Summer anxiety!!

     I'm obsessed with Instagram all of a sudden. It started w that Bollywood fan account 하리가 and I made, bollychudiyan, which I hardly ever used and whenever I got too into it I would delete it. But it would always find its way back onto my phone. And then I started following EXO members and unfollowing all the stupid Sonam Kapoor (ugh, no talent) fan accounts, and then I changed the password so 하리가 couldn't like her own fotos w it, jajaja. And then I started following other people that I actually knew, some from camp and some from school but upperclassmen and some from BRS, and then it just got depressing. Honestly I think my body image is going downhill just because of that. Even Sal's stupid farm pics with his long hippie hair depress me, jajaja. But I just can't get enough of refreshing my feed and letting my fomo (fobf?? fear of being fat? no that looks too much like "fob" which is too funny to be taken seriously).
     Every time I've taken a picture this summer I get so upset. Like I really cannot handle it. And then to see it on Instagram or fb sucks. And to see it on my phone sucks too, like even pictures with Myrsinaki made me sad to look at, which made me sad bc I loved that moment until the picture was taken. But at the same time I feel like I really have an eye for good photo ops!! Me and every other white girl on the planet but still. Every time I'm in Newark or the city I just see so many fotos ready to be taken but if I look like how I look like then I don't want to take it or put it up on fb.
     I feel weirdly like I don't know how to talk to/hang out w boys anymore. I am so reluctant to set up the BRS reunion AND any CRS reunions where Red Hook is... I don't want the BRS boys to compare me to 엠아리, who's looking basically like a model these days, chiseled jawline and all, and I don't want to interact w the CRS boys simply bc they are sooo deadly!! But it's kind of weird that I haven't "found my people" boy-wise anywhere. They're definitely not at school, but not at camp either? Like, where ARE these guys??
     My money anxiety is preventing me from going on the great shopping spree I know I need. Every time I walk into H&M I wanna buy the whole store out!! And Romwe, and any Stussy chapter, etc. etc. I am simply DYING to visit Stussy in Milano but I feel like it'll be a shady outlet or sth only for boys. Plus it's weird to shop for this stuff w my parents. But we'll only be there for a little while so it's not like I'm gonna go off on my own to shop in men's stores. Plus it's SOOO expensive! And I won't even see 피얌마 at all!! ㅠㅠ
     The biases: 엑소 타오, 킴남준, Bender from The Breakfast Club, Ross from Friends, 자크 from camp jajaja
     I figure I'll raid Rookie's monthly images for some good backgrounds. And GOD am I into photography at this pt. I don't even want an iPhone as my new phone anymore bc i feel like the fotos will suck and I want a Samsung instead bc it's also more internationally savvy (all my CRS amigas have them and I'm obsessed). But tbh nothing will be worse than my junky 4S camera. And yes I want a camera but again w the money!!! I really have begun to freak out like a crazy person about money these days. I hate going for groceries just bc I hate seeing the receipt even if the cashier informs me that "you saved $xx today!!" Then I go nuts and tell my mom and she's like, "hey, we're a family of five" and I'm just like, How will I survive?? Bc i really do have kind of expensive tastes. I don't realize it, but I totally do. I'm always dying to eat out, and I love healthy food which is pricier, and I love eating a lot of food which just makes it priciest. Ay caramba!! Plus I feel like living in a city by myself won't be all it's cracked up to be (and I will have a roommate, or I'll have nightmares that the third Insidious will happen to me). And like, that it won't feel "real."
     Yeah, so I'm obsessed w this "real" idea. Ever since summer started, I've been reading like a maniac. I read and I run and I procrastinate and I eat and I polyvore; that is my summer. But y'know, we're talking trips to the library every three, four days. Which is awesome!! I haven't read this much since I was a youngun in middle school. But it's like... Ever since I read Joy Luck I've just gone on to read these sorta depressing adult books encompassing the lives of complex people puzzling through their complex issues. And they have not-nice endings, like French movies. And I think it's turning me bad!! I really do, like I feel kind of empty after I read them and now it feels like nothing is how it's said in books, like relationships and stuff. And I get that I'm just a kid and I shouldn't expect to face these kinds of things, but just read Joy Luck or The Buddha in the Attic and there is absolutely no way people actually think like this. It's too much.
     We dropped off Myrsinaki earlier tonight at EWR (and god, I love airports), and as we were driving home I was talking to my mom about this "real" theory. But I just don't know how to explain it. I find I'm really bad at talking... And it's pretty frustrating bc I'm a good speaker when I'm rehearsed. But it's simply not meant to be. I'm cut out for writing books or sth. I wish I could just come out w the female version of No Coins Pls and strike it rich, as was the plan in February, but I'm not really writing these days. Sometimes I journal but that's pretty rare. Like right now, it's 12:40 am and I know I should have been asleep 2.5 hrs ago bc Myrsini and I woke up at like 10 this morning (meaning Sunday) and I have to get up at 6:30 tomorrow morning (meaning Monday) to run, and then I also have to make my lunch bc I was too busy watching, for the first time, The Breakfast Club, which 엄마 recommended for me and which I loved but it was also kind of depressing but in a good way plus Bender was sooooo hot... Buuut I'm not gonna sleep until I've gotten out all my thoughts bc this does NOT happen often when my thoughts come out in a stream of consciousness thing where it's actually natural and real and genuine and all that good stuff, and hey I am totally on a roll here!! I know I'm a writer but at this pt in my life I'm not feeling it. But it's really very ok bc I know I'll be back to write that kid's book. It's in my blood!
