I'm backkk... already.

I forgot to check my facebook for a paragraph that Jessi Dinosaur>>> BEST friend ever... sent me to put on my blog. I'm always talking about Jessi and telling stories about her and writing little notes to her on my blog... trust me, it's not as creepy as you think. I mainly do this because she one of the only people who reads it. But now she wants to actively participate in the creating of my blog. And I also think that you should know her a little too. So, without further stalling, HERE SHE IS:


Facebook Inbox: "My name is Jessi Dinosaur. Yeah. Dinosaur. Since I can’t describe myself well I will use the urban dictionary for assistance…

an incredibly amazing girl with the strength of a wildebeest.
When someone accosted Jessi in a dark alley, she beat the heck out of him.
she has the effect of brightening up someone's day
she's sooo funny.
she sometimes says things without thinking,
in one word, jessica is wonderful.

Point of view:
if you need drugs to make you feel happy, then you're not really happy

Now you have the view of who I am if you were looking at a long list of characteristics a foot from your face with binoculars that were only held in a stationary position.

MORAL OF THE NOT REALLY A STORY-> You need to get to know someone better then just having one conversation with them before you judge. You can be talking to someone who is bragging about their Ipod Touch 3rd generation that they just got and you can get the impression they are stuck up chubby faced meany pants but what you might not know is that they might live in a trailer and have saved up for the Ipod for a year or more just so they can brag about something.

Random Facts: My math teacher is crazy.
I like green.
The sky is blue but it can also be gray and orange and purple and white and black and yellow and…
I am Jessi Dinosaur and I would like to complete this Paragraph” with a word from Mr. ProjectedBellyButton *cough* Mr. I *Cough*

“That’s the Norm!”

jEsSi DiNoSaUr"

Snow Day!!!! (And profound thoughts and Story Corner. What else do you expect on a Snow Dayyy!!!?)

Snow Daaaaayyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!

SnowdaysnowdaysnowdaysnowdaysnowdaysnowdaysnowdaysnowDAYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Today is a snow day, if you haven't guessed.

I love snow days so much. I especially love the ones that you can go outside and make snow men and angels in. Unfortunately, this one is not one of those snow days, but it is equally fun. Even though the wind is howling--literally, it's HOWLING--outside my window right now, and the temperature in my house has dropped a significant amount, I still am excited about this snow day. It will give me a chance to do the homework that I didn't do yesterday, in hopes that there would be a snow day. Yay, I was right.

So anyway.... what am I going to do on this wonderful snow day, besides my homework? Well, I'm planning on reading and writing and checking my facebook (for once) and then I'll probably curl up in a really warm blanket and drink hot chocolate and all that jazz.

Oh, and I'm going to make a presentation while my mom is at work to convince her that she should take me to the Jack's Mannequin concert that is in February. Because I totally want to go, and plan on doing just that.

I was thinking last night (I know. This can be a dangerous thing for me,), and I had this really weird moment of clarity. I was thinking about my future and all of the things that I want in life, and then it came to me that I'm only 15 years old. Yeah, I know, right? You would think that that fact would be obviously apparent to me by now, but it wasn't. And then I realized that I've never really thought of myself as the actual age I am. I've always thought that I was younger or older. But last night I saw that I was really the age I am. This is a whole revelation in itself.

But that wasn't what I my huge epiphany. My huge one was this: what if I didn't have a future? What if it was suddenly taken away from me, maybe tomarrow? What would be my regrets? And I realized that I would have way to many to count. There are so many things that I haven't experienced, and that I want to so badly. I want to get started right now, but I can't exactly do that, especially without a car. So then what am I supposed to do? I have to look out for opportunities, and once I find them, I have to snatch them up as quick as I can. It was so bazaar to see this, to finally get this concept through my head, my mind is blown.

So, am I going to see that Jack's Mannequin concert? Bet your ass-cott.

But this isn't the only realization that came from that big one above. Another is I found the true meaning of the phrase "life is too short," and I also learned that living with fear is stupid, no matter how minor that fear may be. And I'm going to live fearlessly from now on. Yes I am.

Oooh. Song opportunity: "Fearless" by the Bravery. Good song, or at least I think so. It's practically my theme song.

Yeah... So, now that I've share a profound thought with you, I should move on to something more light.

I was given this spicy hot cocoa for Christmas, and I think I'm going to make some of that and a bowl of cereal in a few minutes. Except we don't have any good cereal in the house right now. *sigh*

So, here is a very short story corner. I mean, it's really short. But I'll post it anyway, because it needs to be posted. (Uh, duh.)

...............................

She stood in the kitchen, just staring at everything. She looked at it all at once, in that way that you do when you aren't really focusing on anything, but letting you mind wander to far away places. She vaguely wondered what her face looked like right now. Disappointed? Un-animated? Angry? Confused? Yeah, probably confused. She was glad that Ivan had gone back to bed.
But at the same time, she wished that he would come back out and kiss her, like he had almost done just five minutes ago.
What had happened? She had been so sure...
She liked him, okay? She really liked him. Finally, she would admit it to herself. It wasn't really practical, considering she barely knew him, and it wasn't a smart thing either because her knowledge of him was so limited. For all she knew, he could be a dangerous serial-psycho-stalker. But she felt drawn to him, just like he had said he was drawn to her. He had said that, hadn't he? She wasn't imagining it?
Because if she hadn't been imagining it, wouldn't he have kissed her just now? For a second it had looked like he was going to, but then he changed his mind. What had made him change his mind?
She replayed the scene in her head, trying to find his motive. He had been kind to her, comforting her when her dad had been a complete asshole. Then she had suggested that they not care about what Jim thought. That was a huge tip-off right there, and it was the best she could do at the time, considering her lack of experience with guys. But she was sure he had gotten the message, because he agreed, and looked at her in that way that made her shiver, that made her chest constrict in the most exhilarating way. And Then he had looked at her lips. Just once, very quickly. It had sent a shocking tingle up her spine. And she had known--she had just known--that he wanted to kiss her. So just to make sure he wouldn't be confused, she let her eyes wander down, which was the unofficial "kiss me" message. And as if her life wasn't full of enough cliches, her breath had actually stopped when he leaned in.
Then he had pulled back, for some reason unknown to her. And then came the popping.
And then the awkwardness. She sighed. Why? Just why.
Shaking herself, although she could not shake her disappointment, she reached out and started to gather all of the dishes, plopping them in the sink and starting the water.
Once she had finished with that, and had picked up the rest of the kitchen, she grabbed her colored pencils and sketch pad, and headed for the door, donning her coat. She needed to get away, to not think for a while. Ivan would be fine.
Opening the door, she braved the chilly wind and ran to the park, to sketch out her frustration.

