My Smelly Laundry

Wow, well I guess technically this is the first post I wrote today, but it still feels like yesterday, being only about 12:05am and all.

Let's get to the point. No more funny, spazzy things. This is ugly and smelly. Deal.

My blog is not serious. At least, it hasn't been in recent days. Something about that bothers me. My friends (with the exception of Tomi) all have pretty serious blogs. They feature photos they took and the things they deal with. For reals. I sit around, joking, entertaining my sometimes less than lateral (yes, I just finished The Last Days) thinking.

So I admit it, I care what they think. I do. They're my friends, it's a healthy thing to do. But blogging seems to put the worst me out in the limelight for judging. I'm selfish and needy. I want to loved and adored constantly. It's who I am. But generally I was pretty good at hiding that me. At least, I think I was.

But blogging has made me see myself in a clearer light. For instance, I was so incredibly disillusioned by my spectacularly unspectacular not-date with Richard that I missed the point of a friend's message. She was hurting and I was selfish and unseeing. I feel stupid, with all my smelly faults hanging out for all to see.

So I apologize. To any and everyone to whom I was less than gracious to. I apologize for the time that I monopolized and the selfish stories I told. I'm sorry for being a flake when you needed me. I'm a sucky, clingy, self-absorbed friend. I should burned at the stake.

And still, do you see! Me! ...blah. I hate the word 'me' so much right now. Sometimes I wish this 'me' person would shut up.

Sometimes...

I didn't think I hated any words. I don't even really hate swears all that much. With some words moderation is key. Swears happen to fall into this category. But, there is one word that I absolutely loathe.

Ointment.

Ew.

It just sounds like pussing, inflamed nastieness, doesn't it?

...Sounds kind of naughty, too. And not in the good way.

Sometimes I contemplate making these posts weepy and teen girly. Then I remember that I have a clever, witty, and nonexistent reputation to maintain.

Well, Looks Like I'm Screwed

It is hereditary.

...Well, it would explain a lot.

A Little Rambling...

Okay, so I've been in a rambling mood as of late. It started with a certain someone's Facebook picture, then quickly escalated. I can't say exactly why I feel the need to rant and ramble, but those of you who read this will see the brunt of this storm.

Firstly, where do guys get off calling girls confusing? I mean, not that guys are all that hard to figure out, but all in you guys are total teases. Guys are always like, "Haha! I'mma tickle yooouuu!" Followed by very flirty and slightly inappropriate physical contact. Then they'll go out with another girl and still tickle you (This has never happened to me, I'm making this up as I go). I know girls are sneaky and really frustrating, but come on. At least we know what we are. You guys act all oblivious...but I'm onto you. I am onto you.

Secondly, wouldn't it be really creepy (but in the long run slightly funny, and a really great story) if some guy tried to hit on you, but told you he had herpes and followed up that revelation with the words, "I like to spread my love around, baby?". I don't why that thought popped into my mind, but it did.

Actually, I just lied. I do know why, but I'm not gonna tell you.

Finally (and this is the big one), I hate faceless, voiceless communication. That sounds hypocritcal I guess, because after all this is a blog. But this blog, as said a while back, is for me and not you. Anyway, back to the point. Things like IM and texting and MySpace really bother me. I do have a Facebook, I won't lie. But it's causing a lot of problems for me.

You see, I got a Facebook because I wanted to keep in contact with my friends while I'm away at school. I know you're thinking, "Then why not just call them?". Well, I hate phones. I hate calling people, I hate talking on them...It's a problem. Hence, the Facebook seemed like a good idea. But now I see it is even worse than my dreaded foe, Mr. Telephone. Mr. Facebook (and his cousins Instant Messenger and Email), have really messed with my whole mindset.

The problem lies in the fact that these forms of communication eliminate many of the crucial variables of human contact. For instance, I am highly dependent upon facial expression and body language to let me know how a person is feeling. Another reason I hate phones. My hand movements are important to my storytelling and I feel that people don't get the full effect over telephone or other non-face-to-face conversations. This irks me.