     Books I've read/am reading: One L (it's SO great!! I was discussing it w "the parentals" as 산드라 would say and we all agreed that the pressure Scott Turow was facing at Harvard Law in the 70s is not so far off from the pressure Jews and Asians are facing rn at any given tri-state area high school, jajaja (laughing in a sad and ironic way), which is probably why I'm so invested in it, bc i can actually relate to the chaos and lunacy his mind has become), The Tin Horse (basically Anita Diamant's The Boston Girl but with deeper emotions), Inside the O'briens (by the author of Still Alice which I am so reading on the Europe trip bc I was obsessed w Inside the O'briens!!), and other books I unfortunately totally don't remember at all, lol. I tried reading some of Amy Tan's other books but they're really just mleh. Joy Luck and even The Bonesetter's Daughter were right on the money but everything else was too much. I also got her memoir out of the library but omggg. I'm sorry to say that it just feels like she's trying too hard. Plus, she is SUCH a type, and she talks about these outlandish things that she did when she was young, like moving with her first-generation Chinese mother to SWITZERLAND (?!?!??!?!) in such a way that I have to go back and figure out if she's actually serious, or if she's just being comparative or sth. But come on. It's awful.
     Food I am dying for: the spicy tuna rice at Totto (waaaaaahh), raw cookie dough, the pork bun at Totto, Empanada Mama, the maggi noodles at 하리가 house, Korean bbq
     In addition to photography I'm obsessed w soundscapes!! I've taken a bunch since June when I was w A. in DC's Chinatown listening to some brass band on the street, and on the train coming back home, and in Chelsea, and even in Times Square where I was hiding my phone every time one of the CRS girls spoke so I wouldn't record them, jajaja. But the wind always gets in the way!! I messaged the Suvi who did the soundscape instruction for tips, bc Myrsinaki told me she always did that whenever she wanted to take up some skill (like 존 for meditation... ugh, John jajaj). She said she  was flattered and she would get back to me but she has NOT. I am v underwhelmed by this, and honestly this is so typical CRS. Myrsini and I were just talking about it on the way to the airport. Basically most of the campers totally have this reputation for having awesome ideas and then not acting upon them. Like during holiday break (when Myrsini was w our Turkish amigo and so we were messaging nonstop about the drama jajaj), a few of them were planning a massive trans-continental trip for this month and basically asked everyone "which would be a more convenient option, meeting up in Paris and then island-hopping in Greece, or taking Europe by train and then setting up shop in Thailand?" Which sounds like a dream, but really? We certainly were not all loaded at camp, but what kind of an idea is that, let's get real, jajaja. But that's one example out of tons. The reunions, for example, they always fall through. I was lucky enough to see Nush and Myrsinaki twice, Shaf and Shags a bunch of times and some of the city girls a few times too, but I know a lot of people had their plans just not work out. Whatever, though. If they don't want to meet, it's no problem. I totally have skype anxiety so i really can't talk in this department.
     But seriously, the Red Hook guys are SUCH a crackup. 안다루 with his 타이새야-style posts and his selfies (jajajajaja, the SELFIES!), 타리스탄 with his awkward Italy videos, all the Stuy guys on the CRS group chat (ugh, the Stuy guys. 아누사 was 100% right when she was complaining about how deadly they were on College Day, but I was totally smitten w 라이안 and 리타므 and didn't realize the true social ineptness until post-camp)... I wish I made friends w the European boys. They were more normal, lol.
     I really should make this blog private w all the names I'm shouting out all the time, jajaja. But I have this far-fetched idea that I'll someday become some household-name blog like the ones on Rookie simply by "being myself!" (Suuuuure.) So of course it MUST be public!!
     OK, I think I'm winding down. Gotta get myself up bright and early for my run anyway, and ughhh I feel the sleep tugging at my eyes already... I'm going to hate myself tomorrow morning... My time management SUCKS, and I'm more than a week behind on French, and oh great my mom is coming jajajaj she just slaughtered me but I'm going to bed now for real. And also, I am SO pumped for Europe!! I'll take tons of pics w my awful 4S camera and tons of metro soundscapes, and I'll buy a bag and a bucket hat and a hacky sack and Italian and Spanish and Portuguese fashion mags, and I'll run in all the countries and feel a huge sense of accomplishment from doing that a few months later when I'm back in the clutches of my high school. Ugh. School.
     Jaja. Ok. Καληνυχτα!!
     EDIT: I changed all the names to hangul so it's censored!!