............................

Thanks for reading y'all. I might be back later, because it's a SNOW DAY and I have nothing better to do. Bye...

Random Fun Fact: I just painted my fingernails blue

Dear loving readers,

Pshhh. Yeah, right. Let's try that again.

I have a story for you? Want to hear it? Of course you do! It's a Geometry story.

It all takes place yesterday morning........

As I was sitting in my desk in my new Geometry classroom (unfortunately the teacher remained the same. Oh well, more fun for you.) yesterday morning, the most predominant thought floating around my silly, impressionistic head was: What the hell?

Why this seemingly random and border-line offensive phrase? I assure you, I had my reason. But I'm getting to that.

Picture it: It's the first day of the first week of the second semester of school, and I'm slouched down in that pre-mentioned brand-spanking-new-to-me desk, which is five rows from the door, three back, and is a slightly yellow color, sort of what the Sandman would look like with a bladder infection. There are lots of new faces, new people, blahblahblah-- All of this isn't why I'm thinking "what the hell," although the desk is tempting my brain into other expletives. Nor is the flickering light above the dark, smelly corner of the room (which looks strikingly similar to those shady back alleys featured in cop shows) the reason for my confusion. Not even the Sumo Wrestler sitting behind me, or the droning about correct models of calculators humming in the background. (Oh, and just to clarify: the Sumo Wrestler behind me? He's not actually a Sumo Wrestler. That's kind of obvious, because if he was a Sumo, then I would be huddled on top of my desk, screaming "WHAT THE HELL WHAT THE HELL WHAT THE HELL!!!!!!!!!" and doing this very much because of his chubby butt cheeks hanging out of either side of his Sumo diaper thing. Eew. Bad visual.)

No. I'm thinking, "what the heeeelllllllll" because of--you saw it coming-- (dah dahdah dAH!) Mr. Crappyman himself. (Yayyayayayayyya. Wooo!)

Just kidding. Cut the crap. Hehe, get it? Crap? Crappyman?

What's he doing, you ask? Well, besides just being there.

What he is doing is dressing like a complete ninny/dweeb.

Is that ALL?!

Yes. And it's enough. It's only the first day back, and already he looks so rumpled it could be Friday.

Anticlimactic? Nawwww. Hey, shut up. Well, no; you're right. Too bad, though. Because I control what kind of stories I put on this blog, and how lame they are, and how they end.

And since I now--and forever will--how this power, I am now going to apply my right as an author to make up a wildly out of control and obscenely untrue account of what happened next, and how it all ended. Here it goes:

So, I'm sitting at my desk (like I've said, like, 2 times before this. Just making sure you are paying attention), completely spacing out and writing the first draft of this entry, when I decide that it's time to check the clock to see how much more time I have to sit here. I turn around and--OH MY AMISH!!!! What the Hell! Sumo is right behind me. And when I say right behind me, I mean RIGHT BEHIND ME. I turned my head to see the clock in the back of the room, and his extremely large and Sumo-like face was inches from mine. (For the record: this actually did happen. As I'm conferring my notes I had written for this entry, I see this note scribbled in the corner in my scared-shit less handwriting that says, quote unquote, "I turned my head and Sumo was right there! It was SO scary!!!" Really, that's what it says. I swear to Regis Bejesus, I must have jumped like three feet into the air. I know I gasped. I just hope that in real life he didn't notice; I don't want to be on that guys hit list.)

But in my make-believe alternate ending, he does notice, and his face turns red. He grabs my shirt collar and says, "What you lookin' at?" (Also, he says this in a distinctly Brooklyn accent. Or at least he does in my imagination.)

I gulp, and squeak, "The clock?"

Sumo scowls, and then releases me from his meaty paws. I scramble on top of my desk to get further away from him, setting up all of my books, note books, and binders into a make-shift barricade around me. Meanwhile, almost everyone in the class has noticed the exchange, except for that guy who always falls asleep in the middle of class and drools all over his desk. I always pity that guy. But everyone except him saw everything, and they are anticipating a fight.

And in fact, they start to chant, "Fight, fight, FIGHT, fIgHt!"

One kid pulls this Sumo Wrestling costume out of his back pack, and hands it to me. I put it on, but it's so big I have to loop it around myself twice. (You're probably wondering why he just handed me a Sumo costume? It's because in my mind, however unsavoury the image is, Sumo is already in his costume.) So, after I put the diaper thing on over my clothes, I hesitantly put up my fists and prepare to fight, which mostly consists of me cowering in a corner while Sumo closes in. It really is an unfair advantage; Sumo has already had years of training to my none.

Sumo takes a wide stance. I start to hyperventilate. Feigning to the right, I dive around his other side and search desperately for someone to team tag. My eyes fall on Mr. Crappyman, who hasn't even noticed that the class has been interrupted. I dash for him and tag him.

Looking confused, he heads for the wrestling ring that has magically appeared. I hand him the costume too, just for good measure. Then Crappyman and Sumo go at it. We all clap and cheer, and throw stuff, I don't know. What exactly do you do at a wrestling match?

But Crappyman, not having Sumo Wrestled in yeeears, is in bad shape. He looks around for someone to tag. I hide behind some other huge guy, not wanting to be tagged back in. Duh. I couldn't even beat a wet noodle at a wrestling match.

