Upgrading to a more emo birthday

I have sold out. I am, as a friend put it, a computer upgrading to a "more hip system".

Yes, this is a very special friend. Nonetheless.

Once upon a time, I styled my appearance only for the sake of practicality, and now I've gotten contacts and highlights and clothes that aren't from brands like Land's End.

Ick.

My priorities are fast changing, and I'm not really sure whether I want them to. In all honesty, I'd prefer to go back to obscurity in nerdiness. Seems like life's a lot easier when there's no drama, and no drama comes from no one actually knowing who you are. I kind of liked it better when no one realized I was in their classes except for maybe one or two close friends. Maximum.

The way I see things, the more people you know, the harder it is to please them all. Every time you make new friends, you're losing the ability to be close to some of them, because really, it's impossible to care about everyone, but if they're your friends, aren't you supposed to care? And then there's the problem of caring about the wrong people too much. I've made way too many bad choices about who I want to stick with over the years, and the probability of picking someone wrong goes down if you don't make new friends.

I know I've angsted my way through this topic before, and I'd apologize, but this comes with the semi-amusing rants, and it's my birthday so of course I'm feeling mopey. Traditionally, I'm always mopey on my birthday.

Jumping from topic to topic like a flea (which I am, by the way--Ahaneen is too), the most irritating part about my birthday is getting awkward calls from relatives wishing me happy birthday. I mean, there are only so many ways to say thank you, now please stop talking I was doing something okay bye. Which is what I have to say.

And, I mean, if I wanted to talk to these people, I'd call them other than on THEIR birthdays. Obviously, I don't want to talk to them, and I'm sure they feel the same way about me. For example, my uncles. Out of my three uncles, I strongly dislike two of them. One's an apathetic, smoking, weirdo (that'd be my dad's little brother), the other's a violent, baby-bird-killing maniac (he's Mom's sister's husband, so at least I can rest easy knowing it doesn't run in the family). The other one's nice enough, but he and his wife favor their little girl over her older brother and it's painfully obvious. So--I don't really ever have anything to talk about with the first two, and the third almost never calls because I'm sure long-distance calls from Australia to the US are a pain in the ass.

Frankly, I'm glad. One less set of wishes to BS my way through. Yes, I'm probably a bitter little child who has traumatic memories that made me this way. Aren't you all glad I want to go into psychology? I mean, obviously I'm destined to help people sort through their problems--I've done such a wonderful job with my own.

...Ah, sarcasm. How I've missed you over winter break. Next thing you know, I'll turn into a nun who wants to heal the tarnished souls of other sinners like myself.

...

Clearly turning old has made me world-weary and more cynical than ever.

Ick.

My train of thought carries books and disorders

Although I've been slacking ever since I started high school, I am and will always be an avid reader. Not ever one for deeply philosophical books, I started out with books that described the adventures of Bob, his rug, and his cat. They were positively gripping for a preschooler. As I grew older, I lived in two sections of the library--girl+horse=super sparkly magical connection!books (if you're anything like me, I have only three words for you: The Saddle Club), and Star Wars. This was around fourth grade or so, and I'd seen only one of the Star Wars movies. They were not considered "in", and so I would be doing my best impression of a ninja (albeit a prepubescent one) as I checked out the next five books in the never-ending saga.

I miss being able to just spend hours in the library--my current school's library is nearly always filled with students working, and for someone who likes nothing more than to sit on the floor with a pile of books and read, it's a little too chaotic.

But my point is not that I don't like busy libraries or that I have the weirdest taste in books ever. My point is that now I'm a teenager and actually trying to find a book for someone my age that isn't either something I'd read in English class or written in the 1800s, my choices are limited to cliche fantasy novels and teen stories.

As a side note for all you Jane Austen fans, I HATE Pride and Prejudice--I got through six pages and it took me half and hour and it was the most boring thing I've ever read except for maybe the first sixty or so pages of The Fellowship of the Ring, which I pretty much skipped. I'm not saying that it's a bad book--well, yes, I am--but you're entitled to your own opinion. Just be warned that if you flame me for hating on Jane Austen, I'll probably laugh at you.

