I Have To Be More Interesting

I've been informed that I might have a narration voice? Cool. Blogging? I honestly never thought I'd be a "blogger." It's just kind of a giant whine bag of a web site. But guess who's a hypocrite?

MMMMMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

So. I guess I'm going to start blogging now...

What to blog about? I mean, what is the real point of a blog? Besides whining, ranting, and feeding into ones conceded nature? I guess everyone on the internet will get to know me. That's actually pretty terrifying. I'll have to be virtually anonymous; no more information than what I'd put on a greeting card for your co-worker's baby shower. Just my first name and general information, where stalkers can't find me. Ah who am I kidding. Stalkers wouldn't stalk me! I'm not interesting. I'm not even counting on one person subscribing to my blog. But hey? If I get an audience this could be the first time in history that a mass group of people are interested in what I have to say!

Well, subscribers, I'll let you get to know me. Wait, no. I can't have you be called "subscribers." That's too professional. I'll call you... Minions? Puppets? Not followers... that's cliche. I kind of like minions.

Well, MINIONS, the name's Bre. But you can call me "Dearest Overlord" for short.

I really like cats. I have cats. I like the odor of cats. I had a cat suit. Sometimes I would dress up as a cat. And Meow. As a cat. But then, I grew out of my cat suit. And resorted to growing out my body hair... and pretending to be a cat. Meow...

That was a joke.

I'm more of a dog person.

I have dry humor. It comes in handy when talking to Brits. Dark humor is also a wonderful asset to have when talking to foreigners.

I don't get the point of love letters. Yes, a long while ago they were romantic. Written with the beautiful calligraphy of a feather dipped gently in ink and gracefully drawn on a page in the light of an oil lamp. Back in the day people's feelings were foreign, and saying lines like "I live for you" or "you're my air" or "love at first sight" was unheard of, and made the unsuspecting women fall in love. But today? With the resources we have? The Hollywood references? Everything you could possibly say in a love letter has already been done. Everything magical about love has been dissolved and exposed. We don't even hand write anything anymore. I have never, and will never, receive a love letter hand written. The closest thing I'd find is probably "hey u r kool wanna go out with me on a date 2night?" in a message on facebook.

There's not a whole lot of wooing in my life.

I guess that's it for today, minions.

Quarter Four, number one.

Wow, Friday was busy. I had to do a lot of presenting and performing. O.O

In your class, actually, was the beginning of it. I had to present my project on school vouchers, which went okay. I didn't gather the intensity your smart board would put on my obnoxious movements in Prezi. Toward the end of my visual roller coaster, I added a lot of back and fourth movements. It looks really cool on a computer screen, but on the large plane? Wow. It would have been sickening. So I made a (literally) last second decision to manually click on the places for the last few "slides." Obviously the clicker was sensitive to different areas, making the last twenty seconds or so very messy and ending abruptly. With all that going on, I realized I spoke too fast the entire presentation. I had my timing down to around seven minutes at home, and even when I presented for Cassie and Melissa. But when I got up there I just plowed through everything I rehearsed to say. Figures. I have no idea what my time was, but I'm guessing it's not too long. >_>

However, I was happy to see that peoples' responses were generally good. I'd give it a good.... 56% of people that said "You weren't nervous at all!"

Which made me giggle because I was so nervous my knees were shaking. I'd probably fall over if I tried to walk around during the presentation.

Anyway. So then after school I had auditions for Footloose. (which I'd been fretting about for over a week, and maybe even contributed to my nervousness in English...) I went third in auditioning. I didn't even have my lines in hand until I walked through the door because I was so early on in the event. I had just learned my auditioning song the night before. A High School Musical song actually. Everyone asked what song I chose. Lol, I never answered. This is why.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=znLmkH6H7Vs

Don't listen to the whole thing. Your ears will commit suicide. Her voice is so whiney and annoying.

Anyway. So the audition went on. I tried out for the lead, Ariel, and also for the second lead, Rusty. (Ariel's best friend) I knew I wasn't going to get either one, but I figured "shoot for the lead and be happy with what you land."

The hardest part was reading from a paper that I had never seen before and be expected to give the emotion that's needed for the part. It's the Crucible all over again.

But apparently I did okay.














OKAY ENOUGH TO GET THE LEAD.

TWO LEFT

I have only one day left until portfolios are due. Ironically I only have two more entrees left. You're in the library again with your English 10 class. They go in almost everyday. Why?

