Dix-Neuf

So I turned nineteen.  On Sunday.  It was a wild party.  I mean, it was fun.  I saw The Spring Standards in Ann Arbor, so that was pretty cool.  Nineteen looks like this.  Except that I was wearing the same dress I wore when I turned eighteen.

Eighteen looked like this.  And this and this and this.

I think these pictures show us a variety of things, like my sheer sex appeal, my tendency to wear bandanas, and my deep vanity.  Being eighteen was a lot of fun.  I went to college.  I passed drafting (GUYS, I PASSED DRAFTING) and made a million and a half squares out of cut paper.  I didn't finish NaNo.  I switched out of Furniture.  I saw the last half of the last Harry Potter movie.  I started a blog (Fifteen-Seventeen!) that I'm really proud of.  I drew a million cubes for Design Drawing.  I started a new (awesome) book.  I acquired a twitter addiction (follow me @froomla) and I got tweeted by...wait for it...@ThisAmerLife!  Let's not talk about how getting tweeted by Ira Glass is a high point of my year.

Thanks for coming along for the ride, guys.  It's been fun.

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Well.

I can't think of a title, whatever.
I HAVE THE FAULT IN OUR STARS.
So.  Um.  This year.
It's a new year.  It's my TENTH year in which Harry Potter has been playing a disproportionatly large role in my life and also the NINTH year since my house burned down which means, in a way, that I am not a child anymore.  Odd, isn't it?
I've had a bunch of stuff going on!  It's all very interesting!  And sometimes it sucks.  Like a lot.  I haven't been writing on either of the novels, because when I revisited No More Stars I realized just how much it was like my NaNo and I don't love either of them.  In fact, I think their stories are dumb and plots are unimaginative and characters are ill-defined and I kind of hate them.  So that's that.
I need to write a novel and actually finish it and not hate it.
I should write some short stories.
I should write a play.
I should get off my ass and do something, once in a while.
There's an exciting new project that my friend/housemate and I have been working on, and if it all goes as planned, it will be perfect and amazing and JK Rowling will send me a letter letting me know that she really thinks it's great and then I will DIE.  Can you imagine how cool that would be?  If it doesn't go as planned, I will be sad.  I'm very worried that it won't go as planned.  At least I'm good at worrying.
I heard, yesterday, that my school is starting a collaborative design program next year.  I don't actually know what collaborative design is, except that apparently you study all aspects of design and then you go get a MBA.  Hmm.  I think that might be interesting?  One of my friends (the person who made this blog layout, incidentally) told me that she was switching her major from Graphic Design to Advertising, which means that she would do more ad directing than actual, like, making advertisements and such.  That might be interesting.  Also, for the Fashion career day, the vice president of Kenneth Cole is coming to talk.  Like, woah.  And there's Bodies of Art coming up, which seems cool.  Fashion is weird.  I am not a fashionable person at all, by any stretch of the imagination, but it's...interesting.  You know how male is the default in most things, but in fashion, there are clothes, and then there's menswear?  Like an afterthought?  That's interesting.  I'm getting a little more excited about Kendall and Kendall things.  That's good.  Also, I plan on going to the Meyer May house on Sunday and it will be fantastic.
New semester has started!  It's pretty exciting.  Drafting will be shittons of work, Art History will be a party but not as fun and engaging as last semester, Design Drawing with a different professor is woah crazy I feel like I don't know anything anymore, and 3D is fun and great.  My 3D professor is fantasticly weird and the class only has seven people and it's all very cool.  LIKE (10).  Whenever we discuss things, it's makers and objects, never artists and works of art.  I like that.  I like that expanded definition of things that matter.  Also, we discussed artists who are alive today.  Somehow, it strikes me as very odd that there are fine artists who are alive right now and all they do is art.  And...there are more than 20 of them who exist.  How does that even work?  What is that like?  I follow one of them on twitter, and it seems to involve...calligraphy?  This is that awkward moment when I admit to all of you that deep down, I want to be a fine artist and live in a crazy commune in the woods somewhere and make things all day.  Only not.  They don't always have internet in the woods, did you know that?
I dropped Oral Rhetoric.  I have very mixed feelings about this.  In high school, I felt a lot like I should have been trying harder, I should have been challenging myself to reach my full potential and I really wasn't.  I'm scared of doing the same thing now.  I just want to be perfect.  If I keep up this only-taking-twelve-credits business, I'm going to graduate a semester or year late.  Not that there's anything wrong with that, but...I have to have some sort of measurable success in my life.  Is that bad?  Does it show a deep internal lack of confidence?
Probably.  Whatever.
I need to make some shapes for 3D and do a million drawings for Design Drawing and eugh.   I will listen to podcasts while I do them.  Fuck college.  Now, I have to be at school at 10 on one set of days and 12:30 on another one.  PARTY ON.
I have so many feelings about this. This is cool you should check it out and also and wow huh.  That's the internet for ya.
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Semester in review?

