Je Dois Faire, 21.11.13

-learn Arabic via Johns Hopkins! But first...
-take SAT
-get a new typewriter
-get a Raspberry Pi (Hanukkah... Maman, I love youuu...)
-not fall asleep while emailing my "second-best friend" for ONCE
-make the Asians cut it out with their talk of "taking out the trash" -_-
-write a bit this weekend
-run before 5k on Thanksgiving
-watch Slumdog Millionaire, Wadjda, etc.
-watch Gidget for no intellectual or cultural benefit at all whatsoever
-finish City of Bones and What is the What
-fix soles of flatforms
-bring up my teetering grade in science
-sweep over BCA application for last time
-don't tease E ^_^
-learn Snow on guitar
-learn You Never Give Me Your Money on piano
-go to Girl Scouts meeting
-forget about G, even though V TALKED TO HIM ABOUT ME YESTERDAY AAAAAH YESSSSSSS!
-go to India already
-at the very least, get K to teach me the basics of Gujarati

Why is there an (s) after Muhammad's name?

   Many of my friends at school are either obsessed with Asians and their culture, or Asian themselves. And you know, I always fancied myself the, well, not the anti-Asian, necessarily, I mean, I'm not some disgusting elitist. I just wasn't all hardcore AAAAAH I WISH I WAS JAPANESE AND ATE DIM SUM EVERY DAY AND BOMBARDED MY EVERYDAY SPEECH WITH RACIAL SLURS! I liked Europe. And don't get me wrong, I still do.

   But I've fallen in love with Asia myself. But not Japan and S.K. like the rest of my friends have. I like India (as if that wasn't blatantly obvious enough... and K doesn't even think I'm a Hinduism aficionado! He thought I didn't know the significance of Shiv's name when I shivved him. Honestly), and the Middle East, and all those. Nepal. Buddhism. Hinduism. Islam.

   I'm in love with Asia now. In love with the most corrupt and poverty-stricken parts of it, of course. Ach, why do I always do this to myself? See, Indian males, you're making me German-sigh. Thanks. 

   But I'm definitely going to travel around Asia like Meredith in Without a Map did. The exact parts. And film something. Make the next Wadjda.

People left me some notes

My boyyyyyfriend left me a note in Korean! Ironically enough, the note on the yellow index card is suggesting that I get married... but not to him...

 


Words of wisdom from one Francesca Ferraro.

My room, part 1

Some pictures I took a few days ago when I was feeling particularly artistic. The scene was probably as follows--I had just finished a nice container of pineapple and papaya Greek yogurt (yogurt and I have a bit of a love-hate relationship. I like eating it before or after I run), No Quarter was playing, I was waiting for the Hongs to come over, and the sun was hitting the floorboards just right. And actually I was watching Gidget when the Hongs came over... sorry. Selective memory, you know.

Ach, academia

   Noooooo. I just got a 74 on a moderately easy—so I thought—science test, and I am SCARED for my straight As. I'm down to an even 90; that grade took me down FIVE WHOLE POINTS. What will BCA think?! Hopefully it had something to do with the fact that it was a Scantron test and I took it with a mechanical pencil, and I can wheedle with Mrs. S about it. She hasn't returned it yet, so I haven't a clue.
   All these applications and stress to be perfect for honors/BCA/AP classes/IB track (the International Baccalaureate track, ooh law law), etc. is slowly but surely getting to me. Plus I'm taking the SAT early in December, for Johns Hopkins. HAGIA SOPHIA! I feel worse for K and the rest of the Indians, though, seeing as they all either expect themselves to get in, or, worse yet, their parents expect them to get in. And I know for a fact that only E and(Jazzbody...) have an almost inevitable chance of getting in. Can a chance even be inevitable? Well, it can now. K is too much of a square to get in, sadly for him. Plus he has a C in MATH. That is not good for him. V honestly has a better chance than he does, but with his atrocious homework grades, I'd say it ain't looking too great for the Indians.

Experiment--are people more prone to read a schpiel of a post with 6 paragraphs in it, or 3 posts with only 2 paragraphs apiece?

