What do you think of when you hear the words "marching band"?

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Twelve Days of Eighth Grade

I made this up while procrastinating. It's not bad, if I do say so myself. (By the way, I put very little effort into this, so sorry if you don't like it).

12 Days of Eighth Grade

On the first day of eighth grade my school gave to me
A textbook from the eighties.

On the second day of eighth grade my school gave to me
Two tests tomorrow
And a textbook from the eighties.

On the third day of eighth grade my school gave to me
Three hours of homework
Two tests tomorrow
And a textbook from the eighties.

On the fourth day of eighth grade my school gave to me
Four friends a-fighting
Three hours of homework
Two tests tomorrow
And a textbook from the eighties.

On the fifth day of eighth grade my school gave to me
Five hours of sleep!
Four friends a-fighting
Three hours of homework
Two tests tomorrow
And a textbook from the eighties.

On the sixth day of eighth grade my school gave to me
Six pop quizzes
Five hours of sleep!
Four friends a-fighting
Three hours of homework
Two tests tomorrow
And a textbook from the eighties.

On the seventh day of eighth grade my school gave to me
Seven hours of torture
Six pop quizzes
Five hours of sleep!
Four friends a-fighting
Three hours of homework
Two tests tomorrow
And a textbook from the eighties.


On the eighth day of eighth grade my school gave to me
Eight different periods
Seven hours of torture
Six pop quizzes
Five hours of sleep!
Four friends a-fighting
Three hours of homework
Two tests tomorrow
And a textbook from the eighties.

On the ninth day of eighth grade my school gave to me
Nine clubs I’m joining
Eight different periods
Seven hours of torture
Six pop quizzes
Five hours of sleep!
Four friends a-fighting
Three hours of homework
Two tests tomorrow
And a textbook from the eighties.

On the tenth day of eighth grade my school gave to me
Ten mental breakdowns
Nine clubs I’m joining
Eight different periods
Seven hours of torture
Six pop quizzes
Five hours of sleep!
Four friends a-fighting
Three hours of homework
Two tests tomorrow
And a textbook from the eighties.

On the eleventh day of eighth grade my school gave to me
Eleven books at once
Ten mental breakdowns
Nine clubs I’m joining
Eight different periods
Seven hours of torture
Six pop quizzes
Five hours of sleep!
Four friends a-fighting
Three hours of homework
Two tests tomorrow
And a textbook from the eighties.

On the twelfth day of eighth grade my school gave to me
Twelve projects—due now!
Eleven books at once
Ten mental breakdowns
Nine clubs I’m joining
Eight different periods
Seven hours of torture
Six pop quizzes
Five hours of sleep!
Four friends a-fighting
Three hours of homework
Two tests tomorrow
And a textbook from the eighties.

 Happy Holidays!!!

Thursday, December 15, 2011

I'm A Teenager!

Yeah, I've been 13 for several months now... since September 3rd... I just have NOT had time.

Life is good. I'm in the 8th grade now, which is tiring, but very fun. What can I say, it's FUN ruling the school. Especially when I can still think back to my 6th grade days, when I was absolutely terrified of 8th graders. And now I am one! I plow through kids in the hallway instead of dodging them, because I'm allowed!

There is one catch. I'm younger than almost everyone in my grade. I just barely made the cutoff date. Joshie was younger than me (remember him, from Yes, Even I Have Romances With my Occaisional Comedian ?) because he was British and they do grades differently than us, but he's moved to North Carolina now. :( I guess we just weren't meant to be. So anyways, I'm not sure, but I think I may be the youngest person in the 8th grade now. There's actually a 7th grader who's several months older than me... but I'm an upperclassman, so I still get seniority and the right to plow through him as I choose.

