Extreme hoarding will scare your spouse away.

Ayo, sappy new year's post.

JK.

But seriously.

We make friends to benefit ourselves. We love people cos they contribute significantly to our lives. We give gifts to show our thanks and appreciation for their time and efforts to us.

So cool, humans are, always thinking about 1-up-ing ourselves. We're like Mario and the 1-up mushroom. Eat one, and you can pounce Goombas with twice the power jump, twice the speed, and not to forget, annihilate Troopas with laser beams, yeah? But in the end, you get your reward of maybe 10000 coins and Princess Peach, right? Otherwise there's no point in getting better. There's no reason to make friends with Ol' Toad or become acquainted with Luigi.

Well, I mean if you want to benefit me, hey come my new friend, come.

But really, time to put aside hoarding and start giving (not just physical box-like presents, but time, effort, and love) just because. Just to show God's love. 

LOL but in all conscience, even though this sounds likes I'm on a spiritual high, FALSE. WRONG. F MINUS. ZERO PERCENT. I'm just tired of sucking friendly initiatives that I never even thought about.

In good company.

Ah, it's nice to have friends like these.

(And grades like these. For now, that is. Keep it up, Geometry! I believe in you!)

For now, I am content. This is a good thing, I think.

"This is called staying alive. It's temporary."

David Wagoner was a smart guy.

My friends are doing well, everybody's staying afloat. Grades aren't dropping, relationships aren't ending, Facebook is wasting time. Dear God, is it wasting time. I blame this on you, blog. Making me write even though I should be studying for the death trap known as

FINALS

Cue scream.

Rediscover

I am about to go to church for the first time in half a year.

Half a year.

It's youth group, not really straight-up conservative Sarah-Palin church. Does it matter? I don't think it does.

I look up to the people who find Him every day. They see Him, they feel Him, they learn from Him. Every day. I wish I could do that.

Granted, I've been trying. But it's so easy to turn and hate those little ditzy brunettes with the short-shorts, Uggs, and the aggressively-straightened hair. It's so easy to disregard the parental units. It's so easy to ignore everybody else and just concentrate on me.

To be selfish

To be lazy

To be everything I don't want to be.

I talk to Him a lot, more casually than I should, I think.

Me: Hey, God. What are we gonna do today?

What I presume He says: Whatever you want to do.

Me: We're going to school.

Him: Okay.

Him: How was your day?

Me: It was okay, with the usual drama.

Him: Drama?

Me: Yes, You know.

Him: Yes, I know. What are you going to do about it?

Me: I don't know. You'll show me the right way, won't You?

Him: As always.

After these conversations, everything seems work out okay.

I don't believe you

Relationships.

The inevitable blog post discussing quite a controversial topic indeed.

Relationships.

The friend, the teacher, the boyfriend, the girlfriend. The parent, the counselor, the acquaintance, the idol.

For some reason, there are four listed above that are uncannily misused too often.

THE FRIEND:

The one who eats your food without asking, the one who sees you without asking, the one who listens to you without asking.

Give or take, that also applies to

THE GIRL-BOY-FRIEND:

Typically the "significant other", the "one", your true knight in shining armor (or tin foil), the girl of your dreams (or fantasies), your hubby (or tubby), your baby (or literally?!?!), the one person you are allowed to kiss on the lips because in today's society, doing so to anyone else is cheating or possibly homosexual.

Or rather, if you enjoy screwing life around, your player, your slut, your whore, your jock, your boobs, your social status, your game, your self-esteem.

THE ACQUAINTENCE:

The one you ask for math help, the one you partner up with because you are a dork without a partner, the one who tells you everything you really don't care about.

THE IDOL:

The one you admire and follow with your mind and eyes, the one who doesn't know you but you even know their fax number, the one you cheer for simply because you love them.

Now toss out your brain and put your heart next to each of these and determine who or what you really are.

The Third Realm

I hate perfect.

Perfect is so boring.

First there is no challenge. Then there is no failure. Then there is no determination. Then there is no motivation. Then there is no overcoming. Then there is no accomplishment. Then there is no human.