Is it weird to do a semester in review mere weeks before you write your year in review post?  Should they just be lumped together?  Are they fully seperate, or is it a more integrated, holistic thing?  Did I accidentally schedule three quote of the months for the same day?
Does anyone really care?
I'm going to lump them together.  I'm lazy.
This year:  OH MY GOSH, SO MUCH FREAKING DYING.  Hi guys, let's all set a goal for 2012 and call it "STAY ALIVE, FOOL"  We're not going to die next year.  Three people from my family, three people from school.  That's enough, kthnx.
This semester: I learned a lot.  I felt like a failure a lot.  I probably did the best in Written Rhetoric, which I'm slightly worried about.  Does this mean that I should reconsider my whole life and all my choices ever?  YEP.  Does it mean that I'm going to change anything?  NOPE.  Is this all for the best?  Probably.
I hated 2D with the firey passion of a thousand suns, but I passed it.  I was okay in Intro to Furniture, and I generally liked Design Drawing.  Apparently DD is supposed to be really difficult and everyone hates it.  I guess I am an anomaly?  I figured that out a while ago.  Also, ART HISTORY.  It was wonderful.  Like, awesome.  Sigh.  Art history.
What else do I have to say?  Some sweeping statement about how I've grown and changed and become the person who I am today through perserverence and DAMNIT, I QUIT NANOWRIMO AND SOMETIMES I HATE MYSELF FOR IT.

Yeah.  I'm feeling a little erratic right now.  I'm going to go write.  Or sleep, for that matter, since I've been up for a while.  Maybe a Fiction Friday?  Maybe a Fiction Saturday?  Who knows!  The possibilities, they're endless!

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A jumbled up bunch of stuff.

Today it feels like my face is puffy and misshapen, but we're going to write that off to the fact that it is winter and my nose is dripping and I only have class seven more times this semester. Yay! Well...a little bit "Yay!", and a little bit "Fuck!"

I'm not quite ready to do a semester in review yet, but I will be.  It'll happen at some point, and when it does, I hope that it'll be deeply interesting.  Deeply interesting to people who, you know, care.
I'm writing a book next weekend, you know.  It's gonna be awesome.   The same kind of awesome that you feel when you are doing something incredibly hard but incredibly fulfilling, where it sucks in the moment, but looking back, everything was right and you were so alive, right then.
I want to feel alive.  I want that part of me to wake up again.

Sometimes (a lot of the time, all the fucking time) I wonder if i should pursue just writing and ditch design.  I worry that I might like writing more than design, and that if I do, what am I doing with my life.  Then I remember identifying every visible car when I was fourteen, I remember discovering Apartment Therapy and midcentury modern and being able to put a name and a face to the styles I loved, and realizing that the kitchen table when I was little?  That was a Saarinen.  Both are right for me, I think, and I'll probably ping-pong between the two for the rest of my life, with a little outdoorsyness thrown in, for good measure.

It's good to get squares together.  I have four squares left.  I'm going to conquer the beast.  Also, I tweeted my thousandth tweet today.  How's that for some alliteration up in hurr?

My APUSH teacher referred to the test as conquering the beast.  Like, "On May 7th, you will go into room 160, and you will conquer the beast."
I think it sucks that I was born during AP's, and in a time that first communions frequently fall on, especially given the Catholicism of my dad's side of the family, and the Protestantism of my own family.  I went to first communion parties on my birthday, more than once.
We're getting off topic now.  I need to study so that I don't fail Art History and die sad and alone.  That's what happens to you if you fail Art History.

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November!