Here's how the attitudes pretty much work in our school: the 6th grade is too overwhelmed to do much but stay out of the way and occasionally look cute/ be annoying, the 7th grade is happy to be older than at least someone and is much too confident, and the 8th grade doesn't give a crap. By the way, no one reads this blog who's under 12, I don't think, and you've all heard them, and everyone does it, and I've matured a lot in the past 3 months, so I'll start using minor curse words. Yay Gracie!! Big Accomplishment!!!

Also, since I'm 13 now and becoming a surly teenager, I'll probably have a lot more posts where I'm mad at my parents. It's kind of sad, actually... because I'm the sensitive person I am, I can actually see myself getting moodier and more churlish, which I don't want to be. But whatever. I'll survive. Most teenagers do. Except for the one's that don't.

Ugh, why do I always start getting all deep when I type here?

What to write about now... tum dee dum dee dum.... well, I actually have a lot to write about, so much it's going to get a separate post. But oh yeah!

I got a Facebook! Technically I got it when I was 12, since I got it on my birthday, but before the TIME I was born (12:33pm). So suck it, Facebook! Oh yeah! Beating the system!

I was really excited about getting a Facebook because although not all of my friends from my grade have one (actually, very few friends from my grade have one... only about 5 or 6... and I have more friends then that, trust me. At least 7.), friends I don't see very often have one. I can keep in touch.

I find it funny, really, because my parents made me wait until I was 13 to sign up, but many peoples' parents didn't. There are all these people I know who are my age (or okay, since they're in my grade, a couple of months older) who are supposedly, like, 25. I'll get a notification: Blahdina Blahzini is turning 24 today. Wish her a happy birthday! I'll just smile and say something like "Oh silly Facebook... fooled so easily..."

This actually leads me into my next point: age. You have to be 13 to sign up for Facebook, but you can't do it if you're turning 13 tomorrow (believe me. I've tried.) A lot of jobs do this too-- you have to be 17 or something like that. Really, what's the difference between the last day when you're one age and the first day when you're another? Nothing really changes, does it? What's the point? If the person thinks they're mature enough, and the employer, or website, or whatever thinks the person is mature enough, what does their age have to do with anything? I think you should have to take a quiz determining whether or not you're ready to go on Facebook, regardless of your age. Because I was definitely ready for Facebook, in my late 11s, early 12s. But there are some people I see on there, older than me, who probably shouldn't be.

Well, that got a bit confusing at the end.

The moral of the story is... don't judge a book by it's cover.
That doesn't relate to the post at all, but it's a pretty foolproof moral.

Here is a picture about Facebook:

And here is just a funny picture:

Yay kitties!!!!! I love cats. Good night!

Thursday, September 1, 2011

Welcome Back!

Today I had a chocolate milk. The kind that comes in a cardboard box and has a little straw and a cow on the side and doesn't need to be refrigerated for some reason. It made me feel young because my mom used to put those in my lunchbox. Why does fridge have a "D" in it if refrigerator doesn't?

Anyway, I'm ignoring the question you're all obviously asking. Where the firetruck was I this whole time? Well, it's nice to know I have fans who care enough to actually tell me to write a new blog. Speaking of which, when are YOU going to write a new blog, C-Rope? I've been waiting. You're just as bad as me! Completely ignore the past 3 sentences if you don't know what they mean.

But I'm still avoiding the pressing matter of what I was doing this whole time when I wasn't blogging. Well, unlike some of you, I actually have a life. No, no, I'm just kidding. I don't have a life either. But... I do! I was living it all summer! So that must mean... all of you have lives too! Phew. What a relief. I thought all my friends were dead.

So the matter of what I was doing... are you enjoying my procrastination? Have you noticed that I've avoided the topic for 4 paragraphs? I can do this for a loooooong time. Believe me. I have a LOT of trouble doing homework. Speaking of which, school starts in less than a week and I haven't done my summer reading yet. Sure I've read lots of books this summer. No really, a lot of books. Like at least 56. Probably more. But see, we have to write journal entries on our books. 3 per book! And 2 books! That's... um... that's 6 entries! No actually, I'm really good at math, just not linear functions, so that somehow makes me bad at my entire math class. Anyway, did I ever mention how analyzing ruins the book? Nothing ruins a good book like writing journal entries on it. So the question is.... ruin a good book, or just make a bad book worse?  Whatever. It all sucks anyway.