Utopias are perfect.

I hate utopias.

My utopia is my dystopia.

Mess with my grades. Sever my relationships. Choke my hope, beat my love, pull my brain.

Make me weak.

And I will become strong.

Suck it, Satan, you won't get me.

And I know you know my friends' worst secrets. I know the crap you whisper in their ears and the crap you whisper in mine. I know you know I know because as long as it's communicated, you know. I know you know, the vast majority of people express what they think. Almost everything they think. I know you  know my friends' worst secrets and many of mine, because we express what we think.

But you also know you have done to us everything above. Screwed our lives over at some point. If you haven't you will, because sometimes people just forget that the Holy Spirit is even there. Even if you have already you can certainly do worse. Dear. You can certainly do worse.

My friends may not know this but I certainly do, and if one day they believe then you'll never take us again, because I know you have demons crawling everywhere in the spiritual realm, I know you, Lucifer, are going around screaming the most hideous nightmares in the people who are suffering the most. Then here, Satan, remember this.

That at the name of Jesus, every knee shall bow, on heaven, on earth, and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

I command you, Satan, in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior, to leave the threshold of our lives. Go where Jesus goes. In the name of Jesus, stop hurting us. In the name of Jesus, stop hurting the innocent.

I wish you guys were still angels. I wish you never fell from heaven to become evil.

Every little thing she does is magic.

And so begins the journey towards perfect.

I don't think your average high-schooler consciously thinks about perfect often, but the goal of high school is just pushing us to perfect.

Who's the best at this? Who's the best at that? Is your ACT score higher than mine? Are you going to a Top 5 magnate school? Who's good? Who's better? Who's best?

Precisely.

Adults tell us to try our best and don't stress out because everything's gonna be okay.

My PE teacher has actually started to check in on me. He asks me how I'm doing and how much homework I have. He tells me that I have to relax and try not to break my brain because, you know, I can only do so much.

I tell him that I try to get enough sleep, try to keep my brain intact, stay away from alcohol and drugs because they don't solve my geometry problems for me. He laughs and smiles, but I still think he's worried. And my situation isn't even close to the worst.

I once made a list of all the things I wished I could do. Get a superhighsupercool GPA. Obtain a free ride to my college of choice. Appease my parents, help my brother. Have a life (yeah, haha). If only they actually helped me achieve all of those goals. Yeah, it didn't.

I spend my free time planning out my life. Today, to take a break from brainbreaking geometry, I recolor-coded my four-year high school career plan. (And yes, by recolor-coding I mean that I've color-coded it already. It just wasn't schmancy enough, let's face it.) I printed it out, made a key, and went colored-pencil happy with filling in boxes for courses I would take.

And yes, I had fun.

I also had fun converting grams to liters using the mole. For chem, naturally.

Anyway, since the beginning of middle school, I've known where I'm going to live, what I'm going to do, where I'm going to go, but this doesn't assist me in my goal of perfect.

I have friends who are so amazingly good at every little thing they do, and I think they wish for perfect, too.

BUT GUESS WHAT, HIGH SCHOOL.

Nobody's perfect.

Meet my new friend.

He is always beside me

even after the end

wiping my tears away (what tears? :P)

being my best friend

He smiles when I smile

and feels the pain I do

if I cry a single tear

I can reach out my hands

and out from my heart

He will rest in my palms

Still fresh and plump… prunes

Yay midterms.. Of the midterms.

Really?

We're a quarter through the school year, kind of. Maybe. Like, 15%.

And homework from.. Enriched Chemistry is stressing freshman out?

Freshman?

Buying off Fitness Plans?

AP World charts?

Friendship dramas are acting up. Again?

What. the crap.

We're so.. 8th grade. Why don't some people just look at their future and realize that it's soaked in Bud Light and crack, and then look at their present and realize it's full of smoke and sex?

Well, actually if you're taking AP World, you probably don't do that stuff.

 Instead, why don't we look at our future and realize it's potentially full of great works of science, math, medicine, and arts, and then look at our present and realized B+ isn't a reason to whip ourselves?

