Hairbands and Elastic Principles

Let me ask you a question: Have you ever gotten less than thirteen hours of sleep during a span of three days? I have, and the result it not pretty. Everybody loves an emotional wreck, am I right?! This past week was an extremely exhausting one for me. I spent many nights lying awake at near two in the morning with nothing else but my laptop to keep me entertained whilst I tried to find some sort of sleepiness inside myself. I decided a few nights ago, during my period of sleep deprivation, that it would be a good idea to write something for my blog and try to shake my never ending curse of writer's block. In hindsight, that was a terrible idea. The following is what I ended up with. I really don't even know…

Have you ever wondered what it feels like to wander aimlessly through a dark space void? I haven't either, but now I am. It's basically a spa day for people who don't like to ride horses. My mom makes me eat steak and spinach because she thinks I need iron. The steak stares me in the eyes and laughs at my look of disgust. I would love to become a vegetarian, but then I remember I love bacon. Wind chimes are pretty cool. The newts are climbing the walls of the tank again. Because we cleaned it. A year ago. Through my silver tears, I can see the golden aura of all that is good and the blockaded skis above all that is the opposite. Why does my cat eat her cat litter? She's sick. It makes me sad. Can I ask you a question? Just kidding, I just did. Fooled you. Bet you didn't see that coming. I've recently started texting. I never text anyone. But now he's texting me so I have to respond! Why is my hair straightener sideways? I got a Webkinz for Christmas. Ashley, you're the best. If only I could breathe underwater. I'd be, like, the coolest kid ever. Or maybe just a freak-show in the circus. Or in a government laboratory. My mother once crocheted a pillow. There's a stupid red mark on my face and I don't like it. His glasses look good on him. Sometimes I like to imagine I'm in a forest. What's the definition of 'art?' Why do I use apostrophes as quotes? Why did the little mermaid wear seashells? Because she couldn't fit into D-shells. That's a knee slapper. Who even slaps their knee anymore? I do. Ingo is one of the best books ever. Lauren gave it too me in grade 6. Look. I wrote the number 6 instead of the word. I just did it again. That's because the llama-corn told me to. MY HEAD HURTS. I promise it's not drugs. I lied. It's the DRUG OF LOVE. Love for all the cats out there. I'm here for you. I see the stars and they are waving at me with their little tiny star arms. They told me to tell you they say 'hi.' I still have an opened Kleenex box from 3 years ago. This isn't L.A. class. English class. Same thing. Americans call Rockets candies Smarties. They aren't Smarties. Smarties are Smarties. Rockets are not Smarties. Google it. Bing it. I'm trying to get that to become a trend. Next time somebody asks you a question, tell them to Bing it. Not Google. Google's too mainstream for my hipster mind. Kennedy, you're also the best. Thank you again for the envelope. This concludes my awkward thank-you post. Who in the name of LaFawnduh gets writer's block for four months. See that time I wrote out the number 4. But that time I didn't. See the difference? Taste the difference. Taste the rainbow. Skittles are good, but they make my tongue hurt. I always spell tongue wrong. Spell check! I hear music! That's what headphones do! AAh! BAILEY WE ALL LOVE YOU. DON'T GIVE UP. I WOULD MISS YOU WITH ALL MY BUTT BECAUSE MY BUTT IS BIGGER THAN MY HEART. My heart is tired. Leopluradon's handbag was stolen. How's he suppose to text velociraptor and spinosaurus not to eat the baby brontosaurus now? Leopluradon has fins. How does he do it? My French teacher has lost her mind. I miss my cousin because I haven't seen him in a long time and he's now in Mongolia. Let's all plan a trip to Jordan so I can achieve my life long dream. You probably don't want to. So that's ok. I'll settle for Indonesia if you're more comfortable with it. I'm slowly turning into a scuba diving hippopotamus. Are hippopotamuses/hippopotami dinosaurs? When I write on a PC and Word autocorrects me and that little lightning symbol keeps on popping up just to mock me and my mistakes and failures, I want to rage-quit croquet and earn a living in scooping ice-cream for the homeless. I'm hungry. I haven't eaten for days. Are trees supposed to grow in your bellybutton? Maybe I swallowed an apple seed! I am a mountaineer in the hills and highlands. I wish I was a piano genius. I spelled genius wrong three times. There I go again with typing numbers! How silly, that does sound! 'Typing numbers!' I don't remember the word for it. School obviously pays off. Who'd have thought. The ostrich thinks that it's better than all the other animals just because it can stick it's head in the ground. Dude. Just get a psychiatrist all ready. That's seriously a bad habit. Just tossin' a shout-out to all my homey G's and fellow thug-pugs out thuur! PUGG LYFE. I'm tough. Tuff. Tuft. Fur. Animal. Wolf. Forest. Trees. Canopy. Bed. Let's make a mind-map of all the possible connections! The phone! The phone is ringing! Ming-Ming, you're my hero. Why. I'm too old to watch that show. But you're never to old to tip your bike upside down, turn the pedal, and pretend you're selling popsicles! I'm yawning. What's the brain's process behind it all. He's too smart for me. So now you know how penguins can ride motor scooters. Any questions? And that's when it happened. He reached for her hand under the moonlit path and said something he never thought he'd hear himself say. Slowly, he bent down and looked her in the eyes. She smiled, showing her perfect teeth. Ready to tell her how he felt, he leaned in and whispered in her ear, 'I could really go for a taco.' 

