I will save my cactus.

I hate it when guys act like napkins.

Is it so hard for them to say what they really mean? And then possibly give me a reason WHY they're saying what they mean?

Actually, that MIGHT be too much to ask.

But it's not if he really loves her.

Sigh.

I wonder if it's possible to overdose on Airheads.

Or not.

Either way, they can't be good for my health.

My mom decided that the two of us are going to have breakfast for dinner, so she's in the kitchen cooking bacon as we speak. It's becoming increasingly difficult to try and resist pausing this and running in there to snatch a piece off of the plate.

Oh, why not.

I'm back.

I'm sure you think it's not possible to kill a cactus, right? Think again. Mine is dying a slow and painful death. I'm doing all I can to bring it back to it's former health but I think it wants to go just to be away from me and my poor gardening skills.

Any tips would put me in the best mood ever. But I probably sound like a moron, because how hard is it to care for a cactus, right?



I love my mom and her spontaneity. She doesn't let circumstance effect her decision to do something, she just does it. And it usually turns out to be lovely.

Or a complete disaster.

Either way, it's always worth it.


I'm sorry that these are just random tidbits with no structure or particular subject, but I promise my next blog will be a real blog.

Until next time, loves.

Growth Spurt

I love it when little kids have adult names.

Like when a five year old is called Melvin or George or Phil.
Or Judy or Patsy or Nancy.


I halfway expect them to walk around in little business suits with little cell phones, checking their watch every 5 seconds and becoming impatient when they're in the elevator for too long.

Whispering to cookies.

Today I discovered that when I talk on the phone with someone and they start whispering for whatever reason taking place on their end, I begin to whisper too.

I have no idea why I do this.

I think it has something to do with wanting to be on their level. Like if I talk louder than they're capable of I'm just obnoxious and ignorant toward their predicament.


I'm starting to figure out what being myself actually means.

So far I know it has to do with baking chocolate chip cookies with no makeup on and dancing around the kitchen.

Let's not exclude singing into the cookie dough covered spoon like a lunatic.



Life is delicious.



Oh, here's another tidbit of self-discovery for you: I've decided I am in love with John Krasinski.

And I don't mean Hollywood crush type of love, I mean I might ACTUALLY be in love.

Confusing, I know. I love his voice.



I also love the song French Navy by Camera Obscura.
Go on, go have a listen.

This is the reason to cry over spilled sugar.

I don't know how it happened, or how it was even possible, but I knocked over a jar of sugar.

It's EVERYWHERE, you guys. Today is kind of a science lesson for me, because I now know how far sugar can spread.

This just proves that I probably have a handicap.

A reflex type handicap. The kind where I'll have to have people reach up and get things for me to avoid this type of lethal destruction.

Seriously. I am still at odds with the whole situation. I find myself thinking HOW? REALLY, HOW? when I look at the mess. The mess that happens to still be there in all of its sugar glory, because informing you gorgeous people is more important than cleaning.

In order to help me understand the situation further, I am going to explain what happened, and if you're still reading this you're either insane or ridiculously cool.

I think you're ridiculously cool.

I was heating up a cup of tea in the microwave because I absolutely need to drink tea for my CREATIVE PROCESS. Because I like to sound like a SNOOTY AUTHOR.

THAT'S RIGHT.

Sorry.

Anyway, my microwave is in the air. Above the oven. It's suspended in midair above my oven.

No, I wish. It's attached to the cabinets above my oven but in a way it's suspended in midair too. I like to think it is.

And I was sitting on the counter smelling the jar of sugar because I really enjoy sugar, when I suddenly heard the microwave yelping its confirmation that my tea was, in fact, heated. I placed the jar of sugar carefully on the counter, near the edge, BAD MOVE, and brought down my tea from the magical wingardium leviosa induced microwave, not realizing that the cup would be SCALDING HOT LIKE FIRE.

I have another strange process, and it involves dancing around like a lunatic when I touch something hot. I ran to the counter on which I had placed the sugar and hastily threw down the cup as carefully as I could without spilling the lava like substance, and this is it, this is where my plan tragically crumbled.

My elbow.

