Sticky Notes in A Bathroom Stall

Yeah, this title has significance. I've always wanted to take a pad of colorful Post-Its and cover a bathroom stall in my school with them. With messages. Little blurbs here and there. Just to leave my mark in a way that nobody else would know was done by me, you know?
I was tagged by Cassidy (The saga of Another American Tweenager) to play Would You Rather? And it's funny, 'cause I love what ifs. It's, like, another language I'm fluent in :) So, here I go...

Fabulous dancer or amazing singer? Singer. I'd love to scream some rage into a microphone, if I knew how to.
Potato or carrot? Potatoes are my favorite food, so a potato.
Window or a door? Window. There are endless possibilities you can do with a door. Open it. Look out it. Smash it. They, like I said before, are keys to other people, and that is incredible.
Glue gun or a roll of duct tape? Well, duct tape smells nasty, so a glue gun.
Guitar or drums? I'd rather be a guitar, because they make "the heart fly away, sharing the music of magical love".
Spoiled brat or a homeless person? Spoiled brat.
Truck driver or sailor? Sailor. The ocean is something I couldn't live without.
Dog or cat? Cat, because they're sly, lanky, and have an option to sun bathe all day long. Lithe and elegant creatures.
Motorcycle or car? Car. Well, a truck actually.
Super popular but cliche person or an unpopular but better person? Unpopular, quirky, and a mystery any day. Shallow girls turn into dust when high school's over, in my opinion.
Tooth or toenail? Toenail. They can be painted. True personality.
Stuffed animal or action figure? I'd rather be a stuffed animal, because bear hugs in the middle of the night when someone's scared are always nice.
Cell phone or credit card? Cell phone. I love gossip, even though I don't spread it.
Famous actress or artist? Artist. No question.

Okay, I'm doing this differently, but I'm tagging everyone that reads this. So here you go :)

Now, I decided to create my own questions for a tag. Here they are, you can all copy and paste them and tag whoever.
1. What is your all-time favorite song and why? What makes it so amazing?
2. Have you ever been in love? What do you think makes someone in love with someone else?
3. Have you ever thought/dreamt about someone and saw them the next day somewhere random?
4. Where is your haven?
5. Do you believe in fate/karma?
6. If you were to get a tattoo, what would it be of and why?
7. Have you ever lit a candle to wish for something?
8. What is the craziest thing you've ever eaten? (It can be ANYTHING.)
9. What do you want to be when you grow up?
10. What will you do differently with your life than what your own parents did?

Forever

I'm almost finished with my story, and it's kinda scaring me. I mean, what will I do with myself when it's all over, everything written our for me to look at and see? I love all my characters like the sisters I've never had, and just loosing them all is terrifying, leaving their stories undone, hanging in suspense. Forever. I know that I'm not going to actually loose them, but... what if I need to add something when it's all over?
I've always been the kind of girl that feels like my identity is uncertain. Like my first post, titled, Who Am I? I used to ask myself that all the time. And I still sometimes do, because like Francesca says, we're always growing, always changing. Forever is not etched in stone. Forever is forever changing, always taking on a new identity.
I'll miss my friends that I've grown with, though.

Sea

Last night I was swallowed up by the sea. And it was beautiful. It's when incredible things feel totally real, and you can swallow, smell, and live in that moment of time. I can gulp down memories of hatred, love, happiness, and simpleness. All in one breath.

I almost told him that I loved him. We were laughing, like old times, and I could hear the words ringing in my throat, longing to come out. I love you. Almost. And then I was pulled under again, coming up from the foamy salt bath gasping for air, my stomach twisted all around. Even though it wasn't real, just my imagination, it left me wondering: Do I really? Last night I was swallowed by the sea, and today... I saw him, smiling at me. My ears have never rang louder.

The Painter and A Poet

When all else fails, I can fall onto the attic. Because in that attic, it really is a magical place. I call it home, and I'm never gonna leave it. Purposefully places items, secluded hearts that have incredible stories to tell, everyone huddled together, where we all think beautifully. I can be beautiful, too. But not gourgeous head-over-heels beautiful. It's not something seen, but something felt. Something you can't quite explain. But it's there. My hands tell the story for me well.

Black Watchdogs

Because when one leaves...... they all seem to follow. Just a month or two ago I had at least fifty turkeys huddled in the trees above my window. They looked like big black owls, they were that big, looming over my house. And then, all together, they left, leaving the branches waving behind them.