This Is Me

I see the birds.

Do they know where they're going?

Do they know what they want?

Instinct is what they follow.

I am a bird.

I see the snow.

Why so cold?

Why does it let itself blow away?

Changes at the touch of one's hand.

I am the snow.

I see the stars.

What do they do with their existence?

What will happen when they disappear?

Blend in with the rest, but stand out with a closer look.

I am a star.

I see the animals.

Where do they go when they need help?

Where do they cry?

Hide the pain, show little emotion.

I am an animal.

Mount the Noble Steed of Courage

What is optimism, really? Is it being happy and being able to look on the bright side of everything all the time? Or is it being an emotional wreck, having everything in life be a displeasing challenge you want to end, and still being able to make it through by the skin of your teeth and not surrendering completely? I suppose it really just depends on how you look at it. Maybe it's both, I don't know. I will tell you what I do know, though. I am certain that being optimistic is not always as easy as it sounds.

I have a friend who always seems positive and full of energy, even when things are rough. Don't get me wrong; she does get sad, just like anyone else. She just doesn't let it destroy her.  Things usually end up good for her in the end, and I'm happy for her. Another friend of mine is completely the opposite. Life doesn't always treat her the best and when things finally start to turn around, she treats it as if it's too good to be true and barely believes her good luck. So very sad, it is.

I love them both equally, despite their contrasting attitudes.

And I, well, I am stuck somewhere in-between the two of them. Neither positive nor negative, and not quite neutral. Most of the time, I switch between outlooks. One minute I'll be cheerful and outgoing, the next I'm wanting nothing more than to sit alone and ponder life and all that's gone wrong. For some reason, I imagine myself separate from the rest of my friends. I don't particularly like feeling like this, but it's something I can't help.

I'm just different. Good or bad, I do not know. All that is certain is that the majority of my heart lies alongside something or someone I have yet to come across. I'm still on the quest to find who I am and what I'm meant for, if anything at all. 

An undying feeling of wanting to belong, and not necessarily to anyone in particular. To be a piece that fits into the jigsaw of life. That's what I feel, what I want. And so that is what I will attempt to do and receive.

I will embark on a journey of bravery, confusion, excitement, challenges, and sometimes sadness. As selfish as it sounds, I will get what I want. I complain about not having anything to look forward to, so this can be it! I will stare down the path of success, letting my gaze rest on the light at the end, and believe that I will get there no matter how long it takes.

I desire change. My heart is set on being more friendly, positive, and patient with certain individuals. Most importantly, I yearn to be content. I'm growing tired of the sorrow I seem to drag along with me everywhere I go.

My attitude is the only thing that stands between me and victory. Swords at the ready, we're set to begin the duel. I already know I will win. There aren't many things in this world that are entirely under my control, but my emotional outlook is definitely one. It's just taken me a while to see that.

Yeah! I can do this!

