Et je veux ton revanche

Hannah:
Out with the bad air, in with the good. You're only human. Probably the main reason you're so stressed out and (think) you're crazy and hormonal is because everybody keeps dumping loads and loads of...merde on your head. Like me, with my angsty teenage life and my drama queen ways of dealing with it. Like the drama teachers, who think that their production of a show that's not even a real show is the end-all be-all of this entire universe. (I'm not positive I've used that expression correctly.) Like the math teachers and the biology teachers, who have taken this week to practice social darwinism, and pick out the stragglers and less intelligent kids, point at them, laugh, and mark their test papers with small (in value, not in area), ugly numbers. Like the boys, who live in the United States.
But you know what, even through all of this, you still manage (in public) to keep a straight (albeit smiling) face, support your angst-ridden friends, suffer through long and unproductive musical theatre classes, and look damn fine while doing it. And, as Sally pointed out,. be the better-looking twin. (I love you, Enrique.)
Things have got to look up for us crazies. If they don't, we're going to quit high school, move to Peru, buy a goat, name her Ellis Maguire, and live off the land, free of tone-deaf persons, slow-walking persons, persons who don't consider the importance of hygiene even though we do, in fact, live in the 21st century where it is usually celebrated, and all other stressful things that are non-goat related.
Ryan, Rachel and Allison can visit on weekends and holidays, provided they bring us Chai tea and fuzzy slippers and their respective farm animals to keep Ellis Maguire company.

C'est quel heure?

Yeah, time doesn't actually exist in my life anymore.
It's something that is not only a rare commodity, it's completely extinct.
Like a dinosaur, or a dodo bird, or myself in an unemotional state.

I spend too long on things that don't matter, and not enough time on things that sort of matter, and no time at all with/on things/people that do matter. That sounds funny. I typed it like that on purpose. Because I have a sense of humor. I am full of such witticisms. I don't know what I'm typing anymore. Once more, it's time for me to go to bed, when I've hardly accomplished anything at all, other than choreography for stupid numbers in a doomed show and making people who love me doubt my affections even more.

My tongue is caught on silence because 
I'm so exhausted worn out and not confused confused not confused
It's not to do with you
Nothing to do with you
Except everything is to do with you, but I forget that
Because I'm so busy with everything else


I want to be a lovely picture in a magazine or teenage blog page again

Les actions, non les mots

I need to stop hurting my head.
I need to stop hurting my hips.
I need to stop being such a fucking math genius (apparently).
(Except not.)

Also, DNA, just go replicate yourself already, because Lyndsay doesn't care.

Also, I do care. I promise.
My mind is screwing with my body, possibly because of an overdose of vitamin C, possibly because...
Yeah, not going there.

Stress is actually screwing with me this time. So are baggy sweaters. I really want one of those comfy, ugly sweaters that actually are adorable. Why don't I have one of those? Can I find one, or do they have to be passed on like a tradition or a kiss?

Next, for my Olive, who has stumbled upon hard times; this reminded me of you.

All of us food groups will always be there to pull you out of the rain.

Le dindon

"Every single day, the same arrangement
I go out and fight the fight
Still I always feel, this strange estrangement-
Nothing here is real, nothing here is right
I've been making shows
Of trading blows
Just hoping no one knows

That I've been going through the motions..."

• I am thankful for duvet covers, I am thankful for crunching leaves. 
• I am thankful for holidays, I am thankful for panda bears.
• I am thankful for storybooks, I am thankful for drama teachers.
• I am thankful for the tetrad of sense and literacy, I am thankful for long hugs.
• I am thankful for long nights.
• I am thankful for sleep, I am thankful for being awake.
• I am thankful for endorphins, I am thankful for dolphins, which kind of sounds like endorphins.
• I am thankful for the thought, now, of tiny tiny dolphins swimming through my bloodstream, making me feel alive.
• I am thankful for boyfriends who want the best for me.
• I am thankful for friends who know the best for me.
• I am thankful for pumpkin pie, like so many of us are.
• I am thankful for dragons, and I am thankful for Adam Pascal.
• I am thankful for White-Out, erasers, crosswords, and the like.
• I am thankful for the elephant in the room who remains just out of sight.
• I wish I had X-Ray vision. So I could stop this foul energy, dirtying our connection.

