Tag: humor


BeFunky Collage.jpg

This was written for Writing 101

I’m not a coffee person, but hot cocoa and a bowl of popcorn? Yes, please!

Anyway, I think today’s prompt is horribly accurate, because I need desperately to update all of my readers, considering how long it’s been since I last posted.

So, time for a hot cocoa date, one-on-one with your presently present (haha) blogger.

First of all, let me officially apologize for not posting in so damn long. I haven’t really been up to writing as much as usual since State One Act; I think losing upset me more than I expected it to. (Notice that in the above pictures, I wear my One Act shirt. I am that person. Sorry not sorry.) Of course, I can’t really make excuses, but I’m a teenager so I’m gonna do whatever the hell I want to.

Second, some updates…

1.) I’ve started drawing more than I have recently, perhaps because I haven’t been overly interested in writing.

BeFunky Collage2

2.) I started a Little Mermaid fanfiction (more or less), but just like everything else I’ve done, I doubt I’ll finish it. I really like it, though. It’s a modern AU (Alternate Universe, for you not-geeks).

little violinist cover.jpg

I designed the cover myself. It’s not GREAT, but as of yet it’s the best I’ve done with stuff like that.

(If you can’t already tell, I’m in an Ariel mood. I’m not sure why…)

3.) School has been rough lately. I’m drowning in AP US History, and for once in my life, Lit is harsh. Mostly because I neglected (*coughcough* all of) my work during One Act season.

4.) The musical my school is putting on is going to be the Addams Family; I really wanted it to be Les Mis and I’m a teensy bit really disappointed.

5.) Show Choir has already started running through Christmas carols and my friend and I may possibly be doing a duet (Little Drummer Boy), but the harmonies we want to use are extremely difficult and I just wanna blech. Also, we’re performing at SixFlags (over GA) on December 6, so if you happen to be at SixFlags on Sunday, December 6, go over to the stage by Dare Devil Dive at 6 & 7 pm. We’re going to kick ass.

6.) Harry Potter coloring book. I need it in my life. I just need a whole bunch of adult coloring books, honestly.

7.) I lost my bright yellow colored pencil today. *cries*

Well, that’s pretty much all I’ve been doing since my last post. That and practicing my eyeliner.

Eyeliner=the bane of my existence.


9.) I may have been drawing on my white(ish) Converse. The picture is outdated, but I don’t have shots of the current doodles yet.


Sorry not sorry.)



This was written for Writing 101

I’m going to expand upon the prompt and write two lists, simply because I enjoy talking about myself. If you have a problem with that… well. Sucks for you, friend.

Things I Like:

  • boiled peanuts
  • vanilla perfume
  • tight hugs
  • empty notebooks
  • white bedsheets
  • British accents
  • bowties
  • autumn
  • fuzzy blankets
  • leather-bound books
  • British television

Things I Dislike:

  • hot-as-hell summers
  • tomatoes
  • being sick
  • idiots
  • scary movies
  • people who don’t like Harry Potter
  • people who don’t like reading
  • people who don’t like sushi
  • people

Like I’m Gonna Lose You

This was written for Writing 101

Why do I write?

God, there couldn’t have been a more complex question to ask on such a frazzled day. I write because… well, I’m a writer. It’s who I am, and it’s what I do. Since the days when I made up stories to go with the pictures in my Pooh Bear books to today, when I (attempt to) write my own books, I’ve always been in love with words. I write because it’s that only thing I know how to do. The only thing I’m good at, most days. I can’t communicate with people through speech, but I can tell them everything I need to say through my blog, my journal, and every single creative writing piece I’ve written since I learned the alphabet.

I write because I need to.

This is one of those ridiculously broad questions that are so mentally demanding that I just flounder around and make “ifhaerhfsdkjvfe”ing noises as well as elaborate hand gestures to avoid actually answering what was asked. Why do teachers not set up couples in every group of students they have? Why do babies drink breast milk instead of chocolate syrup? Why do I not already have a trillion and one dollars?

These are all important questions, but they’re not being answered. So why should I explain my freaky obsession with *elaborate hand gesture* this?

Should I Stay or Should I Go

We’re having a Sadie Hawkin’s dance on Halloween and I decided to be a gross sappy girlfriend and do a gross, sappy invitation for Garrett. I have been working for literally hours, but finally…

Picture0001 Picture0002


I still have to write my words along the side and whatnot, but the worst is over. Now I think I’m going to go to bed before I decide to do anything else crazy. Or my hand falls off. (It really does hurt. I’m a perfectionist AND my colored pencils weren’t sharpened AND my sharpener was broken. Though admittedly I did take a break to watch X Men: Days of Future Past. Good movie, I’d recommend it for anybody.)

I hope that doesn’t constitute as complaining… oh well.

I’m still extremely proud of myself.



Anyway, I just want to express how hard the reality of all this *waves hands noncommittally* hit me like half a minute ago.