Crappyman's eyes fall on "Shmegor Warpath." (This isn't a name for Gregor Horvath. Absolutely not. You must be thinking of someone else. But I am definitely NOT talking about Gregor. This is a completely different person by the name of "Shmegor." And for those of you who don't know him, well...that's a whole different story for another time. I promise I tell you one day, but that day is not today. Anyway, he's in my Geometry class [conveniently]. I don't really know him that well, but I DO know that he has taken several years of karate. That's a plus, right?) Anyway, Crappyman tags Gregor in, and then Gregor proceeds to kick Sumo's ass with his mad karate skills.

And I live Happily Ever After with my butt thoroughly not kicked and completely intact. But it sure has made Geometry more interesting.

BACK TO REALITY- Referring to my notes, I had had a whole note I wrote about spiting (not spitting, spiting. As in: "the act of spite") So, um here it is:

(P.S. Keep in mind that I wrote this during class while he was talking and talking and talking, and I wasn't listening to him. And neither was anyone else.)

Okay. You talk Crappyman. Go ahead and eat your heart out with ratios and triangles and calculators. But I'm not listening. Instead, I'm writing this, and lots (hypothetically) of people will read this and hopefully laugh so hard they will pee their pants a little (maybe not?), they'll know this is my way to spite you, and I'll know it. The whole WORLD (unrealistically) will know it.

Everyone except you.

I'd laugh maniacally, but people would stare.

Um...Yeah. This entry wasn't as funny as I thought it would be, so the note might not apply as much as I thought it would when I first wrote it. Oh well. I just thought I'd let you in on my spiteful little thoughts. They can be quite funny normally.

I'm wearing purple fuzzy socks right now. Hehe. I love them. I also love purple. It's not exactly a sickeningly happy color, but it's not depressing either. It's a happy medium, kind of mysterious, and full of personality.

Wow. Okay. Don't know why I felt the need to share my philosophy on the color purple with you. I just go with the impulses.

Oh man. I had a funny story about health class and the stoners I ended up sitting next to, but I think if I do share it, and they somehow find it, then they'll probably shank me. (If they aren't too stoned to do it, that is.) But it was funny. There will probably be more stoner stories in Health class to come, though, so don't feel like you're missing out.

Hm...Is this entry long enough yet? I think it is. I just wanted to write a really long one to make up for my lack of entries lately. I feel guilty leaving my few dedicated readers to their own devices for so long; who knows what they might do in my absence? They may even start thinking rationally again! GASP! How distasteful.

Until next time, and as always, thanks for reading my incredibly difficult opinions and weirdly worded phrases and strange thoughts, alternate endings, and wacky insights. Yeah, I know I'm different. What! NO. Not weird. I prefer unique, thank you very much.

Uh, bye.

...

I said "bye."

.....

Will you just go away. Like now?

..............

I mean it! Scram! Beat it! I don't want you here any more. Just GO!

I'm not JUST Losing my mind...

Wallet, where are you? Wallet, if you're listening, I have a request: Please come home.

Please?

I promise that if you do, I'll never under appreciate you or the magical wonders contained inside of you ever again. Really.

Oh, and if you see Phone, tell him to come home too. Oh, and also tell him to stop making suicide attempts by jumping out of my coat pockets whenever he gets the chance. I know that he has some gender confusion issues, because he's pink and all, but that's no reason to take his own life!

I miss you. I need you. Not just because you're a great Wallet, but also because I really need you. Literally. My drivers permit is in there.

*Dramatic Sigh and the wispy hand-to-head-motion. You know the one I'm talking about; the universal "damsel in distress" gesture*

Meanwhile, while I've lost both my Wallet and my Phone (in one day) I am currently sucking on Vitamin C drops. Yeah, yeah. I know you don't need to know what I do in my personal life. (Uh...that was kind of awkward. I apologize. I don't know why I wrote it, but I'm too lazy to go back and delete it, so sorry) Allergies are killing me....KILLING ME. I'm miserable, and my throat is sore, and I sound like a man when I talk. Yes. A man.

AAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


(hehe. That was liberating. You should try it sometime.)

It's been way to long since I've last written, so sorry about that also. I've been busy with finals, and that is my go-to excuse for everything this week, last week, and the week before.
Example 1:

Random Creepy Person: Yo! Wanna go to the movies this weekend?

Me (cringing): finals!!!

Example 2:

Mother: Clean your room; you are not an animal.

Me (ignoring her): Finals!!!!!

Example 3:

Guy at the car wash: Excuse me miss, but would you like the rainbow wax or the regular kind?

Me (brain-fatigued from all of the studying): FINALS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Excuse me while I blow my nose. (Damn you allergies! Curses!!!)

Anyway, that has basically been me for the past three of so weeks. Pretty scary stuff.

Umm...........What else did I want to say? Ohh yeah. I love fudge so much. It's not a snack, it's a life style.

Can
t think.
Tooo Congested.

Unghgngdhn.

*Sniffle, snort, waffle*

Well, I guess I'm off to sleep. Yeah, you heard me.

(I don't know why I felt the need to add that last part, seeing as nobody challenged me on that statement, except myself. I guess I'm just feeling a little self-confrontational today. Which is super weird and a little scary, because just think if everyone was like that: people walking down the street, arguing with themselves; store owners heckling with themselves for lower prices; taxi drivers, yelling at themselves for cutting themselves out of their own lane {if that's possible} I think the world would be a lot better without the people--like me--who are self-confrontational. Just a thought, that should technically be a real paragraph and not just some blip added in parenthesis.)

Wow. Slow down there kiddo. I guess it's the night of the rambling run-on sentence. Sounds like a really bad country western flick. Hhehe.

Now I'm really going to go and sleep. And if you have any objections to that, you can kiss my fobbing ice-hole. Hhehe. Funny, but not really. Sorry. I guess that was kind of rude. Now I bet you'll never come back and read my blog again. Jeez. I'm a loser. Like I need any less people reading my blog. Ta ta, I guess, and thanks for reading!

(P.S. Please come back! I'm sorry. I don't' have Assburgers, but if I did, that would be why I said that thing about the fobbing ice-holes.)

(P.P.S. Whoever came up with the name for Assburgers was playing a very cruel joke on a bunch of mentally ill kids.)

BYE now!

