Tuba-juba-duba.

I tried to throw a fish at Bubbles today.


Yes, you read that right. Okay, fine, it wasn't a real fish. I mean, that wouldn't have worked anyway. We were talking on AIM, and I reminded her to write a blog entry since it has been one bajillion years and 31 minutes since she has done so. And we have had this fish joke forever. So I tried to IM her an emoticon fish.

Let me tell you about my expertise in emoticons. I can do the traditional :-) and :-( and <3.><. Fish. Except it did not turn out like that when I hit "send." It sent as <-)))><. That, ladies and gentlemen, is NOT a fishy. That is the jumble that comes out when you bang your head on the keyboard in frustration. So I spaced it out. I sent Bubbles a very LONG fish. It looks something like this:

< ) ) ) > <. Fish. Fishy fish fisharoo fishness fishdom. I am trying to make fish sound like it's not a word anymore. Fish fish fish fish fish.

In other news. I have been accepted to the college of my choice: Frostburg State University. Yay me. My letter came on December 26. I consider it my late Christmas present from the postal service.

In other-other news, I smell like fire. Or like smoke from a fire. I'd say I smell like smoke but for some reason my friends would associate that with cigarettes. I swear I don't do that! .... Why fire, you ask? Because I was at my friend Duck's house with my other friends Dave, the Spaniard, and the Spaniard's girlfriend Tinkerbell. And we started a fire (in a firepit! Don't worry, we didn't burn anything down). And I was sitting right next to it. It was really warm.

In otherness news, my boy from a zillion posts ago, the one who went to Homecoming with another girl? Is apparently dating someone now. And I am surprised at how little I actually care about that. I mean, it hurt that Tinkerbell felt the need to tell me that The Boy had written in his FB status that he loves some unnamed girl, but still. I don't care. There is a lot of not-caring going on with Catnip.


Okay, well, that's all. This post made no sense anyway.


Peace, love, and rainbow trout.

Econo-sized

So, the other day my mom was reading a newsletter from the.... what's it called, organization?.... that manages all the people who work in her field (the Cardiac Catheterization lab, that's where my mom works). And the branch for the lovely state of Henrietta-Marialand (yes, that's the REAL nomenclature for the state) has put out a statement that could put my mom's job in danger. See, there's this other license a person can hold that, in most states, is equivalent to the license my mom has (it's kinda like the relationship between a GED and a HS Diploma. But anyway.). In the state of Maryland, though, that first license is not recognized and therefore is meaningless. In other words, a person working in a hospital in the state of Maryland who has this license is, technically, not licensed and therefore doing something highly illegal. My mom does NOT have this license, she has one that is recognized pretty much everywhere. But one of her co-workers has the unrecognized license (which, btw, is recognized in the District and Virginia.). And the organization that oversees people in this field have said that any physician or tech [which is what my mom does] who is working in the Cath Lab with the "unlicensed" person can face fines and possibly lose their own license. My mother's hospital, which is supposedly the worst one to work for in this area, possibly the state, has said that they WILL NOT FIRE THIS WOMAN because one of the doctors likes having her around. They have said that they will pay any fines (which, once they are caught, is $10,000 per day until this woman is fired.). But they have no control over innocent doctors, nurses, and techs losing their licenses, and therefore are not held responsible for those. If my mother loses her license, she cannot get a job elsewhere. So currently, she is trying to find a job at another hospital. The problem there is that she picked this hospital in the first place because, while it sucks to work there, it pays REALLY well. Like, really, we are very fortunate. We haven't really felt the recession. There's a hospital that is closer to our house (it's in Annapolis) that has a job opening, but we don't know how much they're willing to pay her. We know that they will be willing to hire her, as they were willing to the last time she applied there. But money's an issue. I'm going off to college, most likely one where I will have to live on-campus (although I told my mom that I will, and I do mean will, go to community college if that's what we need me to do.) Currently, my sister and I are both enrolled in private school. I mean, I know that makes us seem like "spoiled rich kids" but we really aren't. We were still in private school when my mom was in X-ray school and we had utilities shut off EVERY WEEK and even had the car repossessed once (got it back, though.). My mom puts education first. I'm just afraid that utilities will be shut off again and it'll be like middle school (which sucked in that regard.). And now we might have to go back to that because MY MOTHER'S HOSPITAL IS RUN BY MORONS!!! Seriously, BOYCOTT SOUTHERN MARYLAND HOSPITAL CENTER!!!


I was reading my friend Highway's (also known as J) blog, and his mom is having issues finding work. Now, I understand, his situation sucks big time. His mom's trying to find an alternate situation so she can do her best for them. So Highway J may have to go live with his father. And, lemme tell ya, the fact that Highway J is willing to leave his mom? Is huge. And very strong of him. But I don't wanna sound like I'm making his problem smaller when I say that hey, at least he HAS a dad to go live with. My dad? Lives in a garage apartment and is technically a fugitive. If my mom loses her job, we don't have anywhere to go. I mean, I am NOT about to switch schools in the middle of my senior year, especially when I love my school a lot. Don't get me wrong, J would probably have to switch schools for HIS senior year... but it's not the middle of the year, see? And I really do feel for J's situation. His situation is because of that stupid recession. (Ours isn't, and I'm so thankful for that. I mean, in the holiday season, I have tipped extra and donated more because I knew others needed that money, and I do have extra and I am sooo appreciative of that.). But y'know, his situation, in a way, is better than mine (but also worse.).

Ah, well. Maybe Saint Obama will provide a Christmas miracle, huh?


Peace, love, and HOSPITAL BOYCOTTS!

College

So I only just remembered something about my old plans for college.


Originally I'd planned to major in Creative Writing and be a novelist/English teacher. Originally I'd planned to stay very close to home. The plan was that I would get an apartment with Bubbles and we'd both go to the same school.

But now that's changed. I'm sure you remember an earlier post where I mentioned that Bubbles is going to move to California and be a big famous actress one day. Well, that kinda puts a damper on our plans. Because she wants to move for next school year. And I will never see her again.

What I'm learning, though, is that it scares me less and less that she will be gone. I've learned to live completely independently of "What would Bubbles tell me to do?" and "What would Bubbles think?" In fact, I have managed to move on (and most likely cling to) other people. And, I'm sorry, but I'd describe these people as people who actually want to be with me. I actually feel bad for saying that, so I'll say something much more truthful: I need to find myself and God for myself, in my own way. I need to identify things through my own experience. And I love my Bubbles dearly, but she's very .... rule-following. And, if you know me, you know that I am too. That being said, I'd like to be a little more outgoing for when I go to college. (Hopefully Frostburg State U, but at this point I'm not sure I'm getting into college.) And I believe that people like Japan and Cannon are going to help me do that more than Bubbles will. Because while Bubbles says she is always there for me --and let me be clear in this, I have NO DOUBT THAT SHE IS -- I feel it more from my "big sisters." I've never been able to say that Bubbles is like my big sister. But Japan and Cannon.... they feel like it.


Peace, love, and giant boobies.

So I'd like to mention....

At this moment in my life, I am utterly confused. (And, btw, read The Great Divorce by Clive Staples Lewis. It's a kickass book!) I am confused about a lot of things. But those are for pondeirng in class tomorrow instead of doing what I need to be doing.

I'd also like to mention that if I don't talk to you, it's because I've run out of things to say. My life can only be so interesting... and last post was the most exciting thing to happen in a long time.

The end.

