Sequel to "For Future Reference"

The other draft of For Future Reference is eternally saving, so I can only guess what I wrote there.

Here's the latest edition:

Victim mentality - always feels targeted, threatened, and victimized. Feels it's impossible to ever win or be successful, so tends to cease trying when the odds are not in favor.  Perpetually loses fencing matches despite having more experience and being in better shape (and older than) her opponents.
Easily discouraged and quick to become upset.
Mother often asks why she so quickly turns to the negative. She does not know why.

Perfectionist - Sees the world as imperfect despite having the potential to be near perfect, and often becomes frustrated when a worldly system or construct is left clearly corrupt and an effective solution is easily seen. Intolerant of many mistakes people make around her, difficult to stay at peace.
Strongly dislikes hypocrites, believes in absolutism. If it's not exactly what she wants, she would rather not have anything.  Hard to please.

Often "shuts down" when under stress or in a tense or threatening situation. This is usually accompanied by a small bout of "depression"and impulsive behavior.  Unable to be reasoned with.

Tone-Sensitive - Very attune to tone of voice and diction.  Easy set off by negative or condescending tones.

Senpaiiii :o

Some days, I just really want Senpai to notice me..
Today is one of those days :T

The Progress of Pilgrims

I'm in a strange, new land full of strange, new people. The old world is far away, but I still have my memories.
Kicked a habit, made it two. Now, I'm starting a new one. Why?

I never seen to be able to live without some sort of habit, so while expelling energy to kick habits 3 and 4, might as well put some in a more positive direction.
Now, I'm making it my nightly ritual to brush my teeth before bed.

Hoping to tack on washing my face, and eventually, starting/ending my day with a quick bath. A jog after school couldn't hurt too much.
Now, all I need is the right frame of mind.

Hasta la huevo~
(Until the egg, Ikik. Writing essays in Spanish.. Da struggle ish real, brohhhz >.>)

Close the Door and Open Your Heart

"Sometimes I like to close my eyes.. To the world that buzzes around me. To the temptations and distractions, to the things I know will harm me."

I'm only writing this today by the good grace of God.  Life is not a cake walk, but I've made it seventeen years, and I plan to try for seventeen more.

Each day brings new temptations, new landmines and pitfalls, but I hope to be able to tune out the distractions.. Close my eyes, focus my ears and really listen to the whispers. Maybe now, I'll be able to hear Him more clearly.

Like Mr. Mitchell said, "Get up and move around the room, get down on your knees in a quiet corner, away from anyone and anything that is holding you back. Whatever you need to do."*

*Paraphrased from IO Night of Worship Nov 2015

Just try it. You might be pleasantly surprised at what you'll hear :)

The Face of Jesus

Tonight was IO's Night of Worship, and because of my "dry communion" with Christ, I'd like to take a few minutes and reflect on a positive realization.

When I was praying, I made a side comment to myself about how I couldn't wait to see His face, but how blind I have been! I see His face every day.

I see His soft, loving eyes in the face of the man at the Whole Foods fish counter.

I see His radiant smile in the employees at Kroger, and His wisdom flow from the mouth of a guy at Game Stop.

Everywhere I turn, I see His face, and I am glad :)

This is Halloween~

It's Friday! Only a day from the most self-expressive holiday of the year(and also my Dad's birthday and they day he lands in America).

The only drawback: I don't really have a costume this year. Ehh, I mean, I have the army green riding pants and a blousy cream shirt, but I'm missing all the details. Little things, like leather gloves, a belt, and a handy pair of brass goggles.

So, in accordance to my dilemma, I came to school in my Science Olympiad T-shirt, jeans, and my Romania top hat for a festive touch.

Oh yeah, and we just finished River Ridge's first ever Weird Science day! As an Olympiad(or Olympian?), I got to help out with the different activity rooms in exchange for a modified schedule: 1 lunch period(negotiable) and one science period to have fun. The potluck fell through due to the schedule, but plenty of people still got to enjoy the fruits of my Witching hour labors~

One of which was a tripple thief: some sophomore(junior?) posing Joker.

So Irene was talking to this guy, right? Seemed fine enough. I was munching some goldfish a friend from SciOly gave me when he whirled around once, twice, three times and stole a mouthful of goldfish from my baggie! x'D I just couldn't even, dude. Stood there for a minute like, wtheck just happened!?!
He did make a fabulous Joker.. Face shape and all. He was too real. Ehh, he stopped by a bit later around the class change, and I decided to offer him a cookie. Might as well haha. Anyone who has the audacity to steal goldfish from out of my hand deserves some token of recognition.

It was too much dude. I just don't even..

Yeah. Well anyway, Katie managed to scare me out of my wits a couple times in Sawicki's creepy crawly exhibit. Ooh! And I held a millipede!! It was so cool. And scary, but mostly cool. Same goes for the hissing cockroaches. They're really feisty haha.

While we're here, I might as well talk about Halloween day.
My costume was kind of bleh, just a basic blousy half sleeve with two layers of skirts and lacy socks for my boots, but I'll get there someday.. Maybe.

Anyway, after Trunk or Treat, I helped my mom size up the next batch of witch finger cookies (Giada's recipe from Food Network), and headed to Macey's house for the party. Let me just say I love homeschool kids. They're the best.. "Let's make a circle guys! Yeah~"

So we played Kumcha, a Korean tribal dance game, out in the cul de sac at dusk. No kids came by the house after that. I wonder why.. Lol

I really wish people would be able to get over themselves sometimes, though. I at least made an effort to get to know the other 6. It's just hard when you ask them a question, genuinely interested in them, and they don't even attempt to ask you back.
I know I'm not the coolest, richest, most dynamic person in the group, but at least I'm courteous. Maybe someday they'll let me in. :/

Bang Bang You're Dead

Time for another disorganized brain -blurb.

Just got back from seeing Bang Bang You're Dead for the second time at my school.

I'm always interested in the psychological - there are so many people that need help. That's the whole reason for the play: to evoke thoughts people tend to shy away from and help people become more aware of the bullying and suicide statistics and their domino like effects.

As I said before, these topics are interesting to me. I'm a very spiritual person. I thoroughly enjoy soul searching and thought sifting. My own mind is an endless desert, flourishing against the better judgement of a first glance. But my mom? I have no idea. I don't think I'll ever know since she's so unyieldingly averse to anything darker than sunset.  She shuts off like a clam, and like ten minutes ago, usually ends the conversation walking out of the  room saying how much I enjoy the darkness, how I can't get enough of it. Then, there's the God Card.

"I know it's not nice, but it's a necessary thing to hear."

"Jesus is necessary to me."

How can I argue with that? I can't. I can't say anything.

Then, my thoughts quickly spiral, and I end up lying in a pit like heck.

"If I'm so dark and hopeless, why should I even try? It's obvious I can't change myself. It'd be a sin to put that on my kids, so I can't have those or a husband either. There's no point. I have no use for life, and, neither it for me. No hope, no future. Just the bleak and melancholy way I was raised. This is why I can't have kids. I have my father's eyes and so my father's tongue. I have my mother's wrath, bitterness. What use am I? I'm nothing, no one. Few consider me a friend. Rooms are too full of strange, empty faces. My hand knows no stroke of a brush anymore. All I loved and passioned for had been put down quietly some years before. In the name of "education," so I can follow in the footsteps of the Boswells before me. They're all a little off. Work too hard. I'm not like them. I want to be free, but the key has been tossed. Now, my childhood is dead and I'm forced to wear the corpse as a blanket on the streets. Paper thin skin won't break the chill.

Then come the bitter tears, and then, the mourning. Mourning for myself, my misfortune. My failures and dreams, crunched under the cruel and screeching tires of life.

I don't know what to do.

Am I depressed? I don't know. They're too busy with my brother to evaluate me.  I suppose that's another I'll never find out, though I'm fairly certain I'm not a 'norm.'

Sting

Where is a shield when I need one? The claws have stretched again.

The beast has three heads. One lies limp in the middle, bloodied blue scars ripped like corn rows round its neck. Only on the  left. The left, you see, has sterile breath. "Rubbing" alcohol. Or was it "gnashing"?