Oh, my stupid, clumsy, careless elbow. The very same elbow that has caused me so many problems in my past. The same elbow that has injured my best friend's eye by mistake. The same elbow that has jabbed itself into a guy's stomach not by mistake. The same elbow that has, on more than one occasion, ran into a wall or an open door.

The elbow.

As I was shoving the cup as far away from myself as possible and trying to make a break toward the sink to rinse my fingers under chilly water (I can't say freezing water because our faucets are temperamental), my elbow swung and knocked over the jar of sugar.

And then there it was, cascading from the counter and onto the floor below like a white waterfall.

I honestly didn't know what to do. My first impulse was to cry because I knew this was going to involve a broom and I hate brooms. The only brooms that I like are the Harry Potter kind.

So instead, I plopped myself on that sugar dusted floor and just watched my life play out before my very eyes.

And then I heard a familiar song playing from the television in the living room, and realized Romeo + Juliet was on HBO.

Problem solved.

I'll go get the broom now.

Ag.

Book Survey, k?

1. What author do you own the most books by? Sarah Dessen, Jo Rowling, and E. Lockhart. I love each of them with everything inside of me. Not to be creepy, or anything.

2. What book do you own the most copies of? Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows. Dose.

3. Did it bother you that both those questions ended with prepositions? Stop it. Just stop it.

4. What fictional character are you secretly in love with? This is no secret, as I shout their names while I run through hallways when I'm feeling particularly lonely. Get ready for a list that's long enough to be rolled out and used as a pathway to mexico: Harry Potter (everyone knows he's my husband), Dean Thomas (this one was out of my hands because everyone knows that I am also, in fact, Ginny), Draco Malfoy (before the receding hairline), Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, James Potter (yes, I realize I just described 3/4 of the Maruaders, and I'm not putting Peter for obvious reasons), Rex Taggart, Wes Baker, Dexter Jones, Norman (his last name is a mystery, as it's buried underneath all of his his hot hippy-ness), Noel Duboise, Pudge Halter, Seb Mantegna, Rusty James, and Dallas Winston. Even though I'm probably not allowed to like him. Oh well.

5. What book have you read the most times in your life (excluding picture books read to children; i.e., Goodnight Moon does not count)? I've read Prisoner of Azkaban so many times that the description of Honeydukes will be forever engraved in my mind, Half-Blood Prince 4 times, The Outsiders at least 4 times, Rumble Fish 4 times, Peaches 4 times (I'm sensing a pattern here, and I have a feeling you are too), and I try to read Keeping the Moon at least once a year, because it helps me with things I have yet to find the answer to.

6. What was/were your favorite book(s) when you were ten years old? Nothing's Fair in Fifth Grade, Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing, Are you there God? It's me, Margaret, Number the Stars, Ramona the Pest, Ramona the Brave, and Ramona and Her Father.

7. What is the worst book you've read in the past year? The second half of Breaking Dawn was pretty horrific. Actually, Breaking Dawn as a whole was pretty horrific. I didn't know when to gag or cringe or just throw it out the window, or better yet, burn it so that I could spare another human being from finding it.
That was harsh. I know.

8. What is the best book you've read in the past year? Man, oh man, do I dislike picking favorites, but fine, you got me. Cracked Up to Be by Courtney Summers.
Just one more. Please? Thank you. The Treasure Map of Boys by E. Lockhart.

9. If you could force everyone you tagged to read one book, what would it be? Peaches by Jodi Lynn Anderson because it's one of my horcruxes. Yes, just one.

10. What book would you most like to see made into a movie? Eclipse. Oh wait, they're already doing that.
Yes, I fudged out on this question because why on earth would I want to see an actor slaughter a character that I love? It was bad enough watching Bonnie Wright try to potray me on the big screen. Ugh. The horror.

11. What book would you least like to see made into a movie? Breaking Dawn. But I'm going to see it anyway because I want to see how they plan to do the whole Fountain of Blood Childbirth thing.

12. Describe your weirdest dream involving a writer, book, or literary character.
I dream about Harry Potter on a weekly basis, and that might be weird, but...I enjoy it.

13. What is the most lowbrow book you've read as an adult? I'm technically not an adult, but I cannot stress it enough: Breaking Dawn is a stain on the white t-shirt of literature.