Peace, love, and magic busses.

Wet 'n' Wild

No, it's not just for cosmetics anymore. It describes my life on Saturday night. *Not like that, ya perv!* But before we move into that story, we have to hear this story.

So yesterday, I firmly decided that I would attend a party at Japan's house (y'all remember Japan, don't you?). And I went to this party with Teapot. But that's for later. Anyhow, Teapot was at the Borders in Annapolis wrapping gifts as a fundraiser for our local teen theatre group. At four o'clock, when his wrapping ended, I went to go pick him up. But, naturally, the party was not for another three hours or so. So we went around the mall and hung out. It was nice. But even with the random malling, we still had an HOUR to get to the party. So what did Catnip do? She drove Teapot around and gave him a tour.

Then Catnip and Teapot went to the party at Japan's house. Yay us. We were two minutes early, but that didn't really matter because people were already there. Cannon was there! (Do you remember her too?) and her sexy boy-toy Nut Boy was there. So we just stood around talking. Then Japan decided that it was hot tub time. So we all went outside (keep in mind, I live in the mid-Atlantic region, and it is almost December) and got into the hot tub. And, of course, the age rang was 17 (me) to 21 (Cannon) and there were all these people I didn't know there. So, naturally, we played stupid teenager games like Never Have I Ever and Truth or Dare. [At this point, it may be pertinent to the conversation that I am the Ultra Virgin and have never been to a 'wild' party, kissed a guy, or played stupid teenager games.] We started with Never Have I Ever. My first thing I had never done... "Never have I ever played Never Have I Ever." Very nice, right? And then my second one was "Never have I ever kissed a guy." And, for those of you not familiar with the game, each time you HAVE done something that the person says they have NOT done, you put a finger down (usually you start with 10, speed-games go with 5). When you have all of your fingers down, you lose and must go do whatever has been arranged for the loser to do. This is important! Because the random guy sitting next to me lost first. And the penalty was for people to take off an article of clothing when they lose. Keep in mind, we are in a HOT TUB and wearing BATHING SUITS. So he had to take off his swimming trunks. Lucky for me, though, he put them over his manly area.

So. Continuing on. We got bored with NHIE and decided to play Truth or Dare. Again, this is my first time playing this game for real. So there are the opening tentative dares (I was the only one to pick truth, which is okay because I was only picked once.) And then people got into the game... and I mean REALLY got into it. Japan and Cannon, who are like my older sisters, got permission from me to dare the (naked!) guy sitting next to me to kiss me (my first kiss ever!). So they dared him. And he, having heard me say during NHIE that I had not kissed anyone before, got clarification from them to make sure that he wasn't going to scar me for life. And it was very nice, actually. He didn't use tongue, which was very considerate. Unfortunately, I just kinda sat there because I didn't know what to do. And he was just very nice about it and he had very nice lips. Yeah, I know that sounds strange, but it's true. Anyway. So the game continued on (including Teapot, who is gay, being on the receiving end of someone's daring Japan to kiss him) and Nut Boy (named for his job, not for any appendages that he may have) was dared to give me a lap dance. And let me tell you, this boy is BUILT, and built WELL. He is gorgeous. But it was awkward to have a sexy guy all up on me... again, I just kinda sat there. But that was nice.

Unfortunately, the night ended soon after because it was getting late, and I have a "Cinderella License" ... which essentially means that after midnight, my license is no good. So then I drove Teapot home, and then I drove home. And it was very lovely.

All right. It's late. I'm going to bed.

Peace, love, and nailpolish.

Say What You Need To Say

Maybe you haven't noticed, but I say nothing useful in this blog. There's no message, there's no theme. There's just words on a screen. Words that no one even reads. My poetry's the same way. There's no purpose. It's just ink on paper. I wish I had a message, a purpose, a meaning, a mission. Something that I could stand on a mountain and shout to the valley below and feel good about. Something that people will remember long after I've gone. I'm sick of being unintelligent and apathetic, but it's not something that you can willingly change. It's the inspiration, the conversion, the out-of-nowhere thought train that hits you at a thousand miles an hour. And I've never had one, and fear that I never will as long as I am waiting for one. In fact, I know that I will not for as long as I am waiting for one.
I hope John Mayer writes his own song lyrics, because I'd like to admire him for that. I'd like to quote him as telling the world "Say what you need to say." That is the summary of tonight's blog. I don't know what I need to say, though, so I cannot follow his instructions. I feel like somewhere there is something stuck inside me that one day, I will scream to the world. I've imagined it. I will be driving home, and it will hit me, and I will pull over on the side of the road and scream it, with my arms raised to the sky. Of course, I'm just a romantic. The real scenario will involve me whispering it as I sit in traffic, if it happens at all. It will be a day that I completely stop caring about everything, more than I have now. Apathy beyond the norm for a teenager. But I know this.
One day, I will forget that I am apathetic, and that is the day that I will find my message.
The day I will find my purpose.
The day I will find my meaning.
The day I will find my mission.

The day I will have something to say.

Away

I am going to go for a drive on Friday. I may not come back. Slash, I probably will. But I'm just thinking that I don't want to and, therefore, may not. The end.

Stolen Secrets: My Truth

I'm actually going crazy. Slowly, slowly, crazy, crazy.

Sunny Side Up

Today, I discovered the secret to amazing scrambled eggs. They're relatively simple, and quite delicious. First, let me tell you about eggs. They're loaded with protein and they taste great. The best part, though, is that your average Grade A large egg only has about seventy-four calories in it, making it a healthy snack you won't regret. Here's what you need to do.

The Perfect Scrambled Egg

Ingredients:
One large egg
One teaspoon reduced fat or fat free milk (or more, I just kinda splashed it in there)
Non-stick cooking spray
Salt, if desired

Process:
First, spray the inside of a small microwave-safe bowl (known to some as a "custard cup." Plastic is not reccomended.) generously with cooking spray. Second, crack the egg into the bowl. Remove any small pieces of egg shell. Next, poke the still-whole yolk with a fork until the inside starts to run. Then, whisk the egg using the fork (if you've never made scrambled eggs before, this involves tilting the bowl ever-so-slightly and quickly making a circular motion with the fork until the egg yolk and whites are all nice and mixed.). After this, add the milk and whisk the eggs again. The egg mixture should be nice and frothy. Some people like to add salt at this step, but I did not because it slipped my mind. At this point, you want to cover the bowl with something, preferably a paper towel, and stick it into the microwave. Cooking times at this point may vary, but you will want to cook this on HIGH power for about 45 seconds. Remove the bowl from the microwave. You should see a solid egg mass floating in liquid egg. Using your fork, flip the egg solid over in the bowl, and put the bowl back in for fifteen seconds. No more, no less. When you take the bowl out this time, you should have a nice, fluffy, round scrambled egg. Invert the bowl onto a plate, top with whatever (personally, I enjoy quality hot sauce when the mood strikes me.). Then eat the egg and try to control yourself while you experience an orgasm in your mouth.

Penny for your thoughts.