   All RIGHT! I just updated the blog's look cause I'm such a techie--template, new Gita background (I just recently discovered that all the cool kids, aka the Indian ones, don't even bother to add the Bhagavad to the beginning; it's just Gita and so therefore I was a total gringa in Indian culture and now I'm connected), etc.
   I think I should talk about my life more, like what's going on in it, not just my disturbed thoughts on my love-hate read-lationship (HAHAHAHAHA see what I did there? I’m-a so fly) with Sylvia Plath or why I'm obsessed with Salinger. Such a literature snob I am. So I'll try to deviate.
   I actually really like math class, for some reason. I've stopped being that quiet kid in class with the cool flatforms and who gets 100s but never actually speaks during class. I raise my hand now. A lot. And not in the C way, in the participating way. And I always have the right answer. EEEEE! how happy am I! I actually like math! I'm starting to prove my worth to Mr. S! And have conversations with him about K! So I won't be completely lying on my BCA application.
   And so, BCA. A big thing in my life right now. It's a very very good, very very hardcore, very very prestigious public high school in my county that I'm applying to. Seeing as I'm neither any subsection of Asian or a perky blonde girl, I doubt I'll get in (never mind the fact that the school has no real language arts department; it's geared 100% toward the sciences. And if you think I'm a massive science whiz, I would laugh in your face. Likewise for maths), but it's still nice to dream. Even if it's not a very accessible one. In the words of the stupefying Edgar Allan Poe, "Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night." Hah, I'm a kiss-up, I just heard that one today in language arts. Quote response. I sit next to V and inhale the exhilarating aroma of his curry- and gym class-induced sweat. Ms. O wonders why I have a perpetual expression of discomfort in that class. Honey, if you sat next to this guy, you'd understand. More about V in next post.

Definite imbalance

>>Thank god for K. He is probably the best source of advice in general in my whole life right now. That doesn't make sense, does it? Well. Since when do I ever make sense, anyways?
>>I finished The Bell Jar.
>>I think one of the differences between Sylvia Plath and Salinger is that he read too much into things and overanalysed in a way that was actually good for him. She read too much into things in a bad sort of way. Since The Bell Jar's confirmed to be autobiographical, she was always so suicidal and self-destructive. And Salinger, as far as I can tell, was never so much like that. He claims that The Catcher isn't supposed to be based on him, although obviously it was. I'm learning so many great factoids about him in the new Salinger book! I am so creepy. As if G wasn't any indication.
>>So last night I was over at N's, having a mini-marathon of Sherlock because K was crazily fangirling over that way way way too feminine-looking guy who plays Sherlock with the cool name. N and K were watching. I, of course, was far too busy poring through the yearbook from four years ago when he was still in the same school as me, staring dreamily at the pictures of an 8th-grade G with an unfortunate haircut and a debatable unibrow.
>>Sigh...
>>An interesting and Buddhism-friendly article that my language arts teacher showed me from NYT. And yes, Franny and Zooey would approve. ^_^
http://www.nytimes.com/2013/03/10/opinion/sunday/living-with-less-a-lot-less.html?pagewanted=2&_r=1&

I am a self-inflicted disease

You see, the more and more I read salinger and Plath and all those guys, the more I become like this. Sad. No. I don't know. Disheartened. I don't know. And the more I read about them, the more I create my own issues and become cynical and then like this. I ever thought about TFC before, at least, the Catcher in the Rye. Or probably it was the combination of K and Franny and Zooey. But my theory, of many, is that the more you surround yourself with stuff like this, depression and apathy and disgust at nothing and disgust at yourself and, above all, art--the more you do this to yourself and become depressed and apathetic and disgusted and abstractly artistic and using words like 'abstract' when discussing Slaughterhouse-Five with your own mother in your own living room on your own nasty couch that got broken by your own relative who was so gargantuan that he literally broke the springs inside of it when he came over for thanksgiving at least a few years ago and now it's just rotting in there, in your own room where you're being all supercilious--Gatsby word--and abstract. And it makes me sick. Of myself. And that, my friends who are watching me grow into a beautiful and apathetic young woman, is a Holdenism, and that's a sign that I should just stop reading Salinger and plotting revenge on the deceased Charlie Chaplin for stealing Oona from my beloved Jerry. What has become of me?! Read some books, they said. It will be fun, they said. Well, I read some books. How fun.
I'm reading the Bell Jar and I'm very curious. Of her. Plath, I mean. Sylvia Plath. And I'm wondering, maybe my theory is wrong. I mean, it was, what? The early fifties?* People weren't exactly out-of-their-minds accepting of all this odd, impure sadness back then, were they? I mean, wasn't that the American dream era? So I suppose Plath didn't have that many influences to turn to and to absorb. But yet she wrote this.
But do you know what? She totally copied Salinger. I'm sorry! My opinion! But I'm completely enraptured by the Bell Jar, just so you know. It's just kind of girly for me. I don't know. I kind of like a man's perspective better. Holy mother of god, what did I just say? Dismiss, ignore, forgive me, it's too late at night for me to be reasonable.
And now my mom thinks she raised a sexist. Ah well. Sorry, Maman.
Anyway, so, maybe tomorrow i'll talk about the perks of being a hermit. How you can't create madness. Ludicrous is my mind.
Also, I blew off peer tutoring. I hate it! I despise teaching math! I know that's selfish of me, but so I am.
I been dazed and confused for so long it's not true...

*SparkNotes tells me it takes place, mostly, around 1953. In case you were wondering.