Alernative Teacher

Little kids inspire me. And I hate to admit this, but I'm jealous of them a lot of the time.
They, first of all, have the best hair. It makes me blush to say this even to myself. Their little ringlets of hair are always so soft and bounce whenever they walk, their hair tumbling effortlessly over their shoulders. Unintentional curls, to me, are the most beautiful.
They're consistently happy, even about the smallest things, whatever it may be. A smile someone had given them earlier that day, an innocent cartoon, where the characters are their best friend. Randomness, your car keys, bubble gum and candy, and, even pennies.

I really want to try this. So maybe, when the weather gets warmer, I will :) I want to be amused by the small things in life, live in the moment, and learn to just laugh and be innocent all around. Children hold the secrets to happiness in life. I envy that. Seriously, why aren't kids teachers?

Goal: for the rest of the day, act and live as if I'm five years old.

P.S. You know what's coming. My 100th post. Any ideas? Hit me.

In These Walls

No, I'm not a food junkie. Just a local food junkie. And there is a difference.
Ever since the show "Best Thing I Ever Ate" came out on Food Network, I've been obsessed with finding cute little local food cafes/stands where I live. Because of that show, I don't use American cheese for my grilled cheese anymore. No. I use provalone. And Italian ham, with basil leaves on it. How spoiled am I? We even took a day trip to get one of the foods from the show, "Best Thing I Ever Ate". It was amazing.
What can I say? I love little family-owned places, because the food tastes so much better there, and the place always has that old-school charm to it. Character. There's this pizza place where I live, and it makes my inspiring-radar-finder sing. It's beautiful in there. And it smells heavily of brick oven pizzas and tomatoes. Family-owned food stands always seem to care about the food they make, live for making food, and enjoy every moment of it.
That, to me, is love.
This picture isn't for a purpose (for once). It just makes me feel all warm and cozy.

Lost in Time

Snow is like a time machine. Or a fossil, waiting to be discovered. But if you wait too long, a gust of wind will come and cover everything over again, as if nothing had happened there. Memories, sparkly and soft as powder, flying around the chilly tight air, resting somewhere new. Taking their stories with them.It's so interseting, all those footprints that leave remains of the past in the snow, those memories that could never have been seen in the summer. Like austronauts footprints on the moon; to those indents in the moon, it's still 1969. Or your dog's footprints from earlier this morning, his little scurries left behind him for the rest of the day.
Isn't it perfect and scary and amazing all at once?

Do You Have to Let it Linger?

I keep having dreams about my cousin. And every time I have these dreams, they feel real.
And then I wake up, confused and dissapointed. Oh, I think. Right. I don't talk to her anymore. And saying that to myself hurts.

My cousin and I are the same age, small and tiny, but we both look nothing alike. I'm pale and fair in general, my features softer, while she looks Italian with her dark hair, tan skin, and hazel eyes. But we both have curly hair. Naturally, at least. We always used to play with eachother at my grandparent's house when we were little, climbing trees and doing cartwheels across the lawn together. I can remember how much we were inseperatable when we had cookouts, when we begged our parents to have one another come home and sleep over. When I was thirteen, though, you could feel this easy friendship begin to tense up under the weight of being teenagers. I used to be jealous of my cousin, and I've always thought she was prettier than me. And she's been jealous of me because school comes easier to me in general. And then she started to change physically, cutting her hair choppy and piercing her lips with needles herself. Not that I'm steryotypical, it's not that. It's just... she's not the same quirky, hysterically funny girl anymore. She's mean, and bitter to everyone. So, trying not to get in the way of this, I've just stopped talking to her. I haven't seen her in almost a year. Really, I don't even know her anymore. Sometimes she doesn't even feel like my cousin that I loved and was best friends with for years.

... But is that bad, though?

Isomnia

We're all afraid of something. We all feel that some things are out of our reach, and just happen because they can. And will. I haven't felt afraid in a long time at night, that feeling that someone's watching you. Like, if I look in the mirror, Mr. Harvy from The Lovely Bones will be there. Ugggh. So, I've learned how to turn my fears around (somewhat). It's kinda funny.
1. Imagine your current fear at it's worst (as a person). (Me: Mr. Harvey is staring down at me while I'm asleep, simply watching me. Then, he randomly covers my mouth with his hand, and drags me down the stairs while my parents and brother are sleeping.)
2. Imagine the sweetest person/animal you know. (Me: My little kitten :D)
3. Imagine what the sweetest person/animal would look like holding a violent object. (Me: My kitten holding a weed wacker.)
4. Imagine your scary person in his/her mom's underwear, in a super tight tank top with the frillys on the straps. Magenta-color preffered. (Me: Mr. Harvy in this lovely outfit.)
5. Now, for the grand total, imagine that sweet person/animal tearing this person to shreds with a weed wacker, and then tying them somewhere embarassing. (Me: My kitten jumps on Mr. Harvy's bald head (claws out) and applies the weed wacker to his head and chases him down the stairs. Then, she ties him to the street post in the middle of everyone, with a pink bow tied around his neck, my kitten standing innocently next to him, a twinkle in her eye.)
The end.
So, if you think this was weird, I'm sorry. But I think it's good to lighten up something that's usually dark.
In other words, I'm still working on the envelope.


