neon etcetera: 05.10

It's just like you to come and go

So tonight I've been thinking a lot, which I guess I do every day, about being an individual, and how it seems like as hard as I try I can never be totally different from everyone else, because there are other girls out there who are interested in art history and "Doctor Who" and song lyrics and want to be writers.

I hate saying that - "I want to be a writer." It sounds so trite and presumptuous. Why can't I be a writer right now? My English teacher was saying something about that the other day - "stop saying you want to be a writer, and just do it." Nike - just do it.

Anyhow - maybe that's a good thing. Maybe I'm the sort of person that has to have someone around to connect with. Maybe I can't handle being totally alone, totally separated from the crowd. I've definitely struggled with that in the past.

I guess this is all coming out of thinking about college, about how I'm going to present myself as a well-rounded individual who has an actual life and actual hobbies and actual interests. I pretty much live in the internet. I can't help but think that getting in to college is going to be a lot simpler for jocks with decent grades, because they have an obvious extracurricular. And I basically want to be a professional student.

Gahh. The future scares me. Especially when it involves me driving.

And your heart starts to wonder

Every day my dog pulls all the books off of my nightstand in an attempt to get to the tissue box. She can't reach it, of course, because I put it high up on the Leaning Tower of Notebooks, but she keeps trying, and I keep picking the books up and re-piling them again and again. It's futile really, for the both of us, but I admire her - tenacity? Her perseverance, and her pigheadedness. I wish I were that faithful, that persistent that this time, maybe just this one time, something will be different.

I've been listening to the Script's live iTunes session all day. It's beautiful. I hope in another life I'm someone with musical talent. I think music is the purest way to connect to people, possibly even more so than writing is. It's universal.

This is the way you left me

I spent the morning at the park with Ellie and Gillian and a bunch of her friends, doing zombie makeup for a video they were shooting for school. It was complete pointless and blissful and it felt like summer. Then I watched a dumb movie with Ellie and came home and watched a few episodes of "The Vampire Diaries". I love days off from school.

I wish there were more days like that, days to be free and run around and take pictures of everything and anything and nothing at all. There's this dichotomy of happiness (I just love that word, dichotomy) in that we're so happy when we're relaxed and living simply and freely, but then we're happy when we're busy and working hard and doing exactly what we love. And I think that if we lived totally freely all the time we'd almost feel like we're wasting time in which we could be doing something better, saving someone, changing the world. I want to change the world, don't you? I think we all have that naive little dream that we're the ones who can save us all. But maybe we are.

Or maybe it's just late and I'm just rambling. Maybe this is all just words and nothings.

There'll be twisted karaoke at the Anisteed lounge

I'm feeling wiggly in that restless sort of way and in need of a new hairstyle. Maybe I'll dye it this weekend. I've never dyed it during the school year before. I wonder if anyone will notice.

I've been thinking about anonymity or lack thereof and the Internet and who we decide we want to be online and who we think we are versus how others interpret us. Maybe the me that I think is me isn't the me that other people think is me - actually, I'm sure that's true. That makes me wonder what kind of me you see me as, how much the you in the equation changes how the me appears to you.

Maybe in imagining others complexly, like JG and DFW want(ed), we give others too much credit. Maybe our teenage imaginations run wild and we imagine that others are more considerate, creative, real, pure, aware, emotional, sensible, then they actually are. And then maybe we're the stupid ones, the naive ones, the ones that the French like to invite to Dinner Games to make fun of. What's that they say? Don't expect too much and you'll never be disappointed.

Oh. It's just been one of those weeks. You know the ones where it feels like everyone hates you and everyone's ignoring you and everything keeps going wrong and you're in a horrible mood the entire time and can't help but piss people off? I've fully descended into Hilary Duffdom, and apparently the negativity monster lives there with his friends the anti-socialites and the angry bugs. At least it's a four day weekend, yeah?

So I walk a little slower

A day in which I yell at a lot of people that I love, my mother has a genius idea, I listen to Hilary Duff nonstop, and I make a caterpillar out of pom-poms and googly eyes. So glad tomorrow's the end of the week. It's almost my birthday. I want to grow out my hair again, and dye it red again. "Why Not" is making me really happy right now. Croissants at nutrition tomorrow. :)

Haven't you heard that I'm gonna be okay

Today I'm finding the lyrics to songs by Hilary Duff to be extremely relevant to my life, much more so than when I actually listed Hilary Duff as one of my favorite artists around 2003.

