Moving Time!

Having various blogs is starting to bug me - a lot. So, I've decided to cut down and move over, that is move to wordpress.
Really, it's just because I will have to create a blog there for Writer's Craft, and so it's easier keeping a personal and writer's craft blog on one account there - also so I don't have to move this blog over to my other account on this site, the one that my father and his girlfriend can clearly see and read. Not going to happen if I can do something about it. I'll delete this blog and account in five days, and I'll post the URL for my new blog over on wordpress as soon as I create it.
ARRIVEDERCI AND SEE YOU SOON!

Breaking Point

Today, I had a little bit of an epiphany. Or maybe it was a realisation. Maybe it wasn't even that. It might've just been a blockage in my brain breaking - finally! But through all my life, I've rarely had questions. I spoke very little to those I didn't know, and asked even fewer questions - which is saying something.
So today, walking back from the Subway, I had my little "breaking" moment. For some people it's early in life, others later. Mine seemed to have been early. At least, the first part of it. I'm not naive enough to believe that people aren't constantly changing. I've got proof they do. But back to the point.
I was walking down the sidewalk, listening to Fire Escape by Civil Twilight, and I looked up at the sun, and it was just like I cracked. Or burst, or melted. A little bit of everything.
Then I had questions and thoughts and philosophies and crazy, mad ideas, all racing through my head stomping on my temples. It was a physical wave crashing through my brain.
To top it off, I felt my creativeness finally decide to rear its head. As I was passing by one of the "Serenity Homes" houses (think red brick, grey stone, ugly, too big, and freshly built), I glanced across the street when I heard that screeching sound that comes from a table saw.
And I saw the most glorious, beautiful thing, tied with the sun today.
The inside of the garage, furthest from the saw, was lightly shadowed with grey concrete walls. The closer to the saw, the darker the room got. Until, just around the table, it was pitch black, cast in shadows, so I couldn't make out any details.
Then out of nowhere, a shower, blazing and brilliant, shot up and out towards the far wall. I caught it on the side, seeing the sparks flash out like a wave of fire. The sparks were bright, burning orange, shooting out in every direction, but somehow all magnetized together in a giant, sporadic group. I couldn't see what was being cut, only the white fire caused by the blade cutting so quickly.
It looked like water, if only water was made of a thousand tiny droplets of fire.

When I finally got home, my sister was there, and I had to tell her my story of the sun and my "epiphany" type thing. But talking to my sister, I'm extremely animated and stupid sounding, so it came out a little less philosophical and a little more crazy.
It went like this:
"LA WEEN! Guess what? So you know how I like never talk? And I never ask questions, really? At least, to people I don't know and in class and all that? Well, today, I was walking just before, and I looked at the sun, and I was like *huOOOOOOOOOOuh* (intense gasping). AND I HAD QUESTIONS! It was so WEIRD, Ween! Wee-yard! I'm not kidding!"

Thought I was joking about sounding crazy? Yeah, not really.
And since everyone needs to listen to the song I was listening to, ESPECIALLY the part that's all "I wanna FEEL SOMETHIIIINNNGG!" - it's the part I listen to over and over again. It's absolutely perfect for me. And it fits what happened to my brain dam today.

Have you ever had a "breaking" moment? Do you talk differently to different people? Do you think everyone does that? Talk differently depending on who you're talking to?
Ciao, and Bye. from "La Ween"