14. What is the most difficult book you've ever read? Dreamland, because the whole time I read it I was either choking back tears or blowing my nose or wanting to dive into the book like an otherwordly ghost and chase Rogerson with a fireplace poker.

15. What is the most obscure Shakespeare play you've seen? I've only seen Romeo and Juliet, and it's not all that obscure. But it's desperately romantic and I love it.

16. Do you prefer the French or the Russians? Sigh. You make me feel like an uneducated moron.

17 and 18 are missing here because I am an idiot who doesn't know how to paste what she's copied and then separate the sentences that are all smushed together, and I'm too lazy to fix it. Moving on.

19. Shakespeare, Milton, or Chaucer? Shakespeare because I, my friend, am unoriginal and proud of it.

20. Austen or Eliot? Austen Austen AUSTEN.

21. What is the biggest or most embarrassing gap in your reading? I don't want to talk about it. It's bad for my mental health.

22. What is your favorite novel? Picking favorites is also bad for my health. Fine. FINE. The Outsiders, even though there's like 3 others. I'm just throwing that one out there for some variety.
Oh, and Keeping the Moon. And Cracked Up to Be. And The Ruby Oliver series. And Looking for Alaska. Don't hate me.

23. Play? Romeo and Juliet because I want to illustrate my unoriginality further.

24. Poem? I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud by William Wordsworth, because that poem runs through my mind everytime I witness something beautiful.

25. Essay? "I've never read many essays outside of obligation." I'm agreeing with Hayley because she has nice hair.

26. Work of nonfiction? This is going to sound weird and judgemental, but I only like to read about things that haven't existed anywhere else except on the pretty pages they belong to. Basically, I don't read nonfiction and I wanted to say it in a fancy way.

27. Who is your favorite writer? E. Lockhart. John Green. Jo Rowling. Sarah Dessen. S.E. Hinton. I would've lost my sanity if I picked a favorite, I swear.

28. Who is the most overrated writer alive today? STEPHENIE MEYER. I'll say it once and I'll say it again for lack of followers on this tragic blog. STEPHENIE MEYER.

29. What is your desert island book? Deathly Hallows. I always find new meaning each time I read it.

30. And... what are you reading right now? I just finished The Treasure Map of Boys, so tomorrow I'll embark on a new journey of literary bliss.

Apricots.

Everyone wants to know what "be yourself" actually means.










Well, I'll tell you sometime.

Bratty.

I've never been good at waiting because I am a demanding person.

So when I say I WANT DEATHLY HALLOWS AND NEW MOON TO COME TO MY LOCAL MOVIE THEATER RIGHT THIS INSTANT and it doesn't happen right that instant, I get anxious.

Ohhhh my life is so hard.


I'm beginning to realize that I get my life confused with the stories I make up. Or don't make up and just can't remember clearly since I try to block out my life from the time I arrive at school until the time I step off the bus.

I'm still not sure if I experienced that cheesy Romeo and Juliet scenario in ninth grade and it's driving me insane.

Maybe if I just believe it happened even if it didn't I'll be an overall happier person.

But what if it really DID happen?

I know I read for Juliet. I know a guy read for Romeo. Possibly. But was it the guy I sat next to?

Sweet Jesus.

Romeo in my 9th Grade English Class.

I had myself a good cry today.

Don't be alarmed. It was due to watching Romeo and Juliet. The Leonardo DiCaprio version.

In tenth grade I had an English teacher who believed that Shakespeare only wrote R+J to convey the damage that is inflicted when teenagers are allowed to decide for themselves. I disagree.

Or rather, I'm disagreeing for the sake of my well-being.

Like, honestly, how cynical could you get?

It's like choosing to believe in teaching the youth a lesson rather than in true love. It's ridiculous. It's like believing Edward only got with Bella so that he could eat her in the long run.

These people. I swear.

I had a really cheesy experience when we studied Shakespeare in ninth grade. I remember I was beyond thrilled when I was chose to read for Juliet and I was equally as eager when I realized that the guy I sat next to had a shot at reading for Romeo because he hadn't volunteered for anything yet, and I am a sap and I had a crush on him that I still have trouble admitting to myself. But it didn't work out that way.

A girl ended up reading for Romeo because Ms. Adams was adamant about the roles avoiding the whole gender specific thing, otherwise the same people would be volunteering to read all the time.