The only thing dated about this video is that denim skirt - it's not short enough for today's standards.

I shot the Wendy

Hi, blog creepers who send my blog url to people. Cough.

I can't believe that still exists. That is my childhood, in 7 minute segments. I love how the Lost Boys just climb into their trees. And I love that Tiger Lily is blond. SHHH. Ugga wugga meatball. I never questioned that as a child, but are there really meatballs in Neverland?

My favorite part has to be the man in the lion suit with the glasses hopping around in the background. These songs are so great. Ahhhh. Let's be as quiet as a little mouse and build a little house for Wendy...

No more lonely

Not ready for the coming week.
Never ready for the coming week.
Inspiration.
Maybe I should go to bed early tonight.
Inspiration part two.
Someday, pretty nails. Hopefully, someday.
I have JoJo stuck in my head.
That's okay, I guess, since I love her.
I hate driving. And when the dogs wake me up at 7:30 AM on a Sunday barking at nothing but I have to deal with it anyway because my sister's too lazy to drag her butt out of bed.
I can hear fireworks. Or really loud drums.

Why go risking the way that I see you

I wasn't going to blog tonight because I have nothing to say because I had a boring day with the exception of sitting through too many "oh Sam!"s, but then I looked at my dashboard and I had to blog because I'm anal like that. My parents have left my sister and I alone tonight, and I hate being in the house without them. It makes weird sounds, the air conditioner turns on at random times, and then when I'm blogging because I don't want to go to bed tumblr is down and it's frustrating.

I spent all morning editing photos. I've been thinking about art, and how the internet and all the websites therein completely challenge the definition of art as being produced by artists. Art is this much more tangible thing now, much less formal, less distant, more hands-on. Not that I consider myself an artist at all - but I feel like "artist" is less of a career objection and more of something that one just simply is. Just like I'm a writer, I guess, just not a professional one. And now this has turned in to babble - that's what happened when too-late-at-night combines with too much Lord of the Rings.

Yay, tumblr's fixed. Now I can go to bed.

Lost lost lost lost

1. Today I got back a bunch of math assignments from the last month, and at the top of one of them, the word "bonjeor" was written inside a little heart. Sudsy TAs for my math teacher, and she wrote it. It made me smile, even if she did spell "bonjour" wrong. I guess it's nice to think that people care?

2. English was fun today. English has been fun all week. Everyone in there is a living cartoon character. It's such a fun atmosphere. I don't usually laugh that much anywhere else. I wish that feeling lasted longer.

3. I have "Love Lost" by the Temper Trap stuck in my head right now. The cinematography in the video is beautiful. And it's so British. I must say, though, that every time I look at a picture of the band, I'm surprised by the appearance of the lead singer. His voice doesn't seem to match. But I guess I do that with every singer and band I hear.

4. It's almost my birthday. Today in the car I was talking with my mom about how I'm going to be able to vote for the next president. Isn't that scary? I don't trust myself with voting. It's too big a responsibility.

5. Not being able to get your necklace off because you've had it on for more than twelve hours and it feels like it's become attached to your skin is really quite frustrating, especially when the clasp is tiny and your hands are slightly wet because you just washed them.

6. "Valentine's Day" was not a good movie, although Ashton Kutcher is quite attractive. Enough said.

7. Something I don't understand: why stars (like the wonderful Ashley Olsen) let themselves be photographed in lingerie (that word is extremely hard to spell) stores, even high-end ones. Your future children might see that. Although I guess there are worse things one could do.

And I said I know it well

Today I feel weird. I'm stressed but not and tired but not and sleepy but not. My foot is asleep but I don't want to move it. Also, I like tumblr, Miley Cyrus, and the Olsen twins. And Jack's Mannequin song lyrics and "Chicago" by Sufjan Stevens and things that Seth says on "The OC." (Like “Closure’s overrated. I’m more of a fan of open-ended, unrequited love.”) And I really really really want pizza right now. And I wish my hair was long enough to French braid.

