Artist. Artist statement. Artist... Art. My brother has been doing landscapes lately, and WOW.
"I love being outside, which is good, because I live right next to the mountains. They inspired these pictures. I love feeling cool, clean, natural air, and bright white sunlight. I don't like the dark, yellowish glow of fluorescent lights. I get a clean feeling when I am outside in nature. These feelings make it important to me that we protect nature. I want my descendants to feel the same way that I do in the mountains."
Greetings, Earthlings!
I do not like baking. It takes up time and makes my feet hurt. If this becomes one of those "recipe fun" blogs, I'll eat my hat (marinated of course). However, today I do have a particularly interesting recipe for all you cannibals out there. Please enjoy!
Yield: One Annie Blue
Ingredients:
1 cup fresh brain tissue
⅓ cup cockiness
½ cup forgetfulness
1 cup motivation
⅓ cup obsessive love of words
⅓ cup obsessive love of art
⅓ cup obsessive love of music
1 bundle of nerves (separate and mix strands in individually if possible)
½ cup generosity
½ cup selfishness
2 tbsp insecurity
1 cup crazy
just a dash of creepy
Instructions:
In a small bowl, mix insecurity, selfishness, nerves, and cockiness together. Sift well, and set aside.
Combine brain tissue, generosity, and motivation. Add dry ingredients and stir well until an even consistency is achieved. Bake for fourteen years, letting cool periodically during summers. Now you are ready to frost!
In a separate bowl, mix all obsessive loves, creepy, forgetfulness, and crazy until the mixture resembles toothpaste consistency. Spread the mixture on top of the Annie Blue in a cute curly-cue pattern. Avoid eating the frosting plain, as the nerves, insecurity, and motivation in the cake are what cancel out the negative side effects of the frosting, which may include but are not limited to: writer’s brain, artist’s brain, loony brain, or no brain.
My grandmother is a wonderful lady. She used to come to visit when I was little, and she would always ask for hugs. She let me sit on her lap and stroke her cheek over and over again because I liked the peachy softness. There was this watch she had, that only had the numerals 3, 6, 9, and 12 on it. I thought it was the coolest thing ever, and asked if I could wear it for a little bit.
"Of course," said Grandma. "Just be careful with it."
I wasn't. I don't remember the details... did I lose it? Get it wet? Drop it? At any rate, I was nervous about telling Grandma I had failed her, but not that nervous, because of her kind and forgiving nature. Sure enough, she told me, "I never liked that watch anyway."
The only reason I bring this up is a poem she shared with me: "I'm a poet, and I know it, and my feet show it. They're long fellows." I thought of her talking about that as I got ready to post my latest poetic masterpiece, and thought I'd take the opportunity to tell you what an extraordinary lady my grandma is. And now you might be getting bored, so here is my poem:
we must not run with matches
nor ever play with knives
the demons this net catches
will surely claim our lives
we must be still and hold our peace
we mustn’t fall in love
or the otherworldly beasts
will steal and carry us above
we must not speak with strangers
and seldom walk alone
if unaware of present dangers
they’ll find us in the morningtime;
hands as cold and gray as stone
we must refrain from thirsting
lest we succumb to sin
we are so very near to bursting
to take a drink would do us in
we must cling to the sanity
that’s never let us down
in this sea of calamity
if we lose our minds we’ll drown
O tragedy! O misery! O foolish, foolish heart
the bright young thing which dared to dream
must now awaken with a start
alas! alas! they’ve poisoned my glass
from which we should not have been drinking
O vile, crass, foolhardy lass!
you silly girl! what were you thinking?
we must not thrash about and scream
we must stay civilized and couth
we think it must be but a dream
the waking mind will see the truth
we must stand firm and choke our fears
and do not shout aloud
swallow our laughter, choke our tears
we’ve got to do our demons proud
we ought not stay awake at night
but rather sleep and steal away
shut the doors and lock them tight
oblivious to the light of day
O tragedy! O misery! O rotted, wicked heart!
the foolish thing which dared to dream
must now awaken with a start
alas! alas! they’ve burnt the grass
upon which we ought not be walking
O vile, crass, foolhardy lass!
shut up and let me do the talking And now, ladies and gents, because I've already used up all the rhymey words by myself, and this post didn't really have much of a topic anyway, here's some lyric-free music for you to rock out to.