Mein kampf, 10.11.13

Wouldn't it be funny if I named my mind or something? You know. I'm thinking, something along the lines of "versus."

>>The book lists are getting so stressful! Even though I know no one reads these anyways, you know the drill.
>>I was contemplating human nature with Krupal via smartphone and writing in my new, happy-pink, feels-like-snakeskin-or-something, scentless, *sniff* not-leather journal the other day.
>>Here's a little snippet from what I was writing, before I decided to rage quit, in spite of myself, because hell hath no fury like me and my hypocrisy, my hypocrisy and I.
Sometimes, you know, I really hate myself.
>>And every day, I never do. Which, I suppose, means I'm not selfish like all those people contemplating suicide, who are really ridiculous and just internally desperate for some positive attention. But I know I am. And by writing that, I know I'm not. Keyword: "right?"
>>I'm curious. I mean, my thoughts are terribly unclear. I wonder if anyone will be able to understand them like this. Maybe I should take up vlogging instead; my fingers can't go as fast as my mind. Ugh. Human efforts, for lack of a better word, suck.
And since when did this blog get to be so offensive? The only reason why I don't make it private is >>because... TFC... I'm a hypocrite again... See, it's my problem.
>>I don't have a problem. Precocious little--
>>Precocious idiot.
>>You love that word--
>>Shut up, Precocious Inner Voice Telling Me the Truth SHUT UP!!!!
>>Anyways, although I continue to battle myself inside of my corrupted-by-Salinger-and-now-runner-up-Plath(?), finally here is that bit from my journal I was telling you about. Never verbatim, never sensical (word?).

--I originally wrote the following in Spanish, so here's my somewhat botched-up translation of that--

You know, when I think about it, everything I document or even goddam DO, by and by, is really just some kind of corroboration for when I'm inevitably to be famous, or at least publicly recognized. James said he'd read my books.

I'm too annoyed to write the rest. My brain is a crummy one. TFC.

A checkup.

what i've read:
Everything is Illuminated, Jonathan Safran Foer,
Night, Elie Wiesel,
Slaughterhouse-five, Kurt Vonnegut Jr.,
The Complete Out-of-Print Publications of J. D. Salinger, J. D. Salinger,
The Outsider, Camus,
Le Sorciére Qui Avait Peur (if that's grammatically correct, I'm saying the name from memory), Some Unremembered Canadian Writer,
The House on Mango St., Sandra Cisneros (never gets old),
The Wonderful O, James Thurber.

books i've started:
Huck Finn, Mark Twain,
Salinger, Shields and Salerno,
War and Peace, Tolstoy,
Hamlet, Shakespeare,
The Mortal Instruments City of Bones Blah Blah Unnecessary Colons, Cassandra Clare (through force. It's for a school book club thing. Ugh, how I despise fantasy),
The Penal Colony, Kafka,
Today I Will, Eileen and Jerry Spinelli.

Oh, and by the way, I'm kind of madly in love with one Greg Almeida. Leia, now you understand why Griffin has to get back into Boy Scouts!

at 18.30 we shall be gone

to read:
-everything is illuminated, jonathan safran foer
-huck finn, samuel clements--haha, I'm a riot (only the true literature nerds will get that one, it's more or less the equivalent of an eric blair reference)
-something by dave eggers--perchance zeitoun? oblivion?
-hapworth 16, 1924--j. d. salinger
-the new yorker
-thoreau
-robert burns (in italics and said by phoebe caulfield--salinger NEVER desecrates his work with the unrefined bolding)

to listen:
-goodnight saigon--billy joel
-avec sa petite gueule d'ange--rozz jack
-my girl--the mamas and the papas
-you really got me--the kinks
-got to get you into my life--the beatles
-i'm free--the who
-born on the bayou--ccr
-el scorcho--weezer (aaah, memories...)
-blinded by the light--manfred mann and co.
-sweetest thing--u2
-you're going to lose that girl--the beatles
-enfant soldat--rozz jack
-longview--green day
-gold dust woman--fleetwood mac... always.
-paper planes--m.i.a.

to watch:
-eight is enough
-help! for film night
-napoleon dynamite
-slumdog millionaire; never gets old, man
-um... yeah...

to do:
-sit around and watch the tube, but nothing's on (longview reference). nah, i don't actually want to do that, i don't even like tv
-babysit the rottinger kids
-elude creepy sherry with cristina
-hmm. just learn korean (via james), arabic (via johns hopkins), some branch of hindi (via krupal, my kindred spirit), spanish (via mi papá, mi abuelita, y sra. gonzalez), french (via Francesca, ma maman, et Michel Thomas), italian (via rosetta stone), german (via die welt and the rest of my german newspapers), dutch (who knows how i'll learn that one), and every other language known to man. c'est bon ? Pas de quoi !