Hatred is a Flower

It blooms once a month.
Sometimes twice, roll the dice.
See whose bell will tole.

I know a bird that sings in the trees.
All she sees. The bees do plea.
She beats her wings and screams and flees.
Only exhaustion does she bring.

Shadows up above the trees.
The bees do see.
The bees do see.

The law has come. Their winning blow..

Beef with Obama's Policies and Health Facilities

Today's an emotional day for me.

First off, the President's policies suck.

My great uncle, a highly esteemed emergency room doctor, grew a ponytail for Obama. He was all for him at the start. Now? He quit his job. Obama's policies were paying him so little for his Grade-A services and loading him up with more paperwork and charity cases than he could handle, so he left.
Retired just like that.

My grandad is in a rehab center after recovering from a stroke. His second stroke.
Doctors aren't helping either. The kidney doctor can't communicate with the doctors covering dialysis(one kidney, less than 15% functionality), nor with Dr. Tan, Dr. El Shakari, or any of the others. So guess what? One doctor says put him on blood thinners for the stroke. Another says that'll only make him bleed internally. Guess what? They put him on blood thinners, he has a bleeding scare, they take him off, help him recover in the ER and then hospital, move him to a Rehab center, and now he's back on the blood thinners despite already being warned and suffering the consequences.
How stupid can a doctor be? Seriously??
If they don't take him off these bloodthinners soon and my Grandad passes away, I'm suing their f*cking shirts off.
I don't take prisoners when it comes to my own.

Mom just got off the phone with the Rehad desk lady. She called Grandad, but he couldn't even speak, so mom called the lady so she could talk with the nurse, and what does she tell us?
"The nurse is busy. She'll have to call you back later."

My Grandad could be dying, and she doesn't give a f*ck.

They'd better get their act together.
When I'm legal, I'm coming after them with a vengeance hotter than Hell.
Let the suing begin. Better start running.

Here's the thing about refs..

When you've been doing something for about seven years and you've gotten pretty darn good at it compared to the others in your circle who've been doing it for six years less, you'd humbly consider yourself their superior, right?
Not in an arrogant way, but it can't be helped that you really know your stuff.

I'm a fencer. It's what I do.
My usual Saturday consists of running a few dozen laps(or so it feels), doing their little toe-touches and butt-kicks and whatever, and then silently cheering when Audrey doesn't call me out for skipping the jump ropes, planks, and other menial agility rounds. Again, not to be arrogant, but I'm doing important work, after all.
I'm independent. I have a different coach and a different agenda.
Instead of the silly side-jumps, I'm stretching on the floor. Warding off Carpal Tunnel. Working "to the Dummy," as Coach likes to say.
I'm sucking in air while my legs shriek out in pain from the Bungie cord. It's important work. I feel like I have two hulking iron pistons for legs when I'm done, but by that time, my legs are shanking and they've only just moved on to Planks.

So how do you think I'd feel if I play my hand, but the Ref says it's a counterattack?

Coach asked why I lost the bout. I said I wasn't feeling it.
In reality, Reau was having a bad day, and my legs were still shaking from the Bungie. I took pity on her, but that didn't stop me from winning.
I gave up.
When your ref makes bad calls for your clear-as-daylight parry reposes and lines, why even try? You know no matter how spectacular your Sky Hook was, if it isn't one light, you might as well steal points off the wall.

There was no point besides the affirmation by my Coach, so I lost.

PMS is marchin' early this month..

Dangling Meat

I'm struggling again.
This time, it's turned to desperation.
Last time, I gave in.
Now, picture this:

Your stomach is churning. It feels as if it's grown ravenous jaws and now snaps out to gnaw on your own right arm, like that scene from Sponge Bob.
You feel the stabbing pain, but everyone else is oblivious. The growls fall just short of their ears.

A street vender offers fresh steak and mango, not knowing how much it hurts. You politely decline, wincing from the pain of desperately desiring the very  mouthwatering thing that you know will take you to your grave.
You're allergic to food, after all. Nothing is safe, clean, perfect. Nothing can satisfy.

If feels like Hell. I don't know how long I can wait.

Stormy Waters

I still need to go back and cover all the bases of the Walk messages, but I need to get a few things off of my chest.

Ready yourself. Here comes the spiel!!

I was reading this plan on the YouVersion Bible app called Finding Comfort In Pain as recommended by my SGL, and although I'm not in pain at the moment, I can still relate to quite a few of the devotions.

One day focused on faith as seen in Matthew 7:7-11.
In short, the disciples and Jesus are out on the water. Jesus is taking a nap in a corner of the boat while the disciples freak out at a mega-storm and wake Jesus up.
When they do, He tells the storm to have peace and turns to His disciples, saying, "Why are ye so fearful? How is it ye have no faith?"
As the author of the devotional said, it's as if Jesus expected His followers to be confident of their safety as long as Jesus was in the boat with them.

If He is for us, who can possibly stand against us?

Don't get so caught up by the storm outside that you forget you're under a roof. It sounds silly, but so many of us are guilty. It's far too easy to get preoccupied with the chaos around us and forget Who's leading us by the hand.

As an extra tidbit, my July 9th paperback devotional gave great wisdom for better understanding the value of trials.
Yes, they're tough as nails. Yes, they usually hurt like heck, but tourists never buy jagged, unshapely rocks. They seek out the worn, weather-beaten, smooth river stones that have seen many a violent windstorm. I believe God doesn't dish out trials to His beloveds like playing cards, but He allows them to come upon you because He knows it's the best route to take.
You need a bit of fire to toughen you up.
By the time a trial has reached your face, it has already obtained God's stamp of approval to trespass into your life and He has already arranged a few baths of sunscreen and aloe vera.
The bottom line: chill out. God's got this. If He can harden the heart of a pharaoh, He can soften the heart of a store clerk. He faithfully tends to our small, feathered friends, so how much more must He care for us; aligning the stars, providing job openings, red lights, green lights, and just what we need to hear?

Never forget how much He loves.
You're almost home! Dance and rejoice that we're one day closer to our home in Heaven, and then the New Earth.

Bottom of the Sea

During our extensive seven hour bus ride, I had plenty of time to let The Walk's nutrients soak into my skin. 

Through my encounters with Ethan, the junior from Buckhead, and observing Megan and Jeremy, I've been able to uncover issues once buried far beyond what words could express. Now, I've found my tongue.

Since watching Divergent for the first time, I've realized my deep set fear of intimacy.

Seeing as I've yet to interact with a guy on any level beyond "friend," this is understandable. I'm afraid of what I haven't yet come to know. 

The bigger issue I've more recently uncovered, however, lies with relinquishing my independence.

It might sound silly, but I have trouble letting guys do things for me. Holding the door is fine, but I rarely let Chad carry my stuff. I guess I've spent so much time becoming independent and strong as a lone she-wolf so to speak that giving it all up and letting someone else take care of things is more like giving up my freedom. Freedom tastes so sweet, but I'm starting to think I have it at the cost of letting others into my life.

A lady on a (perfume?) commercial once said something like: "Love is when you let someone get close to you. Real close."

If the former is true, I don't think I can ever love someone like that. Affection just hasn't been modeled enough for me. I don't know how to interact with guys without seemingly "flirting"(being friendly), but I doubt I could let someone in like that. Heck, I don't even know how to kiss! The struggle is real, guys!

I'll be praying for now. Wish me luck.

Only one more year until adulthood.

Keeper of the Night

Whoo! My other post is having issues with pictures, so I'll have to put those in later.
For now, let's talk Jesus.

Let me say curfew is at 11:00pm. By 11:00ish, we're supposed to be shut up in our condos for the night, but we're not the rule-following type. After all, who wants to do small group with only half of the group?
Ok, it was more like What Are the Odds and making macaroni than talking Jesus, but you know what I mean. And ordering pizza. At midnight.

So, for the past three nights, we've snuck over to the other condo until about 1:00am and scurried back to ours just to be chased by the volunteer Curfew Enforcers.
One time, they flashed their flashlight at us, so we broke out into a sprint and fell on our faces when we made it inside.

That not so friendly knock on the door came a couple times now.

On a side note, hacking open popsicles with a machete-length kitchen knife is a scary thing.