I love my pediatrician. He's a smiley sort of fellow who probably should be retired by now, but keeps on pediatricianing because he loves children. The walls are painted with cute elephants and scenes from The Very Hungry Caterpillar, not cold and scary like other doctors offices (ahem! You know who you are). There are colorful rocking horses in all of the examining rooms.
Last week I went to the grown-up doctor to do a strep test, and I realized how much I hated it. When the lady put the light in my ear, she didn't tell me I had mermaids and fairies in my head - and call me crazy, but I missed that. Like, a lot. If this is what growing up is like, I want no part of it. When I pass by a mirror, sometimes I do a double take, and then I feel like one of those enchanted people in books looking in the mirror and feeling their faces and exclaiming in surprise, "what've you done to me? I'm old!"
It's not just not being able to see Dr. Whiting anymore that's driving me crazy. There are all sorts of things about growing up that I did not sign up for -- like having to sort my money. By the time I've given some to short-term savings, some to my church, some to college, etc., I don't have any left for myself! I can only imagine what it's going to be like when the government starts to want in on the action.
And don't get me started on my body. All the girls at my school are counting calories, and I'm just over here like one of those cats that won't stop being annoying until you feed it (except I can feed myself). To look presentable, you're supposed to slather your face in makeup (unless you're a dude, of course).
You know that one teacher who always accuses students of acting like five-year olds? I think we should all just go and do that. We'd get the best of both worlds, because we'd have the emotional maturity not to yell and push over toys, but we'd still get to play with them. Storytime would be a whole lot less complicated, because we could all read to ourselves (and I don't care what anybody says - you're never too old for a good picture book). And do you have any idea how many adults and high-schoolers would kill to have naptime every day?!
There would be no boy-girl drama because cooties would re-emerge, and walking around with blankets would be socially acceptable. I don't know about you, but when I'm cold, the right kind of blanket is warmer and cuddlier than any hoodie I've ever worn. And we'd get to wash with tear-free shampoo that smells like berries. We'd get to watch those Baby Einstein shows - you know the ones I'm talking about, the ones with the puppets and pretty colors - shamelessly. And when we went to get our hair cut, we could all ride in those cute little ducks and trains. I've always wanted to get my hair cut inside of a duck.
Here's some music now for your inner child to enjoy. It's a lullaby I heard all the time as a kid - when I found it again just recently, I played it over and over and over again until my family went berserk. But I promise - it's really nice the first time.
Greetings, Earthlings!
When I was young, I had a dream about an animated film I had recently watched crossed with Gertrude Chandler Warner's Boxcar Children series. I woke up terrified.
I went to my parent's room crying because of my horrible nightmare, and pulled out a sleeping bag from under their bed (they had put these here for just that purpose). But it wasn't enough just to be in my parents' presence, not when the cartoon haunted me every time I closed my eyes. No, I'm ashamed to say I woke my mother up and made her hold my hand.
Fast-forward I-don't-know-how-many-years. I'm sleeping soundly in my bed, dreaming of a haunted house with a room full of flies and a madwoman locked in the closet. From my wall, a mounted headless baby doll stares at me (as best as it can without a head).
I wake up that morning totally unfazed. I think it has something to do with the doll: Coretta Caroline Kingsley III (There was no Coretta Caroline Kingsley I or II, but I liked the way the numeral made the name sound stately and important). I purchased Coretta at a yard sale in the summer. When Halloween rolled around, I knew she would make a perfect accessory to my costume, so I stripped all her clothes off and tried to bash her head in a little bit, but ended up knocking the whole thing off.
I like it when Coretta stares at me. Whenever I feel afraid, I look at her and I am reminded that I've been sleeping with a headless doll on my wall for the past few years, so nothing can scare me anymore. Then I go to sleep. My mother sees the doll as a morbid representation of teenage angst, and is therefore strongly opposed, but she lets me do what I want for the most part.
Now it's my brothers turn to be afraid. He comes into my room every night asking if I'll sit with him until he falls asleep (actually, he really just hovers in the doorway. I think Coretta scares him). What shocks me is how insensitive I am when he asks for my help.
"You're fine," I tell him heartlessly. "Go back to bed."
I don't know why I am like this. I should be more sympathetic, since when I was his age I refused to go to sleep if there was a styling head in my closet. I should sit with him and cuddle him and stroke his head until he feels okay.