But you know what really irks me? The fact that Mr. Facebook and all his relations have cut out the most important variable of human communication: voice. Voiceless words (when not in literature form) frighten me. I never know what exactly a person is saying. Do they mean it maliciously? Sarcastically? Sweetly? The endless possibilities are what get me. In my head most people sound angry or annoyed. This is probably because I have this fear that people only pretend to like me, but are secretely plotting my demise.

I'm not kidding. Unless I really trust the person, I always feel like they're playing with me. Only liking me when it's convenient. So, when someone replies to my somewhat scattered, spastic comments with a three word response I freaks me out. A lot.

...Do you know if paranoid schizophrenia is hereditary?

Disconnect: The Exeter Bubble

I feel stupid. While I no longer call myself a diehard Fall Out Boy fan, I was devastated when I learned that they had released a new album without my knowledge. Anyone who's known me at any point from 5th grade to the middle of 7th knows that FOB was my one and only for a loooooong time. I loved them. Loved them. Still do, actually. But that's not really what I'm here to talk about tonight.

Instead, I think I will allow this to present an example of the selective permeability of the Phillips Exeter Academy bubble.

The PEA bubble is phenemenom which can be described after living there for only about a month. Often very few things will find their way into our school lives. It's not that we're sheltered. Quite the opposite, actually. It's simply that Exeter has so much to offer that you, well, forget. Plus, we are in the middle of nowhere. I think that helps a considerable amount.

In Exeter, you're so preoccupied with the next math test or club meeting or what have you, that the world outside simply dissolves. This goes for things beyond the media, as well. There are lot of things that go unnoticed at Exeter, that are quite contreversial in the "reall world". For instance, it's fairly normal for me to see Curtis and Brendan share a quick peck during a free moment. Here, back home, it's considered taboo. In a way, that makes me sad.

I go through culture shock everytime I come home, and everytime I go back to school. Things are so disconnected at Exeter, and yet it seems that in some ways Exeter is a little ahead of the rest of the world. I don't really understand that, but I've got a good four years to figure it out.

Oh, one more thing:

Okay, you're lying if this isn't the most adorable thing you've ever see.

Just wanted to end on a light note... ;)

Giddy

It was not a date.

It was not a date.

So why can't I stop smiling?

I wish I could answer this question and I wish I could care about whether or not he reads this, but I cannot do either. I have experienced Evening Prayer (EP) with a sweet, beautiful and I cannot help but be happy.

Before, I used to wonder how girls could get so giggly over boys, but now...God, now I understand! There must some sort gland within the female abdominal area that produces pink bubbles. When the pink bubbles build up (due to excess romantic emotion) they turn into giggles! This is the only possible explaination.

Sorry this wasn't as deep, but this is about me writing what I feel, not what you want to read.

I've A Paper Cut and Radiohead...Pity Party Anyone?

Why is he so perfect?

Why, why, why, why, why?

In A New Light

I don't like my old posts. They sound whiney and pathetic. I wish they weren't there. I wish people coudln't see how exceedingly melodramtic I am in my self-expression. Indeed, I've come to quite strongly dislike such writings. I think that people such as myself will often think that their writings are better because of the descriptions. Well, let me tell you something: Charlotte Bronte was descriptive. John Steinbeck was descriptive. Shakespeare was descriptive. What I have written is verbose and silly.

To be quite honest, I never realized how silly I sounded until I heard other people read similar writings. I think we are so caught up in trying to make some profound statement that we forget the point of writing. This is a lesson I have learned and even still must continue to learn. I would advise that you take the time to learn it as well.

Now that's settled, I've written a couple poems. Enjoy.

Rodeo Drive
I like your words.
They look so pretty, sitting soft and sweet within the glass display.
The saleswoman beckons me inside,
Inviting me to try them on.
They feel so comfortable,
Loving, warm and soft.
Somehow I knew they would.
But then I look in the mirror and see they don’t quite fit,
And I am reminded that I can’t afford them anyway.