I have to do my lit analysis more. I'm considering passing in the one that we did in class. Melissa's writing a book? Interesting. I'm going to have to read it sometime. My font is really small throughout the blog. I tried to change it back but it decided to be terrible.

I'm only a point away from getting a B- in history. ONE POINT. I'll have to please my teacher extra tomorrow.

Melissa's bow is orange today.

Oh so my soul mate made a terrible joke. He was watching the Celebrity Apprentice and as you may know, Marlee Matlin is on there. She's Deaf. He (before he knew she was deaf) said "Wow, she talks with her hands a lot."

T_T

SHE TALKS WITH HER HANDS A LOT


Anyway. I have to write about 150 more words.

I only have ten more minutes.

Challenge accepted.














I'm watching the computers of your class. hahaa.

I have a joke. What will Wilow Smith (I whip my hair back and forth) sing when she's old?


... "I WHIP MY CHAIR BACK AND FORTH."













Melissa keeps hitting my arm with her mouse. There's this one kid from your class that keeps coming in here. He kept talking during the Bleach movie in anime club the other day. >.<

Melissa's story is coming along nice I presume.

HOW MANY MORE WORDS NOW?

ABOUT 40...

One two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen twenty twenty-one twenty-two twenty-three twenty-four twenty-five twenty-six twenty-seven twenty-eight twenty-nine thirty.

Cassie's sick. Lol.

Melissa asked me about grammar.

I'm such a boring reporter.

On the same day

I would make the post for today on the same on as the one I did today also, but then I'd have to still make up an extra post.

That and the depression from that one will probably make me want to vomit more.

So here is time for a new post.

I got to sit with a guy at lunch today. I'm convincing him to stay in school.

.....

"I'm convincing him to stay in school"

Yeah. He's a keeper.

I don't want to say "I honestly don't find you and your stupidity and your drugs attractive; leave me alone and stop sitting with me" because that's a little mean. But then I feel like I'm leading him on because I'm not saying no. As a matter of fact, I say very little to him. Just leave me alone. Get a cat.

Melissa's doing a whole bunch of stuff.

You know what is creepy? The smallish man that sits next to me made a blog spot. So he could stalk us. SO HE COULD STALK US. Now he posts stuff about US. ALL THE TIME. YOU SHOULD CHECK IT OUT SOMETIME. YOU'D GET A LAUGH.

Police.

MY FRIEND IS DATING THE CYBER POLICE. I LOL'D SO HARD.
Not even kidding. His name is "Storm." That's his real name too.
"Looks like there's a STORM coming" *As Storm runs towards her*
He was a mod for games and post sites. Therefore, the cyber police.

I have only a few minutes left of the day. I need to get a whole bunch of words in here so you can count for another entry. You must hate reading about people complaining about entries. In their entries.

I NEED MORE THINGS TO TALK ABOUT IN A SHORT TIME TO IT CANNOT BE OF RELEVANCE. JUST SPACE TO TAKE UP....

I WHIP MY HAIR BACK AND FORTH I WHIP MY HAIR BACK AND FORTH I WHIP MY HAIR BACK AND FORTH I WHIP MY HAIR BACK AND FORTH I WHIP MY HAIR BACK AND FORTH I WHIP MY HAIR BACK AND FORTH I WHIP MY HAIR BACK AND FORTH I WHIP MY HAIR BACK AND FORTH I WHIP MY HAIR BACK AND FORTH I WHIP MY HAIR BACK AND FORTH I WHIP MY HAIR BACK AND FORTH I WHIP MY HAIR BACK AND FORTH I WHIP MY HAIR BACK AND FORTH I WHIP MY HAIR BACK AND FORTH I WHIP MY HAIR BACK AND FORTH I WHIP MY HAIR BACK AND FORTH I WHIP MY HAIR BACK AND FORTH I WHIP MY HAIR BACK AND FORTH I WHIP MY HAIR BACK AND FORTH




YEAH.

Cats

I just noticed that I have a problem with my font. It's so small. I've tried to fix it, but for some reason it doesn't change back easily.

"Melissa here. Bre has taken over my computer space so I must blog on her account. Oh no she's writing on mine now. Hannah's mad at my mad typing skillz. Oh no. Colby And I just bonded over diabetes. Oh please oh please make me a large black man. Iam gonna see what Bre is writing over on my page now. I just tryed to type Bre's name as Be. LOL. Now she's ranting about Colby not holding her hand. :)
Bye. Ima go steal my computer back. RAWR."