Friday night feminism ᕦ㋡ᕤ

    In desperate need of some strong female influence! I went through my newly cleaned out bookshelves looking for books with STRONG INDEPENDENT WOMAN ROLE MODELS as the main characters. What I found was

I Am Nujood, Age 10 and Divorced

Cheryl Strayed's Wild

Gone with the Wind

The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency

The Boston Girl (which I SOOOO recommend for anyone who likes any and every decade of 20th-century America, particularly New York in the 30s and 40s)

Reviving Ophelia

The Joy Luck Club

The Help

A Little Princess

I Am Malala

Nancy Drew? Jajajaja, how underrated

The Poisonwood Bible

Reading Lolita in Tehran

Maya Angelou's The Heart of a Woman

    Like, I am so on the lookout for reading material, but I can't handle reading these men books all the time. It sucks. I have no patience for it. I'm massively into a more gender-equal, feminist approach to my media intake, and Dan Brown, which I was obsessed with two years ago, doesn't cut it anymore (Digital Fortress, anyone? I actually hate this guy now). I've basically come full circle from where I was last year at this time, when I told my mom that not only was I anti-feminist but that I thought women authors WERE BAD and "too girly" (ex. Salinger > Plath). I was totally on-board with this idea that women were just frivolous and didn't get the whole life thing and had their own place in society that didn't really interfere with the rest of the scene. I mean, read some of my past entries on da blog. I was very very bad. 

    Well, not bad, just ignorant. I was downing all this Kerouac and Salinger and all these books where women were nice as, like, toys or accessories or something, but they were pretty crazy and fake and they weren't really people. Subconsciously, of course, but I WAS STILL ABSORBING IT and thinking to myself, jeez I wish I was a boy, boys can do so much more and are more interesting and girls are too girly. 

    I think that's also kind of part of my makeup stigma...? Maybe? Because I don't want to give in to the womanly temptations or whatever that my esteemed writers and I were so against. But I'm so glad I've realized, and that I LOVE US!!! Jajaja. And I know how awesome women can be. And the more women I read and watch and listen to that are inspirational and strong, the more I can be all of those things and help myself grow as a person and learn to ignore all the BS going on in school, etc.

