--

Her ragged brown hair claws at the base of her neck as she runs down the street. She wants to tell him she's not ready for this. She wants to tell him she doesn't deserve to be alone. She wants to tell him that his hair smells of peanut butter and floristry.

She wants to tell him a lot of things.

--

He’s standing on the railing of the bridge contemplating death.

Well, no, not quite. He’s thinking about it, thinking about what death is, what it would be like. He raises his arms and screams, “I’m on top of the world!”

And he believes it if for only just a moment.

He’s thinking about this ability he has to toy with his own life, thinking about how powerful he is. No, he doesn’t really want to die. He’s curious. Curious to a fault, she used to say. It’s your own damned fault your life turned out like this, she also used to say.

What she used to say.

He’s thought too many times about what she used to say. She also used to tell him he dressed too nicely. He chuckled to himself. Wasn’t it Wilde who said that you can never be overdressed or overeducated? He wasn’t too sure about the latter, but he sure as hell agreed with the former. What else would you do with a fortune? Donate it to charity?

Don’t make me laugh, he grins dangerously. He wasn’t that guy.

She used to go out with him on autumn weekends. He'd watch that brown hair bounce, watch the click-clack of those sensible Mary Janes, watch her. Out on a whim, he’d told her. Like you’ve got the whole world balanced on your shoulders.

“Really?” she'd laughed. Laughed. “I don’t even notice it.”

She'd laughed again and told him he’d never make it as a poet.

“Well, look at me now!” he raises his head to the wind and howls.

“Hey.”

He sees her: blue lips, scarlet cheeks, narrowed eyes and all. It’s cold, he realizes.

And he doesn’t look before he leaps.

“Hey!”

--

“You’re lucky to be alive, you know.”

He doesn’t need her to tell him that. He never wanted to die. He wanted to prove a point. Oh, the things he’d do to prove her wrong. He tries to tell her this, but he realizes he can’t feel a thing.

“They gave something to you. I don’t know what. It’ll wear off after a while.”

It’ll wear off. What’ll wear off? The pain? The restlessness? The curiosity? The curiosity’ll never wear off. They can’t do a damned thing about that.

He comes to a dangerous conclusion in this somewhat-non-physical state he’s in. Can’t feel a thing. He realizes how unrestrained his thoughts are when isolated, when his shell is removed, and all that’s left is this intangible something-nothing.

He wonders what it would be like to stand atop that bridge in his current state, wonders if the same thoughts would be running through his head.

“This isn’t what I meant when I told you you’re incapable of feeling, you know.”

He knows.

“I don’t mean to be the way I am, you know.”

He knows.

He sees the faintest whisper of a lonely smile as she says, “Let’s go home.”

She takes his hand, and he’s there.

But most of all she wants to tell him the bottom of the Thames is the worst place to end up.

Now back to writing I go!

Restarted my novel for the third time last night because I'd finally figured out why it was so difficult for me to write. The first draft got to around two thousand words before I decided it was too boring, and the second draft got to around 1,500 words before I decided I had no idea what I was writing.

And it was all because I was writing from the perspective of the wrong character.

Initially, I had wanted to write from the perspective of a peripheral character, but then I realized she was boring me. :( A lot.

So here goes my third draft, which has a word count of a little over one thousand now...which means I'm still about 10.5k behind. Yay, me.

Grr. Here is an exciting excerpt (i.e. the first two paragraphs of chapter one)!:

She stared off the side of the ship and watched the whales and their calves turn gently above her head. “Move us eastward, Lil. They’re looking mischievous today,” she called out, the waves carrying her voice upward. Within moments, she felt the ship glide away from the whales. Looking defeated, they sought out a school of dolphins to entertain themselves with and huffily dove away from the ship.

Leaning against the railing, she pondered how she’d gotten herself into this mess. Never in the fifteen years that she’d captained this ship had she been so blatantly taken advantage of like this. It almost made her want to laugh. In fact, she was pretty sure that if she weren’t the person in her current predicament, she’d be laughing at herself. C’est la vie, I guess, she sighed, brushing her fingers through a forest of seaweed they’d passed by.