Hi!  It's November, also known as NaNoWriMo, or TheMonthWhereISeemLikeIHaveADHD, or HolyCrapWhenDidCollegeGetDifficult or EwwwGrossMyHairIsFallingOutFromTheStress or ThisIsTheTimeOfYearWhenIGetTheMostHitsIDecayWhy.  It's a fun time.  I slept for about two hours this morning, and I feel wide awake.  My cousin came over because he has an AAA plus membership and I need to get my car towed a hundred miles away from here, but once he got here and we called, he realized that he didn't have that kind of membership.  So...that was kinda bad.  But it was good to see him.
I was kind of planning to stay up all night because I have ten hundred thousand million drawings for Design Drawing that I need to redo so that I don't fail the class and die sad and alone*, but then I curled up in my bed around five.  And got a call saying that my cousin was outside my house at 7:10, dealt with the situation, cousin leaves, I register for classes, and then I blog.  That's how the story always ends.  I think I'm going to try to finish the drawing I'm working on right now, then go to school and draw some more and go to class.  Today, I may be crossing the line into consuming energy drinks.  I'm surprised it's taken this long.  Energy drinks are kind of like meat: I'm capable of consuming it, I see other people consume it, but I just...don't.
My wordcount is shit.**  I am not worried about this in the least.  I have all weekend and no functioning car and nothing to do, so I can see myself camping out on the couch for hours, days, weeks on end and writing my heart out.  Although, as I was writing this, my mom called and asked if I wanted to come home for the weekend.  So that might be happening.
Sometimes I wonder if I want to write more than I want to design furniture.  Then I flip out a little bit.  I'm worried, constantly, that I'm not doing the right thing, but then again, would studying English really help me?  Writers don't have to be English majors.  Furniture Designers don't have to be furniture majors either.  So really, college doesn't matter at all.  It's like expensive high school where everyone smokes.
If I don't do well here, I'll have to go back home and go to Schoolcraft or OCC, which are even more like high school where everyone smokes.  That's some motivation, I guess.
Did I tell all y'all how I talked to one of my roommates for four hours straight and totally revamped my novel in the process?  It was great.  YAY.  It feels much more solid now.
*NaNoWriMo has the side-effect of making you dramatic as fuck.
**I typed "ship" first, which reminds me that I am not the only person who has pondered the idea of writing slash fanfics about political figures.  Joey thinks about it too!  And Derek, obviously.  MWWHAHHAHAHAAH.  Mangoes.
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What are you saying?

What are you saying?  I'm saying...


That was not relevant, but I like Tick Tick Boom, and I wanted you to know it.

I'm having this pervading feeling of worry right now.  I'm worried that I'm not making the right decisions, that I'm not doing the right thing with my life.  Then, I ask myself what else I would be doing, and I don't have a clue.  That's scary, that I might not be doing what I should be doing, but that there's nothing else.  I sometimes wonder if I like writing better than I like furniture.  And then I panic.  I panic because I'm not good enough at writing, and I'm not dedicated enough, and there's no clear path to a career.  Would I be better off quitting school and hitchhiking around the country to try and find myself, or at least find something to do?
No, I can't do that.  Girls can't go hitchhiking.  Nice girls from the suburbs go to college and get married and get a job they can quit it when they have kids.
I don't think I was ever cut out for that, but wouldn't it be so easy?  It would be so nice to do exactly what you're supposed to do and be happy with it, to feel whole without making anyone angry because you don't fit into their mold.

I don't want to deal with the future.

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Feeling Good is Good.

This is the follow up to Blu Dot's "Good design is good."*
Today was my last day of high school.  I went to Psych, then Forensics, then Lit, and then it was all over and I threw papers in the air and got my cap and gown and went to lunch.
We're not going back.
It's sinking in, and it feels so good to know that now.  After the class of 2011 got screwed over time and time again, they can't do anything else now.  We're free.
It's kind of awesome.
This may have aired on the PA system at school today.  Maybe.
As I was turning in my responsibility card and going to get my ugly gown, Mr. Finance told me that I was one of his favourite students because I could be myself even when I was surrounded by people who were trying to be someone else.  That made me feel good.
And then I got my oh-so-cheap cap and gown and strange little medal.  And then went to Noodles and Company, which makes awesome noodles.  And Trader Joe's (Peanut butter panda puffs) and drove Lauren home and went to the library to get Pushing Dasies and watched that with Conni.  And then we went to the Quiz Bowl party.  And then I hung out with Derek.  It was, all in all, great.

*To that, I say "Good design is invisible."

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.

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.

