Breakfast for Dinner

My grandmother, bless her heart, is the most wonderful person on the planet. Her natural disposition as a worrier leads her to worry that my house isn't clean enough, thus taking it upon herself to clean it. After said cleaning, she'll relay what she has done to me, making me feel horribly for being such a slob, and worry that it still isn't clean enough and that it is her fault. I did my laundry on Sunday and she kept saying to me, "Let me know when you're done so I can help you fold anything!" I brought a hand to my heart, touched at the sentiment and adamant that I would never make her do such a thing, though I unconsciously allow my mother to fold all of my freshly cleaned clothes on a regular basis. Shame on me. And shame on anyone who would take advantage of their grandmother whenever she stays with them. Mine makes me french toast and eggs when I come home from school, remarking I haven't eaten all week, which might, in fact, be true. And then, Lord love the woman, she worries I might not like the way it tastes because she hasn't made french toast in such a long time. I had to insist I enjoyed it thoroughly maybe five times before she conceded, "I'm glad you liked it." It was an awful large amount of food, for someone who barely eats regularly, making my stomach turn and forcing me to give up after a slice and 1/4. I felt horribly, knowing she would worry I hadn't liked it when in fact I did not feel well at all. Anyway, my conclusion is this: Grandmothers are the sweetest, dearest people ever known to walk the Earth and I am lucky to have such a great one. Cheers to grandmas!

I Like to Rant

I realize it has been quite some time since my most recent post. I'll accredit my etymology class (or lack thereof) with this scandalous outrage, and will say nothing more on the subject.

I was taking a shower (okay, yes, it was a bath. What can I say? I love me some bathtime) and I found myself reflecting upon the new trend that is taking over our great country. It's being called the "wetlook" as I understand it and as you can see by the picture I've supplied to the left, it looks like you've just stepped out of the shower (bath) dripping wet, and threw some clothes on. Needless to say, I'm not a big fan of this one. To me, it's an excuse not to get ready in the morning (as are sweats, but that's a topic for a different day) and makes everyone look like a drowned wet. I know, as a suburban high schooler, I could never and would never rock this look, due to genetics and choice. And doesn't it dry after a while? What if you have nasty natural hair and go walking around with a Jewfro all day? It should be called the "Creepy Thin Man" look, because anyone who rocks it will just look like Crispin Glover.

But the undermining of this hideously unfortunate trend was not my intention when restarting my, as so affectionately referred to by myself, rant blog. I realized, in my nice hot bath, that hair in general is the most annoying thing to ever grow on one's body. It's a controversial issue, no doubt, because women love their hair, whether it be long, short, blonde, brown, ginger, black, sleek, curly, frizzy, etc., etc., you get the idea. However, when in the shower, hair becomes wet, and comes loose from the fragile bonds attaching it to our heads (I am currently an anatomy student and can tell you that the average person loses 90 hairs a day) and arranges itself all over our body. As a former diver, I have come to loathe wet hair, especially wet, chlorine-smelling hair, and one of my biggest pet peeves is wet hair that is stuck to my body. I find it all over, on my leg, my back, my shoulders, my neck, my arms, etc., as I'm sure everyone else does (all women at least, and men with long hair). But it's not just the hair on our heads I'm talking about. All women must agree bodily hairs are infuriating. We have to shave armpits, legs, some women shave arms, and various lady parts inappropriate for a high school blog. Not to mention, tweezing and waxing eyebrow hairs, lip hairs, annoying chin hairs or various hairs growing on our temples. Then there are mole hairs, maybe the most vile hairs of all. They stick out and make you look like a hag from a Grimm Brothers story. People will stare at you as you pass and whisper, "That is DEFINITELY not a beauty mark." We also have nose hairs that I'm guessing some men trim, and possibly ear hair, I don't know. All I know is that it is everywhere. And it's pissing me off.

A Chance Stroke of Luck

In some happy mistake, TeenVogue keeps sending me copies of their latest issues. I don't know if it's because I created an account online, or what; I didn't pay for a subscription but the issues keep coming. Either way, I'm not complaining.

For the August issue, Taylor Swift lives up to her title as the new face for Covergirl in a completely new way. The article on T.Swift talks about her new tour to promote her album, Speak Now, which I like, surprisingly. I'm not much of a country fan, but since when did that every matter with T.Swift? Anyway, I like singing Mean to myself, pretending I'm sending it out to all the cliquey girls at my high school. Smoochez, everybody.