Whew! (And Story Corner)

Hey guys! (And girls. I swear, I'm not sexist. Although, whomever came up with that phrase certainly was.)

Anyway, a couple of days ago, I was going to write this ridiculously funny entry about the Russian government, and it was going to have some really funny pictures of Vlad Putin and Medvedev on it, but.... Well, you see... Here's what happened:

The Russian government, who is already familiar with my witty--overly witty?--banter and opinionated free speech decided that enough was enough, and hired the mafia--the Russian one, of course. What would the Italian Mafia be doing in Russia?--to kid nap me and delete all of the funny pictures of the Prime Minister from my hard drive. After they had done that, they stuck this weird metal tube thing that was attached to a vacuum cleaner in my ear and sucked out all of the funny phrases I was planning on writing. So you see, I really wasn't able to write an entry. And it took me days to recover from this ordeal, and that's why I haven't been writing here lately.

So...How many of you believed that? Anyone???

(*chirp, chirp*)

Oh jeez. I can hear crickets.

Okay, okay. Here's what really happened. Although I like the kidnapped-by-the-Russian-Mafia story better:

Finals are coming up next week, and I was too busy balancing studying for all of those tests, doing homework, and keeping my head from cumbusting from all of the cranial pressure.

There. Are you happy?

But in my absence, which I'm sure was greatly missed, I wrote the next installment in the Story Corner thingy. (Yayayayayay!!!!!!)

(*chirp, chirp*)

Wow. Don't wet yourself from excitement.

So, if you even care, here you go:

.................................

Ivan was trying very hard not to panic.
But it was proving difficult, seeing the way Charli's father was looking at him right now. If she had had any notion in her head that her dad didn't care about her, then he was going to tell her that she was sorely wrong. He should, know; he was the one receiving all of the hostility from the parental unit, standing in the center of the room, glaring.
He gulped. Maybe it would be better if he removed himself from the situation. Now. He tried to un-loop his arms from around her waist, but she held him in place. Turning her head so that she could see him, but resulting in their faces ending up very close together, she pleaded with her eyes and said, "No, please. Stay."
Oh. Okay. When she was giving him that look, it was hard not to agree with whatever she said.
So he concentrated on breathing. Just the slow in and out motion that his lungs were controlling. Inhale, exhale. He could feel his chest rising and falling. Could feel how it pressed against her back, pressed him closer to her. They were so close already...Did she have any idea how difficult this was for him? No, don't think, especially about that. Just breath, in and out...
Even though he knew that she had noticed her dad the minute he had walked into the room, she was now officially acknowledging his presence. "Oh, hey Jim. What's up?"
Ivan marveled at how collected she sounded, even though he knew she wasn't. He could feel her heart beat jerking around.
Her dad--Jim--just repeated, "What are you doing?"
Charli looked around Ivan's head to get a peek at her father. "What does it look like I'm doing? I have a friend over."
Jim frowned. "A friend?"
She shifted her eyes back to the TV. "Yeah. A friend." Placing her hand on top of his, she laced their fingers together. Ivan closed his eyes, trying to shut out the lethal anger of Jim, while simultaneously focusing on breathing. Thoughts of their touching skin infiltrated his head, no matter how hard he tried to keep them out, and he found himself stroking the tips of her fingers with his thumb, even though he knew it would only aggravate her father.
Slowly, Jim walked toward them, until he was standing in front of the TV. Until they were both forced to look up at him. A dark look on his face, he opened his mouth and said, "I think it's time for your...friend...to leave."
Ivan didn't hesitate. You did not patronize that face. He started to get up, trying to push Charli from his lap. She stopped him with her hand, though, before he could even plant both feet firmly on the ground. "No. I don't think it is."
She glared at the figure looming above them.
Jim narrowed his eyes. "What." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. A very powerful one. Ivan froze in his seat, terrified. Anyone would be in his place.
Setting her jaw, Charli persisted. "I said that it isn't time for him to go yet. Do you have a problem with that?"
Ivan wondered where she got all of this bravado from. For as long as he had known her--which admittedly wasn't very lengthy--she had seemed... well, not wimpy. Saying that would just be mean. She had been brave, but unsure. Undecided. But now, she was so sure that she wanted to do this. She was defiant, and she was standing up to her father, gaining his attention. Her plan was working.
Jim was furious. First he probably had a terrible hang-over and he hadn't had much sleep. Now his daughter was causing trouble. It wasn't turning out to be a very good day for him. And now he was focusing all of his frustration into his words. "You are not allowed to have boys over without having told me or your mother!"
With a steely glint in her eyes, she said, "Really? You weren't around to tell me that last night."
Ivan's mouth actually dropped open, and he shifted uncomfortably beneath her. His expression wasn't that far off from Jim's, who was spluttering, completely devoid of speech.
But Charli was just getting started. "In fact, you're never around, so how am I supposed to ask permission?"
This was met by more spluttering.
"No. It's too late for you to make the rules around here. That opportunity is gone. It has been gone ever since I've started raising myself."
Words finally stopped availing him, and her father yelled, "This is crazy!"
"What's crazy is your behavior. What kind of example are you setting for me?"
All of the anger drained out of his face, and suddenly, Jim looked indescribably tired. "Yeah. I'm going back to bed." With that, he turned around, and shuffled back to his room.
Ivan was shocked, and he could tell that Charli was surprised to, because she was sitting forward with a straight back, looking after her father as he went. Once he had disappeared down the hall, she slumped back into him. They sat there for a minute, both stunned.
He wanted to say something, he had to say something. Anything to fill the silence. "I can't believe that's it."
She nodded. "Me either. I thought...." she paused, looking down at her lap. "I guess I thought he wouldn't give up so easily. That he would actually want to have a say in raising me."
Ivan didn't know what to say. He had thought the same thing, but he wasn't going to tell her that. It would just make her feel worse. She didn't need reminding of how unbelievably apathetic her father was when an example had so recently been brought to her attention.
"Oh, well. It was a stupid plan anyway."
She looked so sad, he had to say something. "No, it wasn't stupid. I can't believe you said those things; I wouldn't have been that brave. I thought for sure I was going to get thrown out the door. Did you see how he was eyeing me? It was frightening, truly frightening."
A corner of her mouth lifted, and she turned her head to look at him. "Yeah. He was kind of scary."
He widened his eyes for affect. "Scary? Yeah, about as scary as a volcano eruption."
She truly smiled now, showing her teeth. Lifting a hand, she lightly touched his shoulder. "Thanks."
He frowned. "For what?"
She rolled her eyes. "Don't act like you don't know. For making me feel better."
He looked down, blushing. "Sure. My pleasure." Did he really just say that? It sounded so stupid.
She was still looking at him. "Besides, who cares what he thinks anyway?"
Ivan looked up at her, into her eyes. "Yeah. Who cares?" Their faces were really close. Really, really close. Just inches apart, and this fact wasn't waisted on him. He kept wanting to let his gaze travel freely, taking in every detail of her face, because he might not ever be this close to her again. But he restrain, focusing only on her eyes, on how deep of a blue they were. Such a dark blue, like looking into the night sky right before twilight. Like the night he had first seen her, and the dusky light fell on her skin and her hair, and it made her look silver and mysterious. For one second, his control over his eyes lapsed, and they flicked down to her lips. Quickly, he brought them back, but not before an impression had been made.
One second, one look, but it changed the whole feeling of the moment. Something so insignificant held so much weight. He saw her eyes shift colors, darken slightly. Slowly, her eyes traveled down to his mouth and then back. It made him catch his breath. Did she want him to kiss her? How was he supposed to tell? Hesitantly, he leaned forward slightly, and he felt her breathing stop. Freezing, he leaned back a little. What did that mean, that she had stopped breathing? Didn't she want him to kiss her, after all? He closed his eyes, trying to think.
A loud popping made them both jump, bursting the moment. They looked around to see what the source of the noise had been, and realized it had come from the TV. Charli sat up, and feeling the strain of his arms still around her, blushed and babbled. "Oh. Oh, I should probably... You're still hurt. I shouldn't be sitting on you. Here, just let me..." She hoisted herself up, and stood awkwardly looking down, clutching one arm and rubbing it frantically. Finally, she turned to the kitchen, mumbling something about cleaning up. Then she left.
Ivan sat there, too stunned to get up, or even move. What had almost happened? He knew perfectly well, but he didn't want to admit to himself that he had let an opportunity like that slip past him. He would never get another chance like that again.
He lifted a hand and ran it through his hair, stopping to rub the back of his neck. He closed his eyes and brought his legs up toward him. The cold air rushed into the empty space she had been just a second ago. He acutely felt her absence. Silently--because she was just in the kitchen, and would hear him if he said it out loud--he promised himself that if ever a situation like that happened again, he would cease the chance without thinking twice about it. Unless he to afraid, or unless she didn't want him to... How was he supposed to know anyway?
He was so confused. Mind whirling, he stood up and headed back to her room, where he would lie down and just think.