Sunday night, Ms. Leslie decided to drive from Late Night to the condo complex, so Macy, Ms. Ashley and I tagged along.
Well, you see, Les decided to swing by Taco Bell to get some "real food," thinking it would only take a second. Little did we know that a line of three cars would take more than 10 minutes in the short staffed establishment. We did order around eight tacos, but ten whole minutes? Seriously?
The lady in front of us took another five minutes to order, and to top it all off, some guy thought it'd be a great idea to jaywalk in the middle of the intersection. Actually, he was in the crosswalk, but he didn't have the light. We almost hit him, yet he didn't even notice us! He was facing the left and walking forward. Gosh, I hope he wasn't on drugs.

I swear on my life, that was totally a God thing.

Anyway, Monday afternoon, Ms. Leslie decided to head over to the secluded hot tub behind the hidden "grotto" pool. I wasn't there from the start, but when Chloe, Macy, and I joined the party, our girls were talking to a group of Buckhead junior boys with some freshman youngins mixed in.. And Ms. Leslie went back to the condo.
After a few games of kid-friendly Telephone and a few comings and goings, the around the circle "say your name, favorite color, etc." escalated to a not so friendly game of What Are The Odds.
Most of the juniors adopted nicknames, so I don't know their names, but this one guy was a bit odd. I was getting peculiar vibes off of him, different than the rest of the group.
He was a medium-long spiky, disheveled brunette and usually walked with his head forward. There was no mistaking he was in charge with his polite, but authoritative voice. The others could do what they wanted, but he held the stamp of approval.
When discussing the criteria of What Are The Odds, he was the guy to say "Let's keep it PG. Nothing inappropriate, ok?" That alone tells me a lot about his character, but when I stopped to say hi on the bridge the next day, he didn't seem interested in talking. My best guess is the last session left him sombre, deep in thought.
He was the wolf among dogs.
I hope to cross paths once again.

Shift Your Sails, My Beauty

Today, I tagged along with my brother's friend's older sister to Sea Scouts, the co-ed, badgeless version of sea-fairing boy scouts.
Yep.
We were suppose to go out on the water today, but a hefty lightning storm shut that idea, so we stayed inside, played some games, and learned a little bit about compasses and navigation.

Lesson 1: Nautical miles are not miles.
People use Nautical miles because the earth is round, not flat. On a map, one degree of Latitude equals one Nautical mile, which equals one second, I think.

Ehh, anyway, I had fun, net some people, and got a feel for what sailing's all about.

Seem to bland?
Time for the twist.

One of the seniors(?) is double-majoring in Psychology and Sociology. Interesting guy.
Fairly typical brainiac in the way of more book smarts than people smarts, but that's never really bothered me.
I've hung around enough nerds to cut to the chase.

I'm interested in Psychology as more of a curiosity, so naturally, I asked if he's focussing on a specific theory.
He said he supports Skinner, the behaviorist with the famous dog and meat powder stimulus/response experiment, but doesn't agree that genetics determines behavior.
Not too shabby. I'd say the same.

He also mentioned he tends to analyze people, and that usually leads to less friendly interactions.

Two red flags.
He's looking to work in the field, so there's no doubt in my mind that I want to know why he chose his study.
He reminded me a little of myself, so if he is anything like myself, he won't easily let the dust cabinets fly open. It may be too personal. If so, I will have all the answer I want. No need to pry.

Back to the red flags, his hints may have hinted too much. If he is anything like me, he would have held a conversation like a chess game: talking with his mouth and processing with his eyes. His eyes were bright and still, like they were fixed, focussing intently on one spot.
I have a strong feeling he caught a vibe from me because he was so interested in talking to me from that point on. Maybe I'm overanalyzing this, but that's just how I work.

I think he saw something. I think he was looking for gaps in my front. No telling what.

Never Back Down

I'm becoming a regular title-thief haha. This time, it's a song about Daring Do by Aviators featuring Yelling At Cats.

Hey you!
Yeah you, future self:

Don't give up.
Stand. Kneel. But no matter what, don't surrender your feet to the ground.

You're so sociable and bright(and actually kinda cute). You have SO much to live for.
Yes, there are haters. They have "hatred against those enjoying real satisfaction."
Don't worry about them. You can't help a fox out of a bear trap if he's more willing to snarl than surrender.
You're so beautiful. So smart, so strong, so valued.
If nothing else, live on to spite those who rise up against you.
When you're the last man standing (and they're all sitting), you will taste Heaven's nectar in victory, but until then, keep fighting the good fight.

If you can walk into a fencing practice full of strangers and walk out with a dozen friends, I have no doubt of your likeability and agreeableness.
9 times out of 10, you can find a positive in a predominately negative situation. The good in a person. Anyone.
You're an excellent judge of character and wise as you can be.

God has blessed you in so many ways.
You were lonely, so He heard your pleas and gave you friends both new and old.
We went to the movies. We went to lunch. We we on retreats. We fenced until sweat ran like a river into our eyes. It was glorious and beautiful thing, and you still have it.
You have God's oil of anointing on your head. You are his daughter: His prized and beloved creation.
He loves you dearly, hurts when He sees you hurting.

Don't ever doubt it, girl :)

Advice for Adult Life

1) Get a financial plan.

2) Think about things at least 6 months in advance.
This includes birthdays.

Ideas for wedding gifts:
Gift cards(to Ikea, Home Depot, Pier One Imports), cast-iron skillet, porffej pan, long copper ladle.

I Can, I Will

You Can, You Will is an awesome book by Joel Osteen, but I'm just borrowing the title haha.

According to Coach, I have the components of a champion. I just have to realize it. Own it. Be it.

Eduardo called me "Champ" today haha.
He sure is funny, and yet he still manages to sprinkle in seeds of sincerity.
That crazy foilist.. I swear, if he can't convert you, he'll at least walk you through a dozen thought processes of third and fourth intentions. He sure is quick on his mind.

Quotes

I had another post titled "If I Had A Footnote..."
I think it was deleted when I tried to publish. Weird..

Anyway:

"Remember, remember the fifth of November, the gunpowder, treason, and plot. I know of no reason why the gunpowder treason should ever be forgot." - V

"Do Hard Things." - Alex and Brett Harris

"I will try again tomorrow."

"Ten seconds, Guardian. Give 'em Hell!" - Lord Shaxx, Crucible Handler

"Hit the piñata! Hit the piñata! Sah sah wing watah- Hit the piñata~" - Song from Clarence

Me and I

There's me, I, and on some really bad days, we. But there's no myself. There never was and there may never be.

Me and I were once separate identities.
I saw myself as a soul trapped within a cage of force and hostility.
Now, I've come to make peace with my body.
My unshapely mouth and fleshy scars.
They're all mine now, and I wouldn't trade them for the world.

They've made me who I am.
I tolerate me now.

Tempest

It's a miserable existence to dance among one's fears, spinning, round and round, swooping, swirling, pouncing, clawing, yet never touching, for to touch my fear would be the end of me.
The end of my fantasy.

My eyes dilate. My arms twist as damp fibrous sinews.
I reach and I claw. My foot is trapped.
I have to sing the song of death.
I'll have to burn the frays.

"How can anybody live in a world so cruel and beautiful?" - Attack on Titan - Beautiful, Cruel World

In the swirling tempest of emotions, one's head becomes a milkshake. One's heart, a gaping rift. Cracks in the sidewalk.  Grand Canyon of the ant world.

If I'm just short of seventeen years into my expanse of existence, I don't know how I will continue. Eighty more is out of the question.
Sixteen years, and I'm already tired, size, tortured, sullen, scarred.

I'm in a snowglobe.
Why did You put me here?
Why me? What purpose do you have?
I don't see a thing worth fighting for.
I'm so empty and dry.
I don't know what to do.

If I wake up tomorrow, I'll try again.
If not, F*ck this sin-pit.
I'm done.

What type of guy do I like?

I have to say. Those quizzes are so stupid xD

"In a usual week, what are you doing in your free time?"
A) Curling up with a good book
B) Your hobbies (drawing, crafting)
C) Playing a sport/exercising
D) Listening to music
E) Adventuring

All of the above???