But I don't. Why I don't, I have no idea. It's like when an amputee gets a prosthetic leg, and then her friend's leg gets bitten off by a shark and she proceeds to laugh at her friend for not being able to walk. I'm really that heartless. Has Coretta stolen my soul?
Maybe. Or maybe I'm just subconsciously trying to force my brother to cross the threshold by himself, because once you realize that you don't need someone holding your hand, you're ready to fly. I know that sounds like a cat poster, but it's totally legit.
Way back when when it was me who refused to go down to the basement by myself, my brothers and I devised a test. We put a plastic blue stick from a playset down at the very furthest end of the basement, and then one at a time we would go down by ourselves to go get the stick and bring it back upstairs, triumphant.
I'm embarrassed to admit that I was never actually brave enough to go downstairs and get the blue stick. The really pathetic thing is that the basement wasn't even that scary. It wasn't like one of those dark, creepy, unfinished basements. It was a nice place to be, with carpet and couches and crap.
Anyway, both my brothers successfully went down and were able to fetch the blue stick by themselves. Afterward, whenever they were afraid to do something I'd say, "You can do it! You're bluestick brave!" despite not being actually bluestick brave myself.
On one occasion, I remember being terrified to go do some ridiculously easy mundane task, and my little brother saying to me, "You can do it! You're bluestick brave!" at which point I burst into tears and admitted my failure.
Well now, I'm fine. It's like I needed proof that yes, in fact, I actually was bluestick brave. The blue stick just happened to be a dead babydoll.
You know how confident the popular kids look? Yeah, at least half of them are faking it, and you can too! Confidence is key, genuine or not, and you’re never too old to play pretend.
Everyone hates P.E. just as much as you do, and they’re all just as self-conscious about stripping down in front of their peers as you are.
In the words of Frank Turner, “You’re not as messed up as you think you are!” Really. I promise you.
Sports, drama, foreign language… Participate! You’ll never find your niche unless you put yourself out there.
Avoid social drama. It’s pointless and confusing, especially the romance kind. Falling in like is going to distract you from your schoolwork, make you look like an idiot in front of that special someone, and break your heart. It’s just not worth it at this point in your life.
Keep an open mind about your classes. In elementary school, I hated math with a fiery passion, but now I love it. Algebra is like an entirely different subject. This holds true for nearly all ofed an outcast if you do. It’s just that most people are lazy or stressed.
Jr. High dances are generally loud, sweaty, and uncomfortable, but the formals are generally okay.
You should definitely study hard, but good grades aren’t worth your sweat, blood, tears, and other bodily fluids until ninth grade, which is when the colleges start paying attention.
Keep on good terms with the teachers and administration. your classes - most likely, they’ll change for the better.
Only, like, 10 % of people dress up for spirit week, but that doesn’t mean you’ll be brand
Jr. High marks the end of free pencils and paper, so bring lots of your own.
Snacks. Growing children need snacks, so carry some with you always. I find chocolate almonds especially stick-to-your-ribsy, but to each their own.
Even if you don’t see it as a valid career option, taking Drama will expand your social sphere exponentially.
Eventually, your workload may leave you feeling exhausted and depressed. Talk to your counselor - that’s why they’re there.
Sleep! You may think you don’t need it, but you do. I promise you, you do.
If you have no friends, do not despair. Ms. Batchler will be your friend, and let you eat lunch in the library every other day while she reads to you.
You can’t live on food alone. I reccomend strong daily doses of rock and roll.
Use deodorant always, but don’t go overboard on cologne and perfume. It’s in that spritzy bottle for a reason: one spritz is enough!
If you are a boy, make friends with girls. If you are a girl, make friends with boys. The opposite sex provides valuable insights to life, and you’ll be less intimidated once you start dating.
You are one of thousands of students your teacher cycles through, so don’t be offended if they don’t remember your name.
If the vending machine eats your $1 bill (which is entirely possible, by the way) do not try again with a fiver. I learned this the hard way.
You’re in Jr. High, so go ahead and let yourself be a little stupid. It’s how you make memories. My friend and I went to the mall to glue googly eyes on the posters in the makeup counter. Then we threw marshmallows at random strangers. Let your immaturity shine now, while it’s still socially acceptable.
If you come away from Jr. High with nothing but an education, you’re doing it wrong.
People will call you “sevvy” for the rest of the year. It’s no biggie - at least you’re not getting stuffed into lockers or anything… most of you, anyway.