Maybe a little bit. So we feel the blood and adrenaline pump up our brains again.

And along the way, we might as well realize cheating will only kick our behinds sore when we take the SATs or final AP exams.

And that romances complicate our focus and apparently, no one knows how to handle them. Ever.

Why don't we now?

The bell-curve of course.

Some one has to take that average-C crest.

Sin is from the outside

Let's shake these demons off and bring Heaven DOWN.

Growing Up or Growing Older?

I don't remember a time when I wasn't concerned with getting older.

Kindergarten: Fifth-graders? Whoa, there. Practically adults. Okay, time to go back to playing with cardboard blocks.

Third grade: I'm getting too old for baby games now. *retrieves Tamagotchi* But those old people [namely, fourth-graders] never look like they're having any fun.

Fifth grade: *convulses with fear for middle school* What if I become...a TEENAGER?

Seventh grade: Ew, boys. *retreats to book*

Eighth grade: Eh, boys. Ew. HIGH SCHOOL! Gross. Oh, geez, what if I have no social life? What if I have no friends? What if people think I'm stupid? What if I don't get into an Ivy League? Oh, no! High school! Boys! Drama! *runs away screaming*

Age is wisdom, beauty, experience, knowledge, omniscience--all that nonsense that old people use to console themselves when they're feeling particularly fat/wrinkly/obsolete.

But that, obviously, is a choice.

Why feel fat when you can feel happy?

Why feel wrinkly when you can feel joyful?

Why feel obsolete when you can feel young?

Because of my back. Because of my spouse. Because of my arthritis in both knees. Because of my job. Because of my life. Because of my friends. Because I have absolutely NO PURPOSE in living.

No.

It's like this, see:

Growing older is mandatory.

Growing up is optional.

Beach

The shallow end; stay there, stay safe, no sharks, no drowning, no jellyfish stings.

Just sitting wherever you crap, tanning for the hunks, on one, small resort.

The deep end; sharks, jellyfish, drowning, concussions, popping ears, gasping breaths.

Seeing  plankton and starfish, battling fatigue, because the ocean never ends.

The shallow end; not a single scar on your body, perfect skin, sexy, slim, dieted bod.

Oh, and you got those hunks.  42-karet purity ring  thrown to the side when you climb in the hotel bed.

The deep end; some mutilated flesh, maybe? Permanent scars all over your gaunt face.

The salt detoxicate the poison, so you keep going, ignoring whatever is happening at the surface.

The shallow end; your turn to swim.

You drown. Because your size zero waist and cute butt can't run off the 1000 calories you consume. The tobacco might have disintegrated your lungs to phlegm and, oh, you never bothered to learn how to swim. It would mess up your perfect eye shadow. Duh.

The deep end; take a break, you've been swimming and diving so long.

Dear, your muscles flex when you walk. The hunks drool.

You walk past them all. You find that you can't stand to explain the ocean to them. It's too big.

A tsunami;

The tanners are screwed. Washed into the tides.

The swimmers barely flinch. What's a tsunami next to fighting mermen with tridents?

The swimmers hold out their hands.

The tanners grab on.

The shallow end; stay there, stay safe, forget about the tsunami.

Just sitting wherever you crap, tanning for the hunks, on one, small resort.

The deep end; sharks, jellyfish, drowning, concussions, popping ears, gasping breaths.

Seeing  plankton and starfish, battling fatigue, because the ocean never ends.

The quest continues.

Is it really useless? To understand yourself?

Of course it's ego central. Your world revolves around yourself.

Usually. If you're average. The mode. The median. The mean.

But if you don't understand yourself, how can you understand other people?

What they feel? What they think?

Humans learn by experience.

Less by emotion, because emotion screws up experience. Nevertheless, emotion and experience.

Constantly changing. Self-discovery is about finding those patterns.

Finding those patterns in others.

There are 疯人, les fous, crazy people - who have twisted logic, but that is inevitable.

You are the only person you can control. So maybe it is important to learn how your gears turn.

