today i was sitting in a hallway with a couple of people - some friends, but most not. i was doing homework (yes, exciting, i know), and i had out an assignment sheet that had the word 'candlejack' scrawled all over. (candlejack, for those of you that don't know, is a literary character who steals people away - but only if you say his name. so, in other words, if you say 'candlejack', he comes and whisks you away. just is case you didn't already get that. i think it's a romantic notion - it reminds me of labyrinth, and "i wish the goblins would take you away right now", if you get my drift). anyways, so i had written it all over my paper when i was bored in class one day.

so this drugged up guy picks up, and is like, "What's candlejack? Candle-fucking-jack, what's that mean?"

and i can't exactly tell him that i want to be kidnapped by a mythical person, so i shrug.
just thought you ought to know.

I think that our bathroom shower could open into Narnia if it really wanted to.

And did you know that 'that' is usually an extraneous word? No! Yes, why yes it is. See? You learn something new every day. Today I learned that one needs to very careful when opening portable applesauce packages - I somehow managed to gouge both my thumbs on the cardboard (so now I have identical wounds on both my thumbs, in case you hadn't gathered). It hurt. And then I couldn't find a band-aid. So, the other thing I learned today is that I really should keep Neosporin and band-aids handy.

Speaking of which, I couldn't find the Neosporin. Probably got taken by goblins. Or my pesky roomate. Either way.

I have a rather odd habit of acquiring stalkers.

There's a guy in one of my classes who persists in friend-ing my friends on Facebook (even though he doesn't actually know them), and asking them if I'm single, and whether they'll give him my number. He hasn't actually asked me this in person, as I am very good at avoiding confrontations when need be. He friend-ed me, and I blocked him.

I've started a club; the Helena Stalker Club. It's very exclusive. Fill out a form if you'd like.

I am Icarvs. The world hates me, and the feeling is (relatively) mutual. I think my headache just increased on the Richter scale. And it's damn hard to write on a moving school bus; which is why it's 'Icarvs', and not 'Icarus'. New school was boring (suprise!), and I have honors study, instead of mixed media. I complain very slightly because there's a cute guy in study hall. On the downside, there's someone (who I'd rather didn't remember me), is also is study hall. Which sucks. You would never ever be able to ge tme to repeat junior high. Ever. Never ever. Or freshman year. Shudder. There are very few people on the bus and there are empty seats. I can't remeber whether I'm supposed to cover my science book. Drat. Oh. I've just found out I'm allergic to Advil, which I wouldn't say is fun. The left side of my nose is swelling up like mad. It's insanity, I tell you. The sniffling is horrible. Ugh. No more Advil. Truly. Now the right side is swelling up as well. Drat drat drat it. Punctuated sneezes here and there. But mostly here. Ugh. Mm. Hives on my face. Very attractive. Benadryl's making me hungry. And tired. I want to join the circus.

I'd like to apologize for the language in my previous post. I was frustrated with the computer and its lack of skills in posting my posts.

I despise one sided conversations. It's horrid. Simply horrid. Especially when you're the one trying to continue the conversation.

Especially with yourself.
Self-promoting is hard. Words of wisdom, right there.

I made blue cookies yesterday. Yes, blue. Food dye. Works miracles. Now they're gone, though. They all got eaten. Is that improper grammar? Grammer?

Mowed the lawn today. It was painful and inhumane. Ran over multiple grasshoppers accidentally.

This girl is taking bets. This girl's a silhoutte, can't 'cho see?
Thea Gilmore.

Ah, I think it's time for bed. Bedtime, and all that.

Call me 'dear', will you?

Fuck this.