:( I have had so many things I want to write about, but then I remember I must must must NaNo.

And that is all.

I'm feeling particularly meh today.

Meh.

--

Edit: By the way, here's actual good writing you should read instead of my hastily churned out undeveloped fetus of a novel: "Nothing Hitler Did Was Illegal". Via Meredith, who e-mailed it to me a few days ago. :)

I wonder what the plural of "fetus" is. I also wonder if twins are referred to as one fetus or two. I also wonder the same about Siamese twins.

Edit 2: It is "fetuses."

--

But first, an introduction:

MSJ's Homecoming Week involves each class putting on a skit, coordinating airbands (actually, I don't know if other schools even use this term. :X Think America's Best Dance Crew), and organizing a school service project. Each day of the week is dedicated to a class (freshmen starting on Monday) and culminates on Friday with Green & White day, which is supposed to represent school unity and to cheer our (pitiful) football team on to winning their homecoming game yet another hopefully-not-so-pathetic loss.

Pessimistic, I know. But our football team is, quite frankly, the butt of jokes at MSJ. (Can you imagine how terribly they're made fun of at other schools?) Take this year's game, for example. My Facebook news feed exploded with people excitedly declaring MSJ's three-touchdown score at the homecoming game.

Of course, they neglected to mention the rival team's 62-point score.

But I digress.

The amount of string-pulling that occurs during Homecoming Week is crazy. Supreme Soul's appearance in Class of '09's performance last year? Johnny Depp's dedication kicking off our Class of '11's performance this year?

Definitely makes for one heck of a week.

So, again, the drama should come as no surprise. At the end of it all, classes are ranked by their overall performance, and usually, rank comes in order of class (seniors down to freshmen). However, this year, juniors were awarded third place, while the sophomores pulled ahead of us into second.

As a result, people are absolutely outraged, and through Facebook, some sort of rally/protest has been organized in which we're supposed to wear black (juniors' color) tomorrow (seniors and freshmen have jumped on the bandwagon, as well).

--

Second, a disclaimer:

I was not involved in homecoming at all aside from co-writing the soon-to-be-published Smoke Signal review for the sophomore performance and cheering on my own class.

--

Third, a clarification:

I really don't believe the sophomores outperformed us. Their skit was undoubtedly more creative and definitely less confusing, but honestly, I'm not quite sure what else was that much better. In terms of inappropriateness, their boys' booty dances certainly made up for the gross conduct of the sophomore character in our skit. And the sophomores' whole "juniors stole our props" claim is entirely baseless.

Both classes' airbands were meh. They all started boring me (and, I assure you, not just me) after a while. You see, there seems to be an unwritten rule about what kinds of airbands will perform during each class's performance (i.e. we're teenagers):

• 1 Tahitian airband
• 1 Yoko's airband
• 1 wannabe Yoko's airband
• 1 breakdance airband
• at least 2 booty dances
• at least 3 (read as: 5 but of varying degrees of quality) hip-hop airbands
• Optional: 1 poor effort of a ballroom/tango airband

Overall, both classes were extremely repetitive regarding airbands (yes, I realize there were a handful of amazing airbands, but the more prevalent lesser-quality ones, unfortunately, undermined their awesomeness), but the juniors definitely had the coordination and energy the sophomores' lacked.

And talk about spirit and energy. The juniors definitely (oh, pardon the slang) brought it. Our performance certainly didn't include the awkward stalls and silences that punctuated the sophomores' performance, and our cheering and screaming was absolutely unbelievable.

So, no, I'm not using the quality of my class's performance to argue against the whole Let's Wear Black thing. What I'm questioning is the reason we've organized it. What exactly are we trying to accomplish? Who exactly are we protesting against? The sophomores? The panel of teacher/parent judges who decided that the sophomores performed better than we did?