Friendship is a mutual thing, I've learned. You gotta give, you gotta get. My friend J recently wrote something on his advice blog whowewillbecome.blogspot.com about how sometimes, friends just don't talk for whatever reason. Friendship is also a selfless thing. So maybe you're sick of doing all the work in a friendship. That's a little selfish. I'm going to contradict what I just said, though. It's selfless, being sick of doing all the work. And you know why that is? Because if you're the one doing all the work in the relationship, it's not really a relationship. Furthermore, you're only hurting both parties by doing all the work. The person not doing the work clearly does not value the friendship or the other person, and you are hurting them by not just letting them go off with the people they actually value, if such persons exist. The person doing all the work is not only being hurt by the person not doing work, they are hurting themselves by convincing themselves that it is their fault for letting the friendship lapse or that their friend does not like them, and therefore no one likes them, and therefore they convince themselves that they are, indeed, less worthy of a person.

Yeah. That's my two cents. Now where's the extra penny going?

Rawr.

I'm starting to think my problem is lack of sleep. So maybe if I sleep, things will magically fix themselves and people will actually talk to me again. Slash I'll at least be more content with myself and not truly need people around.


In other news, my Heaven and Hell teacher is too naive to be a good teacher, apparently I've pissed off all of my closest friends (and I do mean all, hence they are not talking to me. I don't know what I did, but I musta done something.)

Boy drama update: who cares? I've already resigned myself to a life of being alone anyway, so why worry about a guy not liking me if I know it's just going to end up that I will have no one anyway? If you think about it, it's a great mindset to have.

I've learned that by not straightening my hair, I look less like the "Berries and Cream" lad and more like an actual, normal female. I mean, I look like a guy anyway, but less so when my hair's curly.

And in other other news... My band director is a moron. He told us that we need to have his class be our priority since we perform the first Saturday of December. My thoughts, however, are that the after-school thing he's making me do (pit for the musical) is more of a priority because performances are sooner AND the music's harder. I mean, what is it with band directors and the mentality that their class rules all? Really?

Yeah. Just my update for the night.

Peace, love, and scratchy purple yarn.

Oh well.

I survived Homecoming. In fact, I even had a chance to get my mind off shit and be normal. Strange, right? Yeah, I know. But here's my positive thing for the night...

MY HOMECOMING DRESS WAS FUCKING PERFECT!!!!! Okay, maybe not the most perfect, but it was nine dollars and it was a size 13! (For reference, I have been a size 16-verging-on-18 since I was in eighth grade.) I haven't been a size 13 since I was in sixth grade. That's six years, folks. Oh, and it's a gorgeous dress. So yeah. I was quite pleased.

I'm not pleased with a lot else, like this shitload of homework I didn't get to do today because my mom insisted that I fold laundry, but whatever. It's not like I'm going to graduate high school or go to college or anything, so whatever.

Oh, and in other news. The people from previous post are not dating, and both seem to be pretty pissed off. I don't know why. I know they were not near each other most of the night, which is strange to me but then again it takes strange to know strange.

I know I'm rambling a lot. I swear to drunk, officer, I'm not God! Slash, I'm serious, I haven't been drinking. I'm just in a mixture of moods. On the one hand, I'm pissed because none of my friends can be bothered to actually contact me and I am sick of being the one doing all of the conversation initiation. I'm upset because that means that I will lose said friends and end up alone. I am frustrated because boys are stupid. I am stressed about college. I am happy for... some strange reason that I have yet to identify, and I don't even think it's happiness. I think it's more like a lack of the desire to drive some kind of metal through my flesh. But even then. That's not close to happiness, is it? I am heartbroken, see last post for details. But, surprisingly, I am also in a neutral mood towards many of the males in my life. I am just so confused!


Oh well. I guess I'm doomed to life alone. Oh well. At least I'll have.... a cat, perhaps, to get me through stuff? Wow. That makes me sound so pathetic. Oh well.

Go Cry, Emo Kid

So, I'd l ike to apologize in advance that I'm being a bit of an emo-kid (as in, 'Go cry, emo kid'). I'm having what most people would call a "down period" where I'm just kinda... blah. So pardon the negativity. Supposedly everything will be okay.





Everyone's been talking about the economic recession we're in right now. I'm in a different kind of recession: a recession of friends. I mean, I realize it's my own fault, that I'm letting my depression get in the way. But recently, all of my friends have just kind of... left me. Take, for example, my "closest" friends, who, as I've noticed before and am noticing now, only initiate contact when they (a) feel sorry for me or (b) need something from me. (For a definition of what I'm talking about, see previous post.) I've found that I've found some new friends, though, that are supportive and, well, yeah, they do the same things my "close" friends do. But they do it in a way that doesn't entirely exclude me from life.


Here's my oh-I'm-just-a-whiny-teenager moment. Fucking deal with it, I guarantee you do the same thing. So there's this guy at school I like, right? And I asked him to Homecoming, and he said no. We're still good friends; it only created mild awkwardness for the next hour after I asked. But... I found out that he's going to the dance with a girl who I'm kind of friends with. I mean, we're not really in the same social circles (she's with the theatre kids, I'm in no group because no group wants me, not even the outcast group.). But she and I are friends.So I asked her yesterday, because we were not really doing anything in our class, whether or not she was going to Homecoming. She said "Yes, with *********." Which, of course, had not been what I'd asked. And that is something I could've gone without knowing. Because he probably likes her, she probably likes him, and they will probably end up dating by the end of the night. Does he know I like him? He probably has a clue, but doesn't actually know. Does she know I like him? Most likely not. And the whole thing makes me feel awful because this girl is smart, and witty, and gorgeous, and outgoing, and she's everything I'm not, everything I wish I could be. Then, about ten minutes later, I went into the cafeteria for lunch. And one of the juniors got up to the podium thing to read the prayer, and then said "Hold on, I have one more announcement. *Sophomore girl* Are you in here? Okay. *Sophomore girl* will you be my girlfriend?" Everyone else was all "Awww" and excited for this new couple and excited for Homecoming and whatnot. Between what had just happened in my class and this, and knowing that there is no one out there for me, I stayed silent. I silently went to my next class, did not talk to my classmates, and sat there crying (but quietly crying, so no one would know.). I blamed the redness in my eyes on fatigue. I went to the pep rally, only cheered when I really really wanted a good friend of mine to win the school spirit award, and wished I had my hunting knives with me. After the pep rally, I got in my car, drove home, and kinda just withdrew from the world.

My senior portrait proofs were in the mail when I came home yesterday. They added to that feeling of I'm-not-good-enough that my friend from the situation above creates in me. I've looked through these pictures several times, and I constantly look too pale, or too fat, or just overall too ugly. My smile is fake, and my eyes are kind of glazed over. I will be the ugliest person in the yearbook. And I will have these horrendous pictures for the rest of my life. To remind me of how fat, pale, and ugly I am.

I am going to the dance tonight. There's no such thing as a dress that looks good on me. As of now, I don't even have a dress. I've promised people I will go, though, so I will be there even if I'm even uglier than usual.


That's all. Sorry this post sucks. No one's reading it anyway, though.

If I Only Had A Life

Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to request a moment of silence for my social life. My social life died on Sunday, October 19, 2008, at approximately 7:00 p.m. of natural causes. Funeral services are to be held Saturday, October 25, 2008, starting at around 8:00 p.m. at Bishop McNamara high school.

My social life had a brief but well-lived life that started toward the end of August this year. It had a way of making me feel like I was normal. Survivors include my school life, my personal life, and my private life. Memorial donations may be made to Melanie's Social Fund in the form of making and keeping plans with Me.