Can it be the weekend already, please? I hope Justin Bieber didn't mess up too bad on "American Idol." Oh, never mind, what do I care?

Sing me a song

Me: me thinks you doth protest too much
Michael: me thinks your a woman
Me: and??
Michael: me doth things moths
Me: you what??
Michael: me doth goth
Me: you doth stupid
Michael: you doth narwhal

"Glee" makes me happy.
So does "Doctor Who."
I hope it doesn't rain tomorrow.
I want to dye my hair soon.
My highlights look weird.
Facebook has been disappointing me lately.
This is already feeling like the longest week ever.
It always bothers me when people drop the "The" from band names and book titles. And movies.
It seems disrespectful; it's like spelling someone's name wrong.
I have to go read The Great Gatsby now.

All things go, all things go

It’s the truth that I should be studying for my art history final right now, but I’m not. It’s the truth that my hair is too long and my ends are split and fried from my flat iron, and it’s the truth that my shoes are all over my bedroom floor and need to be picked up. It’s the truth that I can’t remember what I ate for breakfast, I don’t know where my cell phone is, and I can’t cross the street without looking both ways twice.

But it’s also the truth that I love the Beatles, especially Paul. It’s the truth that when I was little I wanted to marry Peter Pan and be Mary Poppins. It’s the truth that I can eat an entire bowl of chocolate covered pretzels in a ten minute period, and it’s the truth that my nails are painted ten different colors. It’s the truth that all of them are chipped.

It’s the truth that every Saturday morning you drive to my house way to early and I get in your car with my cup of lukewarm coffee clutched in my hand. It’s the truth that we drive to the beach and sit on the sand, or it’s the truth that we go to Denny’s for breakfast and I forget about counting calories. And it’s the truth that you hum along to the radio and smile at me out of the corner of your eye as you drive. It’s the truth that every Saturday by dinner time you drive me home and come inside and shake my daddy’s hand, and you say, “good evening sir” in that way you always do. It’s the truth that my dad thinks you’re a good boy, a good man, almost. And it’s the truth that I think so too.

But it’s also the truth that you make me want to scream. It’s the truth that your shoelaces are untied and your hair is messy and there are holes in the knees of your jeans. It’s the truth that you pause in the middle of your sentences and lose your focus to the sky or the river or the paint drying on the walls. And it’s the truth that when I ask you a question you don’t like to give me straightforward answers, and it’s the truth that you’re stubborn and impatient and my very best friend.

It’s the truth that I met you when we were little, in kindergarten or first grade. But you don’t remember that now, that’s the truth. But this is also the truth: last year you saw me from across campus and then you switched into my English class, by accident of course, you swear that’s the truth, and then we went out for coffee or dinner or a movie. And that night, at Starbuck’s or dinner or the movies, you laughed and I noticed that your eyes sparkled, that’s the truth.

And it’s the truth that now, as you’re sitting across from me at my parents’ kitchen table tapping your pencil on your book and humming, I realize the most important truth of all. It’s one that doesn’t need to be affirmed by pinky swear or spit-swapping or long lists of devotion. It’s here and it’s now and permanent.

And here it is: I love you. It’s the truth.

If you think that you feel nothing at all

1. Who actually uses the "it's complicated" relationship status on facebook when they're actually in a complicated relationship? I thought it was just a joke... like "chillax" should never be spoken in real life and Crocs should never be worn outside one's house.

2. I really love looking at everyone's prom pictures, in a totally non-creepy, loving happy people sort of way. I love the whole idea of getting dressed up and going to a dance - it's so classic high school experience, but in that naive 1950s sort of way, not the teenage-movie get-drunk-at-house-parties way.

3. Song lyrics, man. Just song lyrics. My favorites right now: Greg Laswell, Ben Folds, Jack's Mannequin (always), Julia Nunes, Beach House, Phoenix. So great.

4. My sister has been listening to her iHome all day. She never listens to music. But there she is, listening to music, and it's all mine. All my old favorites, from 8th grade and freshman year, before I discovered the Matts and art history (Dadaism is quite similar to Gaga-ism) and cardigans. Flashbackkkk.