......................................

Thanks for reading!

(P.S. Google images is a wonderful thing, so, for your enjoyment, Vladddeeee! (at the top of the page))

Story Corner

Hey everyone! My personal addings are going to be cut short on this entry because the "Story Corner" I have for you tonight is really long. But it answers some questions, I think. Without further ado, I present to you the fifth part in Charli and Ivan's story:

.......................

The first thing Charli did when she got up the next morning was pick up the phone and order Chinese food. It was just one of those days.
The next thing she did was check in on her parents, who had gotten home after three in the morning. They were sound asleep, sprawled on top of each other and the piles of clothes heaped on their bed. They were still fully clothed, the miasma of alcohol hanging in the air, burning her eyes. Closing them, Charli shut the door, careful to be quiet, even though she knew that it would take no less than a heard of stampeding giraffes to wake them up.
The next stop for her morning rounds was in front of her own bedroom door. She stood there for fifteen minutes before she had mustered enough courage to knock gently on the door. Not waiting for a reply, she slowly turned the knob and let the door swing open just a crack. All the time she had spent stealing herself didn't matter, though; Ivan was still sleeping, and she wasn't going to wake him up, no matter how badly she wanted her answers. He needed to recover.
Not knowing what to do with herself, she picked at the mess scattered across almost every flat surface in the house. Soon her picking became fussing, and then that became a full out cleaning spree. She placed all of the dirty dishes in the sink, gathered all of the trash, organized the mail into different piles, and then took all of the extra stuff and shoved it into one the of various junk drawers located at different points in the house. When the counters and tables, and even floors, were passably clear, she took out an over-sized feather duster and began to rid her house of the many months of grime and dirt that had accumulated over time. She opened the windows, despite the chill in the air, and turned on the radio she had discovered under a pile of dirty laundry.
Flipping through the channels, she quickly discovered a jazz station, and she turned up the volume, not concerned that she would wake anyone because they were all out like lights.
Charli loved jazz. She had ever since she was little, and she hoarded cassette tapes and Cd's, and sometimes even records if she could find them. She knew all of the giants of the jazz industry, and she desperately wished she could sing, so that she too could serenade with them about lost loves and late nights and the little things we all take for granted.
As she filled up a bucket with soapy water and carted it around, washing the crusted food off of the counters, a Billie Holiday song came on, one that she particularly liked. It was up beat, and she found herself scrubbing in time to the fast tempo. Soon she was humming under her breath. Then she was singing. Loudly. Louder.
She was having so much fun, more fun than she had had in years. It was exhilarating to just let go, to set aside all of her inhibitions and do what she wanted for once. Charli thought it was important to find the little moments to enjoy, but she rarely took full advantage of them. Not like she was now. And she was proving to herself that maybe she should do this more often.
By the time the song ended, she had the biggest, goofiest grin on her face. She looked down at herself and saw that her clothes were damp. Her hair hung in wet strands in front of her face. Maybe she had been a little too enthusiastic with the water; she had splashed it around without any reservations. She turned around to go get a towel from the linen closet. But she didn't get that far.
He clapped. She blushed. How long had Ivan been standing there? Had he seen the whole display, or just the end of it? Charli should feel embarrassed, but she didn't. And she couldn't seem to wipe the grin off of her face. She was happy to see him, and it just added to her good mood. "You're up."
He was smiling too when he said, "Yeah. Just in time to see your performance. You have a good voice."
Charli snorted, "Right. And you're the queen of England."
A devilish glint came into his eyes. "Fine, fine. You got me. You're terrible, but you have potential. Is that better?"
"Yes, I'll take that." She looked at him. He was still wearing her dad's clothes, but now they were rumbled and bunched up. His hair was ruffled and sticking up at altitudes Mt. Everest would envy. His eyes were still misty with drowsiness, and his face was a little puffy, as if he was still nestled in the land of sleep. All together, he looked adorable and vulnerable, and very much like a little boy, with the muscles in his body still relaxed. "Did you sleep well?"
He nodded and yawned.
A thought suddenly occurred to her, and she frowned. "Wait, why are you out of bed? You shouldn't be walking, it will just make your injury worse. And besides, what if my parents had seen you?"
"They wouldn't have because they are currently passed out in their bedroom."
Raising her eyebrows, Charli accused, "You looked in on them!"
Ivan shrugged. "Yeah. I had to make sure I wasn't going to be walking right into the middle of their breakfast. That would have been hard to explain."
Again, she frowned. "You shouldn't be walking at all."
Annoyed, he said, "I'm feeling much better. I can't stay cooped up all day; I need to move around. I'll go crazy if I don't."
"I don't know..."
"Charli, I know how to take care of myself."
It was the way he said her name. That's what shut her up. He said it so soft and warmly, with the familiarity of someone who had known her all of her life, who was past and beyond the formalities, and on to teasing her. He kind of smiled when he said it, and it made something lumpy turn over in her stomach, leaving her incapable of speech, with only the power to nod and clutch her abdomen.
He was looking at her again, in that way he did. It was disconcerting, exciting, and she was opening her mouth to say something really stupid to him, like how he made her feel when he stared like that, when the door bell rang. She jerked back to reality, and changed the words that had been forming in her mouth to, "Are you hungry?"
He nodded, still staring.
"Good, because I ordered some food." Charli left the room to answer the door.
She payed and thanked the delivery boy, and took the bags of food from his arms, rushing them to the counters, which were still wet. Cursing, she ran out of the room to grab some towels, pushing past Ivan as she did. She keenly felt it as their shoulders accidentally brushed.
When Charli came back, she tossed a towel to him and said, "If you want to be up, you can make yourself useful." She quickly sopped up all of the water underneath the bags of food, and then moved on to the rest of the counter. Ivan started at the other end, and they met in the middle.
He reached out for her towel, and asked, "Where do these go?"
