I Write The Things That No One Reads

I've been thinking lately about writing. I like to think that I'm a writer, I guess, so I should know a thing or two about writing. Maybe? 

I realized the other day that I began writing way back when strictly on paper with an extra sharp Dixon Ticonderoga #2 pencil (Let's face it, they take the cake with those super soft erasers that won't rip your paper when you're furiously erasing half a math test in the 5th grade when you realize you've been using the wrong formulas for circles) and only for school stuff. I want to say with confidence that I am pretty sure the first paper I ever wrote on a computer was a report on hurricanes for 5th grade English. Before that, every single thing I wrote was written by hand.

I can picture so clearly the time one of my teachers assigned my class to write 100-word essays on something probably really stupid and I had to count the words on this piece of college-ruled notebook paper as I went. It seemed like too many words at the time. 100 words was an infinity. It was the dictionary. It was a Charles Dicken's novel. Now, that's like two or three sentences if I'm trying to be really fancy and have a strange need to write everything in really drawn out language like most of the sentences in this blog. Maybe a small paragraph if I'm feeling super lazy and unmotivated. Today, I just have to look down at the bottom of Microsoft Word to see how many words I've written.

Sadly, I don't write on paper with an actual writing utensil as much anymore as I would like to say. There's still something awesome about hearing the grinding of pencil lead on a sheet of lined notebook paper as you suddenly get hit with inspiration or finally figure out the perfect way to state whatever kind of bullshit you've been unscrambling in your mind.  I do most of my writing on the computer now.  It's fast and it causes way fewer hand cramps at the end of an hour of writing, ya know?

At the beginning of 2013, I decided I wanted to keep a composition notebook style journal over the course of the year. So, that worked out just fine for January, but when February hit, I lost all ability to write anything with my hands. So, now I have a month of random journal entries about boobs and school and my inability to not be nervous about everything that happens in my life and a few half-finished entries that took me 2 weeks to write. But, for some reason, I've kept up with this blog for almost four months or so. I don't know what logic is anymore.

Writing, while something that not everyone seems to like or be good at even if they try and try and try and be okay at it, is something I'm kind of pretty sure doesn't have to be done in any certain way, but it's just strange to think about how my methods of writing have change over time as technology changed. Like, when was the last time I turned in a handwritten assignment that was actually graded? I don't know!

Like, are there writers who write by hand and think they are just better than all the writers who write on
computers and typewriters? Probably. Pretentious writers. 

And then there's me. I write on all the platforms, but no one ever reads it.

My Internet Friends and Me

While a majority of grown-ups and people who were raised on something other than the great and power World Wide Web are hesitant to venture out into the not-so-safe areas of the cyber universe, I can say that I have been there and done that, and you what I figured out? Every adult who has ever told me that everyone on the Internet is a pedophile was lying to me. They all told me about the dangers of talking to strangers on the Internet, and I nodded in agreement, but my impressions of the lurkers of the Web quickly changed when I finally swam out and ... touched the butt.

When I was about 13 or 14, I got really into web design and web coding (because what 13 year-old girl doesn't love twiddling her fingers in Paint Shop Pro and CSS coding?). I fell in love with my hobby, and started looking for places to showcase my skills and knowledge. I joined staff teams for a few websites (run by young people) that specialized in graphics for, and don't you dare judge 13 year-old me, Neopets (yeah, like guild layouts and user-lookup layouts. I told you not to judge me). This gave me tons of practice to learn new coding and find new brushes and styles on Paint Shop Pro 9 (because I couldn't, and still can't, afford Photoshop at the time). Eventually, towards the end of 8th grade, I talked my dad into letting me buy my own domain and get paid hosting so that I could have my own website to offer graphics on. I called it InsaneTruth.net because I was lame and weird but thought I was insanely cool.

One of the last pieces of graphic design I did during my prime
(click for bigger view)

Anyway, around that same time, I had an affiliate (basically link 4 link, now) on my site and she had a message board (or mb if you want to be hip) called Splash MB on her domain. I joined it because why not? It was there that I ended up meeting my genuine best friends during high school. Everyone on there was between the ages of 12 and 18 and primarily female (with the exceptions of some...
questionable characters from the UK).

We all grew together and had inside jokes and leaned on each other during hard times and, yes, there was drama. I learned how to write fan fiction and about British television and who Gaspard Ulliel was. We fangirled over Twilight together... and then later hated every single aspect of it. Oh, and there was a fictional dude named Pedro, but that's a story for a night when I'm really drunk and full of pizza.