Pas de voix

I have been absent from the blogosphere for a while, and I have time now, and little else, (i.e. motivation to do math homework, I told you so), I figured I would sit down and write about some things that are going through my mind.

one- I am, by nature, unreasonable, not in a screwy social-studies-esque political way, but just in a very human way. I am unfair, I am selfish, I expect way too much out of the both of us. But as much as I realize this, shouldn't you want to do all these things that I don't expect, but secretly want to, at the same time, like you used to, I think, but I can't remember. I need a teddy bear, tea, a sunset, something to do other than moan and groan. I am in a strange...

two- I am in a strange mood.

three- The world is closing in on me a little bit, I feel. It's nobody's fault but my own that I'm stressed. I know myself, or at least I should. I know when I am stressed that I become emotional and that nobody but you generally has to see it or put up with it.

four- You probably wonder why I am happy around some people, and not around you. No, I don't feel like I'm putting up  a face for them. I just feel like subconsciously, probably, I need to create around me and atmosphere of joviality and smiles lest I cut off all of my hair and color my toenails with a sharpie. I think. And maybe around you I can, subconsciously, let go a little bit, and that's why you get all the mixed/mangled sentences, the tired eyes, the grabby hands, the wet noses.

five- I wonder what life would be like with a wet nose. Probably, more humid.

six- You're strange, and I think you understand some things about brains that not a lot of other people can. But I think it might have simultaneously freaked me out and reassured me. I can't wait until Hannah comes over. I need my Hannah right now, I think.

seven- I actually wanted my Rachel and Allison too, and my Kaylie. But them gals are absent from my schedule tonight.

eight- I miss... smelling warmness. I guess in that way, I also miss tasting warmness. I think instead of warmness, the word I should use is warmth. But I'm kind of chilly right now.

nine- I wish I had a cat. I think I'm a cat person. I'm sorry. I also like movies that other people find boring. I like reading long, psychological and emotional books. I like to do things more than I like to hang out. I like waking up early and going for runs outside. I like going to plays. I need raw emotion. I like raw, emotive songs, and I love, I LOVE, musicals. It's not going to change. Maybe I need to figure that out. What is wrong with me?
I'm just not that bendy.

La biologie?

Hannah Unterschultz   x   Lyndsay Gundesen

                                 =

                       Mimi (who is promiscuous and has a very large body mass:foot ratio thanks to Hannah)

      x Carlos                                    x Josh
= Glinda                                             = Guinevere

Vous etes le seule que j'ai jamais voulais

Sometimes, I am not fun.

I try to make up for it with sunflower kisses.
It may not be enough.

Un chanson d'ukelele

Yes, I am alive. Very much so. However, so many things are going on now that blogging has slipped from a conscious, mind-relieving habit to a chore. There is always something I should be doing now, and I think we all forget about these things during our lovely and lustrous days of summer. That must be why it always comes to surprise me that I don't actually have time to sit and read a book or even go for a run with my father.
Yes, world, I am back. Or rather, you are back, to cause me immense dementia and lapses of judgment. Why doesn't judgment have another 'e'? It should have another 'e'. Everything is wrong there. Some things are wrong here. But overall I think they're okay. But I haven't had time to really think about the state of them (things), so maybe they're not okay. But does it really matter?