But back to my point: I also hate teen stories. Now, I don't mean stories MEANT for teens--obviously I can't argue with those (much). But I do mean stories about your average high school guy/girl with a drug addiction/rumor problem/baby/crush/pet walrus. Sometimes, your average high school kid has ALL of these things, and so what do they do? They angst. For hundreds of pages. And then some sadistic idiot decides to write all of their angsting down on paper for posterity, and it gets published and turns into yet another crappy story about life, love, and not fitting in.

Cry me a river, and I'll hold your head under until you stop thrashing. Why would a teenager want to read about their own life, only dramatized? If they're a decent teenager, they can dramatize it themselves! That's all we're good for, really. If your life revolves around The Drama, I don't see why you'd need to read about it in your free time. Just spread more rumors, sleep with more members of the football team, or smoke crack and voila! Instant drama.

Or you could just realize that drama actually sucks, stop being a catty bitch, NOT contract 14 STDs all in one shot, and save your few remaining neurons from whatever your drug of choice is. Why there's even a CHOICE, I don't know. It seems rather obvious to me, but then again, I'm not exactly your average teen.

I mean, my God lives in Korea and sends me pictures and poetry via Gmail, my Bible is titled Scaramouche, my best friend is my computer, and I still cheer when I watch movies like Mulan. And to top it all off, I am the master of denial, because I tell myself that I really don't care whether or not people like me. If you've figured out that I'm probably passive-aggressive by now, congratulations. My therapist hasn't seemed to have gotten it yet. Woohoo for self-diagnosis!

Evil will always win, because good is dumb

I have realized my one true goal in life is to become a dictator and tyrant and then spoil myself silly until I finally die of a heart attack from eating too much chocolate. I won't be assassinated, because I'll also be a trigger-happy gun enthusiast. Woohoo!

It'd be nice, not having to answer to anyone or worry about feelings and the emotional baggage of other people. Living in solitude also seems to fulfil that wish, but solitude generally means being a hermit, and if you're a hermit you grow a long white beard and eat crabs for 90 years until you finally kick the bucket. I trust that I speak for everyone when I say "Ick."

So instead it's going to have to be either world domination or buying a private island and then pulling a stunt like Battle Royale, wherein I send hundreds of people into a giant deathmatch.

It's so badass (in an evil, psychopathic sort of way), it's crazy. I mean, admit it. The most awesome guys in movies are always the villains, because they don't pull any of that naive, trusting BS that the good guys do. Being nice gets you betrayed by your nerdy receptionist-turned-lingerie-wearing lover, while being evil gets you money, power, and a smirk that just won't quit. Frankly, I don't see why there's even a CHOICE.

Besides, in how many of the classic hero movies is the hero actually likeable? NONE. I point at, just off the top of my head, Luke Skywalker, who is whiny, immature, and unable to hit the Death Star until everyone else is DEAD; Frodo, who is the most wimpy character I've ever seen, and Harry Potter. Who is (pardon my stealing of British words), a twit.

Don't even get me started on Eragon, who is somehow a combination of all three.

Anyways, long story short, it pays off much better to be evil. Even if you DO get killed, at least you'll go out with a bang. And chances are, you'll die looking immaculate.

Unless you're Palpatine, in which case your face kind of prevents that. Sucks to be you.

And I used to be such a nice person...

Actually, I lied. I was never a nice person, I was just too shy too let out my inner (now my outer) scheming, sarcastic bitch. However, I do seemed to have toned it down lately: As aptly pointed out by Bucket, I've been mopey. I'd apologize, but since being mopey was not any sort of crime (even in preschool, where you have no business being mopey) the last time I checked, I've decided that I'm too lazy to apologize and instead shall just post.

All you mopey windowlickers out there can just go form a support group or something. I AM AN INDEPENDENT WOMAN (and now I have the urge to place a chat smiley here, just to show I'm not serious. I'm both a minor and too unmotivated to be independent).

Unfortunately, this post has no point other than to use the word windowlicker, as commanded by God (no, not your God. This one kicks ass).