It's March 15

Also known as the day my house burned down.
Sure is a conversation starter, isn't it? "What were you doing eight years ago today?" "Uh, I don't know." "Well, my house was burning down." "Oh. Oh." And then there's an awkward silence.
The funny thing is, I didn't think of it till about twenty minutes ago. I went all day being excited about Glee being on tonight, and being productive about art, and being excited about life in general, and being excited about France, that I completely forgot about the fact that my life was turned upside down a few years ago. This day used to be a big solemn sort of anniversary for me, and it wasn't, not this time around. This time it was just a normal day. A good day, in fact.
I progressed by leaps and bounds on my art stuff. And I watched Glee, where everything was perfect. Seriously, Klaine kiss! Not just that, but this felt like an old school, classic Glee episode. Guest stars in minor roles, everyone back where they belong. I liked it. So. Freeking. Much. And let's face it, we all went "Squeeee" when the kiss(es!) happened.
I'm growing up, I think. I'm leaving that defining moment of my childhood behind, and at this moment, I love it. I love not having to identify myself by that, I love making up a whole new identity for myself, I love not having to be the same person who I was when I was five or seven or twelve or fourteen.

I'm becoming exactly who I want to be right now, and I don't think I could be happier with myself.

I'll work on my sociology right after I finish this.

I swear.

First off, I'd like to interject something. My mother has been on a crusade to make sure that all things that may be on the floor near my bed are actually on my bed shelf. Small things. Small, but surprisingly heavy things. Like flashlights. Flashlights with unnessecarially rough edges. So, if you were to turn on the light on my bed shelf and possibly move it a half inch back in the process, a flashlight would fall off the bedshelf onto whatever is below said bedshelf. Sometimes, we are working on art, and we do so while sitting on the floor, leaning drawing boards with drawings on them against the wall. So, sometimes flashlights fall on those drawings and basically rip huge, unfixable holes in the centers.

Bottom line: FUUUUUCK. Also, I'm glad I didn't work on it more than I did. Procrastination pays off, kids.


Writing. Remember writing? I do. I remember all the fun we had together, running through fields of wildflowers, going on roadtrips, misusing commas late into the night. It felt so good, you know? I want it again, no, I need it again. I need to write something.


I can see the comments now "But Samantha, don't you remember the novel you vowed to edit into oblivion?"

But March, you see, is NaNoEdMo. I could edit the novel. In NaNoEdMo.

"But Samantha, you have to do two more pieces (yeah, that one piece that was torn? It was supposed to be for this. Win.) by the 19th to submit to portfolio day so you can get some scholarshippage!"

And then I came up with a compromise. With myself.

We're going to work on both of those pieces (cartooney self-portrait and hipster chairs) until the 19th, when we will go to Grand Rapids and probably get a full-ride of lovely amazingness, and then after, we will go into editing overdrive.

Party on.

I am an awkward turtle.

And I can never remember people's names.
And I never spend more than fifteen minutes getting ready in the morning.
And I have no idea what an iambic rhythm is.
And I still haven't opened my report card.
And I get too aggressive in arguments.
And I still haven't started writing FILM SCHOOL.
And I don't like my thighs.
And I haven't been doing the reading for psych.
And I'm behind on all my homework.
And I'm okay with that, in some weird, inexplicable way.

Dramatic Sigh

So...Um...I can't be the only person who, every time they see the word "sigh" they think it says "sign" for a second? Yep. Yep. Yep.
Chris Colfer won a Golden Globe and so did Jane Lynch and Colin Firth and Glee. Yay. But I don't think The Social Network should have won best picture. That belonged to The King's Speech. And Darren Criss? Two months ago, you were famous on the internet. And you were up there, and that was cool. And Chris? Chris reminds me that sometimes, you do get everything you ever wanted. And he's a legit ninja.
I am so eloquent.
Anyway, I've been thinking about my, uh, future. Yeah. that. Basically, I am so done with school right now, and I want to quit. But that's not allowed. You can't go to college if you don't go to high school. What a silly rule. But even then, I'm not sure if college is right and I'm not sure what I'm going to do and how I'm going to do it. It's big and unmanageable and completely terrifying.
I'm not making very much sense now.
I'm on a suicide mission to finish this stupid book tonight.
That was a lie. It's not stupid. It's actually really interesting, but it's just so much information packed into the book that it takes me half an hour to read ten pages. And that's really frustrating.
This monster text explains my current feelings a lot better than I can. Even though I wrote it...but no matter. We were previously talking about superficial crap such as high school and external gratification. "On some level, it really doesn't matter, but when you look at it from the other direction, it matters. Everything matters. I want to be great, and I realize that my chances of not getting everything I want are far higher than my chances of actually getting those things. People tell me that they know that I'll make it, but how do they know? There are people who don't make it. What happens if I become another one of the nameless, faceless masses?" And they responded with something about fame that I would tell you but I didn't ask permission first, so then I said "I don't really know if it's about being famous so much as it's about being great. Like, what if I just try hard and fall into that constant trap of sabotaging any chance I have and then never make it?"
So yeah. That's what I'm feeling right now.