So. Going to theology camp tomorrow. Had to read Bonhoffer book. It couldn't decide whether it wanted to be dull, or to be amazingly interesting. I think it leant more towards dull. I'm a bit of a narcissist. Every time I pass a reflective surface, I have to look at myself. What can I say? I'm just so darn lovely, I can't help it. Yep. There I go again. And it's soda, not pop. I hope people at camp find me interesting. It's a theology camp. I figure it must be made up of nerds. I'm not really a nerd. Maybe I'm making assumptions. Or maybe not. Who knows? I dunno. I'm more creative. And I think a lot. Theology is a lot like philosophy. Which makes one think. Which is good. I like to think I'm good at thinking. Narcissist. No. I'd be a narcissist if I thought someone would want to read this. Oh, wait. I do. Damn. Narcissist. I sound incredibly bitter. Not good. Ah, well. So it goes. I don't think I'd ever get a Twitter. That might just be too much for me. Jamie Campbell Bower has a Twitter. I read it once. I do like Mr. Bower. I refuse to be a fangirl however. Ack. Fangirl-ism is overrated. Especially Twilight fangirls. I despise Twilight. I am thrilled Mr. Bower sings. It takes a really man to sing. And he sings well. I just about died when I saw him in Sweeney Todd. That, and I like his hair. I have also recently discovered Django James (of the Midnight Squires; actually, for the longest time I thought they were the Midnight Squares) and man can that guy sing. It's quite impressive. His girlfriend's absolutely adorable as well. Georgia Jagger? Cutest thing. Helps that her father was in Rolling Stones, or whatnot, I might be totally wrong about that, but still. And she looks great in red lipstick. I've tried red lipstick like that. I dunno. I look okay in it. It might have been the wrong shade. I was wearing black that day, and was told I looked like a sexy vampiress. Go figure. Anyways, if I ever get my novel published (the novel that I'm still in the process of writing; okay, I'm two pages in, but I know my plot line, and my characters, and stuff; oh, shut up), I'd want those two to be the main characters. Actually, I'd probably have to see if they could act first... David Bowie is to die for in Labyrinth. The movie plot itself needs a little work (I'm re-writing it, you see, so Sarah's less whiny and self-centered, and so that you actually get that Jareth is her romantic interest), but the music that Bowie sings is amazing. And there's glitter. Go on, go watch it, my bloody crumpets! I adore Emilie Autumn. Amazing violinist. Amazing hair. Amazing fashion. While you're watching Labyrinth, watch her as well, why don't you?

Why, oh why doesn't Converse sell orange high-tops? Why?!

Chronicle of Yesterday's Events:
4:11 am - wake up, find that lotion in right eye. wash lotion out, return to bed.
6:20 am - get shampoo in left eye during shower.
1:20 pm - get carcinogens/latex/formadehyde in left eye during fetal pig dissection.

I have now resorted to wearing safety goggles at all times as a precaution.

Yes! I have Cbox on my blog now! If I could only get the archives to work... Ah, well. So it goes. So, everyone! Cough, cough, you. Feel free to leave a comment! Why? Because the gods said so! That's actually a direct reference to a mythological website. Look it up. Go on, scat!

Just tried do-it-yourself lip plumper recipe from this cite: http://www.mookychick.co.uk/body/get_big_pouty_lips.php. It didn't work brilliantly, but my lips are a mite bigger, if you look closely. But the salt in my mouth was totally grody. I think I might just stick with manufactured lip plumper, but you never know!

So, I have a dirty little secret vice. I adore reading online comics. Albeit, it has to be a good comic. You know, humorous, spats of romance. Anyways, I stumbled across one today that is particularly brilliant. Honeydew Syndrome (http://www.honeysyn.net/). I will admit that it is a slash comic. I generally don't read slash, unless it's like, good slash. And it was. I highly recommend it.

Wore a hot pink belt to my orchestra concert just to bother my conductor. She didn't notice.

I'm having trouble writing things. I mean, yes, I call myself a writer, yes, I was published in our school's literary arts magazine, but I'm having trouble actually putting the words on paper. It's aggravating. All these ideas jumbling together, and no way to express them. Damn.