Bre again. Everyone's on edge today. I have no idea why. I just want everything to be quiet.

My stomach started to hurt last night before bed. Well, not hurt. I was just hungry, but then later on during the night I kept waking up because my stomach was eating itself for survival. By morning I was in so much pain. It didn't occur to me that I was hungry. I still ate breakfast but my god the pain never stopped all day. On top of that, I couldn't stop sweating; not the kind where you drip from perspiration, but you can feel the heat and a little sheer coating of clamminess.

God I'm tired. I have no drive to get up. Or move. I hope I'm not getting sick. Maybe I'll have more power for drama. Yawn. I just yawned.

Mr. Math Teacher is going to be a guest judge for drama tomorrow. I'm excited.

I'm still hungry. EAT SOME MORE FATTY. <- inner monologue.

Perfection

We're going to one acts soon. Wow... Drama is going by too fast too. It seems like just the other day I was auditioning, and in just a few practices we'll be done for good. I'm really proud of everyone, though. We, as a cast, have made some real progress. We have a good chance of winning. Ms. Drama Teacher tells us to believe that we're going to win; imagine ourselves accepting the award. It's hard to do that, because if I actually start to believe it, as opposed to being indifferent, then if we don't win, I'll be heartbroken.

Emotions are always running high during one acts. Last year people just burst out crying all the time. It's stressful, amazing, terrible, enjoyable, difficult, depressing, exhilarating, new, and over all flipping awesome.

So I heard that that you're going to be a judge? A GUEST? TO WATCH OUR PLAY! OH MITCH YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE! WE ARE SO THRILLED TO PUT ON A SHOW FOR YOU. OR AT LEAST MELISSA AND I AM BECAUSE YOU WERE UNABLE TO MAKE IT TO THE OTHER ONE. BUT. NONETHELESS. BRAVO!!

Well, I'm out of time, I'm going to go to drama. To get perfect. So you can enjoy us. I'm sure you will. :)

2:06 And Still Not Finished

Today is going slowly again. I noticed that The Friend With A Clue likes to have the old "Dell" keyboard too. It's the loud one, and makes the average speed-typist sound super fast and smart. She likes to sound intellectual; we all do. The group of kids next to me keep goofing off and wrestling. This makes Mrs. Librarian mad. I feel terrible, even though it wasn't me who was doing the deed. Association is great.

Oh we had that lovely assembly today about not using the term "retarded" derogatorily. I'm glad I never took up that habit. It always made me awkward when someone used it. It was a defining moment when one day a friend had said "oh that's so retarded" when we were all around.  A Different Friend pulled out a photo of her (autistic?) family member and said in a firm, but not mean, tone "I'd appreciate it if you'd refrain from using the term 'retarded' around me." She's never said retarded again. I'm pretty sure that's the day I started to look up to her and be more like her as I got older in high school. I know I'd never have that much courage and self-assurance to interrupt a conversation for something I believed so strongly in because I'd just shrivel up, mid-sentence, and everyone would forget I was even talking. Or people would think I'm stupid and just continue with their conversation.

Oh. My. Lawd. So in Algebra III we had a test. Just a normal test. I knew the subject; graphing equations. I do well at that too. Every warm up we do in class, I get done early and correctly. So the test lands in front of me, and for the first time this year, I freeze. I completely forgot everything I knew about math. The problem that gave me the most trouble was y= -(x+3)(squared)+ 4

Right? Not that bad. This was number two out of three problems. It's in vertex form. Guess what I forgot? HOW TO FIND THE VERTEX. IT'S RIGHT THERE. I COMPLETELY FORGOT. I SPENT SO LONG. The points are literally in the problem, all but you're supposed to negate "k."

So the answer should have been (-3, 4), and for some reason I ran with like, (0.25, 8.75). Mr. Math Teacher doesn't even like decimals. I should have known better. See? I can do it now. NOW. Then, right before the silence took over the room for test taking, my pencil broke. So I used my pen. So when I dun goofed I had to scribble out everything and make a tiny graph in the corner. God. I'll be lucky if I even pass.

Bitter Sweet

I have no idea what to write about. I know I have to, merely because I need the entries.