In other news, my seasonal job has ended, which has made all of my weekends suddenly become available. Available for what? Mostly just sitting on my ass becoming even fatter. And sitting in front of Facebook, like the loser I am. And sitting around wishing that I was more than just a back-up friend for most people. You know, the person you keep around for when your plans fall through and you need someone to hang out with? Yeah, that's me. Maybe I should start charging people for my backup-friend services. I bet you I would make a fair amount of money off of that. Y'all might not like that, though, because then you'd have to pay to hang out with me.

Okay. Stupid post over. Go... hang out with your friends or something. But if they're not available, don't call me unless you have an extra $5 lying around.

For the life of me, I cannot believe we'd ever die

Yes, I've finally returned to my PostSecret format. Yay. I was talking to Bubbles, and I was jokingly trying to convince her to return to high school. I didn't tell her quite why, but then I started thinking about it. You know, high school is a sucky, sucky place. And thinking about that made me start thinking about other things that have crossed my mind recently.


I hate school. Like, I know everyone does, but for some reason it's just... really, really bad with me. Like, I sit in math class and picture myself jumping out the window. I gaze off into space during my Heaven and Hell class and resist the urge to walk out of the building and into busy traffic. But, you know, that's just me being a moody teenager.

Lately, though, I've been thinking that I want to drop out of high school. I feel that staying in high school poses a risk to my life. I also don't want to go to college, but that is for another paragraph. Let me tell you 'bout high school. I have no friends. I have no boyfriend. I am basically a social cast-out. (Oh, and before you all start screaming, I know I have friends. But I don't have friends that I can talk to, you know? I love my friends to death, but really, I can't really talk to them.)

College is going to be filled with new people. People who will probably find me to be weird. Except, of course, the weird people. I'd like to be normal in college. But that won't happen. I'd like to live through college. That might not happen either. Hell, I might not make it into college. Or if I do, I will be a changed person. Maybe into the person I want to be.

College is going to, hopefully, free me from my house. The bad thing about that, though, is that I will have less of a reason to use my conscience. Most of the time, I don't do something because my mom wouldn't want me to, or one of my friends wouldn't want me to, and they would inevitably find out. But if I go off to college, I will basically be isolated from friends and family and, therefore, would be free to carry on like I've been doing in secret. At the same time, though, being off at college means no one will be pushing me to do some kind of homework-type thing.

I could go on and on about college, but here's the point: The view I'm seeing of college makes it appear scary and isolated.

Peace, love, and cancer sticks.

College

I am a senior in high school this year. It seems like just yesterday, I was a timid little Freshman sitting alone at lunch. Now I'm a silent Senior who might as well sit alone at lunch. I seem to have changed, although I wouldn't realize it if I didn't sit back and look at it.

Freshman year, I was new to the school. I knew maybe eight people total. I weighed about 150 pounds. My GPA was in the 3.1 range. I cared about school. I cared about guys. I was a normal teenager.

Sophomore year, I started to do worse in school. Sophomore year, as you may recall, is when I started cutting. I still cared about guys and school, just in a way that kind of made it seem like I was apathetic about the whole thing.

Junior year, I payed more attention to the fact that I am a little bit of a heavy girl. Stress levels rose, I continued cutting, and life was going downhill. I weighed in at about 210 pounds by the end of Junior year.

Now we're at Senior year, and only one month in. Right now, I am hating school. It makes me want to gouge my eyes out with an unsharpened pencil. I have gotten my weight down to about 177-ish. I.... stopped cutting for a while. I played with cigarettes. I... asked my crush to Homecoming. He said no, naturally, but hey, at least I asked.


Now they're trying to start me in on going to college. Lemme tell ya what I think about that. First, let's start with what classes are like now. When I'm bored in general, my mind wanders. I will think of anything but what I'm doing. When I'm in class, this tends towards death/suicide/Hell/afterlife/what have you. The only class this is actually appropriate in is Heaven and Hell. I'm not suicidal, though, don't worry. I just think about it. Especially when I'm doing school-related stuff. When I'm bored and I'm at work, I drift off into anything else. But, the bottom line is that school makes me want to scream. It also makes me.... well, we'll get into that some other time.

College is my next step, right? I went to the vist from St. Mary's College of Maryland. The guy standing at the front of the room said that the classes might be a bit longer, and a bit faster paced. That's what honors-college means. St. Mary's is also a small school. One the one hand, the size would be PERFECT. I can't stand large classes. But on the other hand... I can barely handle the 86 minutes of not-honors doom that make up one class. Multiply that by eight, the amout of classes I have total. That is about two days in my life. And lunch periods do not relieve it.

What am I going to do in college? I honestly, honestly believe that even the slightest mismatch between me and college may lead to me being locked into a mental hospital. But, on the flip side, maybe what I need is a change of pace, you know? I've been in the same place for a while, and it gets stale. Maybe that has something to do with it? Who knows.

All right, peace out peeps.

Rainy Days are Boring, Like My Life

One of the reasons I dislike Fall is that it rains. A lot. At least here in Maryland it does. Yesterday and today were no exception.

Yesterday was one of those typical rainy school days: Get up, trudge through schoolwork that seems endless because of a looming three-day-weekend, go home, do whatever. So I managed (barely) to get through school. Then I got in my car with a girl and her sister and took them home (which took twice as long as it should have because of the rain.) Then I ran out to the grocery store to buy cake mix and cake accessories for my friend's birthday. I picked up a box that said the cake recipe called for oil, so I called home to make sure we had oil. Then I picked up another box without thinking and put it in the basket. I continued on my way. I bought some candles that said "Happy Birthday" and some chocolate frosting and some blue icing. When I got to the checkout, I found the little impulse-buy refrigerator, and it had a new soda that I just had to try. It was Diet Sierra Mist with cranberry flavoring in it! And it was good!

So I went home to make the cake and get on my way. I took the box of mix out of the grocery bag and read the back. To my horror, I had picked up a box of Butter Recipe cake mix. As you can probably guess, this recipe calls for butter, not oil. I looked in the refrigerator, and to my horror, we only had half a stick of butter. And it was very hard butter indeed. I looked around some more. We had a margarine spread. I used that as a substitute, and stuck it and the half-stick of butter into the microwave to make them soft... not realizing, of course, that the spread would melt. As much as I hated that, it made the mix easier to stir and therefore easier to make. So the rest of the cake-making goes well, until I look around and find that we do not seem to own a cake transporter that is intact. In fact, the one we have is broken and takes rectangular cakes. My cake, naturally, was round, because round is a fun shape for cake. My mother suggested that I take the cakes on two separate plates and finish assembling the cake upon arrival. This plan seemed to work well, so I packed up the cake, threw some clothes in a bag, and headed off.

Traffic, of course, was the horrible kind that comes with rainy rush-hour. So I took the back way to my friend's house (An important note: she lives two hours away). At this point, it is about six-thirty PM as I leave, and it is rainy, so it gets dark very quickly. So I have many tasks at this point: operate the car effectively and safely, read the directions, avoid getting lost, and make sure the cakes aren't sliding around on the back seat. The only tricky part was avoiding getting lost, but that was merely because I couldn't read the road signs very well in the dark rain. (Also, some of the numbers are missing off the signs. How do I know this? Because exits do not jump from number 69 to number 8. That just does not happen.) So I arrive safely, eat dinner, hang out with my friend, and go to bed.