…

By rotation inertia, D'OH.

Because if you can't control yourself, very likely you will not be able to even influence others. And because the product of mass  and the square of the radius  equals  circular momentum.

No one who solves the world's problems doesn't know who he or she is.

Albert Einstein knew he was a scientist. He had some pretty sophisticated sounding epigrams  he left us after his death.

"Science without religion is lame. Religion without science is blind."

"Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new."

He was pretty sure about who he was and what he thought when he discovered the photoelectric effect , winning himself the Nobel Prize in physics.

And perfect people. Who wants perfection? It seems wonderful to live in that kind of crap for a year. Or maybe a lifetime. The one thing that screws humans over when it comes to perfection.. is greed. Pride. Self-indulging things. We could study and become IQ300 mad scientists and, seriously, solve the world's problems. If we just stopped buying ice cream for a year, likely over half of Africa would stop dying from thirst. But no, we want to hang out with our friends. We want to date, Facebook, play sports, you know, eat ice cream. How much more useful are those than self-discovery? Ego is what makes us human, not perfect robots.

Robots, by the way, rust.

Like so. Fe(OH)3 => Fe2O3.nH2O

And the quest begins.

Self-discovery, right?

I'm pretty sure there is not one person in the world who really knows who they are inside, and I doubt there ever will be.

But why is this the Great Human Obsession?

Who am I inside? Who am I outside? What do people think of me? What do I think of myself?

If you ask me, it's all pretty conceited and egocentric.

MEMEMEMEMEME! Me! Me! ME! Who likes ME? Who hates ME? What do I think of ME? Who is ME?

And yet we're told not to be self-obsessed.

I'm finding ME. I'm finding MYSELF. I want to do this so portray ME! My true SELF. And this will benefit ME!

But really, WILL it benefit you?

No, not really. It's a waste of time. Humans want to know about themselves, but this doesn't help current problems like world hunger or fighting cancer. Or what about those people dying? I bet THEY aren't thinking of MEMEMEMEMEMEMEEEEEEEE all the time.

There's a difference.

Finding yourself versus finding the solution.

You choose.

Temperaments

Heart: You miss him.

Brain: No I don't.

Heart: ^^ Yeah you do.

Brain: Nope. He told me not to care anymore, remember?

Heart: Ironic. You can have emotions.

Brain: Guys don't have them. Who affords emotions in high school?

Heart: …

Heart: Like, everyone.

Brain: That makes me different then. Man up, heart.

Heart: You still take comfort thinking about it.

Brain: Really. Care to specify?

Heart:

Brain: Mm.

Heart: Your friends have seen you just drift off into your own little world.

Brain: And

Heart: I know what world you go into.

Brain: Well?

Heart:

Brain: That sounded like an Inception reference. Logic wins. Go away.

Brain: I should get over 50 pacers.

Heart: Good idea.

Brain: Wow 50 is easy.

Heart: Well, I'm kinda sweaty.

Brain: I think I should do 66.

Heart: *rasp

Brain:

Brain: Ugh. I only got 67. Look at those guys. They're still running.

Brain: ADSKFJK. That girl got 80? I want to run again.

Heart: You improved a lot.

Brain: It was shorter.

Heart: You still want to beat K-?

Brain: Duh. I want to run again. I could've done better.

Heart: I was about to explode.

Brain: My breathing technique was wrong. I keep forgetting.

Heart: Backing yourself up, yeah?

Brain: Shut up. Now I have to run a good mile.

Brain: These people are so freaking slow.

Heart: At painting?

Brain: Everything.

Heart: Give them a break.

Brain: They're pulling me down. I have more potential than this.

Heart: You need dumb people to make smart people look good. Bell curve, remember?

Brain: I should go to IMSA.

Heart: You can't. You have to stay and take care of your friends.

Brain: I have other friends.

Heart: You ruined your chance over the summer. Your SATs aren't good enough anymore.

Brain: THANKS. I KNOW. SHUT UP. IT'S TOO LATE.

Heart: Well?

