Wake up!

Your future is knocking!

Please note that this would be a fantastic slogan for a college advertisment.  Kid sleeping on the front of the pamphlet, picture of college on the inside.  It doesn't scream "Ivy League" but it sort of screams "Local University" like a school that is pretty good, but isn't known by people from outside of the area.  Like...Oakland University.  Or CMU.  Or Eastern.  People from other states don't really know about those, do they?
Some kid at my school draws little elephant heads in pencil on various surfaces.  I think it's a girl, because I saw one in a bathroom once, but it could be multiple people.  I like it.  It's a motif.  I want a motif.  I need a motif.  Maybe I could draw tigers.  Or ligers.  Or...lightening bolts. 
In other news, this is happening because sometimes, things are right with the world.  Notice that it's at U of M.  Notice that I live like...half an hour away from U of M.  OH SNAP.  Let's go.
Speaking of living...places, I got a call today from someone who I emailed about renting a room from.  In Grand Rapids.  I'm going to check it out next Monday, so hopefully that'll work out.  I emailed a bunch of other people too, so if I can schedule a bunch of meetings for that day, it should result in me finding a place to live.  Hopefully.
I think I'm going to wear a skirt to school tomorrow. 
I just wanted you to know.
Film School is going along swimmingly.
I like swimming.
I've been rereading Paper Heart, and I don't like what I see. I'm not in love with the plot or characters any more.  I don't think I'm going to edit it at all.  I'd rather write something new.  I do not know what that something new will be.  Maybe I should write a collection of short stories.  Or poetry.*  I've heard that there is a Camp NaNoWriMo coming this summer, and that just might be the ticket.  Of course, I will not have internet.
There are several thousand bugs in my room, swarming my desk lamp. Problem.
I have a day and a half left of high school.  How did that happen?  Where did life go?  What are we all doing here? And other questions that I ask the universe.
*Someone should stop me from doing that.  It will be horrific.  Do not want.

Senior Skip Day?

Today was Senior Skip Day.  Also known as the beginning of my five day weekend.  Also known as the day before Chris Colfer's 21st birthday.

 Sigh.  So perfect.

 So adorable.  I love that word, adorable.  Just the way it rolls off the tongue.

 So inspiring.  Sigh.

Senior skip day was so, so awesome.

 Since it was the day of skipping, bunches of friends went out to lunch and I dragged Derek to the DIA.  It was a party.  He judged me for taking myspace shots in the art.

 

And caring excessively about the sinks.  but really, they're perfect.  They're going in my dream house file.  This is not the first time I've noticed them.

 There was a lion.  It was pretty cool, I guess.

 This guy?  Terribly dapper.

 I like this.  I do not know why.

 You know what this reminds me of?  EAMESICLES.  YES.  LOVE IT.

 It may look like macaroni and cheese, but it is not.  Really.

 This is a piece of my own, entitled "Museum-goer" We actually saw other people, seniors, from our school, at the DIA as well.  It was weird.

 Another stealthy mirror shot. 

 A pimptastic couch.

 And then, I went to Lauren's and watched Glee.

 It was really fun.  Really, really fun.

Just remember, Andy is watching you.

Petty

When there are somewhat large issues facing me, I tend to focus on little things.  This is a diversion tactic.  I will tap, I will pick at things, I will make sure that my nails and eyebrows look perfect.
Here is the issue that's currently freaking me out.  Camera, remember that?  I'm a neurotic freak about some things in life, and the condition of...things is one of them.  Last night, I let asked my mom to hold my camera for a few hours.  Keep in mind that said camera was purchased on May 7th and can be returned to the store within 14 days.  Also remember that my mother asked me a few times if I was sure that I wanted to keep it, etc.  Anyway, when she gives me back my camera...there is a scratch on the screen that was not present before she gained possession of it.  AND IT IS ONE DAY TOO LATE TO RETURN IT, LEAVING ME TO COPE WITH A CAMERA THAT HAS A SCRATCHED SCREEN FOR THE ENTIRETY OF THE FORESEEABLE FUTURE.
And I know that if I point it out to my mom, she will get mad at me.  Really mad, most likely.  WHY DIDN'T SHE JUST TAKE HER CAMERA?
ASDRFJHKL:SDFGHJKL:SDFGHJKL:SDFGHJKL:LEDFGHJKLSDFGHJKLWEDRFGHJKL
I just have a lot of feelings.

Je voudrais un photo avec ça

I got a new camera for my birthday.  Here are some pictures.

 This is my brother.  He's holding a plant.

 I took this picture.  It's the same thing you find when you look for stock images tagged "Spring", "Summer", or "Grass"

 These are flowers.  They are pink.

 This is a creek.  It has trees near it.

 This is a creek and a person.

And this is the sky.
Clearly, someone is up for a major photography award in the near future.  Get off of my runway, Ansel Adams.

Quote of the Month

"I’ve been making a list of the things they don’t teach you at school. They don’t teach you how to love somebody. They don’t teach you how to be famous. They don’t teach you how to be rich or how to be poor. They don’t teach you how to walk away from someone you don’t love any longer. They don’t teach you how to know what’s going on in someone else’s mind. They don’t teach you what to say to someone who’s dying. They don’t teach you anything worth knowing."
Neil Gaiman

You have brains in your head.

You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You're on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who'll decide where to go...
Dr. Seuss
It's time for the annual birthday post and exercise in pure, unadulterated vanity.  I love it.  I love me.
Seventeen had a lot of change.  Remember?  I do.  I remember seventeen being a big year, a year that started out okay, had a lot of confusion and frustration and sadness in the middle, and just kind of lined up at the end.  Seventeen looked like this.

 And this.

 Seventeen wore fishnets (twice.  For a costume.)

 Seventeen bleached her hair (and subsequently dyed it twice, for two very specific circumstances.)