Nymphets and Guys with Twilight

So, as usual, one of my various weekly traditions features going to Chapters/Indigo bookstore on Sunday nights for two hours of glorious Starbucks hot chocolate and book browsing. This week, though, it turned out a little different.
If you've read in my previous blog entry "My Missed Connection", I have had few encounters with the opposite sex, and the ones I did have I either want to block from my memory (LR and SF), or have had no outcome (MoMA). Tonight, however, things turned out differently.
Though I wouldn't consider this guy to meet up to my regular standards, he did have the guts to ask me out and for my number - the first - so I'll give him that. And considered my saying "No" to disappearing from the store with him was because I already had a boyfriend. Who'd have thought?!
It was like this:
There I am, crouching down looking at a book from the bottom shelf when I hear a cough and "Excuse me" coming from behind me. Looking up, I turn my attention away from the book in my hands and to the two teenage guys standing behind me in the aisle.
"Uh, yes?" I see the one closer to me holding a copy of Twilight. I cringe trying not to let my distaste show on my face.
He speaks up, "Yeah, uh, I was wondering if you could help me with a book similar to this?"
Thinking he has mistaken me for an employee - which I would have LOVED to be - I was debating between following through as an unofficial employee or just saying I had no idea what to recommend. I went with the honest answer.
"Sorry, I'm probably not the person you should ask."
I watched as he fumbled around with the book while muttering about me being a "girl" and how he needed such a girl's opinion to help him.
"No, really. I'm not big on the vampire-fetish thing going on lately."
Finally, he let the book drop to his side.
"Look - this is going to sound really corny. Cheesy, actually. But, um, this was . . . I really just wanted something so I could talk to you."
I swear I stood there like a deer in headlights. A guy. A teenage, GUY, actually wanted to talk to ME? Me? Who at seventeen years, has never, not once, been kissed, let alone asked on a date?
Then my mouth kicked in. "Oh, uh, really?" Not my best, but I was in shock!
"Yeah. Uh, that sounds really cheesy. Damn, I'm not sure how to do this - but, uh, well, here. I'm Sam."
He held his hand out for me to shake, I grabbed it while stating my name. His shake was loose, but he was polite compared to most. So I forgave him for it.
"Yeah, you see, I wanted to uh, ask if you wanted to go someplace with me now? Or sometime? But now, maybe."
Shit! What do I say to that? "Oh! Um. Actually I'm not here by myself. I'm here with my mum and sister - that sounds kind of bad. I just mean, I can't up and leave right now."
It was at this point that I noticed him looking at the floor - and how often he had been since he spoke to me. Can't blame him for it, I'd be at the same state of nervousness if I was him. "Well, that's fine. That's - can I get your number, then?"
"Oh. Oh! Yeah, sure!" Pulling my phone from my purse with few - but enough - stumbling, I opened it up and programmed his number in. Then I gave him mine, after making sure I spelled his name right and he mine.
"Okay, so I'll text you sometime."
I responded with a smile and a "Sure."
His friend started to move forward, walking up and passing behind me. Noticing the cue to leave, Sam walked up to me, one arm out. "Can I have a hug?"
Sort of awkward, and sort of unsure, I walked a step towards him, and wrapped an arm around his back, leaning in for a quick second.
Pulling back quickly, I sent a last smile and a goodbye.

So, what are your stories from the first time you were asked out? Anyone else have an awkward encounter? How about a romantic one? Were you expecting it?

Moving on to other things, my friend from grade school who moved away but I still talk to, introduced me to a new song. I know the artist, Lana Del Rey, love her song "Video Games". But this song was new. It's sort of rap, sort of indie, sort of romantic. The first time I listened to it, I honestly wasn't going to listen to it a second time. But then, I couldn't get the chorus out of my head, and with me, I always listen to the songs I get stuck in my head as a way to get them out. So I did that, and the song just stuck.
Not only that, but it's like a direct play on Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov. If the plot of Lolita was modernized a little to mix a young woman - not nymphet - with a "Sugar Daddy", it would be this song.
And, she uses the line "Light of my life, fire of my loins" various times through the song, a direct reference to the book. It's one of those things that grows on you. I'll give it to you to listen for a minute. After the first round, give it a day to settle and come back - it settles inside and doesn't let you give up. I assure you.

For now, enjoy the song, perhaps pick-up Lolita as a companion - reading that book is like taking a dive in melted candy, language and Lolita both. And what's your first date story?

Statistically Speaking

I'm currently contemplating whether or not I should jump out of my window and fly away.