Wishful Thinking
She wishes he knew.
God, she wishes he knew.
When he walked into town,
A storm began to brew.
She liked his eyes, his lips, his spark.
Liked his smile,
And the sound of his heart.
But the storm waits for none.
Away he was blown.
Now she misses the sun,
And God, she wishes he knew.
Oh, how she wishes he knew.

Frustration

Why are the majority of the kids who are worth knowing always older than me? This isn't to say that I don't love my friends that are the same age. I just happen to fond of people in higher grades of schooling. For instance, camp staff. These are easily some of the coolest people I've ever met. Only problem is that they're 18+ years in age, making it rather awkward when I would rather hang out with them then kids my own age.

I feel this will be my lot in life, though. I will forever be attracted to older people. It's not so much that they are indeed older, but the simple fact that my brain seems to be closer to their level of thought and communication than many of the people I associate with. There have actually been instances in which I'll say to myself, "Gosh...if [insert older person's name] were here, they would get it."

I suppose I sound rather conceited at this moment, and I apologize for that. But I can't help it that I love soaking up the wisdom that is equal to or transcends my own. Let's face it, older is often equated with cooler. It's a well known fact of life.

Sad part? I don't think they know how cool they are, or how much they mean to me. These people are what I want to be like when I'm their age. They are the model. I wish I wasn't so readily subject to people's influence, but I am.

Older people validate me, give me peace of  mind with their kind words of recognition. I'm a sucker for it.

I should've been born about 8 years ago...

This is so frustrating...!

Surrealness Pt.1

John Green.
Talked to me.
ON THE PHONE!
I think this qualifies for the first of my "Surrealness" series, don't you? There will be more to come, seeing as my life seems to filled with limitless opportunities for such occurences. Hmm, not much to add to this...

I love you guys. You could make rainbows cry skittles 'cause you're so amazing. Yes, I stole that from one of my Ficlets, but it's more true now than it was when I originally wrote it.

Love, love, love, love you guys! Don't forget that, okay?

Time For Life-Coaching With India...Aren't You Just Thrilled?

Okay, so I feel better. I think the little sob-fest I had over the weekend really lightened the load on my heart. Plus, Keegs's post (the one about I-love-you's) really inspired me. I truly and firmly believe that if we all said "I love you" to people we truly loved, the world would be a much nicer place to live in.

Some people are turned off by this idea and I can't understand why that is.

Those people obviously don't know how crucial it is to both your own mental, emotional, and spiritual well-being as well as that of the person whom you love. I went around both Facebook and Blogger messaging the people I love. In those messages I told them I love them, and I can only hope their day was brightened because of it. I know it made me feel better.

I challenge you: Go out and tell your loved ones how you feel. Moms and dads don't really count unless you don't normally do that kind of thing with them. But extended family? Friends? They need to hear it. Regardless of whether or not you think they already know, they need to hear it.

That's it. That's my monologue of the day. Rather light considering my previous state of despair, but what can I say? Life is rollercoaster of emotion. You can cry the whole way through and regret ever getting on or you can hop out slightly battered and bruised, but ready for another ride.

So Deep That I Didn't Even Scream

I need something else, would someone please just give me? Hit me, knock me out, and let me go back to sleep. I can laugh all I want inside I still am empty. So deep that it didn't even bleed and catch me...
- "All That I've Got", by The Used

Rotten. That's how I feel right now. Absolutely rotten rotten rotten!

Why can't you come here? Pack up next year and fly out. We'll all be together again, and Exeter will be a better place because it will have people like you. You're all more than smart enough to get in, and it hurts my soul to know this. My days feel empty without you here. I float, wraith-like, pathetically, from group to group. I return always to the same two girls but wish that I didn't because they're not people I thought they were. Lonerdom is looking better than they're company at this point, and at times I relish the solitude from people. Just call me antisocial.

I miss George's witty conversation, and the stuff that Keegan and Amara say that more often than not makes no sense at all. I miss talking music and deep things with Camille, and I miss Harry well...being Harry. I miss Johan's hyperactivity, though I never thought I'd say it. I miss Camille Sheets's sarcasm. I miss your smiles and your laughs, and the little arguments that broke out over nothing at all.