"Pick a word that describes you."
A) Caring
B) Loud
C) Adventurous
D) Dorky
E) Intelligent
F) Artistic
G) Friendly
H) Loyal
I) Generous
J) Hardworking

I need a check box. Not a bubble.

Results: "Smart and [attractive!]
Your like the quiet, bookish geniuses of the world." Yadda yadda yadda.

I like some in that "type" as friends, but I'd rather marry someone who can be outgoing. The smart, funny, deep, honest, and somewhat athletic combo is my type. I'd rather be the artistic one in the group.

Meh.
Quizzes in general are stupid. They're so bleh.. I can take five quizzes of the same theme and get five completely different results.
It's pretty sad lol

I'm on the verge of giving up.
I want someone with a gentle heart, a sharp mind, a kind soul, and a spirit of faith.

Where to find him?
You tell me.
I thought I had, but he's hundreds of miles away.

In this world, science and faith are seen like cats and dogs, apples and oranges.
They're looked at on two totally separate levels.

I'd say it takes science to explore the unexplainable and faith to accept it.
But that's me.
I'm not the world.

The Bucket List

A few things I'd like to do while I'm still on earth, and a few things I'd like to do after.

Now:

Learn to flamenco dance
Learn to salsa dance(in honor of Coach Oswaldo)
Learn to water color a town on a rainy, puddly day
Cook with Italian Flat Beans
Learn to cook with different spices
Learn to shade and shape
Learn to work with clay and charcoal
Learn to work with water color
Learn to work with calligraphy brushes
Go dancing all night
Soak in the stars on a clear night by the water
Go fly fishing
Go white-water rafting
Make peace with a snake
Go to every continent
Climb a mountain and watch a sunrise
Sleep in until noon
Get married
Have my first kiss
Learn to carve wood
Take singing lessons
Compose a symphony in A minor
Figure out what A minor actually sounds like
Pass high school
Make it into college
Make it out of college
Figure out a major
Stay debt free(for the most part)
Kick two more habits
Plant a flower garden
Plant raspberries on a lattice
Grow my own tomatoes
Find a mentor
Become a mentor
Spend a day at the library
Get a job
Change a tire
Dance in the rain
Go back to Europe
Adopt an animal
Sponsor two kids
Get a psychological evaluation
Think about being a prison counsellor
Bake a birthday cake and write an encouraging note to someone in prison AND someone in jail
Find a decent senior project
Become a baroness of Sealand

Friends

Last Sunday at InsideOut, our host became our speaker and spent a few minutes talking about friends.

Friends.

If you get into the right friend group, you'll beast mode high school.

Friends.
Not drinking buddies. Friends.
People who'll keep each other accountable at a party. People who're on the same page. People who've got your back.

I came to the rude awakening I'd been suspecting for a while, and opened my eyes.

I don't have friends.
I have mutual friends, people I kind of know in my kind of classes and sort of gym, but I don't have accountability partners.
I'm on the same page with a few people, but we aren't close.
It's just so hard for me to open up and trust people, yah know? I've only opened up to a handful of people, and for good reason.
I'm afraid my secrets and self are too deep for most anyone to handle.
They might see me as a beast and push me away.

I have friends. Kindred spirits.

One of them has a hectic schedule and goes to another school. Two of them moved several states away. One of them lives halfway across the country. Two of them live halfway across the world.

I have friends, true friends, but they're too far away.

So, I've been praying with more humility than I've had in a long time, and for three days this week, God has answered my prayers.

On Wednesday and Thursday, Chad and Carlee stopped by the gym to train.
I was so eager to see them, I trained for an hour on Monday, and stayed for three hours each day for the other two.
Besides them, some miracle brought Ms. Debra Vega and Chad Harper there too.

On Thursday, God brought me Sydney.
She brought me such joy, I don't even have the words to express it.

So far at my school, I've made at least two semi close friends each year.
Unfortunately, with changing lunch periods, classes, and seats, it's been difficult to keep them.

I hope I can keep the one. Maybe both. Three if I'm lucky.
I don't believe in luck.

It takes one to two years to forge a nice relationship with me. More than two and a little bit of effort, close friends. More than three and a truckload, loyal friend for life.

Syd and I have been friends for about ten years.
I'm sad we're so far away now. I hope we can meet up again in July :)

I may be on my own right now, but I will find my friends. Even if it takes one hundred years. I'll find them. Someday.

I'm Tired

I'm tired of fighting.

I'm tired of dragging myself out of bed every morning after a long, sleepless night.

I'm tired, I'm angry, I'm hurting.

I want to change. I don't want to be alone.. But I don't know how. I don't have the strength to pull myself up. I need another hand. But where to find one?

I'm always caught between "They aren't quite right" and "what if they don't like me?"

It's like drowning in my own self pity because I'm too ashamed to drag myself onto that beach of surrender. The dark wood beyond is out of the question.

Lately, my frustrations have been spilling out of my sides like a wound that won't heal.

So much anger, so much darkness.

It's been weeks since the incident. He's gotten so much better, but I mistrust him.
I'm not so easily forgiving as a dog anymore.
I decided not to take crap from people, but I want to change again. I want to forgive with the depths of my soul.

Now you, reader, will be bearer of witness to my soliloquy today. My wishes shall come forth. Forever, I want to change.

I've killed her off once before and built myself from her ashes. I can do it again.

Today, I am kind, shy, semi-attractive, a decent gamer, a decent fencer, and excellent but unorganized writer, lazy, lusty against my will, half mature, awkward in my movements and words, argumentative, judgmental, and full of ugly mental words.
I am selfish, I am a decent artist, I am depressive, I am ashamed, and I am slobbish. I am a procrastinator.

In the future, I want to be selfless. I want to be both fun and mature. I want to be kind, considerate, clear in my thoughts, and unlike my father. I want to be frugal but not vain in my money saving. I want to buy one carton of Mayfield and not three of store brand.  I want to be a better sister, great future mother, and wife to my wonderful future husband. I want to be humble and never boast. I want to always be patient and sincere. No fake faces here! That means not being afraid to tell someone, "Hold up for a sec. I have to pee!" I want to be reassuring, helpful, proactive, smart, funny, and enjoyable to be around. I want to be more than willing to die for a thief. I want to be more trusting of God.

I want to have a friend or two that I can depend on to hold me accountable and vice versa.
I want friends that will be kind to me, lend a pencil if I somehow forget. I want friends who'll take care of me, who've "got my back."

Last night, I had a dream where I forgot my phone and Kite Runner book in the car. We were on a boat. On stormy waters. The waves were literally violent, and that's saying a lot coming from me.
A guy around 18 hears old overheard my telling my mom and dad what happened, and a lady telling me it was too dangerous to go out, and came back with the two items before I could decline the unspoken offer.
He barely knew me, and yet he took care of my need without me even asking.
I want friends like him. I want to be like him.

I am shakable, yet unbreakable.
I am terrified, but I will walk on.
I am alone right now.
I will be ok. Just a little longer, sweetie :)

Today, I've unravelled my soul.
Today, I'm taking back control.

Don't forget me. I want to forget, but I'll live on in your memories~ Never forget.
I've come so far, forgetting now will only make me a fool. My regrets are real, but I wouldn't change them for the world. I've made peace with my scars.

Time to wall on.

Children of the Past

The generation of today is not the generation of tomorrow, nor the generation of two "yesterdays" ago.  It is different. Unique. A butterfly with its own set of stripes. Culture is always changing, bit culture is also influenced by the past, making historical knowledge imperative.

I will record my findings, though my findings are mine and subject to be wrong. Culture is hard to generalize. I'll do my best.

1) Despite the endless variety of spices seen in 2015, the children of the Great Depression tend to reach for salt and pepper. Salt and pepper for the eggs. Salt and pepper for the salad. Salt and pepper for the avocado, casserole, and meat sauce.
This may be due to growing up with nothing but salt and pepper. Fancy tennis shoes are great, but why would a Roman soldier sacrifice his gruff leather sandals for something unfamiliar and strange?
He was born in those sandals, and he's going to die in those sandals. "Shoe store up the street? That's great! I'll get a pair for my grandkids. Give me my sandals."