Surprised she said, "In the laundry shoot in the linen closet." He started to turn away. She continued, "That's the one down the hall and to the--"
"I know."
She was perplexed as he left the room, and still so when he came back. But she didn't ask; she had bigger fish to fry. In the mean time, she laid out all of the food, took down two plates, handing one to Ivan. They piled the everything on their plates and then removed themselves from the kitchen to go sit at the dining room table.
There was little conversation as they ate, but it wasn't awkward. Sometimes you needed silences, and Charli felt comfortable enough with him to not have to talk. This fact surprised her, but it was true nonetheless.
She finished before him, and waited patiently as he went back for seconds and thirds. Holy crap, she thought, I wonder when the last time he ate was. It was yet another thing to add to the list of questions that were growing in her mind. He was about to go back for fourths, even though by now he looked absolutely stuffed, and that was when she realized that he was stalling.
Indignantly, she cleared her throat.
He looked up at her, and discovered he was found out. Sighing, he pushed his plate aside and clasped his hands together. "Alright. What do you want to know?"
She laughed. "Oh, everything."
A pensive look took over his features. "Fine, but I offer an exchange. I give you answers that you want, and you give me answers that I want."
"Answers? About what?"
"You."
"Me?" She was completely baffled.
He nodded.
Wow. This guy was amazing. Again he was proving his curiosity extended just past her as his rescuer, which is what she had come to convince herself was the main reason for his interest. Why he would have any other interest, besides that, she didn't know. But it appeared, like it had countless times since they had met, that there was other interest, and he was expressing it now. She couldn't understand his reasoning, but it both terrified and enthralled her in equal parts. She couldn't wait to question him about this further.
He was waiting for her answer, and as much as she wanted this to be a one way interrogation, she finally said, "Okay. I'll answer your questions too."
Pacified, Ivan sat back in his chair and rested his elbows on the arms. He looked completely at ease slumped down like that. She wondered if that was really the way he felt.
Charli took a deep breath. She licked her lips. She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. She pulled at her hair. After a few minutes of her doing this, an impatient sound came from Ivan, and she looked up, meeting his gaze. "What?"
"You just made it seem like you had all of these questions, and now you can't think of any."
"Yes I can! There are just so many, I can't chose what to ask first."
He rolled his eyes. "Then start off easy. If you don't ask a question soon, I'll ask one first."
She frowned, annoyed at his impatience. "How old are you?"
Keeping his eyes on her face, he said, "Sixteen, almost seventeen. You?"
"Sixteen."
He nodded. "Next."
Chewing her lip, she asked, "Why aren't you in school?"
He snorted. "You mean besides the stab wound in my side?"
Blushing, she nodded.
He sighed. "I stopped going to school last year. It was boring for me. So I decided to take classes over the summer to graduate early."
Charli was pretty sure her jaw dropped. "And I thought I was smart."
It was his turn to blush. "I'm not that smart."
"Bull. If you could teach yourself the correct number of classes for the credits you would need to graduate, all in you sophomore year, then you are a freaking genius."
Ivan shuffled uncomfortably. "Actually, I was a senior. I skipped a couple grades."
Charli didn't say anything. She just sat there, staring at him. Finally, words popped into her head, and she said them before considering how stupid they sounded. "I am in the midst of a god. A giant-brained one."
He laughed, now forgetting to be uncomfortable. "Okay, okay. Can we move on please?"
"You're not from here, are you? I've never seen you around."
He shook his head. "No. Where is here anyway? I'm not even sure. All I know is that I'm from the city, and well, this obviously isn't the city."
She looked incredulous. "You're from the city? Don't tell me you were stabbed there."
"Yeah, actually. I was." He looked down uncomfortably.
Charli shook her head, unbelieving. "Then how did you get all the way over here, without anyone noticing?"
"Um...I know how to blend in?"
She studied him for a long time. It was time to ask. "Tell me how you were stabbed."
He sighed, getting this far away look in his eyes. "Are you sure you want to know? It's a long story."
"Really?"
"Well, kind of. It's a lot to get into this early in the morning."
No way. She wasn't going to let him back out now. "You promised."
Ivan focused his eyes on her, directly into her eyes, and he held them. "I'm not going to break my promise. I just need to know that you'll be able to handle it."
She didn't avert her eyes. Every second that she spent with him, she became more comfortable, more confident. "I'll be fine. I want to know. I need to know."
He held her gaze for a few more seconds, then nodded. Fidgeting nervously with his shirt sleeves, Ivan took a deep breath and began a story that he didn't really want to tell.
"I'll try to explain as best I can. I...I was in a coffee shop one afternoon. It was a normal kind of day, you know. A lot of people running around on the streets, kind of sunny, a lot of noise. I was really tired because...well, that's not important. But I decided to stop into a cafe to get some caffeine. I thought it might help.
"This place was cozy. It was the kind of shop that made you feel warm and the rich smells all combined in a scent I like to call 'Christmas Incarnate'. It felt even more so this day because it was just starting to get cold outside. So I went up to order, and I noticed the barrista looked sad. It made me sad to see someone so sad in such a happy place, and I tried to cheer her up." He paused shifting his eyes from her to the table. Then he continued. "I was still doing that when some crazy guy came into the shop. He was obviously on some kind of drug--maybe crack?--and he had a knife. Shouting, he tried to rob the place, telling everyone to get down and shut up. Then he saw the girl behind the counter I was talking with, and he lunged for her.
"I don't know why I did it. Maybe because I had just been having such a normal conversation with her. Maybe because she looked so sad. Or maybe it was just a reflex; I don't know. But I jumped in his way, and he stabbed me instead, taking my wallet and running. I was so stunned, I chased him."
"You chased him?!" Charli interrupted.
"Yes," he said. "I really didn't want to loose my wallet."
"Well, did you get it back?"
"No. I lost him. But then I realized something else. Someone was chasing me. I freaked out and ran. They chased me for a long time, but finally I gave them the slip. I didn't stop, though. I kept going, until I found a place I could hide, if only a couple minutes. A train. It was stopped, and no one was around, so I hid in one of the compartments. But so much running and my injury and the days of exhaustion I had been suffering finally caught up with me, and I fell asleep. When I woke up, I wasn't in the city anymore."
