who had been so fortunate in life, be so immune to God's calls? If anything, God has helped me more than anyone in my life, for it was He who put those who helped me into my life. He ordained those things, He gave me the talents that I have been blessed with it, and the intelligence to use them. I have been so lucky: I could have been born deformed, I could have been killed in the violence that occurred around my neighborhood. I could have ended up not going into Prep, and not getting into as great a school as I attend. And I, like so many, assume that I'm entitled to these things. But I'm not. I could have been like so many girls I see: unhappy, unhealthy, possibly on my way to pregnancy or reckless behavior that could have killed me or my spirit.

But here I am. Here I am, despite the many things that could have happened to me. I've been so blessed to have family that supports me however they can. I've been so blessed to have friends that for the most part, are some of the best friends a girl could ask for.

So here I am, giving thanks for this day and all the days before it. I will try to do my best to continue living with the joy that I have within me. I will do my best to excel, because I realize that I am a part of the hope for America. That sounds self-centered, but it really isn't, because it means that it's up to me to continue paving the way, to prove to kids that you can go from living in the ghetto to going to a conservatory or whatever it is that you want.

Here I am, rededicating my life to God, even on the Internet.

Here I am, saying a prayer for you.

Trenchcoats

Why do they seem to invite sketchy people to stop on bicycles and vans?

College

Is attempting to kill me through family bonding.

I love my family, no lie, but this is way too much bonding time. Slash they should just leave me alone to sleep. Which is not going to happen...

for kicks

Straight up, yo, straight up.

if the dress clearly doesn't fit

Don't wear it. 

I found in my closet, mid-spring cleaning, a very small-looking white dress, brand-new. I was really excited, because I thought it meant I wouldn't have to do any white-dress shopping for Graduation day. Unfortunately, that answer was a resounding NO.

Before I made my final decision of giving it away to someone who could fit it (aka Midgets or 10 year olds), I tried it on. And then I was stuck. Don't do this. 

It was extremely short and apparently slightly (read: VERY) see-through. It took me 5 minutes to put on the dress, and another 5 minutes to extricate myself. It's a shift style dress, so that should not happen.

I laughed to myself at the idea of Seegs looking me at that, or even Tom or like anyone. Yup, don't try on the dress kids.

My television experience: 3/9

Today I watched a large amount of TV for my usual non-TV watching self: a whole 2 1/2 hours. First I watched Castle, the new TV show starring Nathan Fillion (who is a hottie with his roguish smile and general egotism), who is CANADIAN by the way. LOVE HIM. And yes, Stana Katic is there too, with her boyish good-girl-is-a-cop haircut. I loved this pilot, and from the looks of Wikipedia, I can look forward to at least 9 more episodes. Dear ABC, please KEEP THIS SHOW FOREVER. Unlike some of the really stupid shows ABC puts on as a quick test pilot, this one actually looks at murders from an intelligent and generally bemused eye. It is very "bad boy author (?) hits on goody two shoes lady cop, they begin as enemies, cuz he pisses her off, now they're going to marry" situation. But I love the banter and since I love watching Nathan Fillion play cocky people like Captain Hammer or Rick Castle, I admit it is a runaway hit for me. And, Susan Sullivan, who plays his mom, is constantly cracking me up whenever she gets on the screen. Also I love Molly Quinn, the cutest old soul ever. HIGH RATINGS PLZ CASTLE, YOU NEED TO BE MY NEW OBSESSION.

In between the segments, I saw a commercial for Disney eggs, that special make little Mickey Mouse faces. 

These are really awkward. 

I also briefly watched Ninja Scrolls, this bizarre anime about what so many animes are about... random ninjas! This ninja dude is traveling alone all the time, and there is mad awkward deaths all around the most random places. And this girl almost gets raped by a man-boulder. It was graphic, but her boobs were blanked out. And I was sitting there wondering, What the heck is going on? Why is this so bizarre/graphic/awkward?

ta for now

OH GOD

Yes, I've now posted 3 times in a day, 4 if you count the other blog, but DUDE.

This would be me though:

"Today, I dropped my keys. Not wanting to lean over and pick them up, I pointed at them and said 'Accio.' Then I realized I had tried to use a Harry Potter spell in real life and in public. FML"

OH FML.

Guess What

I went to church today. Hurray, it was 7:47 AM, except actually it was 6:47 AM, don't lie to me. I sang there, and then I was home by 10 AM. That was really cool, and I think I might do that again if I can continuously rouse myself in this manner. 

Also, I have bought the MAN SWEATS!!! YAYYY!!!

They're not quite as beautiful as Britney's, but they're the bomb-diggety anyway. I have two pairs: red and blue! So excited. Also I have studied approximately 3 hours worth over this whole weekend, all while on transportation and fighting sleep.

UH OH, sorry Jee.

Geography lesson

Dear Guyana Media Critic,

Where the heck did you go to?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I forgot to mention: I'm Guyanese! REPRESENT GT. Which means that on Labor Day, I hike myself over to Eastern Parkway and throw up my flags. I've only been to Guyana once, but what I saw there was pure craziness. It's a Third World country rife with all the problems that Third World countries tend to have: lack of viable economies, lack of water, lack of sewage drainage, lack of roads, lack of air conditioning (problematic as it's always at least 70 degrees there). Before I confuse the readers more, I should mention a couple of things.