2) Racial discrimination tends to be more commonplace. Not usually blatant, but more.

"Always talk and smile at the black folks so they know there are white people in Brunswick that don't discriminate." - Mom

Jews, African Americans, Hispanics, Arabs, and "Japs." The masses were strange and separated out of fear.
"Different" sometimes means "bad" with this generation. Not at all the case with the Millennials, two generations and a web page later.

A Thousand Times Over

"For you a thousand times over," said young Hassan, a fictional Afghan and half-brother of Amir in Khaled Hosseini's The Kite Runner.

Hassan is that goofy, harelipped Hazara. He's the painstakingly loyal friend and the hard working servant. He's the illiterate playmate who loves stories when they come from Amir. He's curious and kind, brave, smart, quick-witted. The best kite runner in all of Kabul.

In some ways, he is me. In some ways, I am his brother, betraying out of cowardice.

In my new life, I want to become more like him. Loyalty, check!

I'm done with this sh*t.

Yes, I just said it.

My dad just got home from Germany. What's the first thing that comes out of his mouth?
Not "I missed you." Not "did you get a hair cut? Wow, that shirt looks really nice on you."
No.

"Hey dad! There's macaroni and cheese in the oven, and honey-baked ham in the fridge-"

"Hold on a second. I can't hear anything you're saying over the stuff I'm carrying.... Is that a ripped up dollar bill on the floor?"

"Yes. It's been there for a while."

"What, does no one pick up things in this house?!"

"I spent the last two days doing the dishes(so he could come home to a clean house.)"

"Did you help get them dirty?"

This is F-ing despicable. I'm sick of his crap. Go back to Germany. No, go to Hell. I'm sick of your sh*t. You don't deserve to be called my father.

I don't give a crap if you read this or burn the freaking Xbox. Come back when you're ready to restore. Actually ready. Until then, burn. See if I care.
You certainly don't care about me.

Rust and Time

If a dish is drenched in food, scrub it out.
It's not that hard.
Our dishwasher can't handle the slightest bit of food, but...

My father doesn't seem to understand.

My life has slipped into disrepair.
Deterioration without remorse.
Sorrow. Emptiness. And yet, nothing - comes to terms.

I'm not mentally I'll, but I forgot who I was. Perhaps I've dissociated to an extent. A separate, no, different person has taken over since those months of agony. Slowly, gradually, I've built a new life, a new stage, a new mind. My heart has remained, but my body had changed. My thoughts and my world have fallen over the edge, pushed by one soulless pair of eyes, never to be spoken of, yet screaming under the skin.

I am broken.
I am changed
I am reforged, new, and scathed.

My cracks will never be filled, but
I hope to God for ridges to compensate.
I don't care for smooth skin anymore.

Over time, things start to rust if they aren't oiled properly. I've lost a good sabre blade to carelessness in forgetting to oil.

I've learned my lesson.

Confrontation

Ok, so I've been talking to my friend Neon for about a week now. We've talked about everything from personal fears to having boobs. It's great xD Never felt so free in my life. I can just come home from a stressful day at school and let it all out. He's my perfect safe zone.

It started as a part, a sort of challenge or game where each agreed to ask whatever we wanted, and answer with complete honesty to the best of our abilities.

Today in particular, he finally shared his "explanation" regarding my past incidents. Basically, he believes my dreams and experiences are extensions of a state of overlap where I allowed myself to be vulnerable to otherworldy contact. I'm close to believing him.

So, tonight and this week, I'll watch and rewatch the source of my fears in attempt to find some answers. Maybe it'd be better to undergo hypnosis and remember what he said, but I'm going to find out for myself. God help me come back intact if I do stare into his lifeless eyes again. I can't do this on my own. Terrified.

Wish me the best of luck. In case I don't come back, tell my family I love them, and that I dearly love my friends Sydney, Chad, Carlee, and Tej. Isaiah wouldn't be able to take it...

Goodnight :)

Edit: May 5, 2015
Day 1, nothing happened. I survived the night unscathed, though I've already begin to show signs of paranoia.

May 6, 2015
Day 2, nothing happened, but I saved myself the trouble as I was going on 5 hours of sleep with two essays due the next day. No way in heck I'm taking that risk... I'll try again tonight. 'Til next time~

To me..

To them, marriage is not glue, but cement.
Hard and cumbersome. Unrelenting. Like a shackle.

To them, love is "I payed the bills." "My day was fine. How was yours?"

To them, family is Inferno: coarse comedy with a side of fries. Conflicting half-hearts. Satan has three heads.

To them, life is suede. But what about me?

To me, marriage is not glue, but a tube through which two solutions mingle in open hearts, actively striving for equilibrium.

To me, love is "How was you're day?" "I brought you you're favorite tea c: surprise!"
When one side lacks, the other fills it up.

To me, family is Paradiso, where warmth and love mingle to form a blanket of support. Where compromise is key, and complacency, the enemy. Where it's totally OK to spill spaghetti sauce on the tablecloth.

To me, life is a prism, not a prison. The world is a place of beauty and pain, but the home is what you make it.

-Adeline Boswell 2015

I'm not

I'm not so graceful as panther,
Or as tall as a tree.
I'm not as a agile as a hummingbird
Or driven as a bee.
I'm not as proud as a lioness,
Or cheerful as three at mealtime,
But I'm exactly who I should,
And I'm proud to be me.

Note to a Certain Someone

My note from today:

Hey there :)

I wish you would talk to me more.
I'm lonely at school. Since I have fourth-period lunch and the library's on food-probation, I have to mooch off of some table in the cafeteria for the first fifteen minutes or so and then hope Tiana and Natalie will be in the library to keep me company. I have a few good friends like Macy, Amanda, Katie, and Callie of course, but I only see them for a short time. I don't think anyone really likes me there. I'm probably not pretty enough for their taste, and I was always quiet and bookish.
Sarah Swetlick knew it well. We went to school together before coming here. I was half-made fun of for being so "smart."
I wonder how you handle yours.

I remember when we talked about stress in lit class. You said you had none. I figured you were either a soul half-detached from its body or flat-out lying. What ever the case, I didn't take your answer lightly.

You're a very gifted young man, and I dare say more on-the-ball than I let myself be, but I don't know what else to make of you. It would be rude of me to ask anything personal, yet I doubt you'd want to tell. If I can muster the courage, I'll link you to this blog senior year. You'd better buy a yearbook. This is more than personal.

Note to a Certain Someone

I wonder if I should just stop trying.

Of course, he's so shy he'd never tell me if he likes me at all, or how I looked in my creamy flowered dress, or if I'm just a nuisance to his work.
So many questions and not an answer to be found.

Maybe he's just waiting until college because he(or his parents) thinks it unwise to make high school attachments when they'll be dashed away in the end. I don't know what to think.

Maybe I'll never know.

With my luck, I'll die a virgin, living alone in some suburban dorm. As much as I like the serenity of silence, I can't live without someone to live for. I'd have no reason to be.

Maybe he's not the one after all. Maybe I can't have a fairy tale. Maybe my expectations are too much to ask.

Maybe my female hormones are making me dilusional.

I don't even..

Note to a Certain Someone

I have so much to say. Where should I start?

I guess I'll start at the start of it all.

There are a few things I'd like a certain someone to know about myself. This blog as a whole should serve as more of a gateway to the whispers of my soul, because it whispers and rarely shouts. 
From the perspective of a sophomore in high school:
I usually don't say what I'd like to. I'm very fond of my friend Tej, both fond and curious about him, but I usually don't say what I'd like because I can't. My thoughts don't translate into words as quickly as I need them to, and I'm tired of sounding like an idiot all the time, so I'm about ready to stop. But that isn't me. I have so much to say, I literally rant essays and form prose while I wallow in my silence in class.
I'm unsatisfied with who I am. My tone is too sarcastic from spending only two years with the public-school population. It's exhausting. Most "big 5" personality tests rank me as 40-50% Extrovert. I always do my best to be friendly and agreeable, but somtimes I become so overwhelmed with my own awkwardness and society's petty wills that I have to get away from it all. I enjoy soaking up the silence of my bedroom. Sometimes music helps, but only soothing instrumentals or tracks from SoundOfTheAviators. Maybe that's why I'm so drawn to him. Tej seems to have a quiet soul like my own: one that whispers and rarely shouts. I'm naturally curious about what goes on inside his head. What's he thinking right now? What does he believe about this or that? What is life like through his eyes? I wish I knew.