Brain: I have to do Math Team. Science Olympiad. Badminton.

Heart: Good. You'll make up for not going to IMSA.

Brain: Those guys are going to be the next geniuses. They're going to be scientists and save the world. I'll be so dumbed down.

Heart: You wanted to be a doctor..

Brain: K- said I couldn't, remember? Mom also said I wasn't patient enough.

Heart: You're smart enough to do something else.

Brain: It's not that easy.

Heart: No duh. You can't substitute anything for hard work.

Brain: I have to succeed.

Heart:*snort. Your Teacher Letter. You're quoting that?

Brain: No. The Teacher Letter quoted me.

Heart: Fine. I'm with you on this.

Brain: No emotions.

Heart: Ugh.

Brain: Hello butt.

Butt: Hey.

Brain: Well aren't you big.

Heart: …

Brain: Mm?

Heart: Impatient for puberty much?

Brain: Dude. It's my own butt. Get out of here.

Heart: No way. It's my butt too. Don't get me into that emotional self-image stuff.

Brain: Thought you were supposed to embrace that once in a while.

Heart: Not on self-image.

Brain:

Heart: AHAHA. HEART USES LOGIC.

Brain: Dear. Haha okay you win. Good job.

Epidemic!

Of the female nerds.

I do not lie. Every other one of us is sick. I am 99% sure that the rest will follow as well.

After snuffling, hacking, and coughing my way through Labor Day weekend, though, I realized something very interesting. Very. Interesting.

And no, I did not realize that I sound like a sickly old man. Although it's true.

REGARDLESS...

I realized that my lovely little common cold gave me some insight on my actual world and my actual school.

It's difficult, you know. Becoming so suddenly aware of these things. Here's what I found out about myself:

1. Trusting people is good. I'm good at that. But I put my trust sometimes in the wrong people.
2. I'd much rather protect my friends than save myself first.
3. I'm oblivious. Really oblivious. But so hyperaware of everything else WOWWWW this world is screwed up.
4. I'm crazy. (Oh wait! Ahahaha, we knew that. I should really remove this from this list, but since I actually realized I'm crazier than I thought, I'll keep it.)
5. I'm a sucker for chick flicks, which makes me sound so unbelievably shallow. It's true. *sigh*

Altercations.

Brain: I believe in Jesus.
Heart: Why.

Brain: Because I see his works in my life, others' lives, and the world. Because Paul Copan proved it.

Heart: Why can't you explain that to your friends?

Brain:

Heart: Dear. I'm being more logical than you.

Brain: This isn't an emotion versus logic thing. It's a thought versus truth thing.

Heart: Sure, but I'm winning.

Brain: Then you explain the patterns in nature. The intricacy of atoms. The complexities of humans.

Heart: Just because its unexplained doesn't mean it isn't possible without God.

Brain: God exists.

Heart: You're just afraid to blaspheme and deny him.

Brain:

Heart: You don't understand the cross.

Brain: I know that.

Heart: You don’t appreciate Jesus because you don't believe in him enough.

Brain: You're saying he exists.

Heart: This might become a rather controversial blog post.

Brain: I know I'm not accepting enough. Isn't that just a human logic thing?

Heart: You know your obstacle.

Brain: It shouldn't be one anymore.

Heart: Yeah yeah, but it still is. I heard you at church today.

Brain: That was you.

Heart: Both of us.

Brain: Great. Who's going to help us then?

Heart: Stop being phony.

Brain: Really? If I become any less phony, I'll come off just plain arrogant. You know what adults think.

Heart: Think straight, brain. I'm talking about Christianity. You can't spread the word unless you believe yourself. The sermon today; you have to experience Jesus first.

Brain: We were talking about the existence of God; how did we get here?

Heart: You're confusing.

Brain: God is confusing.

Heart: Well sort it out soon because you can't waste more time.

Brain: I have four years in high school.

Heart: Oh stop it. You know what I'm talking about.

Heart: Do have any idea how many chances God gave you? SO. MANY. CHANCES. Okay so you're totally forgiven for the first couple times. You were cocky. But really? Afterwards?