5. "Letters to Juliet" was extremely cute. Movies like that always put me in the mood to write. I get into this mood where I type furiously on the keyboard determined to create witty characters and happy endings and entire novels in short periods of time. Unfortunately that never works out too well.

6. How is it that whenever I want a pretty picture to come up on my tumblr dashboard, none do? I guess that's a rhetorical question, unless you have an answer for me. And dear person who recently left me an art joke in my formspring: your art joke didn't make any sense. Encore une fois, sil-vous-plait? Also, I got nail polish all over my hands. At least it's my favorite color. It's called gunmetal, but the texture's weird and I think I need a new bottle. It's by Sally Hansen. My birthday is soon. Hint, hint.

7. I would like it to be summer now. I would like that a lot. That sounds like something Dr. Suess would write. Green eggs and ham.

It's always have but never hold

Every once and a while I have a sudden inexplicable feeling that I'm a bird, that I could climb up on the roof right now and jump off and soar over the palm trees and flickering streetlights with no trouble at all. I could swoop down out of the night sky and lie down in the middle of the street with you next to me, only to jump up at the last possible second as car horns sound in our ears, loud and impatient. We'll travel the world, you and I, wearing our lives on our backs as we journey to places we've only read about in books: Kilimanjaro, Bath, Houston. We'll train for marathons and then we'll win them, speeding through the finish lines with sweat darkening the collars of our numbered t-shirts as we smile with the joy of it all. We'll conquer fears we never knew we had and we'll read poetry in Parisian cafes and Shakespeare on the streets of Verona. We'll be the subjects of love songs and the envy of college backpackers.

But then somewhere during our this and our that, I'll grow restless and you'll sense it coming, and I'll be aching suddenly for a break, a home, a mattress indented from the weight of me on it night after night. This is where I will leave you, or maybe you'll leave me, just go on without me. Who does the leaving won't matter - all that matters is that someone is gone, someone has felt the sudden, inexplicable desire to sprout wings and soar over palm trees and electric poles or fragrant pines and smoking chimneys or the Eiffel Tower and its bright lights. For all we know or don't know, we're all birds, or dream to be so, to be able to leave, gone, gone, gone, gliding away on the ever-changing winds.

Oh what a lonely thing

1. I can't take people seriously when they say "chillax" completely not ironically. "Hey, want to chillax at my house tomorrow?" Current slang is gross. Pinner? Seriously? I'm kind of embarassed to be a part of this generation when everyone talks like that, throwing meaningless words around like they're nothing.

2. I've been leaving off in the middle of sentences lately, writing three quarters of a page and then just stopping: "I'm quite content anyhow to observe silently"... No punctuation or rest of the sentence. It's really annoying but I think

3. Michael Kang says: "life is like a box of chocolates and highschool is the nasty chocolate with the nut and weird candy thing that makes it sour." I only like that movie for the music. Every time I listen to classic rock I wonder why I don't listen to it more often.

4. Sometimes I feel like quoting old song lyrics in my facebook status and pretending I'm deep even though I'm not: "I'm like a bird, I can only fly away." And sometimes I wish that the internet didn't matter so much. I also wish that I had a better definition of "hipster" to provide to my father when he asked.

5. I have my first behind-the-wheel driving lesson tomorrow. I am scared out of my mind. Maybe I should have played more video games when I was younger. That's related, right? Hand-eye coordination and all that? My father yelling "gerbil!" in my ear while I'm driving doesn't exactly help. Guys, I really want an Otterpop.

I'm just crazy enough to leave you behind even though you're like nothing I have found or will find

I've got this boundless fascination in words, in words in art and words in poems and and words in songs and words on t-shirts and advertisements and bathroom stalls and the soles of our shoes, in what we choose to say and what we don't, what we type out for the world to see on our Facebooks and on the margins of our notebooks, in words in run-on sentences. There's this talent, rare talent, that some people have, to string words together in a way that they're complex and layered with meaning but simple and beautiful and understandable too.

And I have this fascination with "you", the word "you" and how it can be manipulated and contorted and reinterpreted to have so much meaning or absolutely no meaning at all. "You" is you or it's my inner self or my one true love, or "you" is the recipient of my manifesto of hopes and dreams and lofty goals and fleeting thoughts. And sometimes "you" is nothing at all, no one and no thing and the vast endlessness of empty, or "you" is your you, the you that you want it/she/them/him to be.

