50 things

Sometimes I wish I was another person. Admit it; you have, too. I don't like the way I look, I wish I had the capabilities others have, and I feel so inferior when I place myself beside anyone else. But now, I think I should write about things I do like about myself and NOT compare myself to other people. Fifty things I like about me. It will take some thought and effort, but I believe that it can be done!

1. I am not easily discouraged.

2. I can draw.

3. I like to watch anime.

4. I am not as obsessed with anime as other people.

5. I go on walks with my mom.

6. My mom is my best friend.

7. I am determined.

8. I have fun ideas.

9. I'm not ugly or deformed.

10. I can run fast.

11. I am compassionate.

12. I want others to be happy.

13. I smile and wave at people I don't know.

14. I love hobos.

15. I can write pretty well considering my age.

16. I can think of good ways to solve problems.

17. I like broccoli.

18. I like to go barefoot.

19. I can do ballet pretty well.

20. I am somewhat muscular.

21. I am eager.

22. I like techy stuff.

23. I can use binary code.

24. I speak some Spanish.

25. I take good notes.

26. I am halfway done.

27. I like to sing weird songs.

28. Though I cannot speak in person well, I can communicate effectively through writing.

29. I will babysit twin boys even if they are crazy. (No, they're not crazy. Just energetic.)

30. I like to read.

31. My hair is pretty.

32. My eyes are blue.

33. I have a kind smile.

34. I have freckles.

35. I like to swing.

36. I wear epic T-shirts.

37. I look pretty nice in a leotard.

38. I am physically fit.

39. My socks are mismatched. (Yes, I like that.)

40. I love God.

41. I have a testimony of the gospel.

42. I love the Savior.

43. I love my family. (Which includes my pets.)

44. When I'm not trying I can have a sense of humor.

45. I am creative.

46. I'm open-minded.

47. I am trustworthy.

48. I rock at video games.

49. I experiment with new things.

50. I did this whole thing in twenty minutes.

Now you should try it, because you are beautiful!

The Scream

No, not the painting. Though it is a very nice piece of art.

What I mean is that in my art class during second period, the place is in total chaos. I honestly try to be a good little girl and be polite to my teacher, but sometimes the insanity of the place is tough to handle. Yesterday was particularly chaotic and I was feeling a little sorry for my teacher, who started teaching only this year. By the time two-thirds of the period was over, we were all finally somewhat quiet, and we were listening to Miss Mitchell lecturing us on respect, but the poor young woman has a gentle voice and none of my peers seem to take her seriously.

So Mark, an odd kid, says, "MISS MITCHELL, I have a question! HEY, I have something to say!"

And he was undoubtedly about to say something ridiculous that had no relevance to the lecture.

By this time I'd had my fill of pandemonium for a week, and so in a rather loud and frightening voice, I screamed, "SHUT YOUR GOB, YOU TWIT!"

I was a little shocked at myself and my own mouth was gaping as I watched Mark go silent. Some people were giggling, my friend Sabrina said "Whoa," but other than that everyone was quiet. Miss Mitchell calmly continued with the lesson.

So at the end of class I apologized to my teacher, and she said that that behavior wasn't typical of me, but it was understandable in the situation.

HUH!?

I was glad I wasn't in trouble, but I was sure I'd get a little talking-to after that outburst. Maybe my impulsiveness isn't such a bad thing. After all, when I punched a student in my math class, my teacher didn't seem to mind. ^_^

Merry Christmas! (and a happy New Blah...)

Gifts received this year (and I was very spoiled):

An Italian Barbie doll

Several t-shirts from Hot Topic, Wet Seal, and Aeropostale

A gift card

A blue net book (from my dad)

An exercise ball

A stuffed cat

I really wasn't expecting the computer. It's making me guilty; I thought it'd be a small Christmas this year. But I named it Minnie.

I had to stay at my grandparents' house for Christmas Eve. For some reason I find it difficult to sleep in the same house as anyone who isn't in my immediate family, especially if I'm on the floor. Don't ask me why. I maybe got six hours of sleep. And don't you dare laugh; I like to sleep,

so six hours is hardly sufficient. My relatives have the worst sense of humor. They're all a bunch of prejudice, racist bastards. Except for a few of them who rock. At least that's over with and I got to eat part of a cinnamon roll.

When we left we opened our gifts from Mom at our OWN house, thankfully. Man, does my mum rock. Now I have a t-shirt with two tennis balls on it and one is saying to the other, "You got SERVED!" It's adorable! And my dad was beyond generous this year. (With the net book and all. Plus he bought collars for our cats. Mao Chu looks quite handsome in his and Willow is charming.)

But you gotta remember that Christmas is about Jesus, not Santa Claus. (That's another thing that bothered me. I'm thirteen and my grandpa expects me to believe in Santa. He's a freakin' stalker, man! He sneaks into your house at night, and he's all about commercialism, ya know?) I'm thankful for our Savior's birth and his incredible sacrifice for the whole of the human population. It's pretty awesome if you think about it a little.

So, Happy Christmas and New Year, everywhobody, and I hope your year has treated you well. I hope it was as good as mine, if not better. Love you all. <3

More second trimester stuff

It's my birthday tomorrow. I will be turning thirteen. I'm not sure how I'll be celebrating, but I hope that my friends might decorate my locker. That's always the best part.

So today I took the DWA (Direct Writing Assessment) during fourth period. The prompt was to tell your English teacher about something in history that you would change if you could. So naturally I wrote about the Holocaust and tried to show the reader the perspective of a Jew in the 1940s. And then of course, when I finished, I found out that probably half the class had written about the same thing. Crud. I'll probably get a 3 out of 4 at best. I really was hoping for an original prompt, but now I've got a...common one. Phooey.

What I really don't understand about the new trimester is that everyone in my social studies class wants to get out of gym and go study with our Challenge teacher again. I like history, but I love gym. I know that's a little odd, considering the gym teacher is a jerk and he gets mad quite easily, but I enjoy exercising and doing physical activities. I don't want to give up one trimester of gym for three of social studies, you know what I mean? And I want to obtain a six-pack again, like I used to have before I started drinking all that eggnog.

Migraine. Yay.

Unless you want to read a five-page-long post, I won't write everything I've been up to over the past couple months.

But I will update on more recent occurrences.

I entered the second trimester of school today and was doing fine until it was time for second period, art. I'd expected one of my, er, "friends" to be in the class with me, but he ended up taking it during first hour. So, as you can imagine, I was quite disappointed and was quiet throughout the period. I was also feeling self-conscious because I thought there might be a bit of booger peeking out of my nostril, and I wasn't certain if anyone had seen me trying to get it out, not even knowing whether it was there or not.

So, whaddaya know, I started to see a huge blind-spot, and I could barely see out of my right eye. I knew what was coming.

During third period I told my writing teacher about my vision. "Sounds like a migraine," she said. I knew she was right, but I didn't want to leave school because I'm one of those people that gets all worked up over missing one assignment. But she told me to call home, so I did, and got the answering machine. I left a message for my mom and stayed for the whole period. The headache was coming and I was feeling sluggish.

So during lunch I sneaked down the hall from the multi-purpose room to the phone by the office and called my mom again. She answered this time and told me to wait for fifteen minutes in the front office. I sat on the chair with my backpack and coat, relieved that none of the secretaries were asking me why I was there. Every time the door opened I looked up hopefully, raising my aching head and then laying down again on my backpack when it wasn't Mom. Finally she came and I was crying on the way home. Yeah, I'm a wimp. Don't rub it in.

But I'm feeling a million times better now. :)