The sleeping arrangements last night were a bit askew due to the fact that my friend's sister just moved to a college in Ohio and doesn't live at home anymore. This leaves her rather large room to just sit and be a haven for the family cats (of which there are twelve). The sister's bed is still in the room: a nice queensized bed. My friend decided that she wanted us to sleep in the same room, and that since her room barely fits what's in there, we should sleep in her sister's room (which is completely allowed.) So we go upstairs, and my friend tells me that I will be sleeping on the [rather defective] inflatable mattress. As much as I hate the inflatable matress, I go along with that because it's her birthday the next day. We inflated the mattress. She forgot to close the air plug thing. We put more air in the mattress, but apparently not enough, because at around 1 in the morning, I woke up and definitely felt the floor through the mattress. I dealt with it, though, because I was tired as crap.





I'm extremely tired. So I'm going to put part II of this saga up tomorrow.



Peace, love, and raincoats.

Heaven doesn't want me, and Hell's afraid I'm gonna take over.

I ran out of creative things to do with this blog. Post secrets all seem alike after a while. So now I'm bringing you something cool. POETRY!!! (Copyrighted, of course.)

The first one is called "This poem is crap." Yes, I realize that this is a sentence, not a title. That is what is written at the top of the page though, therefore making it a title.

It hasn't been the same without you
Living day to day
But I know it's my own fault
That I feel this way
I brought you here into my life
And then cast you aside
I told myself I didn't need you
Well, I guess I lied

It isn't that I cannot function
Because apparently I do
It's just that life has not been right
Since I quit myself of you
If I try replacing you
Maybe that would work
But we both know that, eventually,
You'll find me, and you'll smirk.

Again I tried to leave you
But this time, let you stay
If I want to live my life
You're the price I have to pay
Life was not the same without you
Without your painful touch
I found I couldn't live without you
I needed you too much.


This next two are similar. I had a concept in my head that I wanted to write about, but started this next one and couldn't go in the direction I'd intended, so I wrote the last one as a follow-up. Pardon my repetition of phrases and ideas. This one is "Confessions of a Good Girl."

She says I'm sweet, naive, innocent
An almost-grown baby girl
She'll swear she knows all about me
And so would they, and he, and you
If she and they and he and you
Would pay proper attention
You'd see I'm not the good girl
But I'll keep my secret
The good girl thinks a certain way
And knows that good is everything
I try to be good, I swear I do
But lately it's too hard.
Good girls go to Heaven, but I wonder
What about me? I've been told I will
because I am a "good girl"
But I know I won't
I don't act the part
Heaven has no smoking section
Heaven has no bars
And Heaven will not let me in
If Heaven sees my scars
Truly good girls go to Heaven
And damn if I won't try my best...



There must be a way to be good again.


This last one plays on the "good girl" theme. It has no title.

I'm the girl who lives two lives
I'm the girl who has two worlds
I'm the girl with many secrets
I'm the girl with many lies

In the world of books and learning
I'm the girl who does not speak
I'm the girl who breaks no rules
I'm the nerdy, goody-two-shoes
I'm the naive, innocent one
I'm the sullen, silent one.

In the world of other life
I'm the girl who needs to speak
I'm the girl who shuns the rules
I'm the bad girl, wild-child
I'm the one who tries to learn
I'm the almost-normal one

I sometimes wish the woulds would meet
So you could see both sides
But keeping separate is the way
To let me be myself.





Hope you enjoyed!

Rawr, I am an octopus that is scary and will stare at you with my huge eyes!

Lalalalalala. I am quite hyper today. I don't know why. I slept through math class. (Okay, well, so did everyone else. Including the uber-amazing guy who sits next to me. He is some kind of awesome.)

I got my copy of the music for Sweeney Todd today. I haven't looked through it yet. It majorly scares me, actually. Because from what it looks like, ST is a long-ass show. Like, no lie. I've never played music for that long before (although Carmina Burana and Caccia and Chorale last year kinda come close with the sheer intensity of it all.).

Anyway. It's been a long long long time since I've updated. So, over the week I was very stressed. And that carried over into the weekend. And I threw a temper-tantrum at work. And my coworker sent our other coworker to check on me. It was quite nice, actually, because he is a really sweet guy. Even if he is taken.

Hm... what else? Um... Saturday. We were pulling arrows at work, and usually when we enter the room we shout random nonsense to the customers to make them smile. My traditional statement is "Don't shoot me, I'm too cute to be a target!" Not quite true, but whatever. After maybe half the day of working, at some point I go in and say it in my cutesy-pie voice, and then turn my back to start pulling the arrows, and a guy shouts in "Yes, you are!" That pretty much made my day. But then later that night a drunk guy started harassing me. Thank God a guy from the AAFD was standing there to make sure I was all right. Thank you, random fire-department guy.

What else? Oh. Karma bit me in my rear end. Japan came and bitched me out. But I deserved it. But really, in the middle of a work day? (Karma's retaliation on her came when she was forced to go on break when I waved at her to say hi.) [And yes, even though you're not reading this, Japan, I do realize that you are a girl with a vagina. Usually, girls and vaginas go together. I didn't need that particular information reinforced. I don't want to think about those when I'm at work, thanks! LOL.]

Aaaaaand.... I'm starting bassoon lessons soon! Friday, I believe. With a student (I believe) at UMD! She sounds very nice from the email contact we've had. Which makes me happy. I don't want an older version of myself giving me lessons.

All right, I'm off to bed and whatnot. Check in with you laters.



Peace, love, and coconut-cream pie.

The Nonsense of Band

There is a music honor society. It is called Modern Music Masters, or Tri-M. To be in said honor society, you must apply. The application for my school's chapter is utterly ridiculous. It includes some of the following questions.

• What special talent would you be able to bring to Tri-M? .... Well. Let's see. I BSed this question, and said something about "quietness" but really... I'd bring the special awesomeness that comes with being a bassoon player.
• What do you hope to learn from being in Tri-M? .... WTF? I have to actually LEARN something? I can't just get a pink thingy for graduation?
• What non-school-related extracurriculars are you involved in? .... This question has little to do with music, in my opinion. Because other than work and summer theatre, I have nothing, actually.
• Why do you think you are a perfect candidate for Tri-M? ... Well. Because I'm a musician. And there is a dire lack of bassoon players in our chapter of Tri-M. In fact... right now I'd even say there are no bassoon players in our Tri-M.

Yeah. And you know? I should have put those down as my answers to the questions.

In other news. My cafeteria is a liar. Portabello mushroom sandwiches were supposed to be today. Not yesterday. Losers. So instead I had pudding and a cheeseburger. Woohoo. Now watch, my mother will tell me that we are having burgers tonight. Gotta love that.

Overall, today was a good day. I didn't burst into tears when a certain person's name was mentioned. And I actually talked and goofed off like a normal person. Geez, what has gotten into me?

Peace, love, and pink paper,

Catnip

... I guess I'm not one, then.

So I had this lovely post all written out. And then the Internet ate it! It is clearly not dinner time yet, so what the fuck? Anyway. If this isn't as heartfelt as I mean it to be, I blame Blogger.

(Oh, and just to let you know, Bubbles is going to be a princess some day. Just in case you were wondering or anything.

I'm going to steal the idea for this post from Bubbles's latest post. She listed all the stuff that's stressing her out and whatnot. Just to let you know, I love my Bubbles and wish her life didn't suck as much as it seems to. But here's my life.