Maybe tomorrow, sense, although maybe not, maybe never, maybe next Tuesday.

Don't panic, there simply is no need

Today was the longest day ever, besides the days at Yale last summer and the days in France last month. I got home around 5 o'clock and I ate mint chip ice cream. Then an hour and a half later I ate dinner. I faked my math homework and now I'm sitting here zoning out and looking at pretty pictures on tumblr like I always do when there's something I should be doing that I don't want to be doing. Only right now there isn't exactly that sort of something.

That's why I starting watching "Glee", performances like that. Of course I just watched that completely out of context so I have no idea who Finn's referring to or why Rachel looks so awkward. But this weekend I might actually have time to catch up. Ah. :)

These videos are too big for my blog but I want to post them anyway. Oh well.

Uh uh, Cicero, Lipschitz

Currently:
Stress level = high
AP art history review book = barely cracked
Math homework = mostly successfully done
Frustration = rising
Feet = dirty
Hair = messy
Sleep = lacking
Sister = loud
Father = sighing
Poetry = not
Unrelated anecdote = We had a very normal- (that is, not nerdy) looking sub in art history today. When I was leaving the main office after school (that's another unrelated anecdote for later), I saw the sub signing out, carrying his superhero lunchbox and messenger bag. Substitute teacher by day, comic book nerd by night.
Picture = from here but the link won't work on it.

Mondays = suckish.

I'm a mess in a dress, can't show up on time

HEY GUYS. I was just thinking about this vlogbrothers video in which John is talking about the use of "nerd" as an insult, and he says that telling someone "you're a nerd" is like saying "you like stuff." Now obviously I've been a nerd for a long time - but I can now officially confirm that I like stuff. I just walked into my mom's office, where she was on the LACMA website looking at Renoir books, and she told me to leave because she was shopping. Now who in the house is the art freak, hmm? And who has a birthday coming up?

Now this is only significant because my mother never really knows what to get me for my birthday. Usually she buys me some books - actually a lot of books, and then I end up not ever reading half of them. But this year, I like stuff, and the stuff that I like is purchasable.

I don't know why I'm so excited about this. I love that feeling of loving something, I guess. Isn't that what people say makes them happiest?

I'm coming down the world turned over

This morning I went to LACMA with my mom and we went through the Renoir exhibit, which was really interesting and cool and amazing and I realized that Renoir and Monet are just about the cutest old men I've ever seen. We also wandered into the German Expressionism exhibit, and I realized that this artists have become celebrities to me. Every time I spotted a Kandinsky or a Picasso or recognized someone's name - Jasper Johns, Richard Serra - I was excited. That's an amazing feeling. I can't wait to go back.

Then my mom and I had lunch at the museum, where I ate a croque fromage, aka a grilled cheese sandwich with a French name in honor of the Renoir exhibit. After we finished eating my mom realized that we were running out of time so we walked way too fast to the car and she drove like a maniac over to the Pantages. She drives horribly when she's stressed, and she hates being late so that causes stress. We almost got in four separate car accidents. She really isn't helping my fear of driving.

So we saw "Chicago" at the Pantages and as a result I've had "Cell Block Tango" stuck in my head all day. I sat through the entire thing with a pounding head ache, a horrible pounding on the left side of my head that couldn't be helped by Jason Mraz and sleeping in the car on the way home, or a Motrin, an hour of lying down and reading, and a bottle of water.

I finally felt better after dinner. Then we watched "Doctor Who" which was extremely scary, and a creepy episode of "The Mentalist." Now I'm sitting here in my pajamas listening to my James Blunt station on Pandora, and I just looked in the mirror and realized that I have raccoon eyes from my mascara. There are art history cards all over my desk and I haven't looked at them all day, and I have a new Monet book and a new Renoir book and they're calling to me to read them, but my desk is covered in art history cards and that's going to be a problem tomorrow when I need to do my math/English/French homework.

Tangent: Sometimes I think about how weird it would be to be someone else for a day and see how I look to other people. I think that I know how I come off - but I can't truly know. I'm blind to my own faults, to a certain extent at least. I could have a really annoying habit, like the 8th grader in my math class who is constantly dropping his pencil. Or I could complain to much and everyone hates it.