I see people saying how, in our hearts and minds, these ranks mean nothing, and we know we brought it, and that's all that matters. So why are we trying to prove it? Aren't we simply dividing our school even further? What are we trying to prove anyway?

Quite frankly, the only thing that organizing this whole event proves is the lack of self-confidence our class has.

Honestly, I'm still confused as to what we're going to accomplish by doing this. All this bitter rivalry is just going to fuel an intensely violent competition next year. And if wearing black is supposed to display class unity, why are we encouraging freshmen and seniors to join us? And why do we need to prove this class unity if we supposedly know we're united?

Banding together like this against the sophomores/whomever is quite simply a display of poor sportsmanship and weakness, showing the sophomores and these rankings how much power they really have over us.

--

So in conclusion:

All the effort that's being put into alienating the sophomores and pointing fingers at a created enemy is surely misdirected. If we put all this energy and emotion into our senior performance next year, we could certainly put on one of the best performances MSJ's ever seen.

That is, only if we remember that Homecoming Week is about our bonding as both a class and a school.

Unfortunately, the way this year's homecoming is going, I don't see that happening. By antagonizing the sophomores, we've been trying to achieve "revenge" in the worst of ways, one that will certainly gain us more enemies than friends. True "revenge" would be bottling up this emotion to be focused next year into one hell of a performance instead of releasing it this year in its current, most volatile, hate-fueled form.

Why waste all this energy and emotion this year on the sophomores (after homecoming, no less) when we can channel them into something so much more positive next year?

It still strikes me as entirely disappointing that Homecoming Week, which is supposed to be all about school unity and pride, gradually spirals downward into this heated rivalry and name-calling among the classes.

So, no, I'm not "supporting" my class tomorrow. I'm not going to add fuel to this wildfire we, perhaps did not set for ourselves, but certainly have not contributed to stopping its spread. I'm not going to compromise my beliefs for something that's been organized in the heat of the moment in a weak attempt to somehow redeem ourselves (in whose eyes?).

And I'm certainly not wearing black.

But I don't know if it's homecoming or just school in general. Probably both.

I really do want to contribute to homecoming next year, though. Just because it's going to be senior year, and I'm tired of having a "just average/predictable" performance every year (though the actors this year for our skit were absolutely phenomenal. Everything else was meh).

Anyway, my cure (not recommended. Because it doesn't work.) for my pathetic/blah mood is:

• Watching How I Met Your Mother
• Fangirling over 30 Rock. Watching 30 Rock should be mandatory.
• Looking for Penny/Sheldon fanfiction
• Trolling NaNoWriMo forums
• Avoiding pre-calc homework

WHYAMISOSELF-DESTRUCTIVETHISYEAR? ;_; Despite the fact that I finished APUSH notes early (read as: before lunch) for today's test! Heehee. So proud of myself.

I probably need more sleep.

I want to draw a picture.

Also, I sort of figured out my NaNoWriMo plot. Copied from my novel info on NaNoWriMo:

A story about arrogance. And people. And a hot air balloon.

Woohoo. Yes, I realize I should think this through. More.

Also, I get to co-write the Glee article for Smoke Signal's next issue! /happy dance. Also, I get to watch and review Astro Boy this weekend!

Yay, me.

Here's a picture:

WHY do I waste so much time?

Yes, dear readers, I am in this video (starting at about 0:33).

Cool.

Also, here is a picture:

I have a weird nose.

The end.

Something besides, you know, Important Things like APUSH notes and AP Bio reading. Hah.

Also, it's raining. I don't know how or why that matters, but rain is for doing things. Which means it's PICSPAMTIME, GUYS. [cue wild cheering]

Yes! I finally got around to photographing my unhealthy obsessions!

(No, unfortunately, there will be no pretty boys in this post. For pretty-boy-picspam, you'd be better off visiting my Tumblr and/or my we heart it page. Off you go now. You know you want to click. I'll wait.)

