Oscar-Worthy Imagination at It's Finest

I used to pretend my life was a movie.

There would be certain moments, just a second's worth, of something that felt vaguely cinematic. It'd be beyond fleeting, but it was all my young self would need- I'd already be singing the crude theme and scrawling fake names with a purple glitter pen- imaginary opening credits, into a notebook.
I'd flip through the pages, pausing on the ones filled with the creators of this imaginary masterpiece, and then I'd make a point of acting as if I was on film (but, of course, was completely unaware of it. My 7-year-old acting skills were really quite something).

Only Rainbows after Rain

Well, I certainly took my own sweet time in updating this blog, of which I'd apologize for, if not for the fact that I highly doubt anyone actually cares. Which is kinda preferable at this point, in all honesty.

You see, I've been realizing that my theory on the benefits of online socializing, being yourself and not worrying about appearances, has more flaws then I'd expected. Because the thing is, I'm not 100% myself on this blog. Nor am I 100% myself on other websites; although I am certainly more myself on online social/writing websites, I am very different facets of my personality for different sites.

Observations on Teenage Socializing (or rather, lack thereof)

It's currently 20 minutes till midnight on Friday night, and I'm sitting in bed, propped up against the wall, typing up musings on socializing. I'll refrain commenting on that, so I can get on with the actual topic of this post: Socializing.

The Elegance of Cattle

It's hard, I've learned, to pose a legitimate threat when you're just barely over 5 feet tall.

My Forced Distance from What I Call Society

Oh, but am I a hypocrite.

I think I've mentioned it before, but I'm so hypocritical, I occasionally contemplate introducing myself as "Hello, I'm a hypocrite."

Truly.

That bad.

So it's not entirely surprising that I tend to bemoan my lack of close acquaintances, when I distance myself from a good number of people. It's not as if I hate all people, or just hate social interaction. Nope, nothing like that. It's just. . . Well, I'm not sure what it is, or really how to explain it, I'll be honest here. I'm just fickle and contrary and extremely hormonal. And sometimes I really just wish that life were novel, or that I could fall into printed words.

50 Little Known Facts

1. I have 3 freckles in a diagonal line on my right cheek. I also have 3 more in a horizontal line above them. The only person who's ever noticed this is my mother.

2. If someone bought me chocolates from a tiny sweets shop hours away from my house, I would love them unconditionally for the rest of my life.

3. I've broken my arms 3 times; 1 time left and 2 times my right.

4. I've had my dream college picked out since I was 8.

5. I have a penchant for going out in the middle of the street with my dad's camera and taking pictures of the sunset in my robe in the evenings.

Mental Maps of Childhood Memories

You had your eyes closed on the drive home tonight.

It was almost 12, and you were leaning against the truck door, listening to Sky Sailing on your iTouch, with your blue and black Paul Frank earbuds, when you realized that you had a perfect mental map of where you were.

The Caged Bird who Swallows the Key

Well what do you know?

I'm back.

Only after... well, 7-ish months. Okay okay, I know that I fail at maintaining blogs. Or any habits, really. If I don't do it everyday, I don't do it at all.

However, somehow, My mother has decided to try and support my attempts at becoming a writer, and wants me to write a blog. I decided to just start updating this one.

(The Illusion of) Perfection in an otherwise Im-Perfect World

Life sucks.

Well, let me rephrase that: Life is im-perfect. Fact of life, actually. I often read books, but seldom do I read to "escape" from my own life. But that's been happening more often these past few days. And I finally see the appeal of "escaping", especially if it's a story worth escaping into. But escaping dosn't help at all, because when you finish reading "The End" page, then your just right back where you began; in your own, screwed up life. But more on that later.

Insert Smart-Alecky Post Title Here:

I know, I know. I have a pretty lame title today, but thats because (shockingly) I have no life-changing events to write about that may urge my vocabulary and supposedly "witty" humor. I just felt like I owed this blog (and the bored reader that I imagine while write, who checks this blog when they are teetering on the brink of unspeakable boredom) another post.

First off, I'd like to apologize for my drama-filled episode last post, which I assure you, does not happen often and (hopefully) will never make another appearance on this blog. Yes, I am a hormonal teenage girl but I'm not a Drama Queen.

Be Careful; I Take Things Literally

I write my first post on this page on my Aunt's Mac computer, cursing the tiny, barely half-an-inch thick keyboard. Due to unspeakable boredom, I'm going to post some weird "status" thing.

Mood: Bored.
Location: My Aunt's "loft" in my Aunt and Grandma's house
Listening to: "Who I am hates Who I've been" by Reliant k, but when the youtube video stops I can hear the audio of "Tootsie" being played downstairs
Working on anything?: A Mermaid Melody AMV, redesigning a logo for an Esty store, a calender of my cousin (who is a 21 year old Cabbage Patch Kid. Don't ask.) and my never-ending pursuit of the illusion of perfection.

Okay, okay so the last one is a little over-dramatic. Indulge me, I'm bored.