And then thinking about that leads me into thinking about judgment, and how we are so judgmental of others, and how if we weren't constantly judging we all wouldn't be so self-conscious and we could all be our truer selves and the entire world would be a happier place. Or, well, maybe it wouldn't, because then evil people would be even more evil. Not that I think people are inherently good or inherently evil - okay, never mind. This is what happens when I try to be thoughtful after 9 pm.

Oh, I forgot - I encountered British people at the museum today. Their accents were delightful. Coldplay just came on Pandora, and it's a live version so I heard Chris Martin speaking and that reminded me. After the Brits were out of hearing range I told my mom that I want to be British someday and she said that she doesn't think it works that way. Dear British boys: call me.

When I was younger I always wished I had a big set of shutters in my bedroom just like the Darling children.

Purple teardrops I cry

Thank God today's over. It's like this giant weight has been lifted off my shoulders, and it's been replaced by more than 200 art history flash cards. Monet Van Gogh Caravaggio. Too many.

Tomorrow: LACMA in the morning for the Renoir exhibit, then "Chicago" at the Pantages. Then home to study art history. I'm justifying tomorrow to myself by "studying" at the museum - but we're only seeing Renoir, and it's late Renoir, and I don't think too much of that is on the test anyway. But I'll just put myself in the art history mindset all day, and it'll be fine.

Mericuh.

Flickr users absolutely blow me away. Some of these images are just too gorgeous. I wish I had that much talent, time, creativity. But all I have right now is stress, Michael and Ali on video chat, and way too many art history flashcards. Also, two new books to read (after Wednesday, even though I'll start them tonight), a new dress, and a new shirt with a giant sparkly octopus on it.

You know the day destroys the night, night divides the day

I guess I'm superstitious, because this afternoon Gracie attacked the Knowledge Sticks that Ms. Grimshaw gave me, and tore off the little note that says, "I know you'll all do well" from the sparkly-twist-tie-star-covered-string, and when my mom found her on the floor of my room with the Ziploc between her paws, I started crying. My first thought was, that's a horrible omen, I'm going to fail.

But really, it's okay. She didn't actually eat the licorice. The bag just looks kind of dusty now, as Michael would say. I sharpened the pencils and put them in my pencil case with my other three pencils and 4 pens. I'm ready for this thing. I hope.

Also, something I've been thinking about - there's this freshman in one of my classes, and from talking to him and eavesdropping on his conversations with other people in that class, I've decided that he has to be one of the smartest people I know. Not smart like book smart, or street smart - but just, I don't know, aware. He knows more about history than I do despite the fact that I've taken zillions of hours of it in school the past two years, he's got an amazing hold on politics and current events, and even when he's saying he doesn't know what's going on, it sounds intelligent. And that completely amazes me, because I go to a different class and there are some of the most immature 17 year old guys I've ever met, guys who embarrass all other teenagers just by existing. People blow my mind.

Something else that blows my mind: how little I've accomplished in the last half hour. I read in one of my mom's magazines that procrastination can actually lead to efficiency. Yeah, right.

Resting on the shoulders of your name

This evening while we were waiting for the pizza that my mom ordered for dinner since she burned the taco meat, I took a two-minute nap on my sister's bed, on top of her giant stuffed dog called Big Dog, as she showed me all the coloring sheets she's colored after CST testing this week. Thirteen years old, and she's spending her post-test time coloring in pictures of Blue from Blue's Clues and Tinkerbell.

There are vacuum lines on my carpet right now. I love the way they feel when you walk on them with bare feet. I used to always notice the feeling of the carpet on my feet, and now I never do. Maybe I've just gotten used to it - or maybe I've just stopped paying attention. I used to always get really excited about bringing in the mail, too, and I used to love the way a binder looks when it's full. But now the mail isn't as exciting anymore, and binders full of work that I actually worked on are just not as cool as the sparkly ones Lizzie McGuire kept in her middle school locker. I sort of miss all that, though - the way something feels when it's new, when you haven't gotten used to it yet, when the shine hasn't warn off. Junior year was shiny for a month or so, way back when.