Okay, here we go!:

Yay pens! It rather astonishes me how many gross blue pens I have. :( Also, I'm down to my last 0.38mm black G-2. Noooooooooooooo......

Notebook addiction is SRS BSNS, guys.

I spent too much time making that. Also, it fell over after a few minutes.

I like to pretend I have all this time on my hands.

What pre-calc homework?

Last month, Quo Vadis offered a few Equology recycled paper planners for reviewing, and I jumped at the chance. Last year, they sent me a Trinote. I still love it.

But back to the Equology. I received a red one in Minister format. And they sent me a cute Clairefontaine notebook along with it! They are both lovely. :)

I do prefer the wider layout of the Trinote, but the Equology doesn't come in Trinote format. :(

In Minister format, Sunday is placed underneath all the other days, so the daily "Notes" section is gone. If Equology came in Trinote format, I think I would love it forever and ever. It still has all that nice space on the right, though, which I so desperately need for doodling during class. And making my lists. I need my lists.

For a general overview of the Equology Minister, it has all the nice touches that made me fall in love with Quo Vadis' planners: detachable corners, plenty of maps, and a removable address book/notes section.

But anyway! Onto the real difference between my pretty new red 2010 planner and my current 2009 planner. Quo Vadis touts the Equology as being made of completely recycled products, and it definitely feels like it. The cover's much more pliable than my vinyl Trinote cover, and it almost feels rippable.

But it's not. I tried. Oh, Quo Vadis, you are amazing.

The paper, though, has that predictable recycled-quality feel. It still maintains Quo Vadis' signature thickness, but it can't beat the smooth, pristine quality of Quo Vadis planners' normal paper.

And it doesn't hold up quite as well against fountain pens, but it still does quite well.

Overall, Quo Vadis still holds a special place in my heart as my favorite planner provider, and their Equology is another win.

If I didn't care about saving the world and all that (and thus feeling GUILTY AND TERRIBLE), I would, of course, stay with my Trinote and its pure-paper-perfection.

But alas, dear not-as-earth-friendly Trinote, the Equology Minister is guilt-free and is a lovely red and makes me feel better about myself.

Hello, my lovely new 2010 planner. I can't wait to use you.

"Hey, look, if I shake the table, the books move." "Oh?" "Yeah, look!" "Cooooooooool." "Yeaaaaaaaaah." "My desk is a mess." "I know."

Or if I were (un)fortunate enough, I'd have some fabulous song stuck in my head! Like "A Whole New World," maybe. Yes. I seem to have that on permanent repeat in my head.

I don't know why either.

Oh, but not anymore! Gone are those days! I realized a few days ago that as soon as I mentally log off now, certain words start creeping into my head.

Words like "protean".
And "obfuscate".
And "aberrant".

And I can't help but define them. Over and over. And over. In my head.

You see, there's this thing called the Tetris effect. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you:

The SAT effect

/cry. Someone kill me now.

Also, it was probably a bad idea to discover the awesome that is The Big Bang Theory four days before the SAT.

I will resist the temptation. Really.

Really really.

Except not. Because I've been procrastinating terribly and have barely waded into the pools of junior year.

Why yes, I am very much looking forward to fourth quarter when I'll be 10 feet in the deep end, which, you know, doesn't look so very bad from over here in the kiddie pool, but then I remember I am barely five feet tall. Why do you ask?

There is a reason I am not very good at swimming.

There is also a reason I am writing. It is because I have spent the past few hours compiling sources of inspiration for November (i.e. NaNoWriMo) and not doing real work like, oh I don't know, APUSH maybe. Unfortunately, being inspired to write and being inspired to write down notes are somewhat mutually exclusive.

