You should watch this. Yum. I love books.
Also... "I’m really looking forward to seeing Helena Bonham Carter, ‘cause I’m a huge Helena Bonham Carter fan. Yeah, and her and Tim Burton are like my Brangelina. Like, they’re like my power couple." - Chris Colfer
Is it odd that my celebrity crushes have the same celebrity crushes (or...admirations?) as I do?
I am going to write one of those blog posts that reminds me and everyone else that I really am just an angsty teenager. You can stop reading now. I will not be offended if there are no comments on this post. Really. You would be better off reading that really creepy Klaine fanfic that everyone on tumblr is talking about. Actually...no. Don't do that. I've heard about it, and it seems like it would be emotionally scarring.
I was about an hour and five minutes late for school today. Fantastic, right? I missed all of first block (the class that I'm really struggling in) and the very beginning of second block. Why? Because my alarm was turned off and no one else woke up. I woke up at 7:50. School starts at 7:15. I was ready to go at 8:00. I finally got to leave the house at 8:15 because I had to wait for my dad and brother to get ready. Fantastic. I'm a winner.
This was mostly because it was my dad's job to get my brother and I off to school today. He's 49 years old. He cannot handle waking up on time and waking his children up on time. This is a problem.
School was meh. I ran the mile, pathetically slow, as always. Who cares?
Lunch was meh. People were there. I feel like some talk of the upcoming sitcom "Derek and Samantha" may have occoured, but I really can't remember.
The rest of the day was meh. I got a ride home from one of my friends, since I didn't have a car today.
I got home and went on the computer a little, then took a nap. I laid in bed for about an hour. I must have been sleeping for some portion of that time, because I remember dreaming. It was about the blog. I had mistakenly redesigned it. It was light green and tan and white and the posts were only sorted by length, not label or time. It was odd and disfunctional.
I had dinner at some point in there. And I made brownies. I asked my mom to help me with some college stuff. I've been asking her to help me with this for days.
I note that it's 6:30ish. Since my class finished last week, and it ran from 7:00 to 10:00, I had been planning on sort of reserving that time to work on art stuff. My mom pointed out to me that didn't I need something from the store and she was going to the store later and it would only be a half hour or fourty-five minutes so why didn't I just come with her? I figured that would be okay. Three hours later (THREE FUCKING HOURS), we got home. An hour and ten minutes later, she finally found the time to help me with the college stuff, which turned out to not be as complicated as I thought it was. No art has happened. No homework has happened. It's 12:38 AM.
My mom is a good mom when that's what she's doing. When she's constantly at my grandparent's house, she isn't. There's some times when it's fine, and there are some times when I just need someone to help me with things. Sometimes, I just need my mom.
I sometimes wonder how my education would have been different if my parents had pushed me more. I'm not a terribly self-motivated person, but I wonder, if they had treated Bs like they were a bad thing, if they had made sure I did my homework, if they had focused more on that, would I be better off? If they had pushed me at art, would I not think that everything I have in my portfolio is horrible? No, instead, I think they wanted some well-rounded, emotionally stable child. They didn't really get one.
I wonder if I really want to go to college, or if I just want to get out of here. Because I do want to get out of here. I think it's funny that I've never questioned if I could live on my own, but I've questioned plenty of times if I could handle the work in college, handle that pressure. It seems like everything might be more real in college. And art school? I don't know if I want to be an artist, or if I'm just going into art because it's something where I don't have to feel so fucking inadaquate all the time, like I do at school. I don't think it's going to help, really. And apparently a lot of the portfolio work I've been doing is wrong. Great. Really freeking great. I don't know how good I am, compared to other people. And part of the art school concept is that I won't have to compare myself any more, I won't have to care that my ACT and my GPA is so many points lower than everyone else's, that I didn't get a five on all my AP's, that I wasn't as advanced and as shiny and as perfect as they are. I have this dream that maybe, at art school, I won't have to feel bad about everything, that I can just exist and do my thing and be fine with that.
And then I realize that after art school, I'm going to have to get a job and then be competing with everyone else. Even if I got published, I know I would push that competitive additude on myself, that I wouldn't feel okay about being mid-list while there are bestsellers out there, wondering what's wrong with me, wondering why more people aren't reading my book, wondering why they got the wrong message from it. And then, I would have those helpful friends asking "Is this based on real life?" No. It's not. You would like to think that you're him, I know. You're not. It was always supposed to be like that, all along. That's why you're not reading it.
And this, my friends, is what the month after NaNo really feels like. Too excited, too low, too meh. It's slightly worrying that NaNo makes me feel like this, but I can't explain it any other way. I feel good when I'm writing, and when you take away that adreneline, everything is suddenly a lot less colourful.
But I'll be fine, even if I don't see that now.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
You should watch this. Yum. I love books.