I'm torn between chopping off my hair and pretending to be a boy so that I can go to St. Francis with Harry, setting aside my love for the male species and going to Sacred Heart with Camille, ignoring my dislike of Maranatha to be with Sheets and Blankets and Keegan, or resigning myself to ugly uniforms at La Salle.

No one here gets it. No one here will ever understand me, and know me like you guys do.

I know it's belated, but I'm crying like a baby as I write this. I wish I had told you guys much I loved you before I left. Because I do, I love you guys so so so so much. I can't breathe without you here and it feels like a part of me has been violently ripped away. It was so fast and so deep that I couldn't even scream.

Until now. Inside I'm screaming loud as I can, because it's hurts like crazy when your heart is ripped out.

I Wish I Could Come Up With A Clever Title

Okay, well again the title has little to nothing to do with what I'm actually going to talk about...I just wish that I had a clever name to assign to this post.

Anyway, so news numero un:

I found my in! If you don't get that, it means that I found my way into where I want to be. And where I want to be is friends with Blu. We're calling him Blu for my sake so that if he stumbles upon this...wait. He'll still figure it out...hmmm...we'll call him Blu anyway. He is so called because of the fact that he has blue hair! Blue! Well, it used to be blue. Lately, it's faded to more of a lavender-like color. I assume this is because it's not permanent and because he has really light blond hair which kinda warps the color...I like though (obviously).

So, Blu is pretty much the epitome of cool. He has lime green Andy Warhol sunglasses, and is...amazing, for lack of a better word. He's the head of AFC (Arthouse Film Club), which is pretty much like my Laemmle away from home. We watched this really cool documentary about how gays, lesbians, transgenders, and bisexuals are portrayed in the media and how far they've come. So it got me thinking...we should watch mockumentaries next week and compare! Mind you, I did this with absolutely no intention of gaining recognition from him. I just wanted people to have a good time and maybe stimulate a bit more conversation.

I had it all planned, what we should watch and everything. I emailed him (I know...I was amazed by my willingness to step outside my comfort zone, too...) and he emailed back saying that he liked the idea (yay!), and I then proceeded to play "Love Today" by Mika and do my little happy dance. I sent him my second email with the four movies I chose (Best in Show, Lollilove, Mail Order Wife, and Chalk, in case you were wondering) and waited for his thoughts on the titles.

No email. What I got was better. The next night I went to GSA and he actually came up to me and was like "Hey, India? Are you the one that's been emailing me?" Yes. "Oh my gosh, you're- You're so-Good job, okay? Keep it up."

Yay.

I'm pretty sure we would have talked more, but then the GSA people told us we had to move to the other room to take a picture...and then he had to go. But that little moment of recognition, that moment in which he was speechless...it was magical.

Let's get one thing straight: I do not, I repeat, do not like Blu. He just...I dunno, has the kind of cool vibe that draws me in. I want to be friends with him. That's all. I want him to be my cool, reminds-me-of-my-friends-back-home, senior buddy. Get it?

Good. Now onto big news numero deux:

I saw Spencer (who will receive know codename simply because I can't think of one) in a situation whch awkward for myself. I went with my friend to the Puja room in the basement and waited for her lesson. I knocked on the door (because Katie is wuss and can't do it on her own) and pushed it open. The intstructor kindly asked me to wait just a bit longer as he wanted to finish up the lesson. But not before I got an eyeful of Spencer's pasty, veerrrryyy naked torso.

Awkward turtles anyone?

So Spencer, who I once viewed as a particularly cool individual (much like Blu) will forever be burned into my brain as the guy I saw in the Puja room without a shirt on. You know what the funny thing is? When he saw me, he looked at me like I was the weird one.

Hmm...that's all for today...Though it was awful long, no? Oh well.

Egg Salad Sandwich

First off, let me begin by saying that I almost mispelled 'sandwich'. That's not really important though. Actually, the title of this post has nothing to do with the fact that I'm eating an egg salad sandwich right now, and everything to do with why I'm eating one.