    So as an added PS, if there are any woman-centric books you'd recommend, I would love to hear them! Thanks yaaron xx

The Perks of Being a Wallflower

     My friend recommended that I read The Perks of Being a Wallflower the other day, and she's been gushing about it so much that I was kinda intrigued. I heard it was good, and short. And I figured I wouldn't have to think too much while I was reading it. I really like books like that. I've come to appreciate them now, now that so many books that I read are "deep" and I have to find meaning and symbolism in every damn sentence.
     So I started it last night. Finished it at about midnight. I was a little underwhelmed by it, but there were so many little beautiful parts that it turned out to be all right. I liked Charlie, a lot. I have this theory that anyone named Charlie is automatically a good person. My brother's name is Charlie, and he's the sweetest kid. I know two Charlies at school and they're both really nice. Charlie's just an agreeable name.
     Anyway, I didn't like how he was always smoking and tripping unnecessarily. I felt like that was out of character. But he was all right. I did not like Sam; I thought she evidently hadn't escaped her past (meaning her reputation as a sophomore). I liked the gifts Charlie got everyone, even when no one gave him anything in return, and his sweet little mixtapes, and the suicide note-turned-poem that Charlie read aloud. I really liked Charlie's teacher Bill, and I'm making a list of all the books he told Charlie to read for my own devices. Here it is.

To Kill a Mockingbird
Peter Pan
The Great Gatsby
The Catcher in the Rye
The Fountainhead
This Side of Paradise
On the Road
Naked Lunch
The Stranger

     Incidentally, I'm reading On the Road right now. It's a little slow to start, but I'm definitely going to give it some time because I loved The Dharma Bums, and I've heard On the Road was the original Beat book and all. But the thing is, I loved Dharma Bums more or less only because of the places Ray went, and how he lived, and what he ate, and how he dressed and all. He was just so thoughtful about all that stuff. I really appreciated it. But I found Kerouac's wording to be a little pretentious. I find that with a lot of writers, which is sad. But I can't help it. So many people are projectors. Even me, I guess.
     You know, that really is sad.

Part 1 of my rejuvenation.

     Can I just say this. I was thinking just now, because my neck is kind of sore and my pillow won't cradle my head right, so it hurts more obviously. I really hate when this happens. Anyways, I was just thinking and reading this Chilean girl's blog, and listening to the Clash and Boston, yes, still, and I was wondering why I just don't write anymore. I mean, I used to write every waking hour when I was younger. Reading and writing. I'd write stories and make up characters. Even songs. Write lists. I always used to love to do that. Not to-do lists, but list lists. Anything. Character lists.
     When Kim used to babysit G. and I, we convinced her to participate in this "spy game" that I made up. I remember it perfectly well. We used to go to DePiero's and eat doughnuts there. Sometimes we ate inside. I remember one time some blue-hair came up to us while we were eating and I was making Kim laugh. She came up to us with the nicest, widest eyes, and was all, "Children, you really are so lucky that you have a mother as kind as this. You're beautiful children and you're so lucky that your mother takes you places like this." And she just kind of nodded to herself and went on her way. Kim thanked her retreating back while she was laughing.
     Recently I found the spy list. I remembered how much I loved making up names. I'm pretty sure I found it one night when I was bored and K wasn't replying to my emails because of the crappy connection or something. In one of my journals in my nightstand. God, I had so many. Always writing in journals. Writing anything. Everything. My lists. Sluggy Dugwerth stories, I loved those. Even in first grade. And I had such advanced writing. Using dialogue and proper punctuation, and paragraphs, and impressive vocabulary, everything. The whole shebang. It's really impressive to look back at now.
     I remember one story I wrote in first grade, about puppies. I loved animals then. Like Charlie does now. I suppose I was the original Charlie, but on a much lesser degree. I digress. In that dog story, everything I did was first-grade impeccable. I mean it. No kidding, I was a born writer. I used this black marker that I had, permanent, probably my first permanent marker. And I had this journal that was white, spiral ringed. Big hearts and, hmm, flower petals all over the cover. I loved that journal. I wrote my stories in it. That was my first-grade journal. I loved that thing, I tell you. I really got so attached to my journals over the years. Even if I only used them each periodically. I mean, I might've had seven journals, but I only used two or three usually. I really have always been like that, and I still am. I haven't found a constant medium for my writing really. (Not that I even write anymore... Jesus. Growing old has done this to you, don't you understand? I miss me sometimes.) Which brings me back to the reason why I wanted to post this originally.
     Remember how I said I was thinking? I was wondering why I wasn't creative anymore. For obvious reasons, K. But... There's gotta be more reason behind it. It can't just be him. And I realized... Was I more loath to write when I got... technology? In elementary school I was almost perpetually euphoric. I used to skip down the big hill on Grand Ave. on the way to school. I used to say I was "flying." I remember I always wanted to fly. My mother says I actually used to get jealous of cardinals and all in our old yard, when I was really young. Because I couldn't fly like them. That's really sweet. That's the kind of kid I was. Jealous of birds. And although there's nothing that I hate more than reading into things unnecessarily, because sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, is that symbolic of me now? I mean, right now I always feel a little stuck. Wishing I was older. Wishing I could travel all over, hike all over. Get my own apartment, at least. Is that why monks appeal to me so much? Being alone with nature? I know that's why I liked The Dharma Bums so much. Their freedom to exist. And that's all K and I talk about. I think freedom really appeals to me. I mean, obviously it appeals to everyone, but... I'm not sure. Maybe it's independence that I like. Again, that's not to say no one else wants to be in charge of themselves, but do you get my drift? I want to fly. Like those damn birds when I was young. Huh. I really hate being "astute" like this, though. It makes me uncomfortable. I don't want to be a try-hard. Especially not to myself.
     Now I'm in a trance. I love it! I love writing. Writing is my fuel. I remember! Taylor, you're right, it was so good! I need to learn from Young Me. Read! Write! Be healthy! Ha-HA! Hoo! (The latter being Japhy's Indian cry.) My god, do I feel happy now. I know it's a good sign when I've tuned out to my music, even. I bet if I put the Ramones on now, I wouldn't even be paying attention. This is the year I lived off of 4shared.com. Quality site. The only MP3 site I trust. And it has most of my music, even La Mer, that week when I was obsessed with it after hearing it on Lost.
     