to write:
-in my brand-spanking-new journal
-a story in spanish
-a novel for november *gag cough sputters under pressure*
-about krupal's and my plans for the future ( organically-eating, book-reading, restaurant-owning, terribly-guitar-playing, idiot-avoiding, dishwashing, chicken-and-lion-owning hermits who move to spain and inconveniently get trampled in the running of the bulls)

[14] Books I've Read This Month

Inspired by the blogger Cake.
Sorry if I forgot some. Who am I apologizing to? Myself? Good grief, Charlie Brown.
तारांकन
nine stories--j.d. salinger,
multiples--adam thirlwell and co.,
the metamorphosis--franz kafka,
my beautiful hippie--janet nichols lynch,
the outsider--albert camus,
the rock snob*s dictionary--david kamp and steven daly
the great gatsby--f. scott fitzgerald,
franny and zooey--j.d. salinger,
bad boy--wdm,
schooled--gordon korman,
the beatles anthology--the beatles,
eggs--jerry spinelli,
what do fish have to do with anything?--avi,
the lexicon of stupidity--ross and kathryn petras,
and a plethora of short stories: Salinger's illegally downloaded out-of-print publications. See what this guy's made me into? I'm a common criminal!
तारांकन
Okay, this list was not valid, I didn't read that many books since 20 September! Lies for a liar. You lie to yourself and your intellectual community. So I just went back and edited it, and it's now a puny list of the books I actually read this past month.
Failure makes me very sad.

Am, plus tabs

I hate that sadness in your eyes...
***
Have you ever felt such stifling guilt toward someone that it just about kills you (not in the Holden Caulfield way, either) every time you see them, because THEY DON'T CARE? Which probably doesn't sound too bad, but it really is. Really, really. Especially because they don't care, that person. And especially if that person completely idolizes you. Which is the case with my object of guilt. Oh man. Why am I so mean?
***
All For Leyna, Billy Joel;
Mmmbop, Hanson;
Mr. Lee, *HILDYYYY* the Vapors;
Drip, Drip, Drip, Chumbawamba;
Whistling in the Dark, They Might Be Giants;
Remember the Time, MJ (which I was singing in the locker room with Kai, good times, good times);
Alice's Restaurant, Arlo Guthrie;
C'est la Mode, Annie Philippe;
Knowing Me, Knowing You, ABBA;
and that's about it.
***
I should write every day, my Great Writing Teacher Slash Mentor Jessie "the Malebox" Male tells me, but it's so hard, what with homework and all. I mean, talk about hindrance of creativity! Mr. Schneider is killing us all.
And Spanish is still the best class. Even though old D-Bear's a little weird. Dayvon makes up for it.
And I have a headache from yelling at Vivek. Whatever, it was a fun time.
And I convinced James to watch Glee tonight! Hah. This is going to be great for me.
But I still feel bad...
¿Por qué no soy afectuosa?
Angie.

Some things I've been doing

Because there's something so nice and stress-free about a nice list.
*reading--and how! Heh, I love the 50s. I've been reading books that I've seen referenced in books that I've seen referenced around--whooooooa, meta! For example, my maman got The Catcher in the Rye at a book sale some odd years ago and I read it sometime this past year and loved it... as you can see. My whole goddam world has been goddam-ified and Holden-ified, and, hello, my name is Phoebe Caulfield? So my book flow chart is as follows:
L'Etranger --> The Catcher --> Franny and Zooey --> The Penal Colony --> The Metamorphosis, and that's what I'm reading now. Fun stuff. My dad was about to kill one of those escapees from the stink-bug epidemic, but I shrieked something along the lines of "OH MY LORD DAD DON'T KILL IT IT COULD BE GREGOR!" and that was that.
*Post-Its--usually there is nothing I despise more than a good old quote. Except when they're book quotes! That are used out of context and applied to everyday life! But "inspirational" or "endearing" quotes that you hang up around your house to be cute or something, Francesca and Jessie will give you the NO face.
Let's take a swell movie. Forrest Gump, say. That thing is just chock-goddam-full of nice pithy quotes! But noooo, inSTEAD of taking some memorable quote from one of those hippies--Stoner Brett, anyone? Ryan Murphy should just make an anthology of Stoner Brett quotes--or even the well-known "Run, Forrest, run!" everyone decides to glom over the good ol' life's-a-box-of-chocolates one. ¿POR QUÉ?
I am too tired to even finish this, and I must get up early to help Mrs. F and Mrs. R with the ever-helpful James Hong (Francesca, don't say anything or you will be mysteriously and brutally murdered during the night, so sad, so sad), so that's all for now, folks! #looneytunesreferencedidanyonecatchthat

The sky's pink

It's been a month.
Wow, guys, wow.
I thought I was a dedicated writer!
Well, now I know why WDM dropped out of high school and why Mark Twain never let school interfere with his education...
School is a regular nuisance.
Now that I have, you know, mentors... meaning writers... that have been dead years and years now...
Except, of course, my dear esteemed WDM,
And my experiences at Blue Tree--SHOUTOUT TO SIENA IF YOU'RE READING THIS!--I know what's of true value: outside-of-the-box stuff. Arabic classes at JHU. Selling your sewing machine for a typewriter and then typing I hate this typewriter a few mazillion times and taping the notes to your walls. Or Post-Its. That's my current project, Post-Its on my walls in French or German or Spanish or quotes from The Great Gatsby or Franny and Zooey or something. It's a pleasurable life for me.