1. Guyana is in South America; it is not Ghana, Guinea, Guinea-Bissau, Equatorial Guinea, or New Guinea. 

2. Guyana is the only official English speaking nation on the South American continent; do not expect these people to break out in Spanish or Portuguese. Granted, the Creolese (which is what Guyana bruk-up language is called) dialect is difficult to understand, particularly the phraseology, but it is English.

3. Guyana is made up mostly of East Indians and Afro-Americans. This makes for some strange mixtures of people we like to call "dougla" (Indian/Blacks), and a lot of animosity between the two races. I am a part of the Afro-American diaspora there, so don't get any ideas about my Hindi speaking abilities. Also, there are quite a number of random types there: Portuguese leftovers, Chinese from way back during the boom of rice and sugar, and of course, the few Native American (called Amerindian further south) tribes that live in the middle of nowhere on the Guiana savanna (yes there is a savanna and there are jaguars). It is not uncommon to see someone who you swore was some type of Asian break out in full-out Guyana Creolese: even the lady at the Chinese food store had a Guyanese accent!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Anyways, now that there's a little education, it's time for some groaning. 

Guyana Media Critic, one of the foremost bloggers in Guyana, is heavily immersed in the politics of our grand old country while still able to critique the news reporters and their lack of professionalism. He is witty, on point, and currently missing from the Internet. I'm putting out a search! Where are you? His blog is currently unavailable and has been since last week. Perhaps it was the story that he posted that was actually a lie, as he was later informed. Poor guy, he took the word of one of his sources who was told by someone who wanted to stir up some trouble. It was related to the bank crisis down there, but I never actually saw the story, since he took it down immediately after he found out it was false and apologized. This was probably the proverbial straw that broke the government or someone else's back. GMC, as he is called, is usually impeccably placed and has a knack for being always right and always edgy about it. I don't know what I'll do if he doesn't come back. How am I going to hear all the crazy stories of His Highness President Jagdeo and his SUVs? How else am I going to hear about Mashramani and the reigning monarch of soca? COME BACK GMC!!!

clothing aspirations.

I WANT SOME MAN SWEATPANTS.
Not the lame-ass, "look at me, I'm dead sexy in a video in ATL/ Juicy Couture is the flyest shit that walked the face of the planet.".

Except clearly she is not in a music video in ATL, but you get the picture.

I want those GRUNGY WAY TOO BIG SWEATPANTS. The kind that fit your hips, but are so damn baggy on the rest of you that no one can tell if you have legs or not. HEEEELLL YEAH!

Brit Brit, show us how it's done! GO GIRL

I wrote a song today

For Teddy Graubard, and to all those people who ever felt like jumping from the window. But I can't put it up here, because I'm scared that it might be a good song and it's not copyrighted so then people could steal it, so I won't, kay?

Strange things are happening

We're feeling so good, just the way that we do when it's Nine in the Afternoon

Panic at the Disco

Apparently East New York thinks it's summertime in the middle of February. First I heard the sounds of the ice cream truck (umm, really guys?), right now the "limbo" song is playing, yeah the one by Harry Belafonte. Also, on Friday when I was coming home, a guy was selling cotton candy in the train station. I have no idea what is going on, peeps. It is FREEZING out.

Hehe

Am so busy. There's still so much to be done: English essay, emailing KP about my test taking changes, doing the video montage, going to Boston and getting that Cambridge experience. All very lovely things that must be done in the next three days. Djefdjdnsu!

on the hunt

motherfucker, i'm ill, not sick"
- Lil Wayne

While hunting for pictures for the video montage, I became aware of the fact that some pictures are best not discovered.

Some memories are best not revisited.

well...

This week looks like fun.

There's nothing like a nice major assignment in every class to get the thinking juices and fight-or-flight reaction going.

This month is the month where i must use all my resolutions and actually go through with them until I eventually crash from over-healthiness/death by organization. wish me luck. i wish me luck.

Dear God

I have died and gone to hell.


Welcome to Hell Month.

I like to share

You Are 75% Non Conformist

You are a pretty serious non conformist. You live a life hardly anyone understands. And while some may call you a freak, you're happy with who you are.

Are You a Nonconformist?

You Are Midtown

You love so many things, you don't fit into any one label. Your city girl persona goes to a fancy restaurant one night and a dive bar the next. You can fit in almost anywhere. You feel equally comfortable in jeans and a little black dress. You are unpretentious. You are neither a snob nor a hipster. You're just you.

Are You An Uptown Girl or Downtown Girl?

You Are Midnight

You are more than a little eccentric, and you're apt to keep very unusual habits. Whether you're a night owl, living in a commune, or taking a vow of silence - you like to experiment with your lifestyle. Expressing your individuality is important to you, and you often lie awake in bed thinking about the world and your place in it. You enjoy staying home, but that doesn't mean you're a hermit. You also appreciate quality time with family and close friends.

What Time Of Day Are You?