But before I go into that, you must first understand that my school is strange. For one, I have classes on Saturday. I guess it's okay...I mean what would I do? I'm at freaking boarding school so it's not like I'm free to go anywhere. Anyway, there was no class today so I had a "long weekend". Let me tell you, it sucked.

It's Parent's Weekend and since my mom is on the other side of the country she couldn't exactly fly out to say hi. This being the case, I was left alone, the two girls I hang out with went home. It's times like these I wish I had tried harder at making friends rather than just settling for the first people who didn't act like I was invisible.

Anyway, I spent the better part of the day in my room doing homework, only leaving for meals and to watch 21 at 7:00. I then went to the cafe and bought an egg salad sandwich and a bag of chips. I feel like crap. It was too hard for me to sit around and watch everyone else be buddy buddy, so I'm eating in my room.

Sigh...Is it so much to ask that when I try to make a friend out of an aqaintence that they reciprocate the effort? Really? Am I just so weird? I don't think I'm weird. But maybe I'm wrong. Oh well, it seems it can't be helped. Lonerdom isn't so bad, actually. At this point I kind of prefer it to human contact, for the simple reason that all human contact seems to be with creepers (i.e. Evan Linn-- i think that's how you spell his last name...).

This would be a lot easier if people who shared my likes and dislikes weren't seniors and juniors. They obviously don't care about a little frosh such as myself, but they also seem to be the only people who aren't completely shallow.

I miss my cool kids.

{BTW, Island? You guys is the cool kids.}

Trying To Save Piggy Sneed

Junior Studies.



Arguably one of the most frustrating classes here at Exeter. It's not so much academcially challenging as sometimes fun sometimes not. Example?



Well, the fiction excerpts are great, but the little blips about New Hampshire back in yesteryear? Yeah, not so fun. The discussions are wonderful...until Evan opens his mouth. But then again I may be biased. You don't know who Evan is, and I'm not going to tell you. At least not today. That's another post for another time.



No, today we talk about Trying to Save Piggy Sneed by John Irving. This itty bitty short story is easily one of the most depressing I have ever read. It made me cry.



Piggy Sneed is the beginning of a memoir by John Irving, who not-so-coincidently grew up in Exeter, NH and attened Phillips Exeter Academy. When he was a small boy, living with his grandmother on Front Street John tormented the mentally challenged garbage collector, Piggy Sneed. Piggy resembled a pig in many ways. One, he smelled. Bad. Apparently he lived in the barn with his pigs. There was no barnhouse, just the barn. Two, he couldn't talk. Instead he snorted and grunted and squealed. Not on pupose, of course. The mental retardation and lack of human companionship had something to do with it I imagine.

Anyway, so little John and his neighborhood buddies (the Front Street Kids) tormented Piggy every chance they got, frightening the living bejeezers out of him. However, John's ever polite grandmother was never anything but kind to Piggy, going so far as to compliment the pigs he brought with him on his trash run. That the was enough to make my heart bleed for Piggy.

But it didn't stop there. Oh no, it got worse.

John ends up at PEA (Phillips Exeter Academy) and volunteers for the Stratham volunteer fire department. Now, understand that Exeter itself is a pretty small town. But if Exeter is small, then Stratham is rustic beyond all hopes of redemption. This is also where Piggy Sneed lives.

One night, the Sneed barn goes up in flames. The smell of burning pig feces, roasting pig, and charred wood infiltrate the night. In that time, there wasn't much to do about the fire but let it burn out. Eventually the snow below it would put it out.

John spun a bit of fiction about how Piggy and his pigs must've hauled out of town and left the barn and the people of NH for good. That was all good and well...until they found Piggy and his only real friends charred to crips amid the wreckage of the barn. By this time I was bawling.

How on Earth can anyone be so cruel to the mentally retarded? Why did Piggy have to die? Why?

I don't know why it hurt so deep, maybe it has something to do with the fact that my grandmother had mental problems of her own. I'm used to these kinds of people and I can't understand when people put them down.

Even now, I must push down tears of both pain and anger. Piggy Sneed made my heart bleed and I don't know why. But God, I wish I could do something about it.