 Dancing feels good to my sore body, and musical theatre feels good to my fading social skills and excitement factor, my boyfriend feels good to my needs for being kept warm, and Belgian chocolates and chai tea feel good for about everything, a master remedy, if you will. Math makes my head hurt and Social exhausts me and Music History threatens to swamp me. I like Biology. I wish I wasn't so squeamish, or else I would maybe have the potential to get a real job in some sort of Biology field.
I wish I had a sense of adventure, or the willingness to release myself to others judgments (there's that word again) without feeling inadequate. I wish I was like Hannah.
I wish I could talk to my friends for long periods of time again. Rachel, I was going to see you today, and we could've rounded Allison up too, but swear to FSM after my rainy run this morning I don't think I can move anymore. Numbers and transformations and reflections weigh me down. And I don't have fat shoulders, unlike some. So it can't just be me.

I want a muffin.
You'll have to do.

I'm also rhyming a lot lately. What's up with that, anyways?
(There was a girl, named Alicellen
Who took far too much penicillin
She got sick,
Very quick
Now no more Alicellen.)

Let's burn some bras.

(Katie McLean, I love you. Don't quit on us, please. We need you, regardless of the craziness and unjustness of castings.)

Je suis un colibri perdu

I like that. 'Colibri'.

Colibricolibricolibricolibricolibri.
Colibricolibricolibricolibricolibri.
Colibricolibricolibricolibricolibri.
Colibricolibricolibricolibricolibri.
Colibricolibricolibricolibricolibri.

Evenings.

J'ai aucun mot pour cette fatigue, cette intrigue

I'm not sure how I feel about September.

When people hear words, or see pictures, or hear a certain song on the radio, as humans our minds make thousands and thousands of subconscious and conscious references, connections, associations and junctions. Our brains are smarter than we are. We process the information and unconsciously select the key information and/or memories that will identify to us the certain feeling, sentiment, or word we need to describe, analyze, and reference that enzymatic word, image, or sound.
To me, September is backwards. You see, I of course have no experience with anyone else's brain, but my brain associates everything to everything else so quickly and randomly and inexplicably, that half the time what I say or think of in association to a certain idea makes little to no sense. That is why people think I'm strange. But that doesn't matter. What I'm trying to make you understand is that a lot of different words (namely, pretty much all of them) actually bring out a very specific feeling, not in my mind but on my skin, as in a can actually reach out and touch the way that a sentence or proper noun will make me react and feel. I am a very kinesthetic person in regards to this, and I don't quite understand why. I think this is what makes me such a volatile, moody person as well...so many things influence my very physical condition that I am always changing and altering my mood subconsciously. Anyways.
All of the month names also make me feel certain ways.
When someone says January, I immediately shiver and my toes get cold flashes and I seem to close up into myself a little. I don't like January, it makes me feel lonely.
February makes me think of pink snow. I don't know how I feel about pink snow, except that my fingers buzz, but I am not as strongly opposed to February as January, I think.
March makes me think of green things, naturally, except because March is a) still freezing cold in Calgary, and b) the longest month to me (before April, and I have to wait until the very end for spring break), March makes me tired and it exhausts me to think about it.
April is such a nice word. Maybe it's because it's my birthday month. But even though it, too, is generally still bitterly cold, I guess some sort of bizarre hope is instilled in me for better times and better weathers. April makes me feel light and it makes my fingers feel long.

...and so on. I won't make you suffer through any more of that, except to note that September is backwards for me. I love the word September. In my mind it seems crisp and sunny and it tastes like lemon popsicles. It makes me excited, and it makes me feel forgiving and my body feels content.
But I hate September. It always comes too soon, it's always colder than it should be, and I always feel like I'm caught in some bus wheels or something and that I'm being dragged around, never quite catching up to whatever it is I'm supposed to catch.
My mind loathes September. My body loves it.

I'm going for my run now, even though it is cold and every little fiber of my being is telling me otherwise. I don't feel happy even though I had a waffle for breakfast and snuggled up in my bed to read my book afterwards. I feel cold, and tired, and lonely.

fly, fly, fly, away...