Ohh. Now I remember the topic I pre-planned to write about. My rant about the females that sit next to me. Yes,The Friend With Pigtails and The Friend With A Clue. They're fun when they include me, but they always watch their favorite youtube superstar, Wheezy Waiter. He's this thirty year old guy that probably lives alone with a beard. He makes videos to self satisfy his loneliness, and has successfully made it his career. Unfortunately, I'm not included in all of this. I just sit alone on the outside, occasionally looking at their shared screen when their giggles carry over. I don't know how they haven't been caught. I thought youtube was off limits. Whatever, I really don't care at this point.

Today's been pretty blah all day. My teapot in pottery dried out over the vacation. Good thing I didn't have to add anything to it, or I wouldn't be able to attach anything. I just smoothed and shaved it down to perfection. Ms. Pottery Teacher even said she loved it. It made me smile in the inside. I'm in the process of making matching cups. Chemistry is a dull subject with dull people and dull minutes that tick by so slowly. ASL is okay. I'm pretty much the only ASL II student left, so I'm never doing much. English, well you're there for that. Crucible is going fine. I think I talk too much, answer too many questions. I've started counting down before I say anything. Five seconds before the first reply. Then increasing to five second intervals until I just don't answer anymore. Math is losing my interest too. It's still my best subject, but I get my "do nows" done in about five minutes, then have nothing to do all class. It's also depressing looking around and thinking how I only have another quarter with these kids before they're off and graduated. I enjoy a handful of the seniors, grown up with them. And in just a little bit, they'll all be off and gone. I'm going to miss having class with all of them. Kids in my grade are alright, but my friends are leaving. Today my math buddy was talking about colleges. He was going on and on about how he got accepted to the two he applied for, and now has to decide. I think I'm going to miss him in math more than any of the other kids. He was the one person in the entire class that was better than me. And it wasn't that he's better as much as an equal. I've got to say, honestly, if he wasn't there, I'd be slacking a lot in that class because I'm lazy. Everything is friendly competition with him. Not even kidding, I got a 125 on a test, and you know what he got? A 130. He always gets a couple of points more. I've beaten him a couple of times, but rarely. Now I fear when this time in my life will only be a memory, and his seat and all the seats around me will vanish in my mind until I'm alone in math class.

Yeah, this year is ending. Every moment is bitter sweet. Every time I say good morning, it's just one less time I get to do it. At the end of every school day, I've wasted another day where everyone is here at once. Every passing moment is lost.

Mistook Their Nods for An Approval

So this is a depressing report. I'll tell the tale as a story so I don't sound like I'm whining.

So once upon a time there was this girl. She was never able to do anything right. Acknowledgment and awards were never in her name, and she thought she found something that maybe might get her something worth telling. Finally, bragging rights were going to be in her favor. Months, she spent. Writing and reconfiguring a story she knew she was going to submit in a contest. People supported her, helped her edit, and gave her inspirations to make the story realistic and unique.

Vacation came by, and she had the thirty paged novel in an envelope, all ready to be sent out for ruthless critiquing. The last step was to get a signature from her mother. She had explained everything to her mother the entire time, and the mother knew that she was to sign it and send it out. The signing sheet? That's where the explosions started.

"DON'T YOU KNOW HOW TO READ?" She exclaimed. "FINE PRINT. READ THE FINE PRINT. YOU NEVER SIGN ANYTHING WITHOUT READING THE FINE PRINT. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS FINE PRINT SAYS? READ!"

The girl was stunned. What just happened?

The mother continued with rage and annoyance at her daughter's stupidity. "This... says.. that you are allowing them to your work. It is no longer your work. It also says that your NAME and AGE and LOCATION OF SCHOOL will be released to GOD KNOWS WHO. Your information will be 'out there' for anyone to take. You know that this all means? That colleges will use this to critique your work as an exercise in college. You know what THAT means? Huh? That anyone in college will be able to know exactly who you are! And what if someone says 'oh hey! I can make money off of this!' YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS? THAT YOU GET NO CUT OF ANY OF THE PROFIT! THIS, TTHHIISSS is why you never enter anything. STOP DOING THIS SH-- TO ME. I CAN'T TAKE IT. YOUR TEACHERS THINK THEY'RE HELPING YOU WHEN THEY SIGN YOU UP FOR S--- LIKE THIS. LOOK AT THE FINE PRINT. YOU NEVER SIGN ANYTHING WITHOUT READING, AND GOD FORBID UNDERSTANDING THE FINE. PRINT."

So the mother signed the paper angrily, threw it at the table, and burst out of the room.

"Don't ever do anything like this again."

And so she never got to send in the book that took her about six months to write.

The end.