My vexing sister just lent out one of my dresses to one of her friends. My sister and her friend, whom I shall call 'X', were upstairs in our bedroom and were like, "Oh! Let's try on stuff!". Which involved my stuff and my dresses. So they come downstairs, and my sister's like, "Doesn't X look cute in this dress that Gracie doesn't like and never wears?". There's a reason I haven't worn that dress. One, it's a formal dance dress. Two, I go to very few formal dances. Three, I just haven't gotten around to wearing it yet. But I do like it. It's this cute little black number with a jaggedy skirt and corseted top. Anyways, so my sister is then like, "Yeah, you can borrow it" to X. Without asking my permission. She doesn't even ask me about it. It's my dress. And I can't very well say, no, you can't borrow it, because my mum and X's mum are sitting right there, and my mum's like, "Yes, why don't you let X borrow the dress?". I am never, ever going to see that freakin' dress again. Or at least not for a very long time. I know this sounds sort of unreasonable, me complaining. But it's not fair that I was back into a corner like that. I'm so freakin' peeved right now, I can't stand it. I think I'm going to scream.

Ugh. I feel bloated. Like a cow. Moo. Luckily, I have two-year old fudge in the freezer. It tastes much better than it sounds.

Just a little ad I've made:

And I just realized that the stupid blogger template doesn't published time nor date. So, I'm going to have to do that myself from now on. Which kinda sucks.

I'm supposed to be writing a paper on gender roles in the Middle Ages. If you hadn't already guessed, I'm procrastinating.

It's positively aggravating. I got this template off blogskins, and it's nearly perfect... except for the fact that the actual template didn't include any way to archive posts. And since my computer/technology knowlege of that kind of thing is next to nil, I'm having a bit of trouble with forming an archive. Which is why all my posts are on the main page until I can figure it out.

Agyness Deyn is pretty much the awesome-est person ever.

I'm so awkwardly tired right now. I almost fell asleep in like, three of my classes today, which was just totally weird, because I usually only do that during my 10 o'clock classes. And I have an unjust amount of homework to do, mostly stuff I should have been doing before, and just haven't. I'll probably watch the original Get Smart TV series while I do my math and spanish, though, so that should be at least partially bearable. Fantastic, right?

Yes! I finally found the perfect blogskin! Took forever, of course.

So... Today I found out that one of my friends (occasionally) does drugs. Like, I mean, I already knew he did (I guessed, leastwise), but today I actually asked him about it. And he said yes. I didn't bother to inquire further. It saddens me. I asked him what his favorite things to do were, and he said he didn't know. I said, come now, there must be something you like to do. He just shrugged. It makes me sad. It's tragic really. He's switching schools next year, and I doubt that I'll see him again. And I'm praying, praying, that something bad won't happen to him, and that he won't end out homeless on the streets. I really, really hope that his life goes somewhere. I don't know if it will, though. Praying. He's not a bad kid, or anything. Save him. Please.

Aaand... the enter tab things don't want to work.

I don't think I can do one more educational thing tonight. It might kill me.

Yes. It's been a month since I've written anything. Yes, I am a failure at this. Thank you for noticing.

Moving on...

I'm... taking a clay class. Wheel clay. Half the time, it's fun. The other half, it's fantastically frustrating. And there's a talking scottish horse on TV. Along with a commercial for Race to Witch Mountain. I remember watching the original one when I was younger... ah, good times, good times. And, right now I'm supposed to be learning my choir music. But guess what? I really don't want to. Although I will admit that we are singing an interesting song called Blue Eye of God. Er, TWENTY-SEVEN DAYS 'TILL MY BIRTHDAY!

I'm reading Dracula right now (as I have been for the past three weeks). It's been taking a while since I only have time to read it on the weekends, and even then, my timing's questionable. But it's really quite good. It's brilliantly horrid, and all. No, really. It's amazingly good. Much better than Twilight. Speaking of which, I suppose that topic was bound to come up eventually...

I... dislike Twilight. I don't think it's very well written at all. And really, not much happens throughout the entire story. It's not horrible though. I simply think that there are better writers with better dialogues and better plots. The movie was all right. I wouldn't rent it, or anything, because it was so corny. My favorite part was probably the baseball scence, and then the part when James was getting his head ripped off. Other than that, it was pretty boring. Everyone I know thinks Robert Pattinson is cute... but honestly? Dude. It's Cedric Diggory. It's just wrong. He's not that cute. And frankly, I thought Kristen Stewart wasn't right for the role of Bella. She didn't smile like, at all. And I was just like, "You're supposed to be happy! Why aren't you happy?!". That's just my opinion, though.