It was a very awkward experience.

But I think later on it did work out how I wanted it to, and I did get the chance to read the O Romeo Romeo where for art thou Romeo part with an actual male playing the part of Romeo. Possibly the one that I sat next to for the second semester of English.

But it could be a desperate figment of my imagination. I'm really not sure.

Maybe I'll call him and ask him someday. He left his number in my yearbook.

I'm almost positive we read the balcony scene together. Almost.

This is going to bother me until I figure it out.

Coffee and Vampires.

I am so wired right now it's not even funny.

I can barely type due to the jitters.

Here's the dealio. I had a massive migraine before I went to bed last night, and it WAS STILL THERE WHEN I WOKE UP. So I called my mom while she was on her way to work at like 6 this morning to whine about my discomfort, and she went all neurotic with worry because she has this problem of freaking out when she can't smooth out the problems in her kid's lives. I love my mom.

So she told me to drink coffee.

And I took that direction a little too far, and had a little too much Folgers. Mom drank all of the good coffee before she went to work so I was stuck with that gross stuff that looks like dirt.

But here is the bright side: MY HEADACHE IS GONE :D!

That story had no point to it. I just needed something to do with my hands, because if I don't put their energy into something productive I just sit here shaking like this kid I used to go to school with. He took a lot of pills.


SO.

To give this blog some purpose, I am now going to give you a scene by scene analysis of the new New Moon 14 second teaser trailer, while I sit here and feel like I have a million jumping beans bouncing around in my veins.

Here we go.



00:00 to 00:04 - Bella looks like REALLY really pretty in New Moon. Like prettier than she did in Twilight, and even then I thought there was a certain charm in her huge jackets and headband. I was having a conversation with my friend Victor last night about her new look, and he said Bella looks pretty even when she's ugly.
So there you have it.

Jacob's voice saying "I know what he did to you, and Bella, I won't ever hurt you." while the the scene where Edward completely deserts Bella is shown, is such a diss to Edward. I love Edward. The only reason I'm going to see New Moon is A. Because I love Edward and B. Because I can't wait to see him and Bella reunite and C. Because Paul is a hottie and D. Because I can't wait. I am making no sense. Moving on.

00:04 to 00:06 - JACOB IS SO TAN. I mean, I know he's supposed to be. But he is SO TAN. And I can't stand his wig. I know I'm going to cringe every time they show him in his pre-wolf state, because he looks SO much better with the short 'do. And Bella's face in this scene breaks my heart. Kristen Stewart is an amazing actress. I don't care what anyone else says about her being snotty and monotone and awkward. Yes, she is awkward. But she's not snotty. She's just uncomfortable being in the spotlight and she's not going to be fake and pretend otherwise. You're all just jealous because she gets to kiss that fine piece.

00:006 - to the very end.- WHOA JACOB BUFF. MUSCLES.
Okay, I might be opposed to Taylor Lautner being our Jacob but he is really really ripped. That is dedication.

I am not Team Jacob, but I love when Bella says "You're sort of beautiful." because in New Moon, like, half the book is Bella describing how much she loves his russet skin.
Love how it's true to the book.

So overall, I think it's another amazing glimpse at New Moon and it makes me that much more excited for November 20th. Bravo, Chris Weitz.

P.S. Everyone is saying that these:




As in those abs, are fake.

I am choosing not to believe this for my own well-being.

The kid with the scar.

I'm kind of shocked and appalled at myself for forgetting Harry Potter's birthday.

Forget the fact that it was J.K. Rowling's birthday. I mean, I don't know her. Even though she's amazing.

But I'm practically married to Harry.

Almost.

And like, I FORGOT.

This would normally be the part where I begin to go on for a sickeningly long amount of time about how much I love Harry, But I'll spare you. We'll save it for a future blog, perhaps when Deathly Hallows comes to the big screen.

And by big screen I do not mean imax. That business gives me a headeache.

Anyway, Happy Belated Birthday, Harry. You made it.

Chocolates and Pods.

I am writing.

And I now more than ever support my theory regarding the fact that you have to be a smidgen insane to be a writer.


That is all.






p.s. How would you feel about a coffee shop called "The Chocolate Pod"?