Brain: You can't do that. You know what was going on.

Heart: I do. I'll give you up to February. You were insecure and recovering. But like, this summer?

Brain: You would not go there.

Heart: I'm the only one who can. Remember what R- said? 'You know [Beanut] would choose God over you any day.'

Brain: That was so obnoxious.

Heart: IT USED TO BE TRUE. Is it anymore? Was it these past few weeks?

Brain: You're continually contradicting yourself!

Heart: You missed what, at least twenty chances? Could you have at least said 'Jesus loves you'?

Brain: Going up in people's faces doesn't work. 

Heart: Irrelevant, boldface.

Brain: I don't want to think about it.

Heart: You're going to have to one day.

Brain: Grace 2010.

Heart: Sure. Good luck.

Brain: Luck? This is on God.

Sweet, Sweet Dough

Cookie Cake (koo key kayk) - noun
1. A vessel coagulator for children commemorating the day they slipped out of their mothers' wombs
2. A large, pancake-like pastry containing, in this order by quantity, oil, white sugar, butter, eggs, and baking powder

1/8 of a 12" cookie cake:
About 350 calories
Half a heart attack of saturated fat

I wonder if I can make a healthy cake.
/)_- Silly me. Margarine (let alone low fat margarine) is never used in any sort of cake. The cake would collapse without butter's firmness.
What's bad about butter?
WAHAHA. Butter is creamed sugar and fat.
But I like cake.
You don't want a flab abs.
I already have those. Can I just eat some cake?
No. Go do your homework.

Five Freshman Indicators

Really? You . . .
1. Walk through the hallways staring at a map.
2. Get in a clump and stare at people you don't know during class.
3. Sigh audibly with relief when you make it to each room.
4. Hug your friends at lunch like you haven't seen each other for years.
5. Just finished reading this list.

The Mile-High City

Look anywhere in the United States.
Seriously.
What do you see? Always? Everywhere?

That's right.

Fat people.

But after my trip to Colorado, I'm pretty sure that this state is the only exception. Fat people do not exist here. Maybe they're an endangered species. Maybe they're even...extinct.

I think I know why.

The citizens of Colorado have worked extremely hard on exterminating fat people. Every time they eat, they exercise immediately after. Breakfast! Hike. Lunch! Bike. Snack! Jog. Dinner! Powerwalk with your spouse, children, pets. Midnight snack! Lift weights until your biceps explode.

And so on.

This is probably why I didn't fit in with all these ATHLETIC AND OUTDOORSY people. I mean, who has the time to do all that hiking/biking/jogging/powerwalking/weightlifting?

So, doing the best I could, I walked a few of those paths and hiked a few of those trails, but I was certainly more at home in the hotel. With my laptop.

Instead of fat people, Colorado has elk.

I kid you not. Let me give you an analogy for those literal people out there.

McDonald's is to obese people as Colorado is to elk.

EVERYWHERE I LOOKED...elk. Elk on the road. Elk by a tree. Elk in a parking lot. Elk in the lake. Elk lollopping around a grassy park. Elk. Elk. Elk.

It gives a suburban freshman a bit of a fright, I gotta say.

I suppose that's what all the big dogs are for. In Boulder, Denver, Estes Park, and Grand Lake, every person had a large, very adorable dog and a cowboy hat. They were never on leashes. I think it's a cowboy thing. (Seriously. Why would anybody wear a hat for such a long time? Doesn't it get sweaty? I mean, Colorado's dry and hot, but still...you're bound to sweat sometime. And those boots get kind of tacky. Sorry.) It's a matter of opinion.

Being an indoorsy kind of girl (I really do mean INDOORSY--I don't leave the security of civilization unless I really, really have to), I was completely shocked at how breathtaking those mountains, rivers, and lakes are. The air is definitely cleaner, too. People are friendlier. The animals are happier.

Is it just me, or is Colorado a nature-freak's paradise?