It feels like I've skipped a day, and I haven't realized it because it does not feel like only a Monday, and I've got so much work to do, and I don't even know where it came from, and I'm staring at the pile of work on my bed, and the conversation in my head goes something like this:

Me: I've got so much work to do.
Me 1: Wait, where did it all come from, and how come there is so much of it?
Me 2: It came from days of pretending you had it all under control, silly.
Me 1: I could go for some coffee.
Me: (looks into mug)
Me 2: You finished it an hour ago, remember?
Me: ;_;

And so I've got maybe about two days' worth of instant coffee left, and 6 tests/projects/quizzes to go before this Saturday (i.e. SAT day).

Time to scour the pantry for additional sources of caffeine.

Or, you know, actually make real coffee.

(Hah.)

I DECLARE TONIGHT A MICHAEL GIACCHINO + DARIO MARIANELLI + YO-YO MA NIGHT. HURRAH.

and some fall evening
after the cocktails
and the very expensive and very bad
steak served with day-old baked potatoes
after the second cup of coffee taken
while listening to the rejected
violin player
maybe some fall evening
when the taxis have passed you by
and that light sort of rain
that occasionally falls
in new york begins
you’ll take a thought
and laugh aloud
the notes carrying all the way over
to me and we’ll run again
together
toward each other
yes?

--

I wish I could capture moments like this: moments that create feeling, rather than the other way around.

--

Today, I bought Trenton Lee Stewart's The Mysterious Benedict Society for my sister's birthday (shh, don't tell her). The cover art first caught my eye a few months ago:

And it certainly looks worth reading (ahem, I totally bought this solely for my sister. Totally). Can anyone say New York Times bestseller?

It made me realize a while ago that this year, I don't want to write a hopelessly sentimental (how many times have I used this phrase?) love story for NaNoWriMo. I want to write something simple and refreshing and happy-but-not-quite.

I've always liked reading children's novels anyway. Most "adult fiction" feels tainted to me, as if the authors take themselves too seriously, try too hard to impart Enlightened Wisdom to their readers, and/or ground themselves too firmly in reality. And don't get me started on teen lit. D:

Okay, that is all for today. LastweekendbeforetheSATwishmeluckbecauseIwillverymuchneedit.

You know, I really enjoy this daily unstructured writing thing. Except every time I say the word "daily," my frequency of writing instantly plummets. SO LET ME REPHRASE THAT:

You know, I really enjoy this occasional-once-in-a-while unstructured writing thing. Perhaps I shall do it a bit more, but that is more of a question than a statement.

hamsters goldfish
that boy
nothing beats that rush
who would save me if i never stopped?
from confusing curiosity with something else?

the temptation to not hit the brakes
she almost laughs, throws her head to the wind.

because in a Perfect World,
she could cross the intersection
unharmed

could. i still could, you know.

nothing's stopping her
literally
but

she errs on the side of caution
as she sees the old man on the curb.
people. there are always people. remember the people.
she reconsiders, turns her head

because i am my sister am my parents am the-people-I've-yet-to-meet

no car behind her check
no car in front of her check
no cars no cars no cars
check check check

she makes her way onto the sidewalk.

friday afternoons are perfect for what ifs.

I would also like to point out that there has been a spider on my ceiling since last night, and it has moved an astounding six feet in the past seven hours. Good job, Mr. Spider.

v. To act evasively in order to gain time, avoid argument, or postpone a decision.

I hope it isn't too presumptuous of me to say I identify with this word. Because I am nothing if not a Deliberate Evader of Conflict.

Or at least I try to be.

Also, I don't really think that's much of a good thing. :( I mean, suppose it's not terrible to want to avoid conflict, but to go out of one's way to do so is a bit of a problem. Like Hester's proposition to Dimmesdale!

(OOH, SEGUE. COOL.)

So I was going to write an entry last night about the question Geers posed yesterday in English: in The Scarlet Letter, is Hester, Dimmesdale, or Chillingworth the biggest sinner?

Except every time I think of that question now, I keep thinking about The Biggest Loser. And then the most recent episode of House.

And then the meatball jokes.

Oh, shush.

