My Summer Schedule

10:21 AM: Wake up, at the precise minute as you inexplicably have done for the past two years.

10:25: Reduce yourself to pain-induced tears as you attempt to put contacts in, then spend the next 15 minutes struggling to brush your hair, which has reached the consistency of a hedge in that endearing way it has.

10:3o: Make toast and try to become interested in the sports section, since the rest of your family has taken all the good parts of the paper.

10:45: Try to throw away toast crusts without your mother noticing, then lurk around kitchen for half an hour trying to decide what to do with yourself and also whether to have something else to eat.

11:15: Start a drawing. Finish it, then mourn your lack of artistic skills.

12:00: Take a shower, then spend 17 million years trying to get your hair to dry right.

12:45: Plow through a book, occupying 23 different positions as you do so.

2:00: Watch three episodes of  Malcolm in the Middle on Netflix.

3:00: Lie on bed and watch ceiling fan spin while listening to music because there is nothing else to do.

4:35: When iPod dies, turn on radio and continue watching ceiling fan .

5:25: After hearing “Heart Attack” for the third time, lose it and turn off radio.

5:27: Ponder your pathetic and directionless life as an organism born to die in a world run by pieces of paper until dinnertime.

6:00: Feign interest in your dad’s business deals until dinner is over.

6:45: Watch a documentary with your dad about either sea life or a WWII battle to “keep your mind sharp over the summer”

8:00: Read for a while, then stand in front of bathroom mirror and nitpick your appearance until your mother comes in and tells you to remember that it’s an age thing and you’ll grow out of it soon and you’re only fourteen so don’t worry about your future etc.

8:30: Go on the computer. Nag yourself into trying to write a blog post, then spend a bit too much time on tumblr and go to bed.


10:30: Be struck by the strange urge to clean.

11:15: Sit back in your sparkling clean room and vow that tomorrow, you will do something different.

1:00 AM: Jerk awake and remember that you forgot to take your contacts out.

My Third Grade Diary (Part 2)

April 14th, 2008

Today was the spring fair. For some reason Ms. Aragon decided our grade should sell baked potatoes instead of popsicles like we wanted. So we wasted the entire spring fair trying to sell stupid potatoes but only ONE PERSON bought one.  I’m so mad. And they made me do the maypole dance too.

I went to a Waldorf school for the third grade, and they’re very, very fond of fairs. And we were all real mad at Ms. Aragon, or the two of us who had to go around selling hot potatoes in 70-degree weather, that is. I was stuck with the very same Jaren I mentioned before, I think because we snuck off campus at recess once and walked halfway to the mall.

As for the maypole? What business we had with a maypole in April is was beyond me. But I do remember that this was at a point when I was a real tomboy, and very much against skipping.

April 17th, 2008

The aftercare kids ruined our fort so Julian started hitting Eamon but Julian was the only one who got in trouble even though they ruined our fort.

I mentioned our fort being destroyed a total of 32 times in my  diaries. Evidently the aftercare kids had some issues they needed to work through.
But they were 32 pretty good forts, actually. There was a corner of the schoolyard with a big hole, and we dug it out more and  made a shelter over the top with branches. The only downside was that it was right next to the compost bin, so on any given day your nostrils would be serenaded by the sweet fragrance of pure death.

April 25, 2008
Today was our iceskating trip and we were playing crack the whip and Ms Aragon made me go to the front but we were going too fast and we slammed into a wall and then everyone fell on top of me. My back hurts soooo much but Ms Aragon told me to suck it up and Mom got mad at me.

Ah, the ill-fated ice-skating field trip. The teacher suggested we start a game of crack the whip directly in front of a sign which explicitly said ‘NO HORSEPLAY OR CRACK-THE-WHIP IS ALLOWED.’ But she wasn’t exactly the type of woman you defy, so off we went. Somehow I ended up in front and at the bottom of our 14-person pileup, and since we were breaking the rules, the people at the desk refused to give me an aspirin.

May 14, 2008

Tilcara’s leaving next year!

Tilcara was my arch nemesis, more than Aylin, even. We were once assigned to share a desk but scooted our chairs so far away from each other that we ended up on opposite sides of the classroom, and I was halfway out the door before the teacher even noticed and pulled me back in by my hair.



Graduation Humiliation!

Just a terribly sporadic blogger, I’m so sorry!
I’m also really embarrassed.
I graduated eighth grade last week, and I was one of the speakers (against my will, I would like to add). I was in the middle of my speech when I realized…one of the pages was missing. I’d managed to blunder through about half of it from memory, and everyone was just kind of staring at me. God, had they multiplied or something? Every time I looked up there seemed to be more grey-haired people in suits, looking stonily up at me.
I could hear the teachers sitting behind me clearing their throats uncomfortably. My fervent wishes for a hole to open up beneath the podium and swallow me whole went ungranted and I stumbled along.
We had just gotten back from a three-day rafting trip the day before, and 72 hours in a wetsuit had given me a killer cold and an ear infection. It didn’t seem of much consequence at the time, but no sooner had I almost finished ad-libbing my missing page then I had a coughing fit.
Okay, we can live with that, right? Break up the routine?
No. We cannot live with that. Because someone dashed up with a glass of water (I have a slight suspicion they may have been about to throw it on me to end my assault to the ears) and I had managed to down some of it without choking. But as I went to put the glass back on the shelf in the podium, I looked up to see whether my audience had taken up pitchforks yet. Which was a fatal mistake.
I managed to hit the bottom of the shelf…and splash the remaining water all over myself. By that point I was beginning to wish I was the wicked witch of the west, so that I could just melt right then and there and have done with.
But oh, no. I had to live.
I cracked a dumb joke about it (one  of my primary coping mechanisms next to strategic avoidance) which managed to get a laugh out of them, although whether they were laughing with me or at me I’ll never know.