Your Blog Should Be Purple

You're an expressive, offbeat blogger who tends to write about anything and everything. You tend to set blogging trends, and you're the most likely to write your own meme or survey. You are a bit distant though. Your blog is all about you - not what anyone else has to say.

What Color Should Your Blog or Journal Be?

You Are a Life Blogger!

Your blog is the story of your life - a living diary. If it happens, you blog it. And you make it as entertaining as possible. You may be guilty of over-sharing a bit on your blog, but you can't help it. Your life is truly an open book. Or in this case, an open blog!

What Kind of Blogger Are You?

You Are a Rainbow

Breathtaking and rare You are totally enchanting and intriguing But you usually don't stick around long! You are best known for: your beauty Your dominant state: seducing

Thank you blogthings for making this clear. I am usually seducing people, duh, how could i have missed this

Nameless Wonder

This evening, as I walked towards the dry cleaners to pick up a fantastic sweater that my grandma sent there yesterday, I watched a beautiful sunset. I was so mesmerized by the in-between shades of orange and red that I almost forgot how to move my feet towards the dry cleaners. And in retrospect, I am certain that my new year began then, when I watched the glorious dying sun gracefully sink into the sky like a dancer in her final movements, sinking into the floorboards. My year has sunk gracefully, but it has certainly sunk. I think I can say with full authority and the backing of the 11th grade that December starts with a "d" for a reason. 

December was like death, depression, deprecatory statements, deep-down delving into the soul and finding nothing but despair, and also like the digressions that riddled my papers. 

November was not much better, more like nothing. There was the poetry workshop, but we had like 2 people besides the editors. Though it felt more cozy, I had also felt like I had failed to get the interest of those who we needed to come. Dance party was the next day, and that was a shitload of nothing. God, I almost want to cry with the shame. What was so funny was that everyone was asking me how it went the next day, and I bitterly laughed, because it seemed to me that for all the people that asked, a few of them could have come. November was a good month to study T.S. Eliot. Life was certainly a wasteland at the time. By the by, T.S. Eliot is amazing, as is W.H. Auden: modern men for the modern times, I think. Anyway, since I seem to be taking a month-by-month study of the year going backwards, I'll continue on with October. 

October was overly pumped-up, although I admit I was organized. It was perhaps one of the best months in terms of productivity. I felt like I was accomplishing things. UMOJA was going well, we were meeting, I had stuff on the calendar that I was excited about, it was awesome. Beaver was going well, Emily and I were so on top of things that it was ridiculous. That was awesome. 

September was sort of the anticipation month, a trial period of sorts, to check if we were able to even get preliminary things done. We were. But by December we were in over our heads. Ach. 

August was family drama month. We had reunion, which is always fun, but then July's family get-together seemed to have added extra stress on my already strained relationships. That was interesting. Enough said. 

July was spent researching the family and reconnecting the family in ways that inspired others. Although summer brought great intentions, fall showed the flowers for what they were– the spontaneous sprigs that always come during summer, which always fade by fall.

June was actually fun. I got paid to babysit little children, or so it seemed. And that was my first job. So I felt cool/toolish because I was a little old for first job syndrome. But ach, whatchu gonna do when life happens like that? 

I refuse to recall sophomore year. I don't really have that much to recall. 

Having gone over my year in such detail, I think that I am prepared to expound on my new plans for this year:

I resolve to:

1. Be more proactive about my own life. I've spent too long being in the backseat. And now suddenly, I have to be the driver, but literally and figuratively. (By the way, I do plan on getting my driver's permit on February 21st, thank you very much.)

2. Take pride in my own achievements. I underestimate myself, and I think it gets in the way of my own talents. 

3. Make organization a life choice, not a resolution. Yup. That one seems a little self-explanatory.

4. Make health a life choice, not just a by the way. I realized this year that not sleeping is not helping my work. I refuse to let my schoolwork or my procrastination get in the way of the sleep that I must have to function like a normal person. The earlier the better. 

5. Keep God first. It sounds lame, even to my Christian friends, but without him, I am truly nothing. I think that is why I haven't really been able to write the way I used to. Now God is a choice that I have to make, and keep making. That's the hardest part of all. It was easy to choose God when my mom would drive me to church. It was easy to choose God when everyone around me was doing the same thing. But now, it's hard when I am trying to pick between God and sleep. I pick sleep so often that I think God must be pretty pissed. But see, if I just decided that I would go to bed early enough to do what I have to do on Sunday, then this problem would be solved. 

6. Make my work a priority. Not just schoolwork, but my poetry and writing skills. I'm used to feeding the fires of my passion almost daily, but with so much work at school, I allow myself to be overwhelmed and allow the cost to be my own personal fire. I can't do that anymore. 

7. Be a member of my family. I've been hiding from my immediate family for so long that I feel like when I do see them, it's a shock and I greet them with the disconnected hellos of a stranger. 

8. Get a grip. 

That's enough for now I think. While I certainly could have posted much more often than I have been, I feel that this hugely verbose post should be enough for most of the readers out there for at least a short amount of time.

Tired. Bed time. It's time to start those resolutions...