My Recommendation

Well, it's been a while, hasn't it? I apologize for that. For the past few weeks, I've been self-diagnosed with Writer's Block and, quite frankly, it's not so easy to write with such a condition. I feel as if I'm just beginning to come out of it, but it's still hard to think of an idea to ramble on about as I usually do. Because of my lack of inspiration, I figured I'd try something different. Today, I will recommend a book for you. (I've never done too well at book reports, let alone writing with writer's block, so I'm sorry if it's kind of rough. I'm just trying to get back into the swing of things.)

One summer's day a few years back, I was wandering aimlessly through the local Chapters book store. I walked over to the Fiction/Mystery section only to have a book clothed in a bright, green cover catch my eye. Of course, I never judge a book by it's cover, but since it had captured my attention, I decided to read what the back had to say. Upon finishing, I realized that this book really was seeming to sound very interesting. And so, since I had plenty of time to spare while my dad was looking for a magazine to purchase, I found a quiet little nook on one side of the store, sat down, and began to read. It was absolutely intriguing. I purchased the book that day, and I've purchased every one following in the series ever since.

The book I am talking about is The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie, written by Alan Bradley. Perhaps you've heard of it. If not, I suggest you go look into it.

The Flavia de Luce mystery series

The story takes place during the 1950s and the protagonist throughout the series is an eleven year old girl named Flavia de Luce. Flavia has a passion for chemicals and has her own chemistry lab in the mansion her family owns. Science isn't her only interest, however. Constantly seeming to run into murder mysteries by accident, she never fails to solve the case, often in assistance to the town's inspector.

The young girl's life seems to relate to that of Cinderella's. With Flavia's mother dead because of an accident that occurred when she was a mere baby, all she's left with now are a father who often ignores her, two older sisters (Ophelia and Daphne) whom find enjoyment in torturing and scaring her, and the family cook and maintenance man who seem to be the only people she can talk to and trust; well, as good as the juvenile detective can trust anyone.

Each novel in the series contains a different but equally thrilling mystery involving a murder or two, wars and revenge between Flavia and her sisters, and plenty of anticipation caused by the protagonist sneaking around on her bicycle (called Gladys) and occasionally falling into danger.

Bradley does an excellent job, in my opinion, at putting all the pieces of the puzzle together so when you think you've solved the mystery for yourself, it's hard to resist the urge to jump up and down in excitement because it feels as if you've walked alongside Flavia during her entire adventure and assisted in solving the crime. Or maybe that's just me.

Either way, the series has continued to be one of my favourites and it probably will be for a long time. Everything about it I found captivating and if you love a good 'whodunit' as much as I do, I suggest you look into this book and possibly the ones that follow.

Image credit:

-http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/sweetness-at-the-bottom-of-the-pie-alan-bradley/1100259021?ean=9780385343497

-http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/weed-that-strings-the-hangmans-bag-alan-bradley/1100298146?ean=9780385342315

-http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/red-herring-without-mustard-alan-bradley/1100079322

-http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/i-am-half-sick-of-shadows-alan-bradley/1100156108?ean=9780385344012

From Her Perspective

*Disclaimer: This wasn't written about me, but from the view of one of my closest friends.

I walk to school alone, with my head down, so nobody will see the tears streaming down my face. My only worry right now is whether or not I'll be able to wipe them away before my friends see. Are they my friends? I think so. They're all I have left. I'm sure that if they found out what I've been hiding for all this time, they wouldn't want to be my friends anymore; unless those thoughts are already in their minds.

So many secrets, none of them good. Life's gotten so hard, especially lately. Don't get me wrong, I've been feeling like this since elementary school, where I was nothing but the freak that stayed separate from everyone else. They wouldn't understand, particularly at such a young age. When your only homework is to colour a picture and stay inside the lines, there's no way they could have possibly made sense of my sadness. I can't fathom it either, not even now.

I didn't have any friends back then, but now I do. Most of them are idiots, though. How hard is it to actually take one look at me and realize that no matter how many times I say it, I'm not okay. I don't even remember the last time I was. Don't they notice the scars? I've given up on trying to hide them because nobody really pays enough attention to me to notice. I mean, honestly! What kind of regular person would carry a pair of nail-clippers around with them, even at school? Maybe if, for once, they would ask me what I did last night, I would tell them the truth. I would tell them that I sat alone, in the middle of the night, in a t-shirt, in a freezing cold field. They would maybe even find out that I've been battling the option of suicide for years now. But I know they wouldn't stick around long enough to listen. I'm used to being ignored and forgotten.