Tonight's unenthusiastic book list.

     I guess I'll be writing now. I said I would, so here it is. I just was at the Boy Scout spaghetti dinner, looking nonchalantly at him practically at the whole time. And he served my parents. ^_^ it was cute of him.

     My book list, then.

-The World According to Garp, John Irving (and I swear to god I'm having so much déjà vu right now... I already wrote this...).

-(Rereading) The Dharma Bums, Jack Kerouac.

-I Am Malala, Malala Yousafzai.

-I Am Nujood, Nujood Ali.

-The Historian, Elizabeth Kostova.

-In the Garden of Beasts, Erik Larson.

-Into the Wild, Jon Krakauer.

     I don't feel like writing anything else, really. And I don't want this to become a commitment. Good night then.

Hai.

     I felt so unbelievably happy today. I hope I haven't maxed out on happiness, now that I've had today. I feel like I'm Stargirl, and ah she's a good memory to bring back. Stargirl and her wagon full of pebbles. I think if I had a happiness wagon, I'd have all pebbles in except one, maybe two. That's how blissfully happy I am.
     My interviews: done. My school week: practically done. No stress. Nada. I'm so chill. I'm at peace, in the moment. I'm going to ask if we can go hiking on Sunday again, and I can run down the trail with my hair blowing behind me and tears of peace just leaking out of my eyes. Tears of peace? My my. Yar, but my she was yar! And that's both a Philadelphia Story and Dharma Bums reference. Two things I like. Cary Grant, Jack Kerouac. James Stewart, Sean Monahan. Japhy Ryder. The ex-Marine from Paterson, New Jersey, a Jew. The original dharma bum Ray met on the Midnight Ghost. The Zipper.
     We're learning about Japan and samurai in world history. I keep thinking of Japhy, funny thing. Good old Zen Buddhism. And I also think about L and how she's doing, and then I think of that idiot at Blue Tree this past summer who decided to give herself "anime eyes." I remember she wore the same shirt every day, and she wasn't even residential. And that one hat. It was pretty odd. I didn't like her much. I don't much like anime elitists.
     I'm dead tired, honestly. My book smells good. ^_^ I think I'll crash about now. Tomorrow or in the near future I think I'll post a list, either of books, songs, or none of the above.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.