If you’re a dude, remember to be respectful, polite, and chivalrous always. Girls dig that sort of thing.
If you don’t dress up for Halloween, you end up looking like a dork.
Exchanging Christmas presents is optional. The people that do give gifts usually just by lip gloss and stickers - that sort of thing.
You have no idea how hard the library ladies work, so make sure to show some respect!
Don’t wait until e-time to do your homework. With your luck, chances are they’ll cancel it and hold an assembly instead. E-time is great, but not super reliable.
Learn the difference between your and you’re, as well as there, their, and they’re. It’s not rocket science, people!
If you’re like me, you’ll never look at your notes after you take them, so there’s no point in going into excruciating detail. Be clear and concise, and make sure to write all the things your teacher mentions more than once. Oftentimes, they’ll tell you exactly what they want you to write down.
Never take a class just for an “easy A”. If you need a space-filler on your schedule, take study hall - it’s sort of like a free period where you go and read or work on homework.
Taking Peer Tutor may look scary, but it’s actually a way-cool way to make friends and meet people you wouldn’t have known otherwise.
Order of operations (PEMDAS): Learn it, live it, love it.
Don’t bother listening to the announcements. If you’re in a club that has to meet, your leader will tell you, and it will be on the big TV in the foyer. If there’s a school event, there’ll be signs all over the place.
Be nice to your parents. No matter how good a kid you are, it’s still a struggle putting up with you.
Shop for birthday presents at least a week in advance.
Don’t starve yourself, cut yourself, or do drugs. Teenage angst is no excuse for stupidity.
At some point in your Jr. High career, you’ll have to use MyAcces.com to write an essay. On it is a tool that shows you where you have punctuation mistakes, clause errors, etc. Use it! Your score will improve drastically.
When you’re forced to write a bibliography, go to Easybib.com, which cites your sources for you if you enter the information. As far as I know, this isn’t considered cheating (lots of teachers actually encourage it), but you should probably double check. I don’t want to get you into trouble.
If you’re taking your friend balloons for his birthday, you might want to reconsider. The office ladies won’t let them in the halls because apparently, some people are allergic (?).
Regarding term projects: due dates are closer than they appear.
The best way to learn a language is to speak it and hear it spoken. An hour of conversation is worth two hours of study.
Those posters about the “writing process” in English are a bunch of crap. Writing is a creative process, and the most important thing you can do is liberate yourself.
Also, the five paragraph essay is so elementary school. You can do better now, and your teachers expect you to.
Cigarettes smell a whole lot better than they taste.
Congratulations! You get to dissect a whole bunch of dead things. This is not for the faint of heart, but there’s no getting out of it. I believe in you! Remember, no matter how bad it smells, the dead bodies are most likely more sterile than the door handle. And if things start to ooze, just tell yourself it’s probably the formaldehyde.
Big kid paint is not washable, and neither is big kid glue, so come prepared with your big kid pants if you’re going to do a messy project.
Don’t stick your hands on the underside of the desks if you can help it. It’s where chewed gum goes to die.
Eventually, you’ll realize that some people’s opinions just don’t matter to you. That’s okay - in fact, it’s sort of liberating. I suggest you make a list of people you’re not going to bother trying to please.
Don’t freak out if you blow your audition. You can still be part of the play by signing up for the tech team. Personally, I think that that’s more fun than acting.
Don’t play pranks with the class pets. This one kid decided to put the saltwater fish into the freshwater tank and vice versa. The saltwater fish exploded, and the freshwater fish shriveled up. They both died and the teacher was not happy.
Yardsaling during the summer is a great way to score loads of clothes cheap. You can get a next-to-new $15 shirt for a quarter.
Don’t think for one second that you need a traditional hobby. Sports, drama, and music are fine, but if you find yourself drawn to something a little more unorthodox, go for it. I make fake memory boxes in my free time by stuffing cool boxes with random trinkets.
Don’t completely rule out nonfiction books. In the library, they have a pop up book of phobias, and another book about the real life science of mind control and reanimation. There’s nothing wrong with learning on your own time, especially if you’re learning something awesome.
No matter how gorgeous you think it looks, wearing high heels to school is not worth the pain. Tennis shoes look just as nice.
Use the restroom before you go to school. A lot of teachers take away points if you have to go during class.
There’s no shame in sitting alone.