Also, another great band that I just watched on Bio is The Grateful Dead. I'm going to look them up now...

Little Miss

It's really funny, actually, that I was given an award called the Little Miss Blogger award.
When I was in eighth grade, I was obsessed with the Mr. Men Little Miss characters. I used to draw them all the time, look up pictures of them and print them out. Yeah, I was kinda obsessed with all the eighties things, like metal lunch boxes with characters like Animal on it, hair bands, and eighties punks with their hair spiked up and their jeans severely tapered and torn. So, this is one of my favorite awards I've gotten :) Thanks, Cassidy! (The saga of another American Tweenager) So now, I have to list five things that I love about blogging. Okay, then... 1. I love that I can say things here that can help me vent, the stuff that I could never tell someone face-to-face. Like, all the stories about the guy that just keeps driving me and and down and in circles, poetry, all the stuff that would make me blush and cringe in front of anyone else.
2. Getting to see all the other bloggers and their crazy (but oh-so true) lives, that make me feel a bit more normal, and less of an outsider. Blogging has also improved my writing, confidence around others reading my things, and getting inspired from other blogs. The bloggers here have shown me a more beautiful -and a lot less perfect- life that I can have. Thanks :)
3. I like the fact that all (or most) bloggers are people that think outside the box. Not many people see the world like I do, so this comforts me.
4. C'mon, sometimes pictures are even better than the blog posts itself. A picture can take me back, anywhere I want to go, my memories preserved and hidden where others can't see them. Pictures make me want to write more blog posts! Whenever I'm having a blogger's block (I made this phrase up), I go to weheartit.com and get some inspiration.
5. I like reading my comments, and seeing what people have to say about my posts. When people dissagree with me, kinda weird, but it makes me feel like a better person. I don't know.

Now I have to award three (I'm changing this for reasons) other people this award. Here you go...
Francesca (Pig's Flying), because she's intense and a lot older inside than she really is.
Joy (Life of Joy.), because she's just so happy all the time. I envy you.
Ruth (The Ruth Chronicles), because I'm jealous of your creativity.

Now that I'm thinking about the eighties, I need to tell you about one of my new obsessions: Rush. Yes, the band Rush, that most fifteen-year-old girls aren't really interested in listening to. But I have to be honest: For real, I look all short and innocent with my curls and shyness in front of people I don't know, but really, I love rock beyond belief. Classic, punk, pop-rock, alternative, you name it. I love it. But really, not kidding, you need to take some time to listen to Rush. The clearness of the lead singer's voice is incredible, and people that I know say that in concert it's amazing as well, not static and off like other bands can be. And not to mention, the drums are also crystal clear, too. The music is so... electric. Clear. I love it.
Now, I'll stop talking about my quirky music taste. But really. Listen to Rush.

Jade's Envelope

I think I talked about that feeling you get when you want to shout "Eureka! Eureka!" before in one of my oldest posts, titled Dream House. If you want to get the gist of it, you should go to June, and it should be there.
...But anyway...
I got that feeling again, that spark of inspiration, actually, when I was turning on my computer. So here I go.
People always talk about New Year's Resolutions, and how they would like to make a major impact on their lives during this year (like always). But, be real with me, how many things do you actually accomplish in the course of one year? I mean, those goals? *Crickets* Yeah. That's what I thought. So why not record those so-called etched in stone goals of yours?
That's what I'm going to do this year, hence the title. Here's the rules that I'm going to set for myself:Write your goals on scraps of paper, inspiration, and anything else that comes to mind.
No peeking at your old scraps of paper till next year! 2012 (ooooh, Dooms Day, ha, yeah right).
Try to accomplish as many of your goals as possible.
Write a note to yourself every month, the little bits of info, like, favorite song at the moment, obsessions, stuff like that.
DON'T. SHOW. ANYONE.
And that's it.

I might post pictures of this soon. It's a work in progress, I guess.

*ALSO* A must-read book is "Loser/Queen" by Jodi Lynn Anderson. Just trust me on this. Don't even read the back. Just buy it. Sad, but soooo good. That's all.