Glee Club and Barnacles

If you couldn't already tell by the title, I'm in somewhat of a good mood today. Why? Well, let me give you a run down on what's happened since the last post:

1)I made some friends. Katie and Ana are womderful. And I've met two other girls called Sam and Gina. I lurver them and am slightly depressed that none of the girls I've bonded with are in my dorm. Not that I don't like my dormies. No, not at all! They're all really great girls and I do my best to say hello ane be warm whenever I see them. The fact of the matter is that we have little to nothing in common and I feel that if we ever tried to go beyond a simple salutation the conversation would go south pretty quickly.

2) I now have Kurt Cobain's lovely voice saved to my computer and can listen to him should it strike my fancy.

3) CUTE BOYS. Yeah, this one's a bit shallow, but if you saw some of the boys in my school, you'd give them their own number as well.

4) Barnacles. Okay, so yesterday I had Bio and guess what we shoved under our sterescopes? That's right, barnacles! Did you know the little buggers are alive? Well, under a 'scope you can see them open and close their little shells and throw out their feathery appendages to catch food. The animal kingdom is glorious, no?

5) I'm learning French. Bien, oui?

6) GLEE CLUB! I have just joined Glee Club and could not be happier! Something about hearing all those voices come together...It just sooo inspiring. And though I've barely talked to him, I absolutely adore my director, Mr. Turner. He talked me into doing it even though I barely read notes and understand like zero muscial theory.

So, I imagine anyone who's reaading this might think "Glee Club? WTF you geek!" Well, those people don't understand the beauty and comraderie that comes from lifting your voice with a multitude. I felt like that was were I belonged...Not out of place one bit, which is odd since, again, I can't read music.

Some people get called to the clergy...some to humanitarianism...me?
I got called to Glee Club.

"It doesn't need to be right, it just needs to be beautiful."
-- Mr. Turner

New School

Hmm...so here I am, Phillips Exeter: Where the best of the best go to be better. I wanted it, I wanted it sooo bad. But now? Well, it's lovely and all but the friends thing is a little discouraging.

Day One (for me at least) I hung out with these two chicks in my dorm. We'll call them Laura and Ashley for anonymity's sake. It was cool, I guess...I mostly talked to Ashley. But something was off. Laura didn't quite seem to enjoy my presence and their was a tangible tensity in the air.

Today, I found better people. Today I met Katie in a seminar and in the next one met her roommate, Ana. I like these girls...as far as I can tell, they like me too.

Anyway, I went to this barbeque thing for dinner, but couldn't find my new friends. I spotted Laura with a group of people and decided to try my chances with her. When I asked her casually why I hadn't seen her all day, she calously replied, "Class and stuff" before dimissing me from her circle of social butterflies.

So, being extremely self-conscious, I grabbed some food and walked over to a wall where I sat in boredom as the happy people a few feet away hugged and joked and pretty much just spewed a fountain of bliss. I must admit, I was a bit jealous.

Luckily, just as I was about to leave I found Ana doing some sort of Bingo/Scavenger hunt thing and spent sometime with her. I also found out that where the bookstore is (crap...first day of class tomorrow...i need to get those...) and then proceeded to my dorm, where I seem to be bereft of a kindred spirit.

Anyway, while I'm psyched for school, the whole making friends bit is a little foreign to me. People back home seem to think I'll make friends easy squeezy lemon peezy, but that's not the case. Apparently I'm not nearly as magnetic as I thought I was. I can't help it if I don't like walking up to people and just saying "hi!!!" out of blue...sue me.

Also..haha, little side note: Facebook can ruin otherwise wonderful first meetings. For example: I know a whole bunch of people on FB and I figured I'd make friends faster that way...WRONG! It just made my first meeting with people that much more awkward. I even saw a few older kids I added, but decided against talking to them because 1) Um..the awkwardness of introducing yourself like this: Hey! I know you! You're on Facebook, right? Yeah...I added you but I don't we really talk. Me? Oh, yeah I'm India...you know me, right? 2) Because they were already talking to people they've been knowing for much longer than me and that would sufficiently awkward enough to last me lifetime.