1. School. School is kicking my butt already. My teachers are intimidating and mean. I don't understand the material. And, of course, while we're busy being seniors, we also have to think about college. Lemme tell you. I have no idea where I want to go to college. I have no idea what I want to do in college. I don't even know that I want to go to college. I mean, seriously, six more years of school? Does that sound appealing to anyone? *crickets* Didn't think so. And then I have my mom telling me "Oh, yeah, you're not getting into college." And then right after that "Apply to this college. You're not going to get in but it's where I want you to go."
2. Friends. Geez, this should really bulk up this post, right? Let's start off with saying that I have been treating my friends like crap. And even though I may say this too much, I really am sorry. I really don't deserve my friends. And I've been majorly just alienating them recently and it's been coming back to kind of hit me. I mean, for all I know, Bubbles hates me at this point. Highway Princess is probably ready to hit me. But I tend to hate myself more when my friends don't like me, and that makes a lot of things worse. And the fact that pretty much everyone is mad at me is a major problem right now. And the fact that I've been forgiven by Bubbles, or maybe I'm just being a little too presumptive in assuming that she indeed referred to me, but I really don't feel like it. Well. I'm sure you can understand.
3. Guys. Yeah. Typical teenage girl drama, yes? Well. Let's say you're at work and everyone around you is dating/mutually flirting with somone? And then a "friend" comes up to you and tells you that you need to "get laid." I can't even get a guy to LOOK at me, let alone have sex with me (not that I'd do that. I am saving myself for marriage.) It's hard, you know?
4. As you may have guessed, I have all kinds of emotional/mental issues. My mother is ignoring them, though. I've been told by a medical professional that I need to be seeing a therapist. My parent disagrees. And, of course, everyone is apparently convinced that I am a smoker/drinker/cutter/etc. Smoking a cigarette or two does not make me a smoker. A (small) drink occasionally does not make me a drinker. And cutting? Psh. Twice, maybe, in the past six months? That's not a big problem.

No one in my life is dying. I am not dying. Hell, my plants aren't even dying. But for some reason... everything just seems really out of whack.

In other news, my cat hunts and eats french fries. So all you lengthwise-sliced, oil-cooked potatoes out there, beware of Kitty.

On a lighter note.

E flat.

That's all.

Peace, love, and blog wars.

We All Die Eventually

I give up. School wins.

I realized, after reading Bubbles's blog that I am a majorly sucky person. Although in my defense, she doesn't have to be so passively mean to me. I apologized. What more does she want? This blog is not about Bubbles, though, so I will return to my actual topic. Which, as of this posting, corresponds with Bubbles's most recent blog post. I don't know who I am anymore.

No, I didn't hit my head. Yes, I know my name. I know basic things about myself. But who am I? I used to be a good girl, the sheltered kind that is naive and innocent and good. I used to abhor drinking, smoking, cutting, everything. I behaved. I didn't fight with people. I was happy. I don't know what changed.

I wrote a couple of poems during my study hall today. They dealt with the fact that I've lost myself. I think what I really need to do is identify who I've been recently.

I find that I identify myself using my friends. I will do that no more. I find that I identify myself as a cutter. Not like 'Hi, I'm Catnip, I cut myself.' but more like, it's part of who I am. I shouldn't do that anymore, but I probably will. I find that I identify myself as a musician, which clearly I am not. I play notes on a page, not music. I find that I identify myself as a writer, which of course is inaccurate because people only give me positive feedback because I tend to get defensive otherwise. That, and I am a sucky, sucky writer.

I hate myself most of the time. Which, as you probably would guess, causes me to be mean to myself. Highway/Fairy Princess/Whatever he wants to be called pointed out that, in a conversation with someone, I was a little selfish on my end of the conversation. Then he pointed out how. As if I didn't already know.

It seems like none of my outside-of-school friends can match the support I get at school. Even if the people at school don't really like me, they're at least there for me. I know that Highway Princess is just trying to help. But he could be a bit more gentle about it (yes, it's his turn to be blog-bitched).

Meh. I'm out of my mind with stress and exhaustion right now. Please argue with me so I don't do something drastic. But don't hold it against our friendship.

Peace, love, and maroon polo shirts,

Catnip

Only When I'm on Fire

I don't want to say I actually started smoking. Because when I'm not at work, I don't have access to cigarettes. But I smoked one yesterday, and one today. I think that I'm just using it as a stress outlet; cutting isn't doing it for me anymore. I've been given a stipulation by Smoky (my friend from Archery) that as long as I don't get addicted, he will provide me with cigarettes on occasion.

Let me tell you about smoking. First off, if you're going to start, start around someone who knows what they're doing. Because you're really not supposed to inhale it the way you might think. You're supposed to suck it in like you're using a straw. And, yes, that will get the drugginess into your system without making you cough (right away, at least).

Another thing. I don't know much about this, but apparently Marlboros are not the best brand to get. That is what Smoky uses, though, so I don't know. I've never tried anything different.

Saturday was my first time. I was stressed because... well, I'm pretty much always stressed. So Smoky gave me a cigarette when I asked for one, and then Cannon (aka the girl who ran the Cannon game up until yesterday) asked me to walk out to the car with her. We went, and as soon as we were out of the gate, she lit the cigarette and handed it to me. I, of course, didn't actually know how to smoke, so I asked her and she explained it. So I did it right. And we stood there. And I felt a little rebellious. And a bit like a little girl who was trying to prove that she is, indeed, not a little girl. Of course, Cannon recognized that I am not a little girl, and we talked about why I was smoking. She pointed out that there is a difference between someone who smokes for the hell of it and someone who smokes because at the given moment they have no alcohol or antidepressants at their fingertips. She said she understood that I fell into this second grouping.

Today I went out to the parking lot with Smoky. He and I sat under a tree in the shade (because it was a freaking OVEN outside) and we smoked together. It was nice, being able to talk to someone about serious stuff and have him be supportive rather than passive. I told him about the mindset that I have: If I could quit cutting, I can probably quit smoking. I mean, they don't make quit-cutting patches and gum. They make quit-smoking patches and gum. He said that even if I did start cutting again (which I have, but not really), I quit cutting for longer than he's ever quit smoking. Which was kind of encouraging, in a way.

All right. Back to work.

Peace, love, and colored lighters.

It's Fricking DEGRASSI. But a bright, 7th-Heaven-esque Ending

As always, I am not actually trying to make excuses, I'm trying to provide understanding. And, it's not that I fight with people because I'm not happy. I've noticed that there are times where I am fighting with pretty much every person in my life, including myself. And I've kind of spotted a pattern. In this general order, the following occurs:

1. I have a panic attack, to varying degrees of severity. Usually they're no big deal.
2. I have a mental-breakdown, more commonly called a "cry day."
3. I have very very very bad thoughts.
4. I have little personality or energy or words.
5. I stop feeling, both physically and emotionally.
6. I start fighting with people. (This may be a subconscious "make-me-feel-something" thing)
7. I fight with almost anyone.
8. I feel... (insert adjective/feeling/noun here)
9. I try to patch things up
10. I try to get things back to normal

And from there, the cycle continues. Right now, I am at both Stage Three and Stage Nine. How I'm doing both, I have no fucking clue. What I do know, however, is that it's not very fun. But at least I can identify that I'm at Stage Three and just be very careful. Sometims I can manage to stay in Stage Four long enough for the cycle to ride itself out without progressing.

There are a few things I've noticed when I'm in Cycle Mode.

• It's usually during the school year
• I'm usually NOT on my period
• It's usually when it's rainy/cloudy/dark outside
• It's usually when I have recieved new band music (or, if something big for Band is coming up)
• It's usually when I am also having my insecurities shoved into my face.

