Honk for Justice

I woke up this morning earlier than I would have liked. This caused a 2 hour period of a dazed fog clouding my thoughts and judgement. It was good that I didn't need to use either of these things at 8 o'clock a.m on a Sunday. Anyways, my mom came rushing downstairs and bombarded me with a really absurd series of events. She was holding a Barbie doll that she had found in Phoebe's room (why does Phoebe have a Barbie doll in her room?) "Doesn't she look EXACTLY like Jacqui?!" This Hispanic plastic made-in-China doll held no resemblance to Jacqui. I find it kind of weird how someone can see something that another is completely blinded to. If that makes sense. Well, then she proceeded to prop up the Barbie in a sitting position, perched on the mounds of junk covering my desk. I really like when my mom is kind to inanimate objects. 

I successfully directed Bryan to Cafe Dolce! I think I will be good with directions when I can drive. If the day EVER comes. Joey has the coolest room and I am actually going to improve my own.. tomorrow. (And more so next year when I can take that damn dresser out and replace it with a desk.)

Sorry this entry is boring. The day-to-day life of summer is going to be less intellectual and thought filled than the school year's entries. I'm so tired that my contacts are clouding and my stomach aches.

Say Bye To Jeff

I really can't decide if I believe in ghosts or not. I am fairly sure that a huge part of my disbelief in them is my attempt to keep myself calm, on nights like tonight when my finger was being moved by a piece of plastic across a Wiji board. Parker's stories were so believable though. That, joined with the damp dark atmosphere, and the fact that we were sitting in a supposed haunted cemetery, made my insides tighten a little. I can tell this is going to be a summer filled with major "checks" off the to-do list. 

On my birthday yesterday, more than anyone, Lindsey made me feel special. She bought me strawberry and whipped cream covered waffles at KPs, and discretely asked the waitress to put a candle in them and sing to me. About 80% of the restaurant was filled with Wachusett kids, so I had a loud choir of voices singing Happy Birthday. I definitely got my fix of birthday glory. The day carried on with a glorious appearance from my friend the sun (who we haven't seen in weeks) and towering waves at Salsbury beach. I almost enjoy the ocean more when the water is cold, I think it pumps up my adrenaline level or something. As cliche as it is, I really do love the beach. So fresh and clean. 

Today was the end of the year Stuco party at Comet Pond. The last time I had been in that pond..... (*hidden shout out*) So, Bryan and I stopped at the grocery store on the way to the party, just to be the gems that we are and bring a snack. At the self-check out (which by the way is a great invention) Bryan decided to be wise guy and clicked the spanish version instead of english. Oh wait, neither of us speak spanish! So when it came time to put in our silver coin, we had to have a middle aged BigY worker aid us. Her comment on the 'sexiness' of the recorded spanish voice took me by surprise. Strangers seem to be surprisingly open when Bryan Diehl is around. I have yet to figure out why. The party was a lot of fun, aside from my failed attempt at knee-boarding. Lake water splashed up into my mouth, ears, nose, and eyes all while Josh Coyne was shouting over the load motor of the boat "EMILY YOU HAVE TO GET UP NOW. NOW. NOW EMILY" I eventually succeeded, but I don't think it was exactly worth the multiple down sides to the adventure. My arms are soar right now, just as I type. 

When I get back from California, I am going to go to the nursing home and ask if I can volunteer to keep the elderly company. After each day, I feel like a brand new load of facts, experiences, and general knowledge is being scribed into my memory. Imagine how much they must have, after 90 YEARS of these types of days. I am hoping that being around them will help me figure out which direction I would like to aim my life in. Although, a wise woman told me today that she is 69 and has still yet to determine what she wants to do with her life. This relived me from a lot of angst that I have been having over this matter lately. Thank you Madelin. 

Killing Nazi Zombies is not nearly as satisfying as it was built up to be. The song of the day is "Wake Up" by Arcade Fire, because silence and loud music is the best. 

There is nothing like a birthday to make you evaluate how sufficiently you are living your life. In the midst of my studying tonight I got slaughtered by thoughts of regrets, unfinished books, unchecked to-do lists, months wasted in conflicted relationships, and countless hours of procrastination, all while I was fifteen. Its like everything I know and am familiar to is coming to a rushing crescendo, and is soon going to be left behind into the deep abyss of my memory. I need to savor every second of it before I  venture off into the world of the unknown- sixteen.