What everyone's talking about

I had thoughts of making this post a multimedia adventure (and I would forever refer to it as that) but then I ditched that idea. So...yep. This is the post that everyone's been talking about, so...yay!
On Tuesday (and I really did mean to blog about it on Tuesday) Mrs.AP Euro was supposed to be talking to the France group about Versailles. I wanted to stay, even though I thought I'd seen the powerpoint before. But I had quizbowl, and I had to go. (We're going to Nationals, bitches. And I played a half a game. The game that we won, further proving that we will win every game that I play in.) And then, later in the evening, I checked my blog feeds, and...Delicious.
Yep, I feel like a perv when I say that about something that isn't food.
I have this overwhelming feeling like I'm going the wrong direction in my future, for the past two weeks or so. Like maybe furniture and architecture are both wrong for me, and if I don't do that, then what am I going to do? It's this kind of like...subliminal stressor, always there following me. Agh.
This post needs another picture.*insert random picture from hard drive*
Also, there's this gov project that's showing me that no, I really haven't gotten better at time management since I was ten and yes, I still hate schoolwork. Most scholwork, that is. I happen to have written a very satisfying IR essay during lunch today. Be jealous.

I don't really like today.

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.

This is your life

Yeah, it's cliche.
You get a cookie if you know where that's from.
The last three days have been...well...directionless? Yeah. I've been...reading copious amounts of Glee fanfiction*? I typed up a little of the novel. I read like ten pages of the book I'm reading for IR. I've started a new short story. I went to youth group. I've gotten some ideas for my Screnzy. I've figured some people out. I created something of a college essay and got edits on it (thank you so much, Lemonlime!). I read a little bit of Madame Bovary**.

IN THREE EFFING DAYS.
THAT IS PATHETIC.

Okay, I think we've all gotten our capslock out for the moment.
I think this feeling, this loss of motivation (under normal conditions, I lack motivation. This is worse than normal) is due to things being done. NaNoWriMo is done. Harry Potter excitedness is done. Thanksgiving is done. Joey and I are done. Even the stupid charcoal chess drawing is done. Class is going to be done on Wednesday.
I need to get on a schedule or something. This is worrying. I have too much free time, and the vast majority of it is being spent...well...watching youtube and singing songs from musicals and Disney movies. Not to say that's a waste of time...but...I should be doing other stuff.
Like cultivating my awesomance. It's like romance, but totally platonic and involving so much more shipping...and giggling like a fourteen year-old girl.
I sometimes think that I was frozen as a fourteen year-old girl. I haven't changed that much, I really haven't. That's a little worrying.

*Reading fanfiction for TV shows is way way way different from reading book fanfiction. Like, things happen faster. There aren't any novel-length Glee fanfics. And there isn't the question of style - a big thing in my mind concerning Harry Potter fanfiction is that it sounds enough like Jo, which isn't an issue with TV.
**I like Madame Bovary a lot. It's like...pretty language without being like "Where is mah symbolizmz?" or "Don't u see teh hidden MEANINGZZZZ?" which a lot of books are screaming at me. With excessive Zs.

Um. Crazycakes. That's my life.

I wrote a lot today* and I still have a lot more to write, but it's okay. Remember when I saw Toy Story 3 and my basic reaction was D'awww + tears? Mmm yeah, Pixar did it again with their "It Gets Better" video. Probably the best one I've seen yet.

Now you know what company should make an "It Gets Better" video? Herman Miller. Also, Alan Rickman. That would be good, simply because he is in it.
I'm sure I had things to say when I opened this blog post. I'm really sure, but they're gone now. NBD. Um...writing is making me crazy. I'm pretty sure I'm going to be in an emotional state on Wednesday, so watch out. There's some stuff, people related stuff, that I kind of need to talk about, but I can't really talk about it here because things are weird and yeah. Someone is about to win a prize for their fantastic skills in the expression department, no? Speaking of prizes, I'm going to be entering writing contests. I've found them. I'm going to do them after College (AHHHHHHHH WHY MUST YOU BE SO INSANE AAAAAAAAAAAAH) and NaNo and portfolio are done. Yes. Also, Scholastics, which I need to enter. I might be entering for both art and writing. I'm not sure.
I have a gym test tomorrow. It's about swimming. I liked the swimming unit. Except for the day when there had been a swim meet the night before and the pool was really low and lacking chlorine and smelled like B.O. that part was gross.
What else? All of my art stuff that was scattered around my house is currently in my room because we had Thanksgiving here and I had to move it. I cannot function with all of this stuff in my space. AHHAAAAAA. Do not like. Need to clean. Nowwwwwwwwwww.
*When I say today, I mean the today it was before midnight. Get with the program here.
Okay, this is just so I know what I have to do this week. Disregard this entirely.