And wow, I must be in a crappy mood, because usually I'm a bit more tactful that that. Just a bit, though. Nonetheless, this post STILL has no point. I would search for one, but I DON'T. WANT. TO. I am going to be childish and immature and all sorts of irresponsible, and there's nothing you can do about it, because I won't listen to you! Hah!

Okay. Now that I've gotten that out of my system too, I shall attempt to be vaguely amusing for all of my three dedicated readers, and my one, insanely dedicated (or maybe just insane), motivational chipmunk.

Yes, I have a motivational chipmunk. That's why I never get anything done--he's a chipmunk. What did you expect?

Clearly, you expected an interesting blog post....Not happening any time soon, unfortunately. Lower your expectations and maybe they'll be satisfied. Maybe.

To not completely leave you without a story or rant, I shall combine the two into a mini-story-rant-thing! It shall be known as "Why I Hate My Birthday With A Burning Passion".

To be continued....

(Yes, I am horrid. Get used to it, or get out.)

Then the brain-chipmunk said to the moose...

Although I have ditched the angry chipmunk with the help of the previous post, the depressed chipmunk is still emo-ing away in my brain. I wish it would go explode. Since it's refusing to oblige, this is to try and drive it away. Screw you, depressed brain-chipmunk.

I seem to have the odd habit of becoming an idol of sorts to younger girls that I meet. Just today a girl introduced herself to me and we began to talk about horses and leasing and all sorts of riding-related things and before I knew it she was asking me if we could work together to get our last volunteer hours and inviting me to come on a trail ride with her during her lesson tomorrow. She's eleven. I'm nearly sixteen--when I told her this, she was surprised and told me she'd thought I was only about thirteen.

Okay, I know I LOOK young. Especially when I go to work at a barn, I dress down, and that really doesn't help. Baggy sweatshirts, no makeup, and honestly, I'm not that tall either. So I can understand people thinking I'm a few years younger than I really am. But there's something I find terribly ironic about having other people look up to me. I am not a nice person. My relationships with my friends and family are dysfunctional. And yet--I can name off the top of my head three younger kids who all seem to want attention and approval from ME. The crazy one.

I mean, it's sad in a way, because this sort of responsibility is too much for me to handle. I'm not patient enough to deal with kids on a long-term regular basis, and yet I can't tell them that I don't want to spend time with them. I don't think I'm going to screw them up or anything, I just don't see why of all the people they know, they had to pick ME.

It's the same way with friends, you know? I might try and help, but I'm going to be too tactless, I'm going to be too blunt, and then I'm going to mess things up and there's nothing I'll be able to do about it because I can't say "I don't want you to trust me anymore" even if it's true. I can think of ONE person who I have had a positive influence on, and honestly it could have been any one of this person's friends. It just happened to be me.

I think I'll go drown in a pool of my own melodrama now.

Farewell, cruel world!! *boots emo-chipmunk off cliff*

Muahahahah--*BOOM* (Damn, there goes my love life)

With an (almost) completely unrelated title, this blog post is already shaping up to be a paragon of incoherent rambling. But I shall try, for the sake of my own sanity, (I wouldn't try for the sake of yours, because I don't really care about your sanity. Sucks for you) to keep myself at least a little on track.

And that track would be in response to a post on the brilliant blog of Ahaneen. For as it turns out, I too am a girl with girly thoughts. And although I cannot deny the accuracy of The Sad Truth, I'm not quite sure all of those apply to me--then again, now that I look at the list that dooms me to being single the rest of my days (not that I'm complaining much, mind), all of these apply to me, except for the height one.

Damn.

Nonetheless, I have realized that while being liked is an unbelievably flattering experience, being feared is much more my style. If girls have to turn into simpering, seductive idiots just to catch a guy's eye, I think I'd rather keep my brain, thanks. Because sadly enough, it looks as though most guys really, truly want a girl who is beautiful, self-assured, but very much NOT the more dominant half of the relationship. I suspect this has to do with the male ego again.

Girls who tell guys when they've made mistakes, girls who point out a moronic error and laugh at it, are immediately shunted into the "friend" category. If not the "EVIL BITCH" category.

