Brrr. Holy Woolen Socks, Batman!

Well, that last lil' post was an a failure, if not epic, at least of rather sizeable proportions. I've been a wicked little lass and not posted in over two months. I suppose, at best, my life is humdrum and there is therefore not much to post. And I don't think anyone even reads this anymore. [siiihihihigh.] I suppose there have been a few notable developments in my life as of December eleventh. Mostly they involve me writing songs and coloring with crayons. Crayons, I tell you. Thay are quite possibly the medium of the gods. Wonderful, waxy sticks of color. Also, silly teenaged waffle-head that I am, I am no longer "attached" to Mr. Massachusetts. This is alright, though, because he and I are still wonderful, loving, long-distance buddies. And, silly teenaged waffle-head that I am, I have another person to attach myself to. He does not live in Massachusetts. This is good. Not, of course, that I feel the need to constantly be attached to someone. No, quite the contary, I enjoy floating around, unharnessed, just as much as the next free spirit. This just happens to be the path Mr. Kismet threw me onto. It happens to be a very nice path, quite sunshiny and butterfly-filled, so I shan't complain. In other news, I have not had a full week of schooling in quite some time now. I'm thinking of sending the Winter a thank-you note. My song/poem writing has had a loverly kickstart, thanks to the wonderful musical talents of my dear friend/person-to-be-attached-to, Colin. You all who still read this [anyone? anyone out there? Hellooo? *echo! echo!*] ought to remember my poem from a while back that started out "outside is grey and I am orange, a starfish in the sea...". Below is the link, or possibly the video [provided my computer decides to cooperate], of the fresh-off-the-mill song version of it, as performed by Mr. Colin himself. I fear I can't take credit for the music part of it. That was all him. Enjoy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m3V7ibQd7HE

Oh, computer.
On an unrelated note: the lead singer for Music Go Music is delightfully, endearingly awkward. I want to be like her.

YOUR MISSION:

For you Mystery Googlers out there who recieved my summons, your mission is as follows: Buy a sheet of stickers, preferably glow in teh dark. Hand them out to people at your local subway station, train station, park, whatever, along with a reminder to care for the earth and feed the dinosaurs. Then post the most interesting reaction you get from any one of these people on mylifeisaverage.com, as well as on a comment to this page. Or email me at artismylife118@yahoo.com to tell me about it. If you choose to accept, you will be my new friend and an awesome person. If you do not, then you must pass your mission on to another. Best of luck, comrade.

Play-Doh dinosaurs.

'Lo there, comrades.
My life has been a bucket o' busy of late. Firstly, I got a part in my school's fall play, which, while very very very fun, has sucked me dry of any free time. For those of you who have heard of it, the play is called "Rumors", by Neil Simon, and is about 4 couples who go to another couple's dinner party, only to find the hostess MIA, and the host with a bullet hole in his ear-lobe. They try to figure out what happened, and various antics and shenanigans ensue. I play Claire, the boring, gossipy upper-class socialite. Fun stuff, man.
Secondly, I've been recruited into the marching band. I play the gong, crash cymbals, and occasionally the snare drum. It's very fun, except for the fact that I am small and weak and almost incapable of handling large pieces of metal. My hands really hurt, but it's still very fun. Last week was my first competition.
It did not go well.
Not only did I totally blank on the entire first movement, I dropped the gong as I was rolling it to the playing field.
Now, here's a little multiple choice...
If you are rolling a gong down a hill and hit a rut and it begins to tip over, do you...?
a] Hold on to it tightly and calmly try to keep it from falling
b] Yell for someone to help you keep the gong from falling
c] Curse as loudly and explicitly as you can and let the gong fall, resulting in an ear-splitting crash that the whole band can hear

Obviously, the answer in this situation is C...

Fun stuff. Another thing to add to my EPIC FAIL list.

On another note, this morning I heard the following conversation:
Bleach-blond scene boy #1: "You know, you really don't look much like a guy.
BBSB #2: "Really? I always thought I had a great fashion sense..."
BBSB #1: "Well, the more you start to look like a Japanese girl, the less I can pay attention to your fashion sense."

It made me really happy.

Quails, glorious quails

My quails!

From top to bottom: Sufjan, Antoinette, Maude, and Flip [with Antoinette stealing a spot in the background.]

I just love how each of them has their own personality. Sufjan is the born leader, he always is pushing the others around and sleeps in the middle of the little nest they've consructed. Antoinette like to jump on things, and is the most trusting. Maude is the most easily scared, and likes to sit in their little house thing. She also likes to sit in the feed dish, much to the chagrin of the others. She flies the most. Flip is kind of passive and makes the lowest-pitched sounds of all of them. He really likes carrots, and the others don't.

Go to the buildings that tower above us, go to the stages and hope that they love us.