A fitting end, I think.

My Third Grade Diary (Part 1)

Raccoon (Procyon lotor). Français : Raton lave...

Oh look it’s me

February 22 2008

Julian and Salim got into a fight today I think it was over me. We were playing tag and I got Julian instead of him and then they were hitting each other. Also there wasn’t anybody else there.

Julian and Salim were two kinda..let’s say troubled kids at my elementary school. These were the same boys who threw mud balls at the first-grade teacher’s window and snuck off campus at recess (Which, honestly, was not that difficult to do). They actually fought a lot, although whether any of it was over me is anybody’s guess.

February 25

It was picture day today and I lost my pink sweater, mom’s really mad. Also Aylin made fun of me and Zoë for playing raccoons, I hate her.

Me and Zoe played raccoons well into the fourth grade, when I left midyear for public school.  As I recall her name was Racoo and mine was Oona. And Aylin actually was really mean to me. At our school sleepover she called me “moaning myrtle” (which was evidently some big insult at the time) and said that I ate turds, which reduced me to tears as I held onto my parents’ arms to prevent them from leaving me there with her.

March 18

We had popcorn with yeast on it for rewards in math. Riley loved it, but he doesn’t love me anymore.

Correction: he still doesn’t love me. My relationship with Riley was nothing but platonic, despite the crush I harbored for my entire two-and-a-half-year tenure at the school, and as time went by it did nothing but fester, until crashing and burning magnificently when I caught him holding Aylin’s hand.

March 22

Julian’s mom brought there baby goats and they’re soooooo cute

Julian’s family were the goat-raising nudists I’ve mentioned before. The goats were pretty cute, as I remember it, but looking back on it I try not to think about how they were raised.

March 24

some little kid stapled his hand to a post and now they’ve taken our staplers. we have to use tape.

I remember this vividly. It was an improvement project we did during aftercare, and then there was screaming and blood and a total disappearance of all sharp objects including sharpened pencils from the classrooms for the next several months.

April 1

Jaren put a dead lizard in my desk. It was gross and the teacher got mad at me. Then he shot me in the eye with a rubberband. I hate this school.

Jaren was an amphibian-like, pale boy with webbed fingers. At one point he told me I was going to marry him and get a job at petco, where we would work together among his native people, the reptiles.


I volunteer at a library, and I was over there the other day when a lady comes up and asks if she can sign up for a library card. That’s normal, right?
But then I take the form from her, and I see the name she’s written (hope I don’t get sued for this).
Blueskyes Liberty.
And her proof of identity was…a farmer’s market raffle card.
Well, we took it, because we are a two-room library run primarily by old ladies. But as soon as she walked out the door, my friend Karen whirled around and hissed, “That woman lied to us!”
“Congratulations, Einstein,” someone muttered.
She waved them off, and someone else told us a story about an old friend of hers became a hippie and changed her name to Shiva Moondance. Evidently she had a son..who she named…
Twilight Magic Moondance.

I’ll just give you a minute.

Signs of Fangirling

As promised:

  • has become your most popular website
  • You fully understand the meanings of the words “ship” and “canon”
  • You know what an OTP is, and you have one
  • Avid discussions about your “feels”
  • Decreased social life, fewer and fewer friends
  • Your desktop background is some sort of fanart
  • You find  yourself staying up till all hours, obsessing over a fanfiction, and then rocking yourself to sleep in the early hours of the morning, feels completely destroyed.
  • A common use of the expression “asdfghjkl” to express your feelings
  • Getting deeply, personally offended when someone disses your fandom
  • Knowing what a fandom is, while we’re at it
  • Having read all books or watched all seasons multiple times, with a strong desire to do so again
  • Eventual descent into sunlight aversion.
  • You find yourself able to not go outside for weeks at a time

A slow descent into…fangirling?

I don’t really know when it happened. It must have been gradual, I think.
Yet slowly but surely, I have become…
A fangirl.
I don’t have a lot of fandoms, unlike some people. One friend of mine is now afraid to even read books anymore, because she knows the eventual end will be accumulated hours of searching for fanfiction and following all the tumblr blogs she can find.
As for me? I don’t get attached to fictional characters very often. But when I do:

  • Les Mis
  • Harry Potter
  • Dan Howell and Phil Lester

The last two are youtubers, I know, but you would not BELIEVE how much fanfiction there is about them.

Tumblr had officially become my new best friend…as my social life is almost surely deteriorating.

And coming soon..side effects of fangirling.

Of which there are an unfortunate number.

Midwestern Adventures

Oh, dear, I’m bad at this, aren’t I?

Oh well. You have my apologies.

I was in Illinois this last week because we’re moving there, and I had to shadow at the school I’ll be going to.

A catholic all-girls school.

Where they have to wear skirts and knee socks.

And write raps about Moses (I wish I was exaggerating).


However, being from the Southwest (can’t tell you which state), everyone automatically assumed I spoke fluent spanish and was actually from Mexico.

We met with a realtor, and at one point she asked me if I took any language classes. I said I took Spanish, and she told me, “Wow, that must be easy for you! You could probably teach it yourself.”

But gets worse.

At my shadow day, two of the girls had evidently made a bet as to whether the state I’m from actually was a state. Another girl came up to me and said, “I heard about you in my biology class. I went to — ——- once and I shot a bunny!”

Um, okay.

Also–Midwesterners are so friendly! I felt like they were going to try and kidnap me or something.