 Today I had my first physical therapy appointment. My evaluator's name was Wendy, and she was a hockey mom. She made me sit in weird (and somewhat painful) positions, walk on my heels, and squat multiple times. Every time she would have a pre-cautious look on her face and make a "Huh.." noise, which made me worry that whatever it was she was seeing was abnormal. Then, she proceeded to lay me face down on the table, and massage my lower back with lotion. It's funny how quickly my lower back turned into my butt, which was now being massaged.. by a hockey mom. I don't know how I felt about this, but the fatigue from finals hit me and I was suddenly overwhelmingly tired and relaxed. I almost dozed off, while having a lady play masseuse towards my tush. 

 

I am going to count down the minutes until 12:15 when it will be A FISH, and throw a pre-party party with Phoebe. The song of the day is anything by Girl Talk, because it sure knows how to get you PU-mped. 

Hammocks and Puppies

This is William Keddy. Babies sure know how to brighten your day. I have spent the majority of this week stuffing dates and vocabulary and formulas into my brain. I feel lifeless and vacant of everything worth anything. I hope people don't find me boring. The song of the day is Brackett, WI by Bon Iver [shouuuutz to Joey!]

I Am Not A Hipster

Nothing so ridiculously teenage and desperate nothing so childish

At a better pace, slower and more calculated, no chance of escape

-Radiohead

Tonight, blogger is going to help me study for my waste-of-time-i-hate-you-ms.-lajko english final. In here, I will include (or attempt to include) 57 vocabulary words from The Glass Menagerie. Hopefully it will remain a important conglomeration of my day's events, not just a fiasco of pointless ranting. Sorry if I sound pretentious, but I need to spice up my study habits.

Today in Roberta's (Lajko) class, she confirmed my belief that it is her life's mission to beleaguer her students. Her natural tone of cynicism and general pessimistic view of human nature as a whole has made for multiple awkward moments. As I left the classroom, folder with study materials in hand, she halted my escape. "Emily, why are you taking your folder?"

"Uhh.. because I need the things in it to study for your final.."

"No. The folders stay in this room. You kids can't be trusted to bring them back"

"Well I need these papers to study from Ms. Lajko.." I said, decorously.

"Here, put the things you need in this manilla folder, you can take this home."

So, I proceeded to empty my ENTIRE folder, and place all of the contents into the manilla folder. Then, I handed her back my seasoned, dirty, tattered, empty folder, and left it there in desolation. I hope she realized, despairingly, how completely absurd and ridiculous her demands were. And since when am I too irresponsible to manage to bring something back to school? I hate being treated like a forgetful child. I am not one bit elegiac that tomorrow will be the last day I will ever have to endure her so called "teaching."

At around 6.30, I completed my art final. Sitting, stationary, for long periods of time makes my back cramp up. So, when I go to stand up right, I have to hobble around (highly resembling the Hunchback of Notre Dame) for about 20 seconds until I can straighten it, pain free. There is certainly no fluidity in this movement, but there seems to be no way around it. To grant myself the endowment of a short, dormant break from work, I went to lay flat on the living room floor and stare at the ceiling. Man, fatigue certainly hits you when you are horizontal. My Dad then entered the room, and decided to fit his tenuous body to emulate my relaxation technique. Laying side by side, I was reminded how much I admire and love my dad. He is an paragon in my life, and has probably taught me in more ways than anyone else, of how to pursue my life with vivacity. He sure knows how to be happier, fitter, and more productive. Like Thom Yorke.

"We don't do this often enough. You know this is a yoga pose?" he said, demurely. My Dad is a big fan or relaxation, and preventing the body from over-stressing itself. Its very assuring to think that an activity as simple as laying on the floor and starring at the ceiling can greatly improve your performance and attitude towards the day. The conversation shifted to muse about serious topics such as the troubles of being a vagrant hiker through Yosemite with a 40 pound pack and a back injury. And the fact that it is exceedingly difficult to receive funding for his grants nowadays. Neither of us were rhapsodic about these thoughts. Luckily, my mother induced me to come set the table for dinner. This saved us both from becoming deeply engulfed in these unwanted topics, but they still lurk in the back of my mind.