Into the garbage chute, flyboy

Princess Leia--my style icon and role model...

I was wearing my Princess Leia hairstyle when I met my cool girl neighbor today! It was a fun time.

That Blog Meta

   I just have a thought. Does every single blogger EXCEPT ME out there have absolutely NO IDEA that every single blog is really all the same? Because I'm fairly sure we all think we're so different. You know? But there're always little groups of y'all who do exactly the same things. We have the "pastel grunge kawaii girl" right over here, who makes shrines in her walk-in closets and abandoned gardens to anime characters and glitter erasers and creepy doll heads, and listens to Nirvana and Lana Del Rey and j-pop, but there are like fifty mazillion of you guys all over the place!
   I can't even BEGIN to go into detail about how many "hipster" titles people have given themselves in the blogosphere, and on Polyvore too. We have the 90s kids, the kids who were born in the wrong era, the angsty kids (although really that applies to everyone), the lolita kids, the kawaii kids, the grunge kids, the retro kids, the free-spirited kids (although everyone knows who the REAL free-spirited kids are), and so many others. Then, in the more obscure and creative corners of the blogosphere, we have the hybrids. These are the people that proclaim themselves to be these weird mutant names that will occasionally contradict each other, ranging from "geek slacker"--wait, what?--to "pastel lolita grunge," and so much more in between. What is this?
   Well, I'm wrapping it up because I'll go on forever like this, but I'd love to, y'know, start up a whole conversation geared toward the sophisticated meta on the internet. So just think about this. And listen to Everybody Loves You Now, which has nothing to do with anything, except that it's Billy Joel, so of couuuurse it has everything to do with everything.

Say it ain't so

Woke up this morning, smiled at the rising sun
Three little birds
Were on my doorstep
Singing sweet songs
A melody pure and sure
Saying
This is our message to you.
                                                                           *     *     *
    I've gotten into printing out the lyrics of songs I like and analyzing them. Music is poetry, you know? That sounds so hippie, but hey, there's nothing wrong with that! #hippielife with Elinor Beveridge.
    Anyway, so, that was Three Little Birds by Bob Marley (AND THE WAILERS!), in the case you're so ill-informed that *cringes sympathetically* you don't know that song. Hopefully, you do.
    I have an amazing story! We ate at this place called Land Ho! last night for dinner (yes, exclamation point included), and it's totally stereotypically Cape Cod, New England in general. Everything on the menu was some variation of fried [insert seafood here], and there were all these families and, my favorite, old people just chilling out and having a dandy old time. They happened to have Billy Joel on, which was awesome. And THEN! And THEN! I was just minding my own business and making fun of this guy in the corner who was wearing a blanket over his head and looking like the Sheikh of Cape Cod when it happened! I realized that Land Ho! yes, Land Ho! was playing the oddest song selection. It was alternative and relatively obscure, you know? Anyway, Land Ho! was playing SAY IT AIN'T SO! Throughout the whole restaurant! I almost--to quote Steven Spielberg--vomited from the excitement of it all. It was a happy evening for me.
    So I'm staying at the Chatham Bars Inn, in Chatham (no, really?). It's pretty schnazzy. It's really nice and pretty! I like sitting out on the beach and watching the boats, or fishing. I caught a bunch of dismembered crab appendages! It was a fun time. And on Monday school starts. Which is terribly weird, of course. But this year, I have a great new army rucksack, so I'm completely prepared! And we basically bought out all of Uniqlo for my "fall wardrobe." Life's good, you know? Again, more hippie sentiments. I more or less attempted to structure my life this past summer by making to-do lists, so here's mine for when I get home. Not that I'll actually end up DOING anything on it, but y'know the drill. I like to think that I'll be accomplishing something...
                                                      To-Dos For When I Get Home
-communicate with Tess about baking/movie-watching! Ahem, Tess.
-load up schnazzy army satchel
-confirm film dates
-get bike
-play tennis
-download podcasts onto phone--This American Life, Skeptoid, Coffee Break, otras lenguas, etc.
-practice MICHEL!
-de-clutter shelves of closet
-develop piéce list
-work. on. calligraphy.
-Know what would be cool? A fish tank with books in it.
-organize desk
-brainstorm for massive bulletin board
-GET the bulletin board, uh-huh
-read L'Oignon (sorry! Sorry! The Onion, mleeeeh)
-go to the Harringtons'
-get more books at book sales
-re-read Bad Boy for school
-wear 1984 shirt--yes folks, I got a 1984 shirt. Brown University bookstore! Ach, the benefits of going to college and not having the obligations of, well, college.
-No Woman No Cry (long story)
-PM Jezzy and tea-at-sunrise
-make stickers/flyers ("If you like [e.g., Simon and Garfunkel], read I Was Aiming for Clever!")
-talk to L & Cat about fall fair
-make first-aid kit