Mainly, I despise what Twilight's spawned. A revolting fandom. Everywhere I look, there are vampire/werewolf romance fictions. I mean, come on. Vampires and werewolves are bloodthirsty predators. You can't get around that. But, nope. Every. Other. Bloody. Fanfiction. IS A VAMPIRE/WEREWOLF ROMANCE. Which, mythologically, is just so wrong.

Sorry.

Ah, good. Twilight bashing feelings gone.

I know. I'm a failure in the world of blogging - I haven't posted anything in approx. twelve days. I know, it's horrendous. I don't deserve my computer. So, I'm just going to have to post a really, really, really, really, really, really long entry. Or not. We'll see. Bwahaha.

I just realized that I have been posting an ungodly amount of poems recently. And by ungodly, I mean, like, three... which that in itself isn't so bad, but they're all in a row, so that might be a bit of a turnoff for whomever chooses to read my blog. I actually do like my poems, but maybe three in a row is rather excessive.... and by the number of comments I receive, that would be zilch people. I don't think anyone actually reads this blog. Aside from my sister. But she's my sister, so it doesn't actually count. I think.

... and after hours of working on a Macbeth paper, I think we can finally conclude... Lady Macbeth is stark raving mad.

Yes! Another epic poem!
a brilliant (fake) smile
and
a small kiss for the camera
two pairs of blue windows
one blank
and one mischievous

silver and tan skin glimmer in the darkened basement
intertwined through the years spent together in rapport

a silence kept
in fear of waking the dead
(who will not, of course, wake)
and a loud laughter
that drifts across the ruptured space

Beauty is relative.

And yes, you may quote me on that.

Yah! Another poem, and another background explanation: For a creative writing class we had to use the phrases 'pitcher of bitterness' and 'the taste of sacrifice'... neither of which are particularly uplifting. I did try to make it a tea party reference, although I'm not quite sure how that worked out...

Right now, I honestly really feel like getting snakebites (pictured above... actually, you know what? I can't find a good picture or anything, so just Google it and you'll see what I'm talking about), for no particular reason. They just look so... adorable. Okay, maybe adorable isn't the right word... Anyways, it'll probably pass. Just like wanting to dye my hair pink, get dreads, or double-piercing my ears. Oh wait, I still want to do those things. Except for double-piercing my ears. Oops.

Then wear the gold hat, if that will move her;
If you can bounce high, bounce for her too,
Till she cry "Lover, gold-hatted, high-bouncing lover,
I must have you!"

I rather despise eating lettuce.

Just remembered - On Friday, I made these ah-mazing peppermint cookies... I got the original recipe off All Recipes (I think), and then I added peppermint extract. The original recipe was written by someone name Stephanie, and yeah. This isn't my recipe, I just added a twist to it. I'M NOT PLAGIARIZING! I SUPPLIED A SOURCE! Ah, sorry. Just got finished writing an essay where not-plagiarizing was strictly emphasized. Anyways... here's the recipe:

Ingredients
2 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1 cup butter, melted
1 1/2 cups white sugar
1 egg
1/4 teaspoon of peppermint extract
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C). In a small bowl, stir together flour, baking soda, and baking powder. Set aside.
   
2. In a large bowl, cream together the butter and sugar until smooth. Beat in egg and vanilla. Add peppermint extract. Gradually blend in the dry ingredients. Roll rounded teaspoonfuls of dough into balls, and place onto ungreased cookie sheets.
   
3. Bake 8 to 10 minutes in the preheated oven, or until golden. Let stand on cookie sheet two minutes before removing to cool on wire racks.

Those two words
(poisoned, mind you)
drip with triumph
and twist a knife into your guts.
I win.

Peter Pan's a womanizer. Just sayin'. Womanizer, womanizer, womanizer, womanizer, baby.