I wish I knew what his favorite color was, or what he would do with one million dollars. Believe it or not, one can tell a lot about a person based on their answers.

If Tej ever read this, I'd like him to know I'm really not as lazy as I seem. Since he's so driven with his studies and passions, it's hard for me to measure up. I almost feel upstaged by that note. Honestly, I do work hard with what I commit to, but some days my motivation flies off to help someone else, leaving me in a heap of worthlessness. It's an awful feeling.
Another thing is the societal expectations surrounding us all. You're always so stolid about your work that sometimes I wonder if you really enjoy it. Society's pressure seems to have forced your squareness into one pentagon mold, but left my triangular form with nowhere to go. To this day, I have found no one place I'd like to stay. I'm too emotional to be a vetrenarian, too blood-shy to be a doctor, too discontented to be an actuarian, too rebellious to be a physicist, too adventurous to be a programmer, and too creative to be a dog of the military. I don't know what to do. If I could do anything I wanted, I'd be a quaint missionary, artist, and poet, but then I wouldn't eat. I suppose I could be those things as a wife, but then my husband would be confined to the labors of life for my own sake. I don't even think I'm cut out to be a mother. I've already proven myself to be a decent mentor, cook, and housekeeper, but mothering is five jobs in one.
If I wasn't so anti-communist, I'd say "they should have a test for these kinds of delimas!"

Augh, I hate the world..

What's your favorite thing in the world?

"What's your most favorite thing in the whole world - no, the universe?"

Someone asked something like that last night at my friend Gracie's surprise party.
The idea was for people to get a better feel for each other, like asking your favorite food or color when you introduce yourself. The effect it produced, however, was much more profound.

At first, I said something like "beaches, because they're so relaxing." Now, I realize all I missed in that fifteen seconds.

This post, if nothing else, should be saved as a memory of the here and now in the case that this Earth is no more.
I love the sky. I love the trees. I love how things can fly. I love heat and sight and smells and sounds. I love all the color dripping from the world like an old Wendy's cup. I love how the stars shine on a clear summer's night.
I love taking walks on rainy days and making snow cones in the middle of winter. I love laughing and crying and accidentally peeing when I sneeze. I love hearing the birds chirp at 6:00AM. I love friendship and courtship. I love love.

What do you love about this 'ole place?

Laying Down the Law

Before any marriage dates should be discussed, make sure to plan and have a nice long conversation about whether or not your significant other plans to marry you at some point, and if so, what marriage looks like to the both of you, and what kinds of rules you'd like to set.

Here's a good starting point that can be added to as you go:

• No walking around the house in one:s undergarments. It's impolite and it makes me uncomfortable.

• Wipe the toilet seat after you're done, please.

• If conflict gets too heated, it's better to pause and come back to it when everyone's calm.

•

Vibes

Some people just have a good aura about them. You know who I'm talking about: that hand-full of people out there who make you feel all warm and fuzzy when they're around.

I came across one such person today at the Kroger deli. He was a friendly young man with shoulder-length dreads and a beaming smile. He wasn't much taller than I, but man, those feels!

Besides the first guy, I can only think of a few other people with "good vibes."

One is Chad. I swear, I've never once felt uneasy around him. He's sweet as a button and I miss him quite a bit.

Then, there's Ben, my mom's seventh-grade red-headed assistant in her K/1st small group at Upstreet. He's so warm and patient. The kids love him to pieces.

Saving the best for last, of course, I have my best friend Sydney. English hath too few words to describe her in a page. Her eyes are patient and her mind is sharp. She's about the most caring person I know :)

Sometimes

Sometimes I just ball up and cry.
I don't know why.
I know why, but really
I bite my lip and lie
And, come next day,
I'd rather die,
A ticking time-bomb,
Mellow to ash in a single "fie."
Why try?

10 Seconds, Guardian.

These are the things which make a warrior: to keep advancing while under fire, to stand tall on your knees when your legs are no more, to stare death in the eye and spit with all you can muster, to grin as though you've won at those who oppress you, to laugh louder than the laughs directed to your face, to stand taller when you are knocked, to fight more intensely when you are wounded, to rip, tooth and claw, through the ranks with your final breath. These are the things which make a warrior. Strive to be one. Choose your battles wisely, and fight to the death the ones which you choose.

"Ten seconds[, guardian]. Give 'em Hell." - Lord Shaxx, Crucible Handler

A Certain Strangeness

Edit: This post was written more than a month ago, but I completely forgot to publish.

A certain strangeness has come over me in recent days. Temptations have risen and gone. The feelings have turned with the change of the winter wind.

All thoughts of the original post long gone, I'll jostle the subject a bit.

What I most deeply detest and endear: this shall emerge anew to the foreground of my sixteen-year panorama.

Among my deepest fears lie eternal solitude, Alzheimer's("Old Timer's") disease, personal invasion by arachnids, falling, and any medical practice involving a needle.

To start, I hate to feel alone.
In my own home, I frequently lock myself away from house guests and family members alike in an effort to refresh my exhausted soul after a full day of fein and interaction at school, but the latter is only  uncontradicting to the previous on the grounds that I already find stable relationships in my family.
I am easily depressive in new settings where I am a complete and utter stranger. If I am in possession of but a single, true friend, I am immediately confident and content with myself and my actions, and my acquaintances are allowed to multiply exponentially.

Not to boast, but I contain a bright mind of great deception to the unaquainted ear. My speech is colloquial, but my mind, Victorian, and moral, medium-rare. When fed with the nutricious delicacies of fine language, I am able to quickly adopt the tongue and tone. Thus, with my precious gifts, I hate to forget anything: my hopes, my vows, my thoughts, sights or smells. All is precious and pure, even the once lustful nightmares of my affected spirit.
In short, I would sooner die than suffer a mindful absense. It's cowardly, but must be acknowledged.

I hate anything with more than six legs. I don't want to see them, I don't want to touch them. God help me if I ever encountered one up close and personal.

The last contains a descrepancy of decision between genetic and self-imposed matters. I honestly can't help my reaction to either heights or needles. With my inexhaustible imagination, simply reading The Contents of the Dead Man's Pocket bids my palms and feet to sweat and the blood drain from my face completely.
Separately, discussing or seeing a needle causes me to cry and shake uncontrollably. I have never been scared by a medical operation save having blood drawn at the age of thirteen, but my cousin has been known to pass out at the sight, and so I take my fear to be genetic.

The supernatural was not listed. This is among the most detestable.

My endearments are much in contrast to the horrors above.

I love simple, honest compliments. If my handiwork is neat, I enjoy being honored for it. Being called "pretty" is nice, and no doubt close to honest, though the one exception to my hatred of flattery lies with the title, "beautiful."
I generally don't approve of pet names.

Also, thanks to my little bro, I've come to know what a "Hershey Squirt" is..

Snagged

Your thorns are made obvious in the crystal light of day. Harsh winds unveil all as dawn shadows dissipate.
Where is your master? He lies cold and stiff
as the luminescent structures:
dead, abandoned, yet you plead tarry.

Why do you struggle? Give me your hand. You have no nectar to tempt me to bleed. No? Fine, then your fate is sealed.
All may be thawed, but you choose to shiver.

Wibbly Wobbly Timey-Wimey Stuff

I recently listened to one of my favorite songs by SoundOfTheAviators. Ashes is all about a theory of the pre-history of the elements' wielders in My Little Pony.

I've occasionally pondered what life would be like if I was singularly immortal. As one comment on the video proposed, the issue lies between whether or not it's better to love and lose or to never love at all. 

I'd like to think I'd be willing to love and watch them die as I am intrinsically compassionate, but something tells me I'd become tired of the death as time goes on, and turn bitter and depressed for fear of constant loss.

I truly believe a great friend and partner only shows up once or twice in a lifetime. If this is the case, I'd be unsatisfied with mediocre friends, but would likely dedicate myself in my entirety to those I deem worthy. 