J'ai une histoire

   Writing from Chatham, Cape Cod, on the windowsill, and it smells like gouda. WHERE'S THE MOSS SMELL FROM OUTSIDE, EH?! Who says you have to go inside when it's thundering?! Nature, with the combination of parents and responsible obligations, is just unfair.
                                                                   *     *     *
   She stood around and watched the rain plink on the porch railing. She didn't suppose it was actually making a sound like that, but water going about PLINKing was a commonly used term. The little splashes on the railing looked like spiders. She supposed a crab analogy would be more appropriate.
   She sat in the chair and got soaked to her skin. There was a coating of sand on the back of her calves and thighs where her shorts ended. Her sketching paper grew see-through and then it ripped in places. She watched water drip off her nose by crossing her eyes a little.
   She wiggled her sock feet in the flooded water on the porch. The socks made her toes itch a title, but she didn't mind, really. She thought about taking a kayak into the bay while it was raining. She would watch the lobster boats and the lady with the blonde hair who jabbered on about her job, scavenging for clams in the sloppy sand.
   Then there was a small burst of thunder. And lightning, the second bolt, soon after, looking like a set of chopsticks crossed over each other, and thunder again. She sighed and smelled it. Smelling was her favorite sense.
   She knew it was time to go in. Her parents would be worried. No outside when it was stormy, by herself at least. She walked inside, and her dad turned on the light when she wanted it off, and it smelled like smoked gouda from today's 4:00 aperitif.
   She watched the rain behind the shutters and the screen, but it wasn't the same.
   She thought maybe the smell was the problem. It was the smell.

Mean old levee, taught me to weep and moan

WARNING: THIS IS NOT FUN STUFF. THIS IS WHAT'S GOING ON IN MY HEAD. YOU MAY NOT LIKE WHAT IS WRITTEN HERE, AND PLEASE DON'T TAKE OFFENSE TO ANY OF IT. JUST A WORD OF WARNING.

    I'm so depressed I can't hardly talk about it. See, it's so bad that I put in a double negative... I've really gone astray there. But really, that's an exaggeration. I'm not depressed at all, just saddened, I suppose.
    Earlier this evening I went to an orientation back at the hallowed halls of our school (read: heh, I think not), for the new iPads our grade is receiving... and it just got to me so bad. I'd really rather not take a Holden Caulfield approach to life, because, as much as it hurts me to say this, my beloved Holden is just not healthy,but I really was bothered. Like, a lot. When you're at a 2-week sleepaway camp for artsy and intelligent teenagers that are JUST LIKE YOU (meaning they write their own plays in their spare time, and poetry, and write actual snail mail, and paint murals on their kitchen walls, and, above all, tolerate my constant spew of Ouran/Death Note/George Costanza references), followed by a 2-week trip to goddam--oh no--EUROPE, our town is not exactly a sight for sore eyes. And jeez, am I feeling sore right now.
    This town is the worst place for me, or anyone who's DIFFERENT. Holden would hate it too. (Don't you love how we're on first-name basis now?) It's just so... stupid. I mean really. That's why this summer was the greatest--I got to get away from all the phoniness and stupidity at least for three months and be with people who are above things like, well, Instagram, and now I'm delving into stuff that I can't post on a public blog, so it'll stay within the pages of my cherished smelly-leather journal instead. And if your beliefs are different than mine, I applaud that, but I'm going to be honest here. I would suggest leaving this page, if you think otherwise. As well as this whole blog. I'm really not trying to say that you, dear reader, are unwelcome in reading this. It's actually the opposite, I love sharing ideas with people! But if you're going to get angry with what I'm saying, I'm attempting to save you from all that bitterness by just coaxing you into moving on with your life. Just like Lemony Snicket would do, hey? And I apologize in advance if you DO feel provoked by this or something, but I'm a writer, and a rather controversial one at that. I speak my mind. So hey, don't say I didn't warn you...
    On that happy note, I'm sorry about all that! New paragraph.
    So I'm trying to set myself on the right track. I'm going to surround myself with things from France, from Deutschland, from Suisse and Belgium and Luxembourg and Nederland, and from everywhere else that I want to be. And then I won't be here, and I won't get all caught up in it. You know, IT. Indescribable stuff. I simply call it 'it' and that suffices, I guess. I speak in a patchwork of languages now, like, "Maman, danke pour il latte!" or something like that, and that helps. I eat my French granola in a cereal bowl from Monoprix when I get up at 6:00 a.m. to have a run or a bike ride or a poetry session. Or to write short stories about my neighbors, or to write monologues in Spanish or German or Italian. The majority of my school supplies were purchased at various stores (Monoprix, Geant, etc.) in France. Hey, my very location is Maastricht, Nederland! So you see, I'm really all right.
    And my soon-to-be Spanish teacher will probably despise me when I start answering stuff on tests en Francais. Oops.