I'm pretty sure I get put into the second one more often than not. Woohoo! Guys think I'm a snob, girls think I'm a bitch, and it's all probably true, but being nice is too hard when everyone around you is stupider than the local blackberry bushes. Most people deserve to be mocked, and I'm just the one to do it! The way I see things, blunt honesty is preferable over sugary flattery, and I am a master at blunt honesty. If you didn't want my opinion, you shouldn't have asked for it, right?

Right. Here, I can pretend everyone agrees with me. I know most of my friends think I'm tactless--Hell, I KNOW I'm tactless. Tact is useful in some situations, but if it's something important, honesty is better. Too many false friendships are built upon nothing more than tact alone, and my inability to keep friends means I have to conserve all the tact I have for the people who matter to me.

Obviously, they are limited in number. I don't trust easily, and it's much easier to remain pleasant acquaintances with someone to go the extra step it takes for them to be considered my "friend". Yes, this is brutal, but in a school of 300 people, when you lose a friend, it hurts, because you don't have that many to begin with. I had a grand total of three friends in kindergarten. In 8th grade, I had four. Only one of them had been my friend since kindergarten.

I'm not trying to be melodramatic--this is what happened. I am horrible at keeping in touch with people, and I don't tend to put out a huge effort to make friends. Clearly, this means I'm not going to HAVE many friends. To me, there's a difference between liking someone and being their friend. More commitment, more work. And I'm lazy by nature.

It's not like I really regret it; having few friends means I don't have to be smothered by large numbers of people. Yes, I'm kind of a misanthrope. I don't find ANYONE flawless, even if someone's flaws don't irritate me. Most people's do, because I am also easily irritated, touchy, and I act like I'm constantly suffering from PMS (of course, when I AM PMS-ing, I get worse).

And I used to wonder what exactly it was that made me unattractive as a girlfriend. Apparently, at some point I've answered my own question. If I met another me through some odd form of inter-dimensional travel, I'd hate myself.

Clearly, self-love is for the nice people. Too bad I'm not one of them.

You rock my fuzzy slippers

Because I tend to do more ranting than anything else, and because blog-lists seem to be going around like an STD (only not, because no one I know is ever going to get ANY), here is a list of ten things that would rock my socks, if I was wearing socks. But since I'm not, these things are just going to have to rock my fuzzy slippers. Woohoo!

1. Schnappi. All you poor uninitiated fools who have never seen Schnappi need to click the link, now. Somehow, this ridiculous video has made my life a better place. Probably because it was number 1 on the German charts in January 2005. It's nice to know that I'm not alone in my Schnappi-worshipping cult. There's a whole COUNTRY of people just like me (only German).

2. B-grade martial arts movies. I know, I know. They're lame and pathetic and have crappy special effects that involve flaming soccer balls. And yet. If you haven't seen Kung Fu Hustle, you're missing out on LIFE. There are evil gangsters with mass dance routines and a badass landlady whose ultimate technique is essentially screaming. And she's one of the better fighters.

3. The merlion. Also known as the Ugliest Thing To Ever Be Immortalized In Multiple Giant Statues. Somehow, I wound up getting a little plastic version of the thing from Singapore Airport when I was around five, and I've had it ever since. Currently, it's sitting on my desk, looking ugly. The only reason I love the merlion so much is because it SHOULD NOT EXIST. Kind of like me!

4. Short people. I rarely get the opportunity to feel tall at my grand height of 5' 5" when many of my friends are 5' 7" or taller. Enough said.


5. Emails. I am in constant need of human contact. If you write me, it'll make my day--and yes, I do know this is unbelieveably pathetic. Hell, my whole life is unbelieveably pathetic. I think I need some chocolate now.

6. CHOCOLATE. If you need this explained, you scare me.

7. Kotani Kinya. How can I even describe this guy? He's got the stupidest dance moves since the original video of You Spin Me Round, he looks like he's absolutely BATSHIT insane, and he's having the time of his life. He also looks like he could be a character from Kingdom Hearts, which scares me. Hell, he probably IS a character from Kingdom Hearts. It explains his fashion sense.