Eventually, the message board died, but I continued to talk to a couple of girls every single day on a website called Plurk (it's like twitter, but lame). We skyped, added each other on FaceBook, discovered Tumblr, and continued to grow as young women together. During late night skype sessions that were filled with gossip, innuendoes, and laughs, we put ourselves on the line and secured our most private secrets with each other. My life became full of sexy jokes about geometric angles, secret chatter about the French exchange douche, and Ringo Starr's dramatic plead for NO MORE FANMAIL. PEACE AND LOVE! We watched TV shows together and freaked out over bands (even ones each individual didn't care for... we just supported each other's interests no matter what). We had it made. We had a time...

Always and forever

Honestly, these girls probably know more about my four years of high school than I remember. They know every crush, every geometry class scandal, every single time I was blocked on FaceBook, every Jonas Brothers concert I ever attended, and even about the first time I fell in love. For someone who doesn't easily trust or open up about anything, looking back, I gave a lot of myself to those women.

We don't talk like we used to anymore. Some of us went off to college and started new lives that didn't allow us to spend every waking minute online, and others just matured out of the awkwardness of being in middle school and early high school. We're still FaceBook friends who wish each other the best on our respected birthdays, we follow each other's Tumblrs, and every once in a full moon, we catch up on each other's lives as if we never stopped talking.

You can say that online friendships don't count, but I'd like you to think about what makes a friendship. Is it seeing someone in person? Is it being in the same city? Being able to hug the other? No. Its none of those things. Friendships are made on trust and laughs and common interests. Distance means nothing. And that's what I had with these beautiful women.

So, thank you, Ale, Jellaw, and Roni. You guys will forever be in my heart. <3 

Tear Factor: My Girl

So, every so often (or maybe every single sacred weekend), I have an overwhelming need to make myself cry. Especially after a long week or an especially bad Friday (probably caused by my failure to remember anything on a Latin quiz), the cathartic release of crying is the one thing I really need to feel. So, rather than suck it up and go out and get wasted enough to forget my troubles, I cozy up with my favorite blanket and a bag of Sour Patch Kids (my kryptonite!) and go in search of books, movies, and TV shows that are likely to make me feel like the sappy, hormonal woman I truly am.

So, I've decided to share with the world what tearjerkers I use. You know, just incase anyone else needs a good reason to release some built up emotion and have a good cry! (And let's face it, we all could probably use just a little bit ;P)

So this weeks pick: 
Title: My Girl (1991)
Starring: Anna Chlumsky, Macaulay Culkin, Dan Aykroyd, Jamie Lee Curtis 
Rating: PG-13 (contains mild language and intense scenes)
Synopsis: Vada Sultenfuss is obsessed with death. Her mother is dead, and her father runs a funeral parlor. She is also in love with her English teacher, and joins a poetry class over the summer just to impress him. Thomas J., her best friend, is "allergic to everything", and sticks with Vada despite her hangups. When Vada's father hires Shelly, a makeup expert, in his funeral parlor, and begins to fall in love with her, Vada is outraged and does everything in her power to split them up.

My Take: This movie, without a doubt, is in my top 5 favorite movies. Ever. Maybe it's the awesome 70s soundtrack and the more than adorable Macaulay Culkin (and trust me, this is no Kevin McAllister that we're working with this time around) , but, seriously, fantastic movie. 

I don't even know where to start with this movie without just diving into complete spoiler mode. 

First of all, Vada is a great character. She's been surrounded by death from the moment she came into being, and she is the biggest hypochondriac ever. She reads the "Cause of Death" on the death certificates of the people taken to her father's funeral home, and automatically gives herself the same diagnosis. This is just, like, the best thing. It adds a comedic element to the movie. Her naivety of disease is what makes it hilarious, in case you were wondering. At one point, she thinks she has prostate cancer, if that gives you an idea of how naive she really is. 

Then there's her best friend Thomas J. He's an easy target for the other kids in the neighborhood because he's a bit less adventurous. But Vada, despite her own crazy ideas and ambitions to learn, keeps him around and always defends him. He's also allergic to just about every damn thing, even chocolate, which is actually pretty sad when you think about it. But together, he and Vada make the best pair and show the greatness of childhood innocence. 