All the girls around her said she had it coming

    I feel like I'm missing a ton of opportunities to take pictures of street fashion while I'm in Europe, but it feels so weird just taking pictures of people just walking the streets. So I'll put down some memorable ensembles that I saw here, in a list, because that's what I love nose. Did I just write nose? Wowww. Most.

STREET FASHION of KÖLN, PARIS, BAYEUX, and LYON

-guitar case covered in travel and Riot Grrrl-esque stickers of a traveling musician girl!

-thick leather belt with denim shorts and a nasty yellow-brown-orange-coloured t-shirt that I personally loved, on a waitress

-neon pink tights, yeah!

-a bowler hat, a red blazer, and black knee socks on a girl walking along the Seine... my dream outfit.

-Andy Warhol banana shirt that this girl Anna from Blue Tree had

-Neon green baggy cargo pants

-red turtleneck sweater and miniskirt (okay, that wasn't street fashion, that was Marcia Brady...)

-Black Butler t-shirt, not that I can really comment, having never actually WATCHED Black Butler, but it was cute

-fairy-like lacy white shawl on a Japanese girl on Champs-Élysées

-navy blue knit dress with patterned oversized sunflowers on it

-sweater and button-down shirt with Peter Pan collar, basically an outfit that I own... but mine's not as spiffy

    And, well, plenty of other GREAT things that I either (sadly) forgot or am too tired to remember. It's time to play some poker with my youth hostel buddies--just kidding, I'm not that cool, I mean my brother. So this is goodbye! Au revoir. 

    And oooh, I almost forgot, but our plans have changed AGAIN. We're going to Geneva tomorrow! Papá and I are bringing our running sneakzzz so we can have run in 4 countries this trip--Germany, France, Switzerland, and possibly Luxembourg later on. I'll be contemplating this as a contender for my Stuff to Do as a Hermit list...

    And dayyyyyum, the end of episode 15 of Death Note! Light is a freaking genius.

You and me are floating on a tidal wave

    Hi. I've not written in a while, but it's cool because no one reads this except me anyway, so it's kind of relaxing. Not having the obligation, you know?

    We're in the nasty, drab, is-this-actually-France? city of Lyon, and we should have seen the warning signs. It's like the freaking French HOOD or something. It's that bad. It's like a bad German city (no 'ffense, Germans, I love Germany actually). But it's very glittery at night.

    We were in Paris for six days, so I guess I got spoiled from that. We then went on to Normandy and stayed at a Chambres d'Hôtes on a farm! It was so cool. I spoke my minimal French with the little girl whose family owned the place, Anaelle, and I made her a friendship bracelet and we hung out with the horses a lot, and the pony, Achum (supposed to emulate the sound of a sneeze). I really didn't know much useful except adjectives (and how would YOU feel if you hung out with someone and all they said was something along the lines of "it's pretty" or "it's funny!" or "it's very fast"?! Frustrating, no?) and the phrase «comme ça» so there were a lot of jokes I made in which the punch line included "comme ça?" Weak. But hey, she laughed! I was a sensation SOMEWHERE.

    Jesus, I need to sleep. Goodbye. Bonne nuit.

    These'll look great with knee socks! If only I could've gotten the cool pink holographic oxfords from Monoprix, and the Rolling Stones satchel... ah well, there's always tomorrow.

Want to know how I feel?

Je suis TRÉS heureux et pacifique.

    

    

    

The autumn moon lights my way

    I was at Barnes and Noble yesterday and I got this AWESOME leather journal--two, actually--that had an absolutely mesmerizing Celtic sort of print. It was green. AND it smelled like leather. I can't wait till I become a hermit and write in my journal out in the wilderness while I eat bananas and listen to Moonlight Sonata and plant larkspurs and various types of vegetables! It'll be great. My hermit life is really coming along...
    I'm going to a Billy Joel cover band tonight, along with an acquaintance of mine who appreciates good music from the 80s era! Maybe I shouldn't become a hermit. I'll never meet a kindred spirit my age who actually knows who Simon & Garfunkel is. That could get sort of sad. On the rare occasion that I do come across one of those, it does tend to restore my faith in humanity.
    For my next camp, I'm supposed to print out the lyrics to a song that inspires me... these two have somewhat meaningful-sounding lyrics, so here are the contenders--
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and
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Ramble On

    Led Zeppelin. I'm back from Lindley G. Cook 4-H camp! It was really an awesome experience. I was sort of stewing in the house for a while before camp, so it was nice to get a change of scenery. Now I'm refreshed and covered in bug bites. I met so many cool people! It's amazing how much you can do in a week, in the boonies, NJ. Here's some stuff that I learned/people that I met/things that I just did in general.