A few weeks ago I heard this crash at my window and I looked out and there was this really giant black bird (I suppose it was a crow) attempting to catch a squirrel. The squirrel climbed up into the little shaky tree right by my window and the crow landed on a higher branch on another tree. And then all of a sudden the squirrel jumped down and started to run across the street, and the crow swooped down and tried to catch it in its claws. As far as I know, the squirrel got away, but it was sort of traumatizing to watch anyway.

Anyhow this is only relevant because today we were learning about art installations in my art history class. (I'm always afraid that if I talk about art on here someone will google it and find this and question my authority, of which I have none, or my sanity, of which I have a small amount.) One artist, Jannis Kounellis, took twelve horses and tied them up in this enclosed area, and that was his art. The point was that people questioned it - they'd come and stand and look at these horses tied to the walls and smell the manure, all the while thinking, this is art? That was his whole point. But the entire time the slide was up, and the entire time we were talking about the woman who put the peacocks in the room with the billowing sheet hanging from the ceiling, all I could think was, did they feed the horses? Or were they just tied to the walls, helpless and hungry, for two weeks, until Jannis came and took them away?

Wear your real eyes

I put the real blog post at the end of the survey just to annoy you, and my future self.

Spell your name with songs.
N - New Shoes, Paolo Nutini
A - Absolutely (Story of a Girl), Nine Days
T - Tangled Up in Me, Skye Sweetnam
A - Always Where I Need to Be, The Kooks
S - She Is, The Fray
H - Hey Now, Augustana
A - Around the Bend, Greg Laswell

HONESTY SECTION
2. Honestly, whats on your mind? Survey shower pie sleep.
3. Honestly, what are you doing right now? Watching the gmail window flash "Michael says..."
6. Honestly, have you done something bad today? No.
8. Honestly, who is the last person you talked to on the phone? Uh.
9. Honestly, are you jealous of someone right now? No.
10. Honestly, what makes you mad most of the time? Well.
11. Honestly, do you bite your nails? Yes.
12. Honestly, have you had an eating disorder? No.
13. Honestly, do you want to see someone this very moment? Yes.
14. Honestly, are you keeping a big secret now? Secrets cause more trouble than they're worth. Evasive answer.
15. Honestly, do you have a friend you don’t actually like? Story of my life. I hate that expression.
17. Honestly, are you in denial? Not that I'm aware of.
18. Honestly, do you get up in the middle of the night and eat? No. Do people do that?
19. Honestly, do you like anyone? I suppose.
20. Honestly, does anyone like you? I have no idea.

I deleted all the stupid parts of that survey. But it was already misnumbered.

Today my mom, my dad, and I had dinner - takeout Marie Callendar's - together. My sister was at religious school, so her seat at the table was empty, but honestly I don't know how much of a difference that made. It was like dinner is every night - totally silent unless I make an effort to talk about something, or my mom brings something up that involves my father's input and he shushes her because he cares about what's on tv. But tonight "House Hunters" was on, and he can't make a case for needing quiet while watching that. Anyhow, it's just such a strange environment. Sometimes I think my parents are way too involved in my life - and other times I just want them to want to hear what I have to say.

Which these days, doesn't seem to be a lot. Although - this is sort of irrelevant - I've realized that I study best when I teach something to someone else. The more I talk about Impressionist art, the better I know it. When I ask my mom for help with my math homework and end up teaching her how to do it, I understand it better myself. Too bad there aren't people who want to sit around and listen to me talk about US and art history all day. Maybe I should make an educational video series called, "attempt to pay attention to Natasha as she rambles about stuff no one but she cares about!" The first video will be on Monet, cause he's my favorite, and then I'll move on to German Expressionism, and then Neo-Classical and such because I don't like it very much.

I wish I could doodle cute doodles. Maybe this summer I'll teach myself calligraphy... along with guitar and exercising and disposable camera photography and the lineage of Queen Elizabeth I. Wow, it's almost summer. Almost my birthday. Almost senior year. Those were out of order.

I was in an English classroom for the SAT II on Saturday and the teacher had a poster of the Elizabeth's lineage on the wall. Maybe I'll have one of my own someday.

Note to self: wear a sweater tomorrow. Even if it's 80 degrees outside. You're always freezing, remember?