 Seventeen made a ring that was nothing like it was meant to be, and was better that way.

 Seventeen stayed up all night during NaNoWriMo and took this picture of the sunrise, from her bedroom window.

 Seventeen won NaNoWriMo and got balloons.  And had some mysterious substance on her hands.

 Seventeen drove to Flordia and back (did most of the driving too.  Seventeen loved driving.  And learned how to drive a stick.)

 This picture seems vaguely artsy, or maybe just dumb.

 Seventeen visited colleges.  Colleges that she got into through no one else's merit but her own.  Colleges that gave her scholarships because they thought that she was worth something.

 Seventeen went to prom with a fantastic boy.

 And seventeen looked like this.

 Eighteen looks like this.

 And, in a startling new addition, eighteen wore a dress. To school. Shock! Awe! Amazement!  Eighteen had certain members of her Lit class sing to her, out of no where.

Seventeen was learning what it was to wish that you could end someone else's suffering.  Seventeen was helplessness.  Seventeen was wanting something that you could never have.  Seventeen was being someone who other people didn't like.  Seventeen was learning the value of friends.  Seventeen was creating things.  Seventeen was obsessing.  Seventeen was getting a taste of dreams.  Seventeen was seeing what she wanted and getting it.  Seventeen was falling into place.  Seventeen was feeling valued, and feeling worthless.  Seventeen was growing.  Seventeen was changing.
And with all that baggage, all those complicated emotions swirling around me, I'm going on to eighteen.  Here's to you, eighteen.  Here's to everything you'll bring.  I love you already.

I just have a lot of feelings.

True.
I got the cutest mug on the planet for my birthday.  NaNoWriMo companion?  I think so.
At some point in time, we're going to post the top 25 images from The Sartorialist.  Promise.
The annual birthday post is coming soon.  But now, I just want to talk, because no one can listen right now.  I should go swimming right when I finish this.  I should do a lot of things,  really.  But they don't happen because it just doesn't.  No one is pushing me, and I can't motivate myself.  Stagnant water grows algae.
Here's the thing:  I'm not good at trying to be someone else.  I can't express myself more or less or differently than I do right now, because when I do, I feel like a bitch or a pushover the whole time.  I can't handle that.  And it feels like everyone is either more present or less present than I am.  Why can't we all just be on the same stage, for once?  It's like with food, I can never quite tell how much is right to have, and that's like with talking, I never know.
I'm thinking about this too much.  I know that.  But that's how I am.  That's how I think, and I can't change, and I don't want to change.  So there.  This is me.  Take it or leave it, world.

I can consistantly be relied upon to have an opinion

pertaining to Glee.
First off, I noticed that there were some new background sounds in this episode.  I approve.  I love Fondue For Two, and I want it to come back.  A lot.  I really liked Brittany in this episode, which is surprising.  Kurt is wearing the shirt he was wearing in Duets, which seems like they're hinting towards him and Sam.  Way to be subtle.  Jane Lynch makes an excellent David Bowie.  Halloween plans?  Yes.  And Ohio would love Anne Coulter.  *judgment glare*
The entirety of April Rhodes in this episode was explained at :26.  Don't ask, just watch.

 I know, right?
Finchel?  No.  Just no.  Santana?  Come out already.  What happened to your fauxlationship* with Karofsky?  Only Jacob Ben-Israel notices.  Gosh, that kid is great.  One day, he and Karofsky will both join glee club for real, and it will be lovely and amazing.  Wait a second...CRACKSHIP.  This.  Karofskybenisrael.  I love it.  So much.  Does anyone want to write a crackfic about this?
And the accompanist is just furniture?  WHAT IF WE NOTICE FURNITURE A LOT MORE THAN WE NOTICE SOME PEOPLE?
The KChen/Schue duet?  That sounded, somehow, like this.

I think that Sam and Quinn and Kurt are rehersing a song.  Or having sex.  Or both.  In general, I feel sorry for Sam, but I feel like if anyone was living in a motel with their family, it wouldn't be him.  But...I don't know who it would be.
This is a public service announcement: MATTHEW MORRISON, IF YOU'RE READING THIS, DO GLEE A FAVOUR AND GO BACK TO BROADWAY.  That is all.
I love my life.
Lastly, does anyone have reccomendations for a fairly good camera that's not super expensive?  My parents have offered to get me a camera of my own for my birthday.  I'm not planning to be a professional photographer or anything, just looking for something that works for basicish stuff.
*I coined that term my very own self.  YES I DID.

This is a blog post.

I'm at that state where I want to blog and I feel like I should blog, but the only things that I care to write about right now are things that I should not be blogging about.  It leaves one in a tough state.  Like a police state, but in your own mind.
I'm cold right now.  I've been cold all day. It doesn't matter if I put a sweater on.  It doesn't matter if I'm sitting by the vent.
Now it feels like nothing is right, like the three line response I send to a six paragraph email is more misfitting than normal, like I can't sleep all the way, like I'm self-aware enough to see that I am adamently opposed to doing anything productive, but lazy enough to not do anything about it.
I don't like this state very much.  It feels like there's nothing that I really want to do and that I'm not fully awake.  And I want to be wanting something, more than anything.
I guess that's okay.
It's okay enough.
But I had never been fully me and I've never been exactly who or where I want to be. All I know is that right here isn't okay with me and I need to get out.
I'm incoherent now, I can feel it in my bones, but I'm in the water, and it's impossible to get back on the boat.
And I'm thinking about what's pretty and what's not pretty and why we need people to tell us that.  And who decides what is and isn't okay, socially.  And maybe I just don't exist quite enough to count, all the time.  I'm not quite here, I'm up there, drowning in the infinitesimal light of the stars.

And these walls are delicious.  That's what matters.