The reason I'm mentioning Taylor is because when asked what occupation she would, ahem, occupy were it not for her sensational music career, her response rang true with my hopes and dreams for my future. Quoth she, "I'd be doin something creative and idea-related - like coming up with ad campaigns or writing novels." Reading this, I thought, "I can't remember being interviewed for TeenVogue. Weird." Novelists seemed to be a small trend for the magazine this month, for at the back, teenage daughter Georgina Bloomberg of New York City Mayor Micheal Bloomberg, recently released the first book of her new Young Adult series, The A Circle, that she coauthored with Catherine Hapka. What I want to know is, why isn't anyone offering to coauthor with me? Lame.

Anyway, this was just a "random" post. I really don't have that much to tell y'all. Although, I am dye-ing part of my hair purple today, so that's new and exciting. Perhaps I'll post a picture of the finished product soon? Who knows? NOT ME!

Just An Update

My short story/novel, whatever it ends up being, is 10 pages, 4,271 words in total. Awesome.

Summer Continues

After my jaunt to Alaska and Canada, I feel my summer has, schedule-wise, "cooled" off. Lately, I've been hanging around my house, or friends' houses, doing a whole lot of nothing. Don't get me wrong, a lackadaisical summer can be a good summer, but I'm rooting for a great summer, full of accomplishments and memorable...err...memories. Yes, memorable memories. I said it. I want to finish my short story by the end of the summer, cross off some more of my bucket list, attend my cousin's wedding, go to Seaside, read a lot of books, exercise more (that one is actually happening, believe it or not), a whole lot of something! Unfortunately, I was sick yesterday and today, although it didn't really stop me from having fun.
Yesterday, three of my pals (for safety purposes, the girls will be known as Kat, Laura and Bea) and I went out for some YoYo fun. As I had already had the delicious ice cream the night before with my mother and psuedo-brother, I left my wallet at home so as to refrain from purchasing any of the irresistible treats. After "chilling" (get it; ice cream, chilling. ha.) at YoYo's for a while, and naughtily nabbing some ice cream in the little "tasting" cups, we decided to check out the dollar tree, and randomly ended up buying balloons and mermaid figurines. What was our intent, you ask? Well, being severely odd teenage girls, we decided to tie the balloons to the figurines and deposit them on some boys' doorsteps. I won't say who, just know I did not choose the boys and so had no personal connection with them. Yeah, we're weird. Next we headed back to Kat's house and watched the Justin Bieber movie. It was at this time that my sore throat, which started that morning, came back with a vengeance and I started feeling sickly. I spent the rest of the day in bed and did not wake up today until 1:30 pm. Yeah, embarrassing.
Today was not wasted, however. I got some sun, watched some youtube videos, and started my summer reading for AP Comp. Choosing from the two lists available to the class, I'm going to read Tuesdays with Morrie and am currently reading Columbine, the full disclosure on the school shooting tragedy of 1999. It's quite scary actually, and parts of it had my aforementioned sickness making an unscheduled appearance, but is also riveting and intriguing. I recommend it to all the nonfiction lovers out there.

So I Promised This Long Ago

An excerpt of my short story, as of right now titled Pass It On. Well, here goes nothing.

It was an atypical Sunday afternoon in New York: a day of crystal clear skies, white clouds dancing above the skyline, birds trilling lilting, musical notes. I was, of course, not outside, enjoying the first warm rays of the timid summer sun on my skin, but in the New York Public Library, researching British literature for my final thesis at NYU. It was my own fault, really, that I was holed up in the library, unlike all of my peers. I'm much too lazy for my own good, although somehow I managed to stay well above the class average due to my ability to work well under pressure, not to mention my uncanny knowledge on all things literary. If I hadn't procrastinated so entirely I might've gotten a few hours to myself that day, maybe to spend practicing for my lacrosse game that weekend or lounge lazily in the park with Norah and Stiles. Unfortunately, it's impossible to rewrite the past, and all things considered, that day turned out to be pretty eventful; but I'm getting ahead of myself.

All right, one paragraph at a time. (Please remember this is a rough draft)

My MadLib

Dear Ashley,

I don't really know how to tell you this, but our romance is over. I think I realized it when I tripped on sesame seeds outside of Chicago and I saw you sit on my best friend. I'm sure you're scarred enough to understand that there is no solution to this. I'm returning the couch cushions to you, but I'll keep your mom as a memory. You should also know that I always will remember your reincarnation as an eskimo.

Greetings to your frog Leonard,
Riley