I was looking at my blog’s stats and finally comprehended what the numbers were telling me: my first post was 22 days ago.


Here are more numbers for you: 25 posts, 130 views, 67 visitors, THIRTY-TWO FOLLOWERS.

Now, I might be freaking out for no reason: for all I know, that’s pretty typical for blogs on WordPress. I’ve only ever used Blogspot before, and I didn’t get noticed AT ALL. I was just another blog in an enormous blogosphere (that’s a thing, right?)- and just a kid on top of that, which meant not a Mommy Blogger or Foodie Blogger or Video-Gamey Blogger or DIYie Blogger or any of the other “eeeee” bloggers that spent half their lives living and the other half editorializing that living.

Basically, I want to say thanks to all of you lovely people who read my awful poetry and put up with my endless complaining.

You’re why I keep posting 🙂

(Well, that and I have no life… but we’ll just nicely overlook that unfortunate fact for now.)

Red Hands

((NOTE: To skip all of the introductory whatever in the video, skip to 2:03.))

I think I ought to admit, right off the bat, that I write all of my blog posts, poems, short stories, novellas, books, etc while listening to music. Or, at least, I try to do so; music always helps my thoughts flow much easier between my brain and my fingers. On top of that, a lot of my poems and all of my posts have titles that are either song lyrics or titles (usually the latter; it’s just so much easier).

I got chewed out for that today, and I’m still reeling.

I was singing Troye Sivan’s The Fault In Our Stars (the song above) under my breath and one of my on-again-off-again friends, Bryn, happened to overhear me.  When I told her the title of the song I was singing, Bryn flipped shit. She went off about people not being creative enough to come up with their own damn work for God’s sake, and I’ll admit I was a little affronted. First of all, I think TFIOS is a really good song, though honestly nothing about it is particularly amazing. Second, I think Troye Sivan is alright naming his song after the book he literally wrote it about. And finally, like I said, I do almost the exact same thing all the time.

I tried to explain all of this to her (calmly, if I do say so myself), but she just shut me down and it actually really ticked me off. I view reusing titles the same way I do fanfiction: it’s extremely easy to mess up, but it’s also flattering. I mean, I wouldn’t suggest naming your book The Fault In Our Stars or anything (that might not go over well), but a song? No big deal. Besides, Troye Sivan isn’t some huge popstar with a million zillion fangirls; he’s just a Youtuber who happens to have a decent sized fan base.

I don’t know, maybe I was overreacting. At least I didn’t yell at her like I absolutely wanted to.

Mess Is Mine

It feels like all of my posts (what few there have been, and including poems) have revolved around my own frustration, and I hate to devote any more time to the same subject. I don’t like doing that; I’d told myself that this would be less of a hey-look-I’m-a-good-complainer and more of a this-is-me-take-it-or-leave-it-but-I’m-gonna-keep-being-funny-as-hell. Which so far I think I’ve miserably failed at.

So this post is going to involve me complaining about me complaining. Creative, right?

Seriously: it’s so easy to complain and lament how stupid everybody around us has become and just generally be a stick in the mud (stick-in-the-mud?). I don’t know if this is just my generation, or if adults much older than me struggle with the inability to phrase a sentence without it devolving into petulant whining. (Well, okay, the petulant part is probably fairly unique to me, but I’m okay with being childish. It helps me get my way- and who doesn’t like that?)

I’ve noticed this especially in my conversations with my boyfriend the past couple days. Of course, it’s not just him, but I find it easiest to carry on around him, since he happens to be one of the few people I trust not to just ignore me.

Plus his responses are hilarious.

Besides that, though, I’ve also been going back and reading some of my journal entries (I’m a fairly consistent journal-er), and the amount of whining I do is ridiculous. To be fair to myself, I actually don’t complain as much as I could, but it’s still pretty ridiculous. And if I’m not wailing about life, the universe, and everything, then I’m freaking out because such-and-such happened and I think it meant this but whatifI’mjustreadingtoofarintothis?!

This is, honestly, one of the reasons I can’t put up with most of the girls in my school. They do nothing but complain or create drama and I like to think that I’m a pretty relaxed person. Sure, I’m hyper during second block, I fidget constantly, I gossip like an old woman (though only really with my best friends, which just happen to be male), I drop out of conversations for no apparent reason, I obsess over British television, I make the dirtiest jokes during Choir, and if you can’t handle sarcasm and/or random insults (that I swear I say out of genuine fondness) then you’ll absolutely hate me… but despite all that, I really don’t get into much drama- unless yanked in by some idiot. I can complain with the best of them, but I really hate it when girls go on and on about random little things that I fail to give a shit about (does that make me a hypocrite? whoops).

Or maybe I’m just reading too far into this. I wouldn’t be able to tell: I’m just some dumb kid who complains more than a sleepy toddler.