At the dinner table, Phoebe proceeded to inform the rents of the highly querulous topic- what it means to be labeled a "hipster." Jauntily, she told them she was not a hipster. Which, according to her definition of a hipster, means that she is indeed a hipster. Its alright Phoebe- just be giddy about it!

My homework seems to interminably stroll on. 2 days until my birthday/the extinction of school/ I become a fugitive of the summer.

Misty Walken

Today was so bland. I listened to The Stage Names by Okkervil River about 5 or 6 times consecutively, and didn't get bored once. Maybe biology had sucked all the boredom out of me, so there was none left. But anyways, it has been a long time since a song has actually made tears stream down my face. Today, Savannah Smiles triggered tears three times! I am not going to go into the details of why, because according to some lady on Oprah, there is no point in being upset over future anticipated sadness. August 31st will be a heart wrenching day. 

I am fully ready to nobly conquer 10th grade biology tomorrow.

Stinky Cheese Man

The bearers of all good things arrive

climb inside us, twist and cry

a kiss on your molten eyes.

Once again, I have found myself in this entrapment of not being able to force myself into studying. It just makes me want to release this soft whimpering sound, that says "Ahh don't think about what you should be doing right now.. because thats boring. Avoid. Work." All of my friends have seem to overcome this. Maybe my dawning moment will come tomorrow, where I suddenly have all the motivation in the world. Maybe. 

This morning Nina and I decided to be gems and get Bryan a donut while we were at Dunkin. He told us that he was mowing the lawn.. conveniently leaving out the small detail that he was not mowing his own easy access lawn, but instead someone's lawn 15 miles away in Paxton. So, being the geniuses we are, decided it was an extremely clever solution to wrap up the donut in napkins and leave it on Bryan's lawn. When we finally arrive back at my house, Bryan reminds us of the fact that dogs eating chocolate is often fatal. Bolt. We managed to make it back down to his house (on our bikes with impossibly deflated tires) before Lucky found it, success! We were so proud of ourselves! ..until I saw a single ant crawling across the napkin covering the donut. And then another. And then an entire cluster feasting on the sugar coated fried dough. The next few minutes consisted of screaming, frantic running in circles, and chucking the donut behind a tree. It was a noble effort, but Bryan never got a donut this morning. 

I babysat this evening and read a book called the Stinky Cheese Man, where the re-ocurring line read "Run, run as fast as you can, you can't catch me I'm the Stinky Cheese Man!" He ended up drowning to death, because he smelled so bad, that the fox who was carrying him across the river dropped him. I really felt bad for this fictional SCM. What an awful thing to do - let someone drown, for the soul reason that they are stinky. Shallow fox.

I AM GOING TO GET MY STUDY ON!! ...

Druggie Parental Upbringing

I absolutely adore my friends. Yesterday they gave me the feeling that Lester Burnham explained at the end of American Beauty when his heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst. I wonder how this happens, and why it gives me the somewhat nauseous feeling, but then "I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain. And I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life."  As previously quoted by all of my fellow concert-goers last night, we felt infinite. 

The adventure started with our splurge of independence. For one reason or another the train feels so liberating. And everything is so photogenic! I really love when I introduce music to someone, and they really listen. Like even listen to the tone of the voices, the lyrics, and the beats of the instruments. While listening to Let Down on the train with Emily Friedman, I knew she was doing this. And it made me so happy because its one of those feelings that you crave to share with someone, and I think she got it! She is great. Arriving in Boston, we sort of struggled with looking like natural Bostonians. Taking excess pictures, holding a map, and actually waiting for the crosswalk sign to turn green gave us the ultimate immature tourist image. But WHAT-EVS, we were way too excited to care one bit. We managed to navigate ourselves from the train station, to Urban Outfitters (vital stop while in Boston), and back to Atlantic Ave which eventually led to the Pavilion...