They got caught up in your talent show

This is an extremely pointless survey. Just a warning.

LAYER 1: ON THE OUTSIDE.
Name: Natasha
Birth Date: June 14
Current Location: My room
Hair Color: Brown
Righty/Lefty: Righty

LAYER 2: ON THE INSIDE.
Your fear: Right now - tomorrow's history final.
Goals you’d like to achieve: Currently - pass my AP exams.

LAYER 3: YESTERDAY, TODAY, TOMORROW.
Your thoughts first waking up: Ajklnfl;sandfd
Your best physical feature: I hate questions like this.
Your bed time: Between 10 and 11 on weeknights.
Your most missed memory: Once Upon A Forest

LAYER 4: YOUR PICK.
Pepsi or Coke: Neither.
McDonald’s or Burger King: Neither.
Single or Group Dates: I don't know if I care either way.
Adidas or Nike: Neither.
Chocolate or Vanilla: A bit of both.
Cappuccino or Coffee: Caffeine makes me jittery. (See: me, second and third period, post-midol.)

LAYER 5: DO YOU.
Smoke: Course not.
Cuss: Infrequently.
Take showers: Yes.
Have a crush: I suppose.
Like(d) school: Sometimes and rarely.

Believe in yourself: Occasionally.
Believe what goes around comes around: Not at all.
Believe everything happens for a reason: Not at all.
Think you’re a health freak: Unfortunately, not at all.

LAYER 6: IN THE PAST MONTH.
Gone to the mall: Yes.
Been on stage: No.
Eaten sushi: No.
Been hurt: Yes.
Dyed your hair: No. Maybe after the AP tests.

LAYER 7: HAVE YOU EVER.
Played a stripping game: Nope.
Kissed the same sex: Nope.
Got beaten up: Nope.
Changed who you were to fit in:Unfortunately.

LAYER 8: GETTING OLD.
Age you’re hoping to be married by: Thirty-five. Does that sound reasonable.
Number of kids you’re planning on having: Two.

LAYER 9: IN A GIRL/GUY.
Best eye color: I don't care.
Best hair color: Natural.
Short or long hair: Not too long, not too short.
Fat or fit: This is a stupid question.
Looks or personality: This is also a stupid question.
Fun or serious: Balanced.

LAYER 10: WHAT WERE YOU DOING.
1 MINUTE AGO: Filling out this survey.
1 HOUR AGO: Homework.
1 WEEK AGO: Homework.
1 YEAR AGO: I can actually check this via blog post... Wait, no I can't. I didn't blog last May 3. I was probably studying or watching Hannah Montana or something.

LAYER 11: FINISH THE SENTENCE.
I FEEL: Stressed but strangely calm.
I HATE: Too much.
I HIDE: Too much.
I NEED: Sleep.
I LOVE: Free music, chocolate chip pancakes, days off from school, sleeping in, concert tickets.

Today was the sort of day during which I pondered the existence of the word "awfully" and its true definition, did a lot of homework, organized my French binder, smiled at a really cheesy passage of prose on tumblr, tried to think of a song that reminds me of Lax and couldn't, and wrote a really long run-on sentence with too many verbs and not enough subjects.

We reflect on miscommunications and misunderstandings

"Morality, like art, means drawing a line someplace."

- Oscar Wilde

It's supposed to be warm tomorrow. Seventy-seven degrees. I wonder if it really will be. Weather.com has been lying to me a lot lately, not unlike teachers who say I know more than I think I know and parents who say there's plenty of food in the fridge.

I'm not ready for this week, not at all. I hate tests. I think that anything that forces you to compare yourself to others should be permanently eliminated. It's not healthy.

I don't like blogging with a center alignment because it doesn't match the title of the post, but I like blogging with a center alignment because it looks better with the pictures. I make things way too complicated - much like my history teacher.

This evening I moved the part in my hair to the opposite side of my head, and now I feel totally off-balance. Like I'm about to tip over or fall down. That's how I felt when I was at the top of the Eiffel Tower - off-kilter. And I think I've messed up the placement of my natural highlights. Who knows what color my hair is now.

It needs to be summer already.

She's been building up a castle

My friends are absolutely gorgeous.

Every single one of them.

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