"Why did you run? What if the person chasing you was the police?"
He looked at her for a moment, then shrugged. "It didn't feel like the police. Wouldn't they have said something?"
It was Charli's turn to shrug.
"Anyway, even if it was the police, they might of thought that I was the one who had tried to rob that place. I didn't want that. So when the train took me here, I didn't go to a hospital. I didn't want who ever was after me to find out I was here. I just wandered, until I couldn't anymore, and that's when you showed up."
He blushed, and she raised her eyebrows, wondering what thoughts had set off the pooling red in his cheeks.
She sat back, and folded her hands on her lap. Looking at him from under her eyelashes, she asked, "So that's it?"
He frowned. "Isn't that enough?"
Charli sighed. It wasn't. Ivan's story made a lot of sense, and it answered a lot of questions. But something about it felt off to her...like he was keeping something back. It might have been the way he kept fidgeting, or possibly how he explained certain parts, and the way he looked when he said them. Something didn't add up, and she was disappointed that he wasn't being honest.
Looking him in the eyes, she finally said, "I'm not going to push you, at least not right now. But I know there's something you're not telling me, Ivan."
He looked down and made no response to her statement.
Continuing, she said, "I don't know what you're involved in; maybe it's better if you don't involve me. But I wish you trusted me enough to at least admit you're keeping something to yourself."
At this, he did look up, and his eyes looked tortured. "I do trust you. I trust you with my life. You did save it, after all. But it isn't something people generally understand."
She nodded. "Okay. That's fine. I'll let it go." She paused. "So...what's your favorite color?"
He smiled a little. "Green. A dark, emerald green. Not the annoying, lime kind."
Charli laughed. "Yeah, I think that shade is annoying too. I almost never use it in my paintings, unless I want you to feel agitated when you look at the picture."
His eyes lit up with curiosity. "You paint?"
She blushed. "Yes. I also sketch and sculpt. Basically any type of art form you could think of."
He was intrigued. Leaning forward, bracing his forearms on his knees, he was giving her his full attention. "And what do you paint, Charli?"
She looked down at her lap. "Oh, you know. Anything I feel like."
"Anything? There's nothing specific?"
She raised her eyes to his face, frowning. Why did he want to know? Why did he even care in the first place? "Ivan, why are you so fascinated with me?"
There was silence. She had said it. And he was looking at her, yet again. His disconcertingly intense stare, that made her fall and keep tumbling down, further and further, like her catapulting stomach would never stop being in flight. Before she knew it, he was leaning on the table, sliding his hand across it, to where hers lay. He was moving his on top of hers, tracing her fingers, enveloping them in his cupped palm. He closed his eyes, sitting like that for a while.
When he opened them, a decision had been made, and he now looked at her with determination. There was a sharp flip somewhere in her middle. What was he about to tell her? Did she want to know? He opened his mouth and said, "Charli..."
She opened her mouth at the same time to say, "Wait," when a noise startled them both, and they leaned back far in their chairs. What had just happened?
Someone was walking in the hallway, the floorboards creaking under their feet. They both froze. Suddenly, Ivan stood up, looking around until his eyes fell on a closet by the back door. He turned toward it, and started walking.
"What are you doing?" Charli called, and he stopped, turning around.
"I'm hiding. Your parents will see me."
"But--" Was that really so bad? Quickly, she thought about it.
Her parents didn't care about her. She got perfect grades, won several of academic contests a year, had a GPA of 4.1. She was never a bad girl, never stayed out late, never got herself into any trouble, made a point to do everything perfectly, so that they might take the time to praise her for her good work. But none of this paid off, and in one sharp moment of clarity, Charli realized that it never would. It was the way they were; they wouldn't reward good behavior, because they saw no point in it themselves. That's what made her decision.
Ivan was waiting for her to finish what she had started to say, but she could tell that he was getting impatient. Gulping, she told him what had been running through her mind in the past two seconds. "I don't want you to hide."
He looked at her as if she were crazy. "What do you mean, you don't want me to hide!"
She took a deep breath. "I'm tired of being ignored. I want them to notice me, and I'll do whatever it takes for that to happen. Even if it means making them think I'm having boys stay over."
Again, he gave her that incredulous look. This time it was even more desperate. "What if they kick me out? Then what will happen?"
She frowned. "I don't think they'll do that. My parents aren't ones for rules, and they certainly can't judge."
He looked panicked. "I don't know about this..."
The footsteps were approaching, getting louder by the second.
"Please?" She clasped her hands in front of her, begging.
He looked at her for a moment longer, contemplating. They both knew that he didn't have much time to decide.
"Pleeeeease?" She walked closer to him, imploring with her eyes.
Ivan let out a sharp breath. "Fine. But if it doesn't work out, you're paying for my hotel room."
She nodded quickly and pushed him toward an over-sized, super-stuffed recliner. Pushing him down, she quickly arranged herself on his lap. "Is this okay?" She didn't want to hurt him.
He was flushed, but he nodded, keeping his eyes away from her face. She felt guilty for making him feel uncomfortable, but she wanted to make it clear to anyone who walked in that he wasn't just a friend. But she did reach over and turn the television on, so that he would have something to focus on besides her. It made the situation less awkward. Leaning back onto his shoulder, she too looked at the TV screen, but she didn't watch. She was waiting for the unidentified person to walk into the room.
Just before they entered the room, Ivan snaked his arms around her waist, humoring her and her plan. She relaxed into him.
Her father entered the room, rumbled, dark circles under his eyes. His long, pale hair hung in his face, and he walked with a hunched gait. Yep, definately hung-over. Immediately his eyes zeroed in on his daughter, and after a few seconds of staring, he rubbed at his eyes with balled up fists. It didn't make a difference in the picture he was seeing.
Clearing his throat he said, "Charli. What are you doing?"
She didn't really know what she was doing herself, but she was tired of doing nothing at all. Still... she wasn't sure that her plan was the greatest of ideas. She should have never dragged Ivan into this...