Here's a song I just unearthed from my archives, thought I'd share it.

"An Hour Left on the Highway"

1-- Give me Italian food and a cardiac stent
A Canadian dime to give our homeless kin
A good pair of shoes and a trenchcoat and sunglasses too
Beat up braincells and money to be spent
Marginally scary but I'm glad we went
Seeing blazing flares and fires to my left and right
And here we are, driving ourselves into the night

Ref-- And here we go across the world
The neon lightbulbs spin and twirl
My head is aching and I've been waiting
For a mocha and a place to focus
Screaming voices and endless choices
Laughter and disaster and inevitable noises
It's all cause we have no time to stay
And there's still an hour left on the highway

2-- Go to the buildings that tower above us
Go to the stage and hope they love us
Walk the gauntlet and look up into a hole
See the Skyway glowing yellow and red
See the steel and fiberglass mess with your head
Give the toll booth girl in the white gloves a five dollar bill
And when the batteries die, hope you have the memories still

Bridge-- And then your lipstick bleeds and the music dies
And your fantasy fades and the babies cry
And you take off your glasses and you finally see
That you have to pay to have reality
And the road gets bumpy and you bite your toungue
And you wait for tomorrow but it never comes
And through all this you hope and pray
That you'll make it through this hour left on the highway.

This came from an excruciatingly tiring car ride with my family as we traveled home from Chicago. I wrote it in the car at around midnight by the light of a Nintendo DS in an old sketchbook to the tune of screming 5 year olds.
Such fun.

How long, how long must we sing this song?

I've become increasingly frustrated with all the complainers in my life. Recently, a "friend" was whining to me about how her parents hate her because of the way she dresses, how she'll subsequently disobey everything her parents tell her to do, how she doesn't believe in God because God doesn't believe in her, and oh! How no one loves her [she's gleaned this assessment from the fact that she can't keep a relationship going for more than a few months]. And recently, on the glorious Facebook, this particular girl posted a note that was a list of things that one could own/have done to see if you were "Ghetto", "Average Teen", "Upper Class", or "Snobbish Rich Kid". Her score of things was a 35, I believe, falling into the "Average Teen" category. When I filled this list out, I got a 19, and was therefore classefied as "Ghetto". Now, I am not poor, nor am I disadvantaged, I just haven't been on cruises or met a celebrity or owned my own computer/TV/Pool.
My main point is, this girl really has no right to complain about her life when she isn't bad off at all in comparison to many others. I doubt HIGHLY that her parents actually hate her for her copious amounts of eyeliner or snakebite peircings, and it wouldn't kill her to change some stuff so her parents didn't "Hate" her. If she was truly concerned that her parents hated her, she would change. It took everything I had to not roll my eyes and laugh in her face when she announced her resolute desicion to rebel against her parents, because that's jsut so typically, disgustingly immature. Her poor, poor parents. Her philosophy of "God doesn't believe in me" just angered me. I'm not terribly religious, but I was raised Catholic and I know my fair share of theology. Who is she to accuse God of not caring about her? Why is she so important that she's the ONLY one who God doesn't love? And how is she to know what God thinks of her? Heck, if she claims to not believe in the existence of God, how can she say God doesn't believe in her? And no one LOVES her? Okay, so you can't keep a boyfriend. That doesn't mean no one LOVES you. Eat some ice cream, watch a romantic comedy, and get over it!
It just bothers me.
People need to be grateful for what they have and stop making such far-fetched cries for ill-deserved attention.
While I realize that this girl may be very maladjusted, that does not excuse her from being obnoxious about it.
Okay. Now I'M bordering on being a complainer, so I'll jsut stop there.
Arrivederci.

Tangerine trees and marmalade skies.

As I said previously, I've re-made this here bloggy blog in an effort to "grow up" a wee bit. Also in an effort to not have a seizure every time I blogged.
Here I am, sitting in English 11 AP, doing basically nothing having finished penning my memoirs. Around me are the sounds of innumerable restless voices. I am twirling in my spinny chair and doodling pictures of stars on the back of the quiz we just got passed back.
For lunch I had cold veggie pizza and an apple that looked like it had been touched up with cheap lipstick.
I think I have the flu.
I am currently eating one of those lifesaver mints that sparks when you bite it really hard. That always worried me a little, because food is not supposed to light up [in my humble opinion.]
I am listening to two girls talking about the upcoming swim season, several boys in the back loudly discussing how awesome some band from 1978 is, and the mechanical hum of the computer.
We got our school pictures back today, and I look surprisingly tolerable, except for some random janked up curl sticking up off my head.
I'm having guilt issues because I bought a plastic bottle of water today.
I still have a bucket load of Music Theory homework to do.
There is little more to report.