This is the first time I've gone into Cycle Mode this early into the school year, but maybe that's just me being a psycho.

ON THE BRIGHT SIDE OF THINGS! It has been brought to my attention that someone at that huge place I work cares about me enough to send a rose. Speculation has been made that the sender is a male, however, we have no proof of such a claim. I have narrowed it down to either a guy Bubbles works with, a guy at the Slide, or someone I don't even know. Yeah, I know that there's a possibility that someone lied to me, and I'm very naive and am frequently lied to. However, I do not think that anyone at work lied to me. I'm kinda hoping it's Bubbles's co-worker. He's kinda cute! But Bubbles tells me that he might not put much thought into such things. I think that it might be safe to assume that he is a possibility. Of course, it's just as likely that it's not him, but oh well. I kinda hope it's not the guy from Slide that I'm thinking of that sent it. Because he's a little bit of a loser.

Peace, love, and Pre-Calculus homework.

Catnip.

Just for you

If you click on it, it maximizes to a fully readable size. I've had it tested.

The blog is hereby cancelled. It does more harm than good, both to me and to you, the readers.

To answer your concerns...

Maybe that last blog post didn't come out right. Breaking up with one's best friend should not occur in a blog post. Except, of course, that I'm pretty sure there are very few people who read this blog anyway.

To clear things up: I didn't say that stuff because I don't want to be friends with Bubbles anymore. It's more, I want to give Bubbles the option to not be weighed down by me anymore. I can't stand the way I've been treating her.

I had a dream last night that I'd killed myself, and then I saw Bubbles screaming. When I woke up, I assumed that the two images were somehow related. That dream is probably what kept me from doing a number of things today.

I don't know if Bubbles is still speaking to me. But if she is, I hopes that she reads this and doesn't resent me as much. If she's not, well, I understand that completely.

Peace, love, and melted chocolate ice cream that will make Bubbles sneeze.

Two posts in one night is uncharacteristic of me, but there's something I've gotta say. I may always get stuff wrong. I may go about approaching things in the wrong way. And I may make my best friend hate me, even though she'd never admit it to me. And I fear that this time I've gone too far. This is part two of the apology post.

Bubbles is my best friend and I love her to death. She's beautiful, and she's kind, and she cares about everyone, even if she doesn't know them well. And she's pretty much stuck with me even when I'm everyone's least favorite person. And sometimes I kinda treat her like shit. She deserves better than that. She deserves better than me. And, Bubbles, I don't think we can be friends anymore because I don't want to cause you any more trouble than I already have. I think that if you are going to have any kind of pleasant, normal life, I need to not be part of it.

I'm sorry.

An explanation you won't like.

It's time to talk about the dreaded Tuesdy. Last Tuesday, in case your brain has gone stale. Last Tuesday was the first day of my senior year of high school. And it did not go well. But first, the backstory.

Last school year, junior year, was difficult. Towards the end, it was all I could do to not throw myself in front of a moving bus/train/komodo dragon. Summer came, and there were times where I wanted to jump out of the car, while it was going at highway speed. Everyone's got thoughts like that, I guess.

Now onto Tuesday. I got to school. I had Math first period. I am completely stupid as a whole, but in math I think I'm downright retarded. I just kinda shrugged it off, though, because Math sucks. After that was Band, which of course is a nightmare because I cannot play any of the music I am given. I shrugged that off, too, because I guessed that I just needed to get back into the swing of things before I'd play better. Next was Honors British Literature *shudders*. My teacher is also one of our Disciplinary Deans. He gave us a test on our summer reading, which I hadn't had a chance to finish. I failed that test. The penalty for failing the test is that we would be kicked out of the class. It worried me greatly. The only decent thing about the day was that the last class of the day, Global Studies, is taught by my favorite teacher. Of course, the class is filled with a bunch of loud people that are disrespectful. I really can't stand that.

So I went on my merry way, drove home and whatnot. I thought about driving my car into a pole. But I didn't want to cause traffic on the Beltway. I came to a stop sign and didn't stop where I was supposed to and almost got hit by a car, and stopped and thought, "Damn it, I missed my chance." Then, I felt bad because if I'd not stopped, the people in the other car would've been dead, as well as me, and that wouldn't be cool. So then I went home. I had a headache. I poured maybe fifteen pills into my hand. I only took three of them. I went up to my room and cried very hard for the rest of the night. Then I took a shower. And pulled out my trusty friend, Mr. Razor. And well, you can kind of guess how things went from there.

I didn't take that as a sign that quitting my habit would never happen. I took it as a slight relapse that could easily be overcome. I kept going with my life. The weekend came, and I went to work. Saturday was just a big rainy mess, which was fine with me because no one showed up. Sunday was busy and I just kinda snapped. I took a small break, and went into the back closet. I needed something sharp very badly. All I had was a safety pin. It sufficed. I thought about asking a co-worker for a cigarette. I don't smoke, but God knows that I probably would if I was stressed enough. I didn't ask him for one right then, but I decided that if next weekend was really bad, I would ask him for one at that time.

Today is proving to be a repeat of Tuesday. Bubbles is being very short with me. Although judging from the fact that she probably read that post I did about her (And again, I'm sorry), she has every right to be. I just wish she'd yell and get angry instead of being short. I can take long flows of words. I can't stand one-word answers. And school was, naturally, a nightmare. So we'll see how tonight goes. I've already had a good serving or so of alcohol, which lasted maybe an hour this afternoon, so I don't know how the rest of the evening will go.

Peace, love, and gin.

Catnip

Biscuits and Gravy

Cookies rule the world. Yes they do. Recently, Bubbles was promised a cookie for updating her blog. And hasn't gotten that cookie. Shame on you, person who promised Bubbles a cookie. Let me share a fun story about cookies.

When I was in a production of a popular Disney musical last summer, we did a Secret Santa exchange for Christmas in July. I drew the name out of a hat. and lo and behold, it was Bubbles. Now, as close as I'd like to think Bubbles and I are, I didn't know much about what to get her. I mean, I couldn't just get her what any other teenage girl would want, because frankly, I know nothing about teenage girls, even if I am one. So what did I do? I found a shoe box, lined it with tissue paper, and filled it with homemade chocolate chip cookies, because I know Bubbles loves cookies. I mean, if her name wasn't Bubbles in this blog, it would be Cookie, probably.

The above little cartoon thing is right: The cookies were, at the time, what I thought was our last hope. Because, as usual, Bubbles and I were fighting. (Although people were attacking me telling me to be nice to Bubbles when I couldn't see that I'd done anything wrong...). But anyway. Bubbles figured out that I'd had her name for Secret Santa, and everything was good. Because, of course, cookies fix everything.

Short post tonight, I know, but I have a shitload of homework and I have to work tomorrow.

Peace, love, and marshmallow cookies.

A public apology

*I had this nice heartfelt apology all written, but then my Internet died in my face. Gee, thanks, IE*

I would like to apologize to Bubbles and whoever else may be feeling my psycho-ice-bitch wrath right now. There is a reason, albeit not a very good one, and a story too, behind my psycho-ice-bitchiness. However, you reader people might not exactly fully understand said story at this time, so I will save it for the next post, whenever that may be.

Again, I'm sorry.

~ Catnip

Bow for the King.