Now, I've got to say right now that movies about kids are probably the worst tearjerkers ever. The thing about these movies is that they get you totally hooked on the adorableness of these kids and then something terrible beyond terrible strikes and your whole understanding of happiness comes crashing down into one of those shitty pits in an Edgar Allan Poe story. This movie is definitely no exception to this assumption.  I don't want to totally turn you off by saying that happiness is not in the stars for Vada and Thomas J, but.... I mean, what are you expecting if I am writing a blog post about a sad movie... that just happens to be about kids? But it's really a pretty funny movie until the end, so, please, don't worry about instantly getting all the feelings. (Well, if you're me, then you probably will just because kid feels, but seriously... don't worry about it)

But let's get to what everyone really cares about: the on-screen romance between Jamie Lee Curtis and Dan Aykroyd. Yeah, I know, JLC was a total babe back in the day... and, well, Aykroyd... he's looking like something. Curtis plays Shelly, a make-up artist recently hired by Aykroyd's character of Harry, Vada's dad. When Harry and Shelly see sparks fly and love fills the air, hilarity ensues. Harry, who probably hasn't even touched a woman since his late wife died soon after giving birth to Vada, is the most awkward flirt and dater on the planet. Meanwhile, Shelly is constantly trying to send signals to Harry... and he is just not getting it... at all. 

So, pretty much, if you watch this movie, you'll get to see some awkward romance, cute kids, and some really sad things that I can't talk about because I don't want to spoil it and ruin your life. 

I have no criticisms for this movie. Seriously. Everything is perfect... and everything hurts. 

Just... Go watch it, dammit. 

Tear Factor Rating: 9.0

The Music of My Life

With the reformation and return of the almighty Fall Out Boy  this passed week, I can't help but get a little a nostalgic for middle school and high school jams. I've been thinking a lot of about all the bands  I've been into over the years, and I realize how shitty my taste in music has been and will probably to be as I grow older and lose my connects to the current music scene of the future. Sure, I'll admit that not everyone will like my taste in music, but who really cares?

Pretty sure I had this poster....

My first official concert was *NSYNC in St.Louis, Missouri, on the PopOdyssey Tour when I was like 6 years-old. I remember having seats in like the middle of freaking nowhere in the back and not being able to see a damn thing because I was short for my age (Screw that, I'm still short for my age). I totally still have a t-shirt (that totally fits!) that's got holes in the pits from the concert. But the first concert I actually remember and was old enough to enjoy was The All-American Rejects  (still my babies 7 years late, by the way) and Fall Out Boy in Norman, Oklahoma, in the 7th grade. That concert was legit, guys. Like, my hormone-filled mind thought that was like the most amazing night ever because I finally got to see my favorite band live after liking them for almost 2 years. Dream come freaking true!
Fun fact #1: My sister, her at-the-time boyfriend, and I left in the middle of FOB's set because we only knew like 3 songs. No shame. 

Fun fact #2: I've seen The All-American Rejects 3 times and met them finally in April 2012 at a show in Oklahoma City. 

Okay, here's where things get rocky. In middle school, I also had the hots for Jesse McCartney and his "Beautiful Soul" and his straight-from-the-beach look. To this day, I own 3 of his CD's and some kind of DVD that I've probably never watched in the 7 years I've owned it. I also had a thing for Avril Lavigne and some bands that one of my older sisters was into (I'll never admit that I liked her music, though. Sorry Lisa!)

Check out that Jewfro! 

Then right before freshman year of high school, I fell in love with 3 brothers from New Jersey (Shore). Y'all know who I'm talking about. The Jonas Brothers! They were key figures in my life for about 3 years. In that time, my dad spent way too much money on merchandise (they were like cheap Jews or something. L'Chaim!) and concert tickets for my sisters and me. I saw them 3 times in concert (it totally would have been 4 times if Hannah stupid Montana hadn't caused the show to sell out in like 1.5 milliseconds). I went through so much bullying from my peers because of this obsession. It probably would have lasted until senior year, too, if the boys hadn't broken up and Nick hadn't gone and ruined Broadway and Joe hadn't lost his virginity to everyone and Kevin hadn't gotten married and lost his virginity to an Italian. I'll wait for you, Nick. 

Then came my obsession with Michael Jackson in 2009. While my family will report that I wasn't into him until he was a stiff, cold one, I can speak the truth and say that I actually got into him really late in December 2008 (I'm just calling it 2009 because why not? This is my blog). This craze has passed significantly. And that's all. He's still got a place in my iTunes library, though.

Hanson circa 2010: MMM-Sexy

Around the same time in 2009, My Chemical Romance and a bunch of "emo" bands blew up my headphones. It was a dark year. They're still pretty good. Then I got into Josh Groban and Hanson in 2010 and 2011. I also returned to the brief 6 months or so that I liked Switchfoot (They "dared me to move", if you know what I mean) but this time I went at it at 88 mph and I saw some serious shit happen.

So, basically, you can love or hate my music selection. I don't care. Just don't ask me to make you a playlist or mix-CD because you'll probably find something out of the small sample of my music history I've just presented here. I still like bits and pieces of all this stuff. After all, I grew up on this music, and I have a lot of great memories because of music. So don't hate.

What embarrassing music phases did you go through?