Anyway. Back from tangent. ALSO BY THE WAY, I finally finished watching the Primetime Emmy Awards show, and Neil Patrick Harris is amazing amazing amazing. And I think I do enjoy watching the Emmys better than I enjoy the Oscars. Ricky Gervais said it best.

But I'm not going to bother finding the quote. Sorry, guys and girls.

To paraphrase (sort of): the Emmys are so much more self-effacing than the Oscars. So much more humor and laughter and ridiculous joking. And TINA FEY. OKAY. TINA FEY. Can't go wrong with Tina Fey.

DO THE OSCARS HAVE TINA FEY?

I didn't think so.

Fine. Maybe they do. But Tina Fey is the absolute number one hottie (what? Did I just use that word? Shush.) at the Emmys, and I am so okay with that. More than okay.

Hello, Tina Fey, I adore you, and if you ever need someone to grovel at your feet, I am your girl.

Just kidding.

I think.

Okay! SO back from that tangent...

I completely forgot what it was I was tangent-ing from.

The Scarlet Letter? House? SAT vocabulary? Excuse me while I scroll back up and reconsider even posting this.

RIGHT. Okay, so The Biggest Sinner starring Roger Chillingworth, Arthur Dimmesdale, and Hester Prynne.

For me, Dimmesdale takes home the prize, hands down.

(That was such a terrible innuendo. Forgive me. I didn't even mean to!)

And I would totally elaborate more on that, except I am considering going to sleep before midnight tonight.

[cue laughter]

(OKAY. SO I realize the title has nothing at all to do with this entry, except for the first paragraphs. BUT I segued! Didn't you see my segues? THEY WERE THE BEST. Do I get brownie points? Cookies? Maybe a chocolate chip? No?)

(Jerks.)

(Oh, hi, Tina Fey. It's me again. I think we should get together and have a cup of coffee together someday. With Jayma Mays, too. Because she is fabulous. And you are fabulous. And we could just all have fabulous cups of coffee and talk about fabulous things. Yes? That sound good? More than good? Why, Ms. Fey, I am flattered. You are truly amazing.)

(I finished Girl, Interrupted this afternoon. Chapter "Mind vs. Brain": it is fairly appropriate and pertinent. To some degree. A small one. Also, it is a beautiful novel, and I highly recommend it.)

(I was hoping to end with something witty.)

(Here it is.)

That is, if I ever get past the first try.

I just read three different articles about the US vs. Cameroon match in the Under-20 World Cupblahblahblah.

I don't even know what I'm talking about.

Anyway, they all sounded different, and the only facts I got out of all of those that seemed to be consistent were:

• The US team won 4-1.
• The US head coach made changes to the lineup. Or something.
• There was an injury involved. Sometime...I think.

Yeah, this sports article is totally going to write itself. ;_;

Also, I just watched Bend It Like Beckham this weekend, and I keep getting distracted by thoughts of Jonathan Rhys Meyers. Arghhhh.

Yes. I am procrastinating on writing by writing. So sue me.

Also, The Smoke Signal's watching Wicked in November! "Defying Gravity" will be the very very best. I promise I will also try my very very best to refrain from singing/humming along to "Popular" and "Dancing Through Life". Also, Adam Lambert still makes the cutest Fiyero.

Also, I still have 24 unwritten lines of sportsy goodness sitting in my Word document. They are making fun of me.

I swear.

I have just found the best way to stay focused/fit.

I present to you:

Patrick Moberg's The New (Media) Workout Plan!

Also, Patrick Moberg is an absolutely fantastic illustrator. Be sure to check out his other stuff. It is brilliant.

Like this:

Seen this before? Yeah? That's his.

Cool.

N(M)WP Count Today (as of 6:46 PM PST):

• Facebook (1 min. jogging in place): 1
• Tumblr (10 push-ups): 1
• Twitter + Twitterfox (25 arm circles): 5
• Google Reader (25 sit-ups): 3
• Flickr + YouTube (10 jumping jacks): 0
• Wikipedia (20 toe-touches): 0