Well, that's pretty much how my social life works now lol

Just a thought :)

The Tower

I live atop a tower.  My father and mother drew the basic blueprints, but I tweaked them and published the final draft for myself.  Then, I gathered my materials, and built it by hand.  Layer after layer, the thick, mottled walls began to take shape.   Now, it stands the tallest in the valley.

The reason for my tower is a bit like a seive. It's a beautiful sight to behold, but only one other may master it.  Some spikes have been set on the sides for safe measure.  Sections have been left either polished or not.  Only he who hath the wisdom may find the handholds hidden in the face of the rock, and hath the strength and the endurance to make it to the top unscathed.  These things are more natural.  Preparation has no ground.

There are four brave young ones eyeing my precious tower. The first is the most ancient, though he can only peer longingly atop the hills from afar. The second sits at the base, silently calculating as he awaits the perfect time and path.  The third jumped the side and climbed a bit too quickly.  A careless woodspike knocked him from the side, though the second was oblivious of his actions.  The fourth is a spry young one who only looks upon the tower with kind, curious eyes. He hath the wisdom, but I dare say he doth not possess the strength.  He may never climb the tower, but it may be all the  better.

One who can't, one who won't, one who failed, and one who shalt.  I may only watch and wait from my rose of a tower.

Brothers

Brothers...
I currently have one related by blood, but I'd argue I have two more.
The first is my blood relation. He's smart and adorable, and I wouldn't trade him for the world. Right now, his stomach problems aren't exactly improving. God knows the source is a bit higher up, but there's nothing we can do to help him so far beyond the reach of medicine. The psychologist knows full well. I hurt for him.

The second is a South African by the name of Sam. We met in Germany a few summers back. I was 14. He's likely in a university now, studying with a fiery intensity to be a researcher like his dad.  Our relationship was something oddly special, though I don't know if he'd remember me now. Perhaps. Perhaps it was because we were the only saber fencers of the group worth any salt(they were all foil and eppé), or perhaps he was curious, or maybe he was just that friendly big-brother figure to every young girl he met, but he was very special, and I treasure memories of stealing bits of my dried mango and yolo-ing down the street quite dearly. (He wouldn't let me use a map!! I thought we'd be lost... That goofball!)

The third is a more recent phenomenon.
We've never met, but I guess it's better that way. You see... our relationship is a bit complicated. When I first friended him on 360, I thought he was a she, and we played quite a bit with my friend Vera. (Lol One day during a raid on Destiny, I heard him speak. Afterwards, I messaged him, saying something like "Holy cow. I thought you were a girl until I heard you talk x'D" Oh gosh... He laughed so hard he started crying!) Anywho, fast forward a bit, and we've been playing together fairly frequently. He changed his gamer tag, and our gaming schedules became more regular. Then came the break. Over the past week, we've probably spent at least a good 15 hours together. Gosh, when we're on Destiny, we're practically inseparable as the Dynamic Duo of hunter and warlock. But, wait for it, here comes the drama-train: mixed signals arhggg...
On top of spending a ridiculous amount of time together, he occasionally drops a compliment... I don't remember when it started exactly... The earliest one I rember was back when I thought he was a girl gamer, and he said "You have a beautiful voice :)". It was probably after I said I wouldn't talk in parties because I sound like a 12-year old boy... I really do sometimes lol.  The more recent ones have gone down during the whole " Goodnight" routine. A few nights ago, he said, "Can we do it tomorrow?(Referring to the Weekly Heroic mission) I'm pretty tired *yawns* anyways... goodnight beautiful :)".
There's nothing wrong with a good compliment... Except for, well, everything. DX  If I finally got the whole thing with Tej and Chad sorted out, I wouldn't have to worry, but then Shadow knows I'm a good handful of years older than he is... Why?!? I mean, a part of me kind of likes the idea of having the affections of such a skilled hunter... but then, no. Just no. The worst part is when he messaged me earlier, asking if I was a girl. Either he just wasn't quite sure(I don't blame him. A lot of gamer guys think I'm one of them haha. I also sent an " lol night" in reply. That might've thrown him off..), or the alternative, which I'm pretty sure he isn't.
Oh snap, just got a bouquet of virtual flowers!! x.x Anyway, there is my delima. Take it and run! Oh brother..
Night xD

Name Engraved

His name was Thomas Schiff. A paranoid schizophrenic and Joker's honorary puppet.  I saw him last semester when I watched The Dark Knight for the first time in Sociology. He was a minor character, and yet something drew me to him like the seas to the moon. Something in his eyes. His eyes! They whispered, beckoning me closer to tell the tale of a lost and shattered soul. They screamed and they cried, yet he smiled, an empty smile, void of all that was so many years ago.. They burn in the back of my mind. I sometimes see them staring back when I close my eyes at night. 

I know he's just an actor, but that's besides the point.

I've decided to face the fact I've flatly denied for years.

I sympathize with psychotics.

I'm drawn to them.

It's almost unnatural.

A good nine times out of ten, I've found I have the uncanny ability to unknowingly pick them out of crowd as a favorite in a television show or otherwise.

Take Russia for example. First episode, I decided "hey, I like that guy", to find out he's got quite a bit of blood on his hands a few episodes later. This is where I differ from the masses: instead of rejecting Russia for being rather mentally challenged, I ask "I wonder what could have caused him to become the way he is?" For Russia, it's General Winter, that icy in-command whispering hate-words down his ears and generally making his life a living Hell(not a curse word). Still hate him?

Next, look at the unspeakable J(half-fictional this time). He stabbed some kids to death when he was young and *now* goes on uncontrollable quests for blood when the "feeling" comes back. He murdered his own family.. Why? It all goes back to some neighborhood bullies and a couple of guns. The jerkfaces threatened and beat his brother Noah, so he grabbed a knife and fought back shortly after they burned his face completely off with a Molotov and bleach. After he miraculously recovered and the bandages were removed, his mother rejected his newly pale and scarred face, causing him to carve a smile into his own and theirs so he'd never be sad again.

Never judge a book by it's cover. There's always a cause. Next time, look for one, and if you think I'm wrong, you obviously haven't delved deep enough.

Every time I look into the eyes of Thomas Schiff, I cry thinking of how many beautiful minds are suffering as I write.

Hate the action, not the person :(

Rhythmic Redolence

Here are some of my favorite songs :D

Christian: In Christ Alone(I'll Stand) - Owl City

Soundtrack/Instrumental: Starswirl the Bearded - Evening Star, Crimson Insanity Eyes (Touhou) 

Casual/Miscellaneous: I Remember - Deadmau5(feat. Kaskade), 

Brony: Open Your Eyes - Aviators, Discord's Return Pt.1 - MysteriousBronie, Discord - Eurobeat Brony(TheLivingTombstone remix), Lullaby For A Princess - ponyphonic, 

Moving: Bulletproof - SoundOfTheAviators, 

Lullabies: Lullaby for a Stormy Night - Vienna Teng, Lullaby for a Princess - ponyphonic, Russian Lullaby - Toy Box

Feelgood: Happy - Pharrell Williams, Blackbird - Paul McCartney 

Mini-Muses

I think I'd like to compile some quotes here. Not quotes by my favorite people (I'll do that later), but rather, my own mini-muses. (I really should go do my homework, but I hate precalculus :T)

"Silence is a scholar."

"Time hardens the heart and softens the mind."

What I mean by that is a hard time is hard to talk about at first, but it becomes much easier as time goes on and we no longer feel that knife in our thigh.

UGH, Boys..

:| Oh gosh... I knew this would happen eventually.  I've been praying for God to put someone in my life that He created with me in mind, but there are like three...

The first is one of my best friends friends in the whole world. He's so stinking adorable and surprisingly gentlemanly for a teenage guy, and he's Christian so that's a plus. We've been rivaling in saber for about five years now(of course, he always wins... but I come pretty close!), but his family moved up to Pennsylvania a year and a half ago, so there went that.. :c:::.