• Email mr.b about letters of rec
• call ccs guy about interview
• work on vellum architectural colourrr
• work on chess pieces
• touch up weird random design
• do l'hotel de ville in pen? Maybe. If time
• start typing up novel???
  
• get transcripts and scores sent to schools
• list writing contests and dates
• shipping news - book talk
• shit just got real
• ccs tomorrow first block? Eh?
• how fast to use nano code?
• when to type and edit novel - type - add 40k of extra story - print out - read - edit - have betas read, etc.
  

Paper is like Human Flesh

This is everything written on my hand and arm:
Chess Tomorrow
Art was better when it wasn't about the artist?
Blood
Health Thing
Dracofic
Hatredfearhatred
No class dec 1
Blogging scholarship
Rise in Michigan-centric advertising
Sugar Quill
Laser Printer and acetone on paper
Scholastics
Send letter of rec info
Docufide

The thing is, when I read this list, I know what every single thing on here is about and what I need to do regarding it. Hmm...this is an excellent system of organization. I will be successful in life. Fo' Sho.
I...um...well, it's 12:23 and I still have Gov homework (forealz, that is the only class I have homework in this year) to do and so yeah...bye.
Whose idea was it to make me spend three days watching an Eating Disorder documentary in Health and a Genocide in Darfur documentary in IR. WHY ARE THEY ON THE SAME THREE DAYS? ARE YOU TRYING TO MESS WITH MY FRAGILE MENTAL STATE?
Capslock may be messing with my fragile mental state as much as these documentaries.
Also, I need to stop sounding so crazy on the blog. Going to work on that. Add it to my list!
That title? My art teacher said that today. It seemed very fitting.

This post comes to you in five parts

Part One

Homecoming! Was great! Yay! People were pretty! We dared to venture into the middle grinding pit and came out sweaty and disgusting and in desperate need of a shower.

I started feeling a little bit nostalgic. This is my last homecoming. Ever.

Part Two

Jo. On Oprah! I watched it. Most of the stuff she said was in other video interviews*, but it was still cool. She's still my role model. Also, she's said before that she's estranged from her father, but in the interview, Oprah asked if she cared to share her reasons, and she said no. It really makes me wonder. Inventing possible histories right now.

Part Three

Quizbowl. I love quizbowl. It's great. But this year, it's kind of different. I feel weird about it.

Part Four

College! Columbus is looking nicer and nicer. I'm thinking about illustration more and more. I have no idea what I would do in illustration, but it looks...cool.

Part Five

I got into a college today**. Massive relief. My interview wasn't so much an interview as a "Let me recalculate your gpa. You're in. You should apply for scholarships. Take a free pen!"

No really, they had purple pens. It was awesome.

*Yes. I've watched them. ALL.

**So, uhh, if I wanted to...I could go to school for architecture. OH EM GEE CHOICES HOW WILL I COPE WITH ALL THE CHOICES PANIC TIME.

Pterodactyl

I'm working on something of a college essay right now. It's very deep. And the prompt was very, very vauge*. And I'm working with my mommy to complete the college spreadsheet of DOOM. What else am I doing? I'm being hugely determined to finish the stupid horrible drawing TODAY. Even if I have to stay up all night. I slept 'till crazy late, so it shouldn't be that difficult. Waking up for school tomorrow will be fun.

It's just occurred to me that I might have AP Gov homework. Yech. And Lit...I have to make punnery happen. Health, nothing. Gym, nothing. Clothes, though. IR? Work on memorization, which I know that I'm going to fail at. French, nothing.

So I went to Cedar Point yesterday. I rode all the big, attraction coasters (Maverick, Dragster, Millennium Force, etc.) and got some people who really hate roller coasters to go on the Gemini. I hate the Gemini so much. Too much brain shakey. Umm...Other than that...It was fun! Yay! Fun time with fun people.

*Something along the lines of "Tell us about your qualities that contribute to your skills as they apply to our university"**

**Actually, that's way more complex than the prompt was.***

***Holy cow, my footnotes have footnotes! This is jazzhands exciting!