Nina made it just in time for Andrew Bird's entrance, and when I greeted her we couldn't stop ourselves from jumping up and down like crazy ladies. But- "Who cares? We are never going to see these people again." This became the motto of the night. Emily and I wanted to find a way to share our joy and excitement with the countless hipsters around us. There was one girl who wore her graduation cap and gown, and held a sign that said "I skipped my graduation for Andrew Bird!" For some reason its considered shocking, out of the ordinary, and somewhat creepy to talk to strangers. We wanted to break this boundary between us and our neighbors, so we decided to shout out the simplest thing we could guess about them; their name. As a result, we met Fred, Joe, Ben, Bryan, and Evan. Evan even approached us, instead of just exchanging embarrassed puzzled looks (like Fred, Ben, and Bryan.) Evan was half weirded-out, and half impressed that we obtained this skill. I was primarily impressed.  

ANDREW BIRD IS UNBELIEVABLE. I can't even comprehend how one man can be so talented. Words can't express his music, or his ability to perform, so the only thing I can do is strongly recommend and encourage everyone to listen him. When he ended with Don't Be Scared all I wanted to do is hold the hands of my friends next to me and tell them what beautiful people they are. Concerts like these are deeply inspirational. 

Nina slept over after and I was in one of the best moods I had been in a very long time. Probably comparable to the life-changing raft trip last summer. Anyways, I think a combination of this joyfulness and excess fatigue made for uncontrollable laughter. We were so so happy. 

I feel infinite. 

Rustic Pizza

I have a contagious back syndrome and if you come near me, your lumbar will shrink and you'll be in chronic pain for the rest of your life.

That isn't true, but if it was it would probably make me one of the loneliest people on the planet. I am really opposed to solitude, because I think I can find more out about myself when with company. Contrary to my mom's believe, there is a lot of time to "think breathe and relax" when with others. At least for me. 

Today I went to the Orthopedic Surgeon, and got x-rays taken of my lower back. I have some sort of pelvic condition that I was born with, which is causing this reoccurring stabbing pain. While sitting in the waiting room at the hospital (by the way, hospitals smell so bad) my mom made the strangest remark. She told me it didn't matter at all that my dress was on the short side, because pants aren't necessary when you have legs. Huh? Does that make sense? I'm not sure it does but I liked it anyways. 

I am glad my condition isn't contagious, because I don't want to be lonely.

Hump Day

Model UN is super intimidating -_-

Today I tried to figure out how pragmatic I am, or if I can force myself to be when necessary. Finals next week will closely resemble hell. 7 Days until SW33T 16 y@hO0!

Let Me Go On

Phoebe has been blogging now for five months and 15 days. Her blog has almost become part of the family, as we even have a cutesy nickname for it, 'POTD.' Lately, I realize that I label things in my day as "blog worthy" even though I didn't even have a blog of my own. I guess its about time I document all of these insignificant (in the long run) details of my life.

The majority of my morning was sub-par. I got scolded in gym class for not knowing how to tag up. How am I suppose to know what that is? Its not like Ms. Burton taught us the rules or anything. My back is getting progressively worse, which is totally contrary to what everyone is telling me should be happening. The shooting bolt of pain that exploded up my spine while I was taking my bio test made me feel like I was going to faint. Mary had to walk me to the nurse, and there I got to lay down and eat crackers. I continued the rest of my day as if nothing had happened, and only told a select few about my somewhat embarrassing episode. I guess if you are reading this you are one of the select few. 

I also had my last art long block, which was sentimental and too short. Two things made this a particularly enjoyable class: 1) Chris Coyne was playing his saxophone in the  room next door.  This is my second day in a row discovering that Chris Coyne is overwhelmingly talented,  how intimidating. And 2) My charcoal-drawn self portrait is turning out a lot better than I originally expected it to. In fact, everyone in the class has a portrait that is surprisingly close  in resemblance to their own appearance. This made me really proud.

After school I went to Elm Park and ate Cheez-Its and drank Arizona Iced Tea. I have had several events in the past couple of weeks that have led me into a summer mode, but I unfortunately am not allowed to be in this mode yet. Today though, I accepted it. Because school is almost over and this afternoon's fun was too great to ignore. 

Phoebe got mad at me again for wearing her clothes without asking. I really am going to stop doing this, because I feel like I am throwing away valuable time with her when we fight.