There’s no such thing as “five more minutes” in the morning. If you don’t want to conk out again and be late, put your feet on the floor as soon as you wake up.
Don’t use derogatory words or stereotypes. You’ll look like a jerk and most likely hurt someone’s feelings in the process.
If you want to insult someone, at least be creative. Asking someone if they’re iodine deficient is much more effective than calling them a doo-doo head.
If you wear a Utes hat, hoodie, or backpack to school, you’re going to get beat up. Not really, because nobody gets beat up here, but something terrible will happen. I just know it.
When you’re alone in the bathroom and you hear noises like a finger snapping, don’t worry. It’s just the plumbing… I hope.
You’re not Da Vinci or Mozart or Einstein or Shakespeare, so don’t expect your projects to turn out perfectly. The teachers are pretty nice - as long as you put in time and effort, you’ll get an A.
Most of what you’re forced to memorize in social studies is going to be pretty much useless after the test. It’s the math formulas you need to worry about; they’ll haunt you for life.
Gandhi said, “happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.” Don’t try to be something you’re not. You’ll just make yourself miserable, on top of looking like a phony.
Don’t eat food out of the trash can. I didn’t think I would need to put this on here, but apparently some people (you know who you are) still don’t understand this concept.
If someone asks you to dance, say yes always. Even if they smell weird.
Those cafeteria apples that are packaged in plastic taste terrible. Just saying. I’ve heard they’re not that bad if you put them in your backpack until after school, but I think you’re still better off with a fresh apple (which the cafeteria offers as well).
Laugh often.
Never correct your teacher’s grammar, especially if that teacher is Ms. Bench.
Don’t be bummed out if you don’t make student of the week. They change those pictures around four times a year.
That sign over the auditorium that says “Today’s e-time movie is…” is most likely outdated, so you may as well ignore it.
Never drink anything before your run in P.E.
Don’t worry so much about getting bullied. Nobody here gets stuffed into trash cans.
Your life is not a chick flick or a teen romance book or a pop song. Popular kids are just myths. And while it’s true that there is an element of social hierarchy, it’s a lot more subtle than the media makes it out to be.
Never never never never never use “gay” as a putdown or derogatory word. Statistically, you probably know someone who’s gay, and they might be within earshot. Most of the teenage suicides in Utah are related to LGBT teenagers feeling unwanted. If your buddy is gay-bashing, kick him in the shins.
Don’t take it personally if your teacher hates you. Teachers are strange and mysterious beasts that man has yet to understand.
Sometimes, you make alliances rather than friendships. Like an I-don’t-want-to-be-alone-and-neither-do-you-so-let’s-work-something-out sort of a thing. This is fine and there’s no need to feel guilty about it, because the other person is using you as well. The issue arises when your ally mistakenly believes you are friends. A lot of times, though, alliances turn into friendships, so keep an open mind.
Want to get a teacher to like you? Use statistics and cite your sources on your first essay.
Friendships cannot be based solely on a mutual love of puppies and bratz dolls. As you and your interests mature, you might find yourself drifting away from your old friends. That’s okay.
There’s more to life than academics. Settle for that A-minus if it means you’ll get your social life and family life back.
Some people use their lockers daily, but I haven’t touched mine for the entire school year. Personally, I think it’s more convenient to tote your stuff around in a backpack.
To avoid clutter, a lot of kids here use separate backpacks for A and B days. It’s a system that’s worked well for me.
Ms. Bytheway (drama) is one of the nicest teachers in school, but she has to put up with a lot of crap. Don’t be a stinkhead and you’ll automatically get on her good side.
Don’t stress if you don’t understand something. A lot of kids have learning disabilities, or difficulty absorbing certain subjects. The important thing is that you’re trying your best.
You don’t have to enjoy them, but it’s a worthwhile idea to go and see the popular movies so you have something to talk about with your peers.
Posture is everything.
Take it from me - if you have to google “how to flirt,” you probably shouldn’t bother trying.
4H is a great resource for fun, friends, and free food!
Group picture day is a bad day to miss. Check your calendar before you take a mental health day to make sure nothing important is going on.
Be Yourself! You’ll be fine, I promise. That’s not to say that nothing can go wrong, because crap happens, but now at least you’re going into battle prepared. This is your time to make new friends and new memories, so have fun while it lasts. Good luck, and may the force be with you!