Background- This weekend I was forced to write a sonnet for an English class... after much trial and error, this is what I came up with. It's not bad, really, but I'm not quite sure that it actually fits the sonnet criteria... Ah, well.

His lips born of Dionysus’s vine
Do perch seductively upon cheekbones
Held stationary by winter’s froze’d wine,
His skin pulled taut with grotesque overtones.
Thyrsus laying dormant in the dark month,
Receiving the light dripped by the sun’s rays,
The elegance encases him with uneath,
By solstice his imprisoned tomb has frayed.
A warm breeze plays with tendrils of his hair,
Soft whisperings drifting through a lethe mind,
Those fingertips intertwine easily,
Teasing across a pale skin’s western wind.
The earth’s intoxicating scent lingers,
Welcoming Sumarr with open fingers.


Now that you're done reading it... The explanation: Sumarr is Old Norse for Summer, and Vetr is Old Norse for Winter. So, now I think you can guess what this sonnet's about.

I have just turned to my darling mother, and declared this as "a blog-worthy moment!". And yet, absolutely nothing of note has happened... recently. But here I am, at 9:19 at night, sitting lonesomely at the computer... (takes a moment of silence to reflect upon lonesomeness)... 'ya know? Lonesome(ness/ly) is really annoying to spell. No, really. Try it. Moving to another topic, I just finished watching The Santa Clause... I never before actually connected that 'Santa Claus' is not spelled 'Santa Clause', so then I was like, wait... I actually get the title! Speaking of which, David Krumholtz plays the high elf Bernard. And so, I had kinda forgotten that The Santa Clause was produced in 1994, so I was like, whoa! David Krumholtz was sixteen when he was in that movie! Dude. And now he's like, thirty. And then I was like, whoa. That was a really long time ago.

There's this wonderful cite called http://prillalar.com/drabbles/, and it's terribly amusing... I highly suggest that you try it out... Here's a rather favorite drabble of mine... and the 'Jaime' in this story is supposedly Jamie Campbell Bower, because I adore him. Anyways.

Gracie and Jamie were out for a radical Valentine's walk on a rock. As they went, Jamie rested his hand on Gracie's pinky. It was the most romantic walk ever. But even though the day was so odd, Gracie was filled with supernatural dread.
"Do you suppose it's elegant here?" she asked cooly.
"You dainty silly," Jamie said, tickling Gracie with his Zune. "It's completely lovely."
Just then, a beautiful dolphin leapt out from behind a highlighter and danced Jamie in the big toe. "Aaargh!" Jamie screamed.
Things looked sparkly. But Gracie, although she was pink, knew she had to save her love. She grabbed a meat pie and, like a giant Owen Wilson head screaming bloody murder, beat the dolphin fearfully until it ran off. "That will teach you to jump innocent people."
Then she clasped Jamie close. Jamie was bleeding happily. "My darling," Gracie said, and pressed her lips to Jamie's ear.
"I love you," Jamie said passionately, and expired in Gracie's arms.
Gracie never loved again.

random note: Just have to say... my favorite smell in the world is laundry detergent... the solid kind. It just makes me so... happy, and I don't know why... Ah, well. Moving on, yesterday I was in the car, and I had a sudden euphoric realization that my jeans smelled like... something. I don't, ahem, actually remember what... It did smell good though. Okay, end of note.

Want to know what's just slightly annoying? No? Too bad, 'cause I'm going to tell you anyways... Bring it. Okay. The music to Pirates of the Caribbean is pretty much the same five songs, but with varying variations. Hardly anything even remotely new occurs throughout all three movies... just like, the same five songs. I find it highly annoying. And... that would be all.

I have Speech tryouts tomorrow, and I totally forgot... which is just adding salt to the wound. I originally didn't even want to do Speech... and then I'm like, "Hmmm, spur of the moment decision! I'm going to join Speech!". Remind me again... why did I even do that? I don't even particularly like public speaking! And then I forgot that I have tryouts tomorrow, so I'm completely unprepared! Aargh.

Labels: Speech