The thing I'll remember most from this trip, though, is what I heard when I went whitewater rafting in Colorado Springs. (Everybody should try it. It's wickedly fun, and you don't have to be super ripped to do it or anything.) :

(Our guide from Tennessee, Dave, was greeting another guide. He called the other guide "brother." I'm pretty sure that "brother" is not actually "brother"'s real name, but for the sake of the spirit of whitewater rafting, that's what I'll call him.)

Dave: Hey, brother!

Brother: How ya doin'?

Dave. Most excellent.

Brother: Livin' the dream, eh?

Dave: Well, yeah! Some days I wake up to the occasional nightmare, but usually it's a dream.

When Suddenly, A Speech Impediment Is Thrust Upon You.

I WAS SO GLAD . .
. . to get my braces off. A stick of gum, a few notes on the trumpet, and a week later, I was still glad. Of course, I had my one-week-follow-up orthodontist appointment.
WHICH IS WHEN . .
. . I got my retainer. And my orthodontist told me that she was selling her baby grand and was I interested? I would have politely replied, EXCEPT that I had a hunk of plastic in my mouth.
"Hm, that's weird," the Doc told me. My heart skipped a beat. Would I need my braces back? "Did you ask for a color?"
Whew.
"No, I think I just asked for clear."
"Well, it looks like he started to mix yellow and something else in, then remembered. Oops!" My orthodontist says, handing me a chunky thing that looked like it better belonged in a McDonald's Happy Meal than in my mouth for several months. It had nasty veins of a sickly yellow in it. I retained--er, refrained--from making a face.
"Thank you." The words were GARBLED. I couldn't enunciate. And I had to wear this all the time? I sounded like I had a bad Catalan Spanish accent. What happened to "s" and "d"?
SO, I DECIDED THAT I'D NEVER . .
. . wear my retainer at school or on the phone. I guess I'll have to get used to getting quieter at home.
All part of the teenage awkward phase, right? With my luck, the lack of babbling will be interpreted as 'unusual emotional state' or the symptom of some really rare (nonexistent?) disorder.
WHERE'S THE MORAL . .
. . of the story? How's this: Choose two parents with perfect teeth and never get braces.
I should put my speech impediment back in now.
Cheers, K

Our Up and Coming Fall Trends. Supposedly.

THANK YOU, LADY GAGA . .

 . . for the trend of lace. People assosciate lace with old things, and old things are in right now with our whole "recessionista: reused, recycled, and retro (out-of-date) pieces!" theme. While everyone might not be going out for coffee in skin-tight lace catsuits, expect to see the celeb-fashion magazine readers sporting lacy tops with camis underneath or blouses with lace edging.

AND JUST WHEN WE'VE LEFT KENNEDY . .

 . . gold. And shades of gold. Personally, I think it's an overwhelming color that can quickly turn into puke-green or stare-at-the-person-with-bright-gold-clothing. In duller shades and moderation, however, I can see it being the next ugly deep eggplant or dead leaf green. Three month weird color trends. *shudders*

BECAUSE THIS APPLIES TO YOU . .

. . if you wore sky-high heels, stop it. For some reason, people aren't into that anymore.

AND IF YOU'RE A PREP . .

. . then keep wearing what you've always worn. Brand-names are only taking more logos off bags; their popularity continues. They're investing in another trend, jackets; jackets with the fuzzy insides and thick, wool-looking things will be popping up on airheads near you this winter.

This is just a summary. Don't go out and buy lacy gold flats; just expect to see others wearing them.

Cheers, K

In retrospect...

People are strange things.

Because of this reason, a blog came into existence between two unlikely friends.
One is fantastically artistic.
One is not.
One is freakishly optimistic.
One is...not.
One is, well, silly.
One is not.
One is fiercely competitive.
One is not.
One is spastic.
One is not.

Despite these differences, there are a lot of similarities, too. Other friends, sense of humor, music, interests...it's a complicated thing. But isn't everything else supposed to be, too?

While blogging about our experiences or just getting through them, it's going to be interesting. 


Welcome to our warped, weird, ridiculous, peculiar, strangely-realistic, and awesome life.