8. Burning puffy Cheetos. I am not a complete pyro, but I DO like burning puffy Cheetos and paper, because they burn in awesome ways. Also magnesium. At least, I think it's magnesium. The silvery stuff that burns really bright makes me happy.

9. Liquid mercury. I love shiny things!

10. My friends. Granted, they are not shiny, nor do they look awesome on fire, but they rock my fuzzy slippers nonetheless. Especially when they buy me candy.

And a super-special number 11 because I just thought of something that makes me unexplicably happy: SQUISHY PILLOWS. The ones filled with all those little beans or something that makes them SO MUCH FUN TO SQUISH. I love those things.

Yes, brain--you CAN be scarred more

Dear morons who decided to redivide up my school into houses,

You all suck. Can we possibly get any more elitist? I mean, now we're not just better than all the public school kids, we can look down on EACH OTHER for being in different houses. It's like we're at Hogwarts, and I'm trying desperately to pretend that I did not actually just get sorted into a house called Auslander.

Is it just me, or does that sound obscenely German?

Granted, it's better than Trudgian, which just sounds like a bad sci-fi species, but honestly. AUSLANDER. What the hell, school. You just got about ten times more pretentious.
When people ask me where I went to high school, I'm going to smile and say "Local public school". Because really, otherwise I'm going to have to say "Hell, Prep-style" or "Home of the Socially Inept".

I'm sure I make out my school to be much worse than it actually is. In reality, we didn't have to stand out in the cold for an hour and half while we ran through an earthquake drill. In reality, our school doesn't have both a chapel and a bell tower. In reality, our cafeteria is just that--a cafeteria, and not The Refectory. In reality, I'm just hallucinating all of this.

Hell, I probably don't even exist. But if I don't exist, why am I still getting emails from a football-playing jock who is in my advisory (and therefore my house) that consist of THIS:

<3

I only wish I was kidding. I'm never going to be able to look this guy in the face again. I mean, it's a chat-heart. Either I'm really impressed that he is secure enough in his crappy football skills to send an email like that out to over a hundred high schoolers, or I'm traumatised. I'm still not sure which--my brain seems to have stopped functioning out of shock. But still...Auslander.

Next Wednesday, when we're supposed to be wearing house colors, I think I'll wear tie-dye. Screw you, high school.

Genres and genetic mistakes (male ones)

Okay. The next time someone tells me I suck because I don't listen to the same music they do, I shall take a CD and shove it up their nose. I don't care if it won't fit. I will make it fit, even if I have to take a chainsaw to their nasal cavity.
Because honestly, I don't know what genre I listen to the most. I listen to whatever I like, and just because I don't like the same genre of music as one of my friends doesn't mean I need to convert them to whatever I'm currently in love with. I cannot instantly recognize David Bowie when I hear him, and I DON'T CARE. And all you David Bowie fans out there who are seething can just deal, because that isn't changing any time soon.
It's not that I don't like songs from genres I don't usually listen to--for example, a friend of mine introduced me to anti-folk music. While I don't think I'll be going to any concerts anytime soon, Kimya Dawson kicks ass, and you should listen to her at least once because it's sadly addicting.

But you'll notice that I will not call you a loser if you don't.

Of course, I have no way of knowing if you do, but this is getting off topic. Big surprise. So in another of my random topic jumps, I've realized that I don't care about a lot of things. I heard yesterday that there's a clique of guys who hate my guts, because apparently I act like I think I'm "better" than they are. And really, if they're desperate enough for bitchy gossip that they're bashing someone who has made almost NO contact with them, I am better than them. Sucks for them.
Still, I can't help but find it ridiculous. When I mock these boys, it is only to my close friends, and it's only because I have seen evidence of their stupidity in classes. They may have redeeming qualities...But I sure haven't seen any.
But dear readers, the next time you bash someone, try and do it intelligently (somehow, I don't think it's really possible for the boys in my story, seeing as they're the kind of kids who still laugh whenever someone says the word 'poop').