Between sitting here, at my desk, feeling like a grounded doorknob with a lost mind -- or -- jumping out of my bedroom window, flying around, and clearing my mind -- I know I'd go for the latter option.

Malicious Mouths and Minutes

Today, I was with my great aunt and sister at the restaurant called "The Pickle Barrel". Not two days before, we were out with my great aunt for New Year's Eve dinner, when my sister so rudely takes out her phone and begins to text one of her friends. My mother was there at the time, and both her and myself immediately smacked my sister's hands away from the phone, and told her to put it away.
Today, it was me being the rude one.
My father seems to think that because we have these nice new phones, we're automatically with them at all times, with them on, and they are available for anyone to call. Not so likely. I'm not really all in to the whole typical teen texting/facebooking/altogether technology obsessed thing.
In fact, I try to shy away from it as much as possible. I had a phone before this, three years old, I rarely texted on it, used it only to call for a ride once in a while. It was pretty much gathering dust in my school bag. My new phone hasn't been getting much more use.
Despite the fact that I have unlimited texting, I use it only the slightest bit more than my previous phone. I thank my father and his girlfriend greatly for all that they've given us. I have never taken it for granted. But there has been some unresolved (and unmentioned) tension between my father and I since he moved away when I was in grade 7.
I don't think he's ever realized it was there, myself being to blame, I rarely ever bring up my problems, let alone my problems with people, and definitely not to them.
So, today, my sister gets a call on her phone as we're waiting for lunch. She picks up, despite my look of "Don't TOUCH IT" to her, and answers. When I ask "Is it Daddy?" She nods.
And my first thought, despite all that he's done, despite that he's paying partly for the phone service, despite everything is "why in the HELL is he calling her on her phone? And NOW?"
I couldn't help it. It slipped out. Out of my head, and out of my mouth.
And right through her phone, into the ears of my father.
Which isn't even the worst part.
I couldn't stop.
Once I opened the floodgates of all of my father's rude phone qualities, I couldn't close it. So there I was, sitting, spewing rude comment after rude comment over how he couldn't wait to call at another time when he knew we would be home? About how come he HAD to call our phones just because we had them now, and that because we had them didn't mean we had free range of minutes and cell phone usage. About everything under the sun that I could think of at that moment.
And it all went right through that damn phone, and right to my father.
So now, I sit here, an email from him open in another window, waiting for me, laughing at me, to respond. I should talk to him. Say everything to his face (or as close as I can get to that, distance considered) that I want to say. Or at least, a cut down, polite version of what I want to say. Apologize, and give an excuse about how I have no excuse other than I was tired, and wasn't thinking, and that I am desperately sorry.
Ah, how I love life.

The Nameless Shade of Awesome

What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. - Juliet
In most cases, except mine.
So, I ask, what's in a name? You're given one at birth, but how do you know if that's the name that defines you? And if it isn't, what are you supposed to do about it?
As you can see, I've got a minor dilemma. Since I realized how common my name was, I've been trying various forms of it to switch to one day.
My trials have offered no solution.
Instead, I've ended up with weird combinations of letters, Gem, and Enna, and Emme, and any sort of thing you could think of. Some pretty, and some . . . pretty weird. But none stuck long enough for me to be able to tell whether or not I was the name.
For now, I'll be the nameless.
I'll be "that girl" as the title of Jenna's (from the show Awkward.) blog was for a few episodes. Nameless, but important and awesome.
Side note: What fifteen year old talks like Jenna does? Few and far between, I can vouch for that. Though, my opinion is a little biased. Living in Sudbury can do that to a person.
Tonight, if you are of the commercial/materialistic religion, is Christmas Eve. The night the jolly red fat man squeezes himself down the chimney (who actually has a working chimney anymore?) and leaves gifts for the little ones in all houses with only cookies and milk to keep him going. What I found was that, Santa Claus may be tainted by commercial things nowadays but the stories behind him aren't.
Stories, yes. Santa Claus, Saint Nicholas, and pretty much any other version of the same "person" remain untrue. They aren't the same person.
Or so I was told by my 6-year-old cousin. I haven't checked out whether or not that's true, but going by the rubbish spewed by many a thing today, I'd say it's a pretty accurate statement.
So, while most people rush around wrapping up last minute gifts, and hiding them strategically under the tree, I will lie back in my bed and enjoy the wonders of 8-year-olds warding off burglars -- Home Alone. And if Home Alone is your cup of tea, I'll ask you to check out Unaccompanied Minors. I swear, if I got stuck in an airport on christmas, I would pull everything those kids did. They are my airport heroes!
As for my reading duty, I've been skimping on my journey. But, I have gained a few more in my collection, so I'll have that many more stories to tell once I do get started. Whenever that may be. Soon! I promise, soon!
A song to listen to -- I warn, it may rip your heart out, it's *that* beautiful:

And a dingy, funny good one:

Cause I can't resist the Grinch :P And neither should you! I wonder if there's a book about him . . .
Save that for another day! My fine readers, I hope you enjoy your christmas, and I'll talk to you afterwards!
Ciao!

Starry-Eyed and Awkward.

I feel sort of saucy today.
I'm not too sure why, maybe because it was the last day before christmas holidays. Maybe because the day was all mashed up, and I should be doing something right now. Maybe for no reason at all. But I feel the need to do something, and be quick, sassy and witty about it.
Not sure how that'd work. Do something . . . sassily? Saucily? I'd have to have someone to sauce at first. And let's hope it's not the turkey at christmas. That would be a pathetic sauce-fest  -- no pun intended.
Perhaps, it is because of the show I got in to last night. Only twenty minutes -- give or take -- an episode, and with a main character much like myself, but prettier, it definitely has it's hilarity issues. And it's awkward issues. Like the title "Awkward." Catchy? Yes.
And to top it off, the music from it is fantastic! Kind of techno, kind of indie, there's bound to be at least one song everyone could like.
As for Jenna, she's like I would be, were it that I actually had some sort of male attraction value, young parents, and an interesting life. Not that mine doesn't have it's moments, but mistaking a huge accident for a suicide attempt? Suckish, but interesting.
AND! She's got a blog! Keeps a blog, either way. I doubt it'd be on the internet in actual life, but the stories she spews on to her blog -- personal -- but extremely entertaining. You could tell they were written by an interesting Hollywood-ian. Hollywood-ian? Maybe not . . .
What I like to believe, as a bookworm only would, is that, with such fascination with reading, writing and overall construction and knowledge of language (in my case, English) is that I have some sort of hold on it myself. Therefore, I can create words as I please. This may not be true, in fact, I know it's not true, I simply like to think otherwise, but it's fun none-the-less.
On the book note, I have finally finished my class novel, Fifth Business by Robertson Davies, and we have moved on to . . . SHAKESPEARE.
The name may scare you, but hold your tongue, read quickly, and it'll pass.
I seem to have stolen some of my mum's genes. I actually like Shakespeare. And actually, I'm probably the only one who does in my class. The minute my teacher opened his mouth and started "Sha", everyone cringed but myself. Sad? Probably.
To think that I, a teenager, a person of such a young age (and young mind, though I hate to think so), replace my lack of a love life -- love anything -- with books?
Well, now you know how we turn out. My advice to those who haven't dug as far as I have into this worded pit, for every page you read, talk to someone for as long as it took you to read. Or longer, if the conversation is interesting. If it's a stranger, sometimes that's better. Just, not the weird ones.
I can assure you the weird ones are good when you start talking, but they are WEIRD when you finish. Most of the time, good, but I warn you -- and I have first-hand experience with this -- sometimes it's bad. Very very bad.
But please! Don't let me stop you from chatting! Just keep your eyes peeled. And I mean that in the least literal sense.
Here's a song, from Awkward.'s 12th episode, during a rather pivotal moment:

How I dream of stars in my eyes! And a man like the one in the video :P But save that for another day! Or, if my little Eros is still tagging along, another year.
Ciao!