The Hatter

Oh, and PS: There's a guy who's either a Prep or a Lower who looks like Tom Mcclean (frezned on youtube for those who don't know) and I've decided to tell him so tomorrow...if I can find him and don't lose my nerve, that is!

Of Flowers and Oak Leaves

Camp.

Camp camp camp camp camp camp camp!

C
A
M
P!

C.A.M.P!

I've got camp on the brain, can you tell?

So what if camp happened over a month ago? I've still got Emerald Cove fever pulsing through my veins and I've got no intention of bleeding it out. I mean, who in their right mind would want to?

This all might sound a little crazy, but then again camp (at least my camp) isn't exactly for the sane. I mean, once you've been to YSSC, things like seeing Biz jump-rope on a fax machine seem pretty normal.

And I think that's my problem.

Camp is so exciting and so incredibly otherworldly, that after those brilliant two weeks are over and you return to the mundane routines of your everyday life, you immediately begin to feel withdrawal. Depression in unavoidable in my case, and suddenly my friends here at home don't even begin to compare those I have at camp. Not to mention the staff.

Oh, the staff! How I envy them. While we get a measly twelve days, they get the whole summer of Flower Sundays, Oak Leaf Mondays, Lake Activities, and Baked Oatmeal! That may not sound like much to you, but I find all of these things incredibly enticing.

I think of that list, though, my favorites are Flower Sunday and Oak Leaf Monday (a new addition). Allow me to explain:

You see, these days aren't solely devoted to flowers and oak leaves, although I wish they were. No, on these days we take a certain amount of time to give each other compliments. Everyone begins with one flower and every time you give someone a compliment, you give them your flower or oak leaf. Oak Leaf Monday is almost exactly the same, except for the obvious: you give leaves instead of flowers.

Now, I don't enjoy these days for same reason that others do. Some would assume I enjoy them because I get to hear people tell me how great I am. While I enjoy a compliment just as the next, I'd much rather give one. Too many compliments at once can overwhelm me, and often make me feel embarrassed. I always imagine I come off as somewhat of a snob when I receive commendation. People will commend me for one thong or another, and all I can say is a shy 'thank you...'. People seem to look at me and wonder why I don't say more, but the simple truth is that I'm so flabbergasted by their compliment that I don't know what else to say!

It is for this reason that I enjoy these events. I take pride when at the end I can say, "I gave all my flowers away." I love when I am left with no flowers, not that I never receive any, mind you. This year I received several more than usual. I also challenged myself and gave more than usual. The look on someone's face when I give them a flower is the only thanks I need.

Though I took pride in the joy I was able to spread, there were two compliments in particular that made my session, possibly even my entire year.

The first was when Cobalt gave me a flower (I'd already given him one of mine) and told me he was looking forward to my poetry. Wow! As a writer, that's one of the most encouraging things to hear, especially from someone much older. And, as noted in previous posts, I frequently feel my work is inadequate. Much love to Cobalt for making my day!

The second came from a man we like to call The Byzantine Empire (Biz-- hmm...how come we don't spell it Byz? Just a thought...) on Oak Leaf Monday. That night, Biz told me that he wanted to know me when I get older, that he wanted to be able to say "I know India", because he says I'm going places. Again, wow! Now, twice in two days? That's God working right there. I have a feeling that when I find myself doubting my abilities as a writer, I will look back on those two moments and say "Well Cobalt likes my poems" or "Biz said I was going places".

Maybe this all too much. Maybe I'm reading too far into this, but can you blame me? These guys have about ten years over me and they said I've got something special. You'd be high as a kite, too!

I'll be honest, it feels a little weird writing about Biz and Cobalt. And no doubt someone will stumble upon this and label it as nothing more than silly camper's crush. I assure you, it us not. Not even close. I think I've pretty much outgrown that part of camp...Pretty much.