The second is this also adorable guy at my high school. He's extremely intelligent but really shy, and 

we're both aiming for Georgia Tech.  The first time we met was about a month into Freshman hear when I was eating my lunch alone in the library.  I was still friendless, confused and a bit depressed, so it doesn't surprise me how quickly I reacted when Katie(who was trying to "broaden his female horizons" ha ha..yeah. :T) invited me to come sit with them. The next day, he literally just appeared at my table like a puppy and never left. It was SO. AWKWARD. just sitting there in the silence. I was so nervous and fluttery, I had no idea what to say, and of course  I just had to bring an awkward lunch that day. So there we were, just sitting there in deafening silence, too scared to move, yet forced to ninja-sneak licks of peanut butter on a spoon because I was just  that awesome.... Yeah...  Back then, it was like he refused to leave my side. Now, half the time I can't tell if he likes me or thinks I'm annoying.. probably doesn't hate me, but it's not like I'll ask.  The only other thing I can think of is how his beliefs are still a mystery to me. It's ridiculous to try and convert a super smart Atheist, so I guess I'll just have to wait around and see. 

The last guy is, well, interesting.

This one's all on God because the first time we met was on the last day before Christmas break. I finished exams on Thursday. The only reason I decided to come was to give Mr. Akins his grapefruit(xD I'm such a dork..) and to keep Mrs. Fraser company while I finished some Korean War veteran interview transcriptions. Well, Mrs. Fraser was late, so I got herded into the gym, then the cafeteria and back again til my mom came at 1:00pm. In those incredibly dull and wasted three hours lay a series of oh, so unfortunate events. After sketching a frustratingly flawed Awoken face for about an hour and a half, I sat alone in the cafeteria for a total of fifteen seconds before a surprisingly attractive greaser-like sophomore turns around and asks, "Do you want to come sit with us or sit there all alone?" Naturally, I said "sure" and shyly made my way over to the table, seeing as only two or three tables were even inhabited.  Beside me sat a friendly dirty-blond-haired girl from ROTC. Then there was Chase, the colloquially intelligent greaser/Marblehornets Tim look-alike, a small and skittish blond boy with glasses (who easily had much more sense and empathy than half the others), a sensible druggie(he thought I was as shy and cute as a freshman girl named Autumn ;3) and a friendly stubbly guy whose name escapes me. So the guys talk for a while about things like Mrs. Obama taking away chocolate milk when chocolate milk is the best thing for athletes, and I strike up a conversation with the girl beside me. We talk about ROTC for a while, and she pauses, saying "UGH, boys.." and rolling her eyes. About then, the cafeteria ladies shout "free food" and all twenty five remaining children scramble over like a reluctant stampede for some almost overdue food. I grab a miniature apple and scurry back to my seat. No more than two minutes pass when some guy in pajamas comes be-bopping over to the table, earning a "Hey, Chris!" from most and a stumbley introduction from me. (I know stumble-y isn't a word, but whatever. I do what I want, yo! haha joking. Nobody says yo anymore... except Bobby Cuevas who started the "Oh snap, yo!" trend at Master's xD good times..) Anyway, so this guy showed up, and I immediately felt my face start to feel all tingly. Conscience: "HOLYCOWTHATGUYLOOKJUSTLIKESHERLOCK. HOLYCOW HE EVEN ACTS LIKE HIM. BRO. QUIT BLUSHING. I SAID-OH great, now he's staring at you... Well, don't just stare back! SAY something! No?.... -__- yeah, I'm so out of here. See you in Heaven suckahh! *poof* (conscience disappears)

Meh, after my conscience died tragically, Chris said he was hungry, I gave him the apple I just legally stole, and he awkwardly said thanks. He showed his latest novel's progress to Chase and the others, so I asked what story was about. Blah blah blah, he showed me this website where he often published  historical fiction rewrites and other stories(Vortex Wars), and I gave him a few writing pointers.  Yep. That was it. Not really. Nothing... suggestive happened.. I mean plenty of awkwardness (They were talking about when to have a girlfriend, so I chimed in with a  "wait 'til you're in college because if you don't she'll get pregnant and die." I thought it was funny because they didn't know I was a homeschooler, foreign and still unfamiliar to their ways, but Chase thought I was a dork, jokingly asking "xD is that the way you think?" "yes.. :c", I thought, but I didn't say anything. It was a joke from Mean Girls...)

Later, Chris offered us some homemade mints (*cough*SKETCHY*cough*)( but I ate them anyway.. I mean, I'm still here typing this, right?... Right?!?), and then proceeded to take selfies on my phone while lying on his back on the cold gym floor.... he was trying to convince me to come lay down when Mrs. Callie called for me over the intercom, and I mentally said "YUSH. I'm saved :D whoo.." while actually saying "Oh, haha, that's me... Uhh, I'd better go. Bye!", slinging my bag onto my shoulder and scurrying up the gym stairs while he shouts "HEY, you're really cute. Use that to you're advantage in life! You'll really get places!" 

Well, what do you know? So far I've managed to only spill it to Sydney, and I'm going to try and keep it that way 'til my mom sees this twenty years from now and asks who this weird boy is... I think he's a Junior...maybe not, but he's tall enough to be one.. 

Well, today was the first day back from break, and guess who stopped me in the hall walking from homeroom to lit? You guessed it. And I'm sure I flushed bright red again because of my STUPID TEENAGE HORMONES. GAH. I hate my life sometimes...

Honestly, I'd rather not have to choose. I mean, COME ON God. When I said I wanted you to put someone in my life, I really meant someone.  

Maybe it's for the best. I mean, I love Chad but I don't know if I'll ever see him again. For now, I only hope I'll get closer to Tej so I can be a double-agent and convert him to Christianity so we can spend eternity talking about the craziest concepts next to a cozy fireplace in the winter(a girl can dream :'c ), and frankly, Chris scares me a little.

If it was up to me, I'd go after someone who's personality would look like this: 

(lol he's my superattractive Awoken species Titan on Destiny :3 Oh gosh.. the feels..)

What I mean is, I think I'd like someone who's fun-loving and caring, serious when the situation calls for it, but not up-tight. I'd like someone who's beautiful mentally(intelligent, strong, pondering) but not too tucked-in; adventurous and somewhat wise. Being a bit shy is totally ok, and looks are relatively secondary since I'm not one to judge and, being an artist, my taste in guys is a bit... unique haha.

The only thing that's really a must is being a follower of Christ, so the rest of the things are more like loose guide-lines of stuff I find attractive. 

God, please don't send me a Frenchman!

Edit:  January 5, 2015

 I forgot to include my dad's two rules for dating:

If someone wants to take me to a gathering with other people(and other girls), he's free to do so; however, if someone wants to take me on a date alone, with just us two, he has to ask for permission from my dad first, and I have to give my dad a heads-up before he comes... To dig up the shotgun haha jk

Edit 2: January 6, 2015

2nd day of school, and guess who somehow managed to find me on the way to like five classes?! Chris... -_- I mean, he's a nice guy and all, but I'm not going to date anyone for a good year or two at least. If I wasn't such a pushover, I'd go ahead and tell him I'm not interested... but he's the first guy to ever call me cute xD I don't know what to do anymore. I've been trying really. hard. to just shove him in a closet forget he exists, but I highly doubt he'd do the same :T the dude's head over heels for me.. One minute, I pretend to not get his text about where I sit in the cafeteria(mornings. I don't  eat in the cafeteria unless the library's on food probation), the next, I have a personal escort that refuses to leave my side.(all the while, Tej is oblivious and treats me like a semi-close friend again, and I still have feelings for him; feelings that whisper "Adieu, adieu, remember him! He's well worth the wait. Just two more years!" What should I do?!

Since I'm pretty much obligated to see him a good four times a day for a whole semester at least, I might as well ask if we can just be friends? I'm scared I'll break his heart :/ It seems like I'm all he has from his circumstances... Oh, and he's a good year and a half older than me, so that's lovely..

Edit 2: April 22, 2015

Idk what's going on. I can't take this out of Italics for some reason, so just go with it. 

Chris found himself another girl to "love"... I met him four months ago. Like, first introduced myself. I'm far from jealous, but I'm glad he's over me because anyone so willing to replace his "beloved" isn't worth my time. If he really cared about me, he would have been depressed for months and more relentless in seeing me. Because he was not, I know he has a familial void which he's desperate to fill. What face filsl it is inconsequential.