Ignore that small script at the bottom. I don't feel that that's relevant to this picture. And I'm not exactly incorrect in thinking this. I know they talk about me. Because according to Japan the other day, Bubbles told her all about a disagreement we had. And about a panic attack I had. And, you know, Bubbles would never have told me about anything that would happen with a mutual friend. Bubbles never talks to me about anything. Yes, this is a bitch-rant. Fucking deal with it.

I always feel like I'm bugging Bubbles when I talk to her about something... and when I had a panic attack the other day, I felt like I was hugely inconveniencing her. And I probably was. And when we talk, she always always always makes me feel stupid... although I'm sure she doesn't mean to. Japan does the same thing, but Japan does it in a way that makes her come of as being a little bit of an ass. The way Bubbles does it, though, it particularly hurts...

Have you ever had one of those days where you thought everything was crashing down on you all at once, after it had all just piled up for the past few days? I had that yesterday. The Bubbles/Japan thing, school, everything. What was the big thing? Bubbles talking down to me about school. Not just because of how she said it, but because she was wrong. And, of course, probably wouldn't care at all about anything that happened yesterday. She even said it herself once. She's only still friends with me because she knows that without her, I'd be absolutely alone. And yes, I do have that saved somewhere.

Don't let me poison you against her though. She's my best friend. I love her like a sister. (I love her more than I love my actual sister.) But sometimes... I question how she views our friendship [I don't question it to her, though, because that makes me look like the stupid, immature thing that I am...]

Bitch-rant over. Please return to your regularly scheduled Internet browsing.

"Fire at Will... Wait. Where's Will?"

The 2008 Season of the Maryland Renaissance Festival was this weekend. I work at MDRF; I'm an Archery Wench. The traditional system has 6 people assigned to Archery at the beginning of the season. The idea is that people tend to quit, or get fired, or leave however they may leave. I mean, there are certain times that six people are really needed, but a good 75% of the time we really only need three. Which makes it good for us when we need breaks, but usually no one is on break.

Last year at Archery, we started with 6. One person was moved to the Labyrinth game. A few weeks later, one person quit, one person was fired, and one person was moved to Soda all in the same day. Which left one other girl (Lucky Seven), me, and a floater. We had fun. This year, Lucky Seven and I are the only two Archery veterans. The other four are boys. Of these boys, one has worked at MDRF before and has been stationed at the Cannon game temporarily. One is eighteen and does the "chivalry" thing well, but his sincerity is questionable. One is a 14-year-old, who, well, acts the part of a 14-year-old. The last one is fifteen or sixteen, and seems to just blend in. All four have varying shades of blue eyes, all of which are quite lovely. The one thing about these boys, though, is that they do not listen. Lucky Seven left early Sunday because she was sick, and I was left to continue the informal training. Of course, they don't listen when I tell them that their actions are, technically, against the rules. They don't listen when I say that they can only take more/longer breaks after everyone else has gotten their needed breaks for the time being. They don't listen when I say "Don't put your back to the customers!" or "Can we please not have five transactons at once?" They don't listen, no matter how many times I tell them that what they are doing at the given moment is dangerous and will get at least one of us fired. They're sweet boys, don't get me wrong, but they don't listen enough. Although... those would be typical boys for you, wouldn't it?

I Bet My Cat Likes Lasagna

I love Garfield and his sarcastic, witty humor. And this picture? Is kind of awesome right now. Today has been "one of those days." But it relates to days past, so just kind bear with me.

So, the other day, I had AOL Instant Messenger (also known as AIM) open, and I was talking to Bubbles in one window and Teapot in another window. And I said something in my conversation with Bubbles about something "pointless, like a circle." And, thinking that the whole conversation was a little absurd in the way that Bubbles and I are absurd, I sent that excerpt to Teapot. Teapot then proceeded to poke fun at me because "Circles have more points than anything else!" Well, yes, a circle in geometry class might have more points than anything else, but your average circle is round, and therefore has no points. I just kinda shrugged this off; after all, I did just barely pass Geometry.

Today, however, I was talking to my friend Sushi, who pointed out that "Sew is only one letter away from screw." Again, thinking that this was kinda funny, I sent this to Teapot. Who then pointed out that it was, in fact, two letters away. I defended the claim of "one letter" because I didn't look closely enough. As soon as I sent my response, however, I noticed that it was indeed two letters. And then Teapot felt the need to laugh at my defense of my statement (yes, he did laugh, and did point out that it was because of my defense.). Teapot is supposed to be one of my closest friends, but I'm starting to wonder about that, since apparently he must think I'm stupid.

Oh, and did I mention that I'm majorly ticked at Teapot now?

Anyway. This morning I dyed a shirt for work. I thought it went well, until I remembered that I forgot to add salt and detergent to the dyebath. This kinda frustrated me, but fabric dye isn't expensive, so I can always do it again if something happens in the future.

Later in the day, a friend (who is mentally behind) told me that she was worried that I would fail out of high school my Senior year. I honestly don't know why she said this, since the year hasn't even started yet, and I'm not taking many hard classes. Way to make me feel like I'm smart enough to finish high school, let alone go to college.

While I was doing some sewing, my cat decided it would be fun to sneak up on the side of the couch and stick her claws into my arm and sewing project. This was a little annoying, but I just brushed her away and continued working.

Then, Teapot Instant Messaged me and complained about all of the summer AP work he had to do. This made me kind of angry, because all summer he's been "AP work this" and "AP work that." Okay, well, I didn't get selected to be in any AP classes for next year, and that still kind of hurts. So, I would now like ot point out that I have no sympathy for Teapot whatsoever. He and his backhanded bragging can go jump in a lake. But wait, this isn't the end of the day.

I was eating dinner, and I had my arm over the side of the couch like I usually do, and the cat started clawing my arm again. I then got up, because I had finished my dinner, and went into the kitchen to get some dessert. I returned to find the dog in my seat. I tried to move him, but he wouldn't go no matter how much I tried to push him down. Finally, he had to be bribed with food to get down. I sat down to eat dessert, and the cat started clawing my arm again. By now, my day was just kinda getting really bad. So I stood up, looked down where the cat was, and yelled at the cat. (Yes, I realize that she probably did not understand what I was saying.) And that, ladies and gentlemen, was my last nerve.

You are now free to move about the Internet.

Can I get a translation?

Math is my downfall. Here are 10 reasons I don't need math:

1. I am going to be a famous writer one day. I'll be able to hire people to do the math for me.
2. I am going to be a guidance counselor one day. I need to practice the answer not being set in stone. Math answers are set in stone.
3. I am a musician; the only math I will ever need is the ability to count.
4. Most colleges only require two or three credits of math, but four English credits. That means that colleges care more about English than math.
5. Math cannot keep my attention. If it cannot in any way be made interesting (which, so far, it has not), then clearly it is not worth my time.
6. The ability to do math without assistance has become obsolete. I do not feel the need to concern myself with obsolete abilities. Machines have been invented to add/subtract/multiply/divide for me.
7. Math is not able to be applied to the real world. Teachers can only ever come up with a few examples of "real-world math" because only a few examples exist.
8. Math makes me want to pull my hair out. Clearly, that is not healthy, which means that math is not healthy, which means I don't need to do it.
9. No one needs a constant reminder that little mistakes have a huge impact. In math, even the itsy-bitsiest little error will throw the problem off.
10. I only like cool teachers. I have never met a cool math teacher. English teachers and band directors are the only cool people on the planet.

That, children, is my post for the night.

Oh, and one more thing. 2+2=Fish.