But now I feel my awfully long story must draw to end.
I'm half sick of these ramblings, my lover, my friend.
-- Me

Twilight: A Mixed Bag

Okay, so recently (about five minutes ago) I read a blog on Xanga in which a young woman deatiled her reasons for hating Twilight. While I am not the rabid, Edward Cullen obsessed fan girl (I'm for team Jacob) that most usually associate with the series, neither am I immune to the bashing of this book.

While the girl had some good points, I felt she was a little harsh for having not even finished the book. I'll admit that Stephenie Meyer is not the best writer, not even coming close to modern geniuses like Libba Bray, Scott Westerfeld, and J.K. Rowling. I'll also admit that the relationship between Bella and Edward sickens me just a little bit (I shall elaborate later). But one thing I really can't stand is book bashing. While I feel that everyone is entitled to their opinion, I don't think it right for someone to state something as fact rather than what it is...just an opinion. Think about it, if you slaved away, working on a novel, attaching yourself to characters, wouldn't you be a just a little bit heartbroken when people tell you that your creation sucks? I would.

Y'know, the thing that disturbed me the most was the way that people decided not to read the book based entirely on one person's opinion. The girl wrote of thinking for yourself and not following the crowd, but then proceeded to tell readers what they should and should not read. Practice what you preach, hon.

But back to Twilight. As I've said before, it's not the best book. But in between waiting for HP7 and the next Holly Black book, it did the job. Honestly, there are much worse vampire books (in my opinion) than Twilight. Sure, reading about how gorgeous Edward is gets a little annoying, and sure Bella's complete lack of self-esteem and extreme naivete makes you want to slap her silly, but all in all I liked it. Although, I don't think I would have lasted this long without Jacob Black, the most gorgeous werewolf boy on the planet.

Anyway, I said all this to say: think for yourselves, people. And please, please stop the book bashing. Malice is not a good look on anyone.

Me and My Writing

Wow...so I guess it's been quite awhile since I last wrote something. Well, me being me I thought that I could be the best blogger in the history of bloggers.

Obviously I am not.

See, my problem is that I lack direction and motivation...or at least I lack the kind of direction and motivation needed to blog more than every few months. How Piscean of me, yes?

And it's not like this has never happened to me before. Take, for instance, my stories on both Quizilla and Ficlets. I'll have these amazingly wonderful ideas, beautiful bursts of creativity that come flowering out of my brain and blossoming from my fingertips, but I am unable to maintain that ardent love of my creation. I become bored with the story, and then tortured by the idea that it's not good enough. Gosh, I miss the days when I could simply pop a squat at my computer and write for hours on end. At that point in my life it was simply about fulfilling my need to make room in my head. I'm older and so is the world. Technology has allowed me and billions of other people to share their love of writing via Internet. Amazing, right?

Wrong.

Now, in addition to my short attention span and worries about my word choice, I have to wonder whether or not people will like it. And whether or not they'll read it, for that matter. I find the latter to be the worse of the two.

So, I said all that to say what? Well, essentially to say that I'm lazy and truly sorry to anyone who might have stumbled upon this rather poor excuse of a blog. In the future I shall try to be more regular in my updates, not for those of you reading this but for myself. Because, you couldn't care less about what I do. But I've made a promise to myself to less sporadic about certain areas of my life, and my writing happens to be one of them.

So, here's hoping for the less sporadic...and hopefully a post about something a bit more interesting by twelve o' clock tomorrow.

The Rabbit Hole

Ah...the rabbit hole. 'Tis an oft used, and somewhat tiresome phrase. I'm sure there are numerous blogs that go by the same name, many of which are probably more exciting than whatever ramblings I will write here. But this is beside the point.

The point is, everyone has been down a rabbit hole. Personally, I think we're all kind of stuck in a giant rabbit hole; it's called life. Rabbit holes are everywhere. I suppose this is a scary notion to some, but not to me. I think the idea of a great and monumental rabbit hole is fascinating! Think about it, flying through one adventure only to begin another just as you finish...! Isn't it grand?!

Perhaps I've read Alice's Adventures in Wonderland a few too many times, or maybe it was just that giant cup of coffee, but I'm stuck in a rabbit hole I've no intention of ever finding my way out.