-met an adorable little kid named Tomás; I counseled him in the proper way to ask his dad for his new favorite video game. HE WAS SO SWEET! He knew all of the characters' names and everything. He just came up to me one day during kayaking class and started talking, and the next thing I know, he was my BNYOF (Best Nine-Year-Old Friend)! Huh.

-learned how to canoe

-met an... interesting guy my age who occasionally wore SUSPENDERS and knew possibly every Frank Sinatra song that existed

-took 5-minute showers every darn day

-teased Jessie about her SOULMATE
-hung out with a cool Russian guy and his Green Day-loving friend

-met a girl who raised chickens and ducks! I guess that's 4-H for you.

-met a kid named, heh, Alvin who acted exactly like L from Death Note! He looked exactly like this, no lie. It was a little creepy.  He even sat like L! WEIRD.

-had a counselor named Dallas!

-met someone who was like Tess! Tess, kindly read this and comment. Are you related to a Lucinda Ryan?

-ate pudding/cool whip/sprinkles/brownie/cookie mixture without hands. #vikingdinner

-oh lordy I just used a hashtag. I have way too much free time

-made a candle! Yay, so artsy.

    And lots of other stuff, mostly involving a counselor from England who dressed like One Direction, a counselor who liked Doctor Who and Naruto and making up Norwegian-sounding songs for Viking Dinner, and a counselor whose name was LUUUUUUUKE and had big poofy hair and was an uncannily enthusiastic bootay shaker (please, don't ask) and spoiled the ending of Death Note for me. But all in all, camp was the best, dear readers! THE BEST JERRY THE BEST.

Take a Chance on Me

    Take a Chance on Me--ABBA. I decided to start a new blog, and I'm not sure why exactly. Maybe for personal reasons unbeknownst to me. Just joshin', I only said that that because I love that word unbeknownst! But in case you just stumbled upon this blog, I have another one with all my followers, publicity, etc. on it called Extravagant Eggheads that you might want to check out. But I figure this'll be my blog for writing, maybe stories, life experiences, poetry, and songs. Just because my other blog isn't really taken seriously for that kind of stuff.
    Also, if you don't know me already, here's a bit of an introduction! I don't particularly like my first name (TOO mainstream... hah), and I don't really want to put it on here in the first place, so you could call me Wepeel if you like the band Weezer (or just watch/listen to this so you get it) or... yeah, sure, go ahead and call me that. Also, if your name is Jen He, you're basically obligated to call me that, so pur-lease do! So here are 10 facts about me, just to... break the virtual ice. And they're rainbow! That makes everything tons fun and better! YAY!
1. I'm really into music, like, a lot. I like all kinds, but I'm mostly into classic rock and 80s pop. Think Elton John, Van Halen, The Cars, and a looooot of other things that don't land in that spectrum.
2. I'm going to sleepaway camp tomorrow for a week for the first time, with my friend Jessie!
3. I will never figure out how to play any card games... sad, sad truth.
4. I'm also quite obsessed with Polyvore; here's my account for that. What's not to love? I always feel like a true artist. Which I am, but y'know. 
5. I'm a major reader. My favorites include books by Dan Brown (when Vivek doesn't steal them), Markus Zusak, J.D. Salinger, Walter Dean Myers, George Orwell, and S.E. Hinton. I'm not big on reading poetry, but I'd say my favorite would be Walt Whitman.
6. A lot of my friends are very, veeery into Asian things, so I've unwittingly joined them in that. So don't be alarmed when you see random pictures of Tokyo or Flushing or fun Asian people in my posts! It's just me, I'm weird like that.
7. I'm attempting to learn German, French, Italian, and Spanish (the latter I'm learning in school). I love languages and I love the world, and I'm going to Germany and France in August with my family, so why not start now, yeah? Issa no brainer.
8. I know way too many digits of pi to ever, ever be normal. Ever. As in 3.14159265358979323846264338327950288419716939937510582.
9. I love anime! My favorites being Death Note, Angel Beats, and Ouran Highschool Host Club. My friend and I are actually planning to make shirts and phone cases advertising our love for Ouran, mostly the complete and utter hotness of Kyoya.
10. I'm not a fast runner, but if you ask me to run a 5k, watch out. I'm a distance runner through and through, and if you ask me to sprint for you, you'll probably end up laughing in my face.