.............................

Thanks for reading!

--Kacie Renn

Working

I thought I'd just check in, because I like to dilute myself into thinking there are a lot of people who would be disappointed if I failed to write something, when in reality, very few people read my blog, and an even fewer number read it regularly. But that's okay. I don't mind. Besides, I just started. It's bound to get better....right?

Um, hello....? Anyone? RIGHT?

Jeez, that was a mini freak-out. Anyway. I'm writing this to update you on a couple of things I've been busy working on.

I've been writing my novella thingy like crazy. With every passing day it's becoming harder to deny that I'm inadvertently turning it into a book. (I'm not trying to, OKAY? It just happened.) My main argument against it is that novella's need plotting too. But this plot is becoming more and more complicated. Very interesting indeed.

So, if I continue it as a novella, then it will probably take me the rest of my blogging career to finish it. Oh boy.

It's a project, I guess. And I can always--oh, I don't know--.....not quit, because that would drive me crazy for the rest of my life, and if I wasn't actually writing the novella, I would be writing about how horrible I feel for quitting writing it. And I'm sure you'd want to read that. (P.S. that was sarcasm.) But I could always take it off of this blog later if I wanted, or make it a very, very far-to-the-side project.

Right now, it's my only project though, because the book I'm writing requires that I renew my Microsoft Words, which I haven't done yet. I'm just scared that this novella-(that-might-turn-novel) will take the place of my book in my heart. And that can absolutely not happen, or I will very possibly throw a completely immature and excruciatingly embarrassing tantrum just like a snot-nosed two year old. (Not that I don't like kids...)

So, yeah. Basically, that's it. I've written the whole back story of Charli and Ivan, Ivan's being the longer story by far. It's really interesting, and it has taken some turns I honestly didn't expect. Several times during this process I found myself saying to the pen clutched in my cramping left hand, "Naw-aw, gurrrrrrrrlll. NO you di'int!" (which was actually pretty funny not just because I was talking to a hand, but also because I'm like the whitest person I know, and I couldn't do ghetto-voice to save my life.)

This entry is long enough now. Good Bye!

--Kacie Renn

This Entry is about You, Nan Milkcan!

I hate pessimistic, manipulative people.

You know the ones I'm talking about; the whiners and complainers, the pushers and passive aggressive guilters...all of them are the same, and all of them use the same methods.

Most of the time, they don't outright do anything that should offend you, but it's the coded message that pushes your buttons.

They twist them and they push and pull them, until you're ready to either cry or scream at the said person.

Example:

Daughter says, "I'm going out tonight."

Mother says, "Oh, all right. I guess I'll clean the house or something...by myself."

Translation: "I really envy you because you have a life and I don't, and so I'm going to sulk here all night, and not even attempt to have fun, because you're leaving me for the life that I don't have."

Now, the only thing that would make me more angry would be if this happened next:

Daughter says, "Oh, fine. I guess I'll stay home if you really want me too."

That would really, really piss me off. Because the only thing worse than pushers are the easily pushed.

I just can't fathom how

--Oh my god. What a little liar!!!!!--

Anyway, I just can't fathom how they can let someone else jerk them around like that.

And I hate holding my tongue. I hate it that I have to watch what I say so that I don't offend anyone. It should be like that, and it isn't anyway to live.

I just get fed up sometimes.

That was my rant.

So, I learned a new song on the piano. It's really cute. And no one is going to stop me from playing it, no matter how annoying they hint that it is. And I don't care if it's the same two notes over and over again...it's still a good song.

Grr....