Some of my friends are like me, though. They're definitely not as bad, but they're someone I can relate to for the first time in my life. Even though they constantly say otherwise, I know I annoy them with my feelings of desolation. Sometimes, if they have nothing better to do, they'll try to make me laugh. Rarely, they'll succeed. I'm just too sad and alone. When they ask what's wrong, I'll occasionally tell them I'm tired. Then, they will walk away, assuming I didn't get enough sleep. That's where they're wrong. I'm tired. Tired of feeling sad; tired of wanting to cry all the time; tired of the thoughts that reside in my head; tired of life; tired of living. I'm tired of it all.

I walk home alone, with my head down, so nobody will see the tears streaming down my face. My only worry right now is whether or not I'll be able to let myself survive until the next day.

From The Ground Up

From the ground up,

We rise to success;

Encouragement and devotion

Make us become our best.

From the ground up,

We grow to be great;

Well-grounded on Earth,

Our hearts cannot hate.

From the ground up,

We sprout out love;

Strong roots hold us firm

Always equal, never above.

From the ground up,

We reach for the sky;

We have the motivation,

All that's left is to try.

Insert Grunt of Despair Here

He was right there in front of me. All I had to do was talk to him, which was kind of hard considering the fact he was the first one in a long time to make me feel all giddy and nervous (in a good way). Most of the time, though, I could manage a few short sentences. We talked every day. I actually texted him, even though I hate participating in such a pointless activity. I just wanted to talk to him. He told me he thought I was amazing. He told me, and I quote, "Hi! -" and "hehe :D." I heard from my friend that he liked me. I also knew he was planning to possibly ask me out. I was starting to like him. It could have been incredible. It could have been perfect.

And then I had to go and mess it all up. I guess that's really just my regular routine.

Maybe it was because I didn't text him those nights. Maybe I said something wrong. One day, instead of walking me down the school hallway and hugging me good-bye, he just stopped talking to me. For a few weeks, he wouldn't even make eye contact with me in class. He wouldn't sit beside me, he wouldn't talk to me, he wouldn't smile at me, he wouldn't even glance my direction. And it hurt.

Now, just to top it all off, I suddenly can't stop thinking about him. My feelings seem to be growing towards this individual, and nothing will ever happen because I missed my chance; possibly even ruined it. I'm pretty sure he's moved on and found another girl whose company he enjoys, although I know he's still single at the moment. I want him to be happy, of course, but all I can think of now is what could have been if I wasn't so darn socially awkward, and that the girl he may be starting to like is not me.

Right now, I probably sound like some obsessed, boy-crazy, drama queen whom strives for attention, but my blog is the only place I can vent about such things and not be judged, resulting in multiple, nearly consecutive, posts about guys. Such topics cause me a lot of stress and frustration.

Anyway, I talked to him for the first time in three weeks last friday, as he came to sit in the seat behind me in class, which was also for the first time in three weeks. As far as I can tell, he doesn't hate me. That's a pretty good re-start, right?

You should know that he is in our school's Drama production; a production in which I am partly responsible for moving the sets, hence the reason I have to be at all the same shows as he is. Today, there was a dress rehearsal. He and I had a five-second conversation during which I probably blushed like an idiot, most likely resulting in a slightly creeped out, embarrassed, awkward, attractive, young male responding to whatever stupid remark I previously made towards him. What made it worse was that his costume for the scene was a suit and tie. That always gets me. (Something about a well-dressed guy is like the icing on the cake for me.) Then I get even more awkward (which I didn't even think was possible), causing him to sense my awkwardness and, on top of him already being awkward, proceed to a whole new level of awkwardness almost as bad as mine. Then what do you get? A couple of awkward, red-faced, uncomfortable, nervous, teenagers. Awkward, right?

Switching directions to look on the bright side for a moment, I guess I should be thanking him for letting me realize that I have managed to get over my past. For the first time in a long time, I felt something towards another guy and I think I'm ok with it. Having a heavy weight of sadness lifted off your shoulders can be a wondrous thing, and he allowed me to experience that sensation once again.

Maybe we still have a chance. Maybe he hasn't completely given up on me. Maybe I will end up happy. I know those hopes are just mere possibilities, but for now, they're all I can afford.