I'm sorry I'm being depressing. I just don't want to go back to school. It seemed like the summer just flew by. Probably because I was so busy... Oh, no! you aren't going to find out what with! Don't think you can trick it out of me! Because you can't. God, I'm turning into the blogged version of nigahiga. Wouldn't it be cool if I was famous enough so he would say in one of his rants: "God, I'm turning into the YouTube version of Amazing Gracie." Yes it would be cool. He gets, like 2 million views.

Well, I was very busy over the summer, but the things I did were so epic that they get separate posts. But you'll be hearing more from me. Hopefully. Or I'll procrastinate again. Funny pictures!


Fine pictures, since there's only 1. There's a line through that S. You can't really see it. 

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

The Happiest Time of Year

 Yes, the century has passed where the happiest time of year for a child was Christmas, or spring, or their birthday. Yes, yes sir, nowadays the pressure school puts on America's precious youth leaves them can't waiting to get away. But that doesn't matter now because IT'S SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER okay I'm done. That was 256 summers, the amount of summers I plan to live through. Impossible, you say? Nothing is impossible when it's summer. Except for being sad.
Anyway, you know the saying... "No more pencils, no more books, no more teachers dirty looks." Well, it's not quite the same. With me there's still pencils, but for drawing or writing stories, not writing compare/contrast essays and filling out Scantrons. There's still books, but the books I want to read, and I won't have to analyze each chapter individually like a butterfly under a microscope. (Really, there's nothing worse than ruining a good book by having to write journal entries, and take post its. Really, is it going to help you remember and understand the book better if your flow is interrupted every two minutes so you can put in a post it?) There will even still be teachers dirty looks, but they will be on TV, directed at actors.


Anyway, now that school is over, I'm looking forward to summer. Changing your average bedtime from 9:00-10:00 to 1:00-2:00. I like nothing better than it being really, really late at night and everything is quiet and you feel like the only person in the world. I watch movies on TV or read or write or draw, or this summer I have the option of blogging too. As a matter of fact, currently it's about 11:30.

I'm wearing this awesome, super lightweight nightgown that would have been popular in the 1930's. Here's a sort of glorified picture. I don't actually look like this in real life. I just want to.


Anyway, What do you think about grades. I have two things about grades, but that makes sense, considering that its two types of grades I'm talking about. First of all, I'm kind of dreading getting my report card. My math grade kind of dropped in the last marking period... I'm most definitely not going to be in honors math next year. As a matter of fact, I'd be happy to get above a D+ currently. Now, don't get me wrong. You've read this blog. You know I'm smart. But I was never good at algebra, and I truly suck at linear functions, which is basically what our entire fourth marking period was about.

I'm not going to get my report card until I go to the school and return my overdue library books anyway. Yeah... gotta do that some time.....

Let's not worry about these things now. No, as I'm certain I've said, it's SUMMER! You aren't allowed to worry or think about school. It's the same thing, anyway.

My other thing about grades is the one you're in. If you leave seventh grade, are you a seventh grader, an eighth grader, or in some gradeless limbo between the two? I go with the latter. You aren't still in seventh grade, but you aren't in eighth grade yet either. I mean, you aren't a kindergartener the summer before you go to kindergarten. Sooo... yeah. Don't ask me what grade I'm in during the summer. I'll just end up confusing everyone involved.

Just on a separate note, I feel so bad for those people who have to get tutors during the summer so the can "keep up their learning styles" and "get ahead for the next year". What parent could possibly hate their kid enough to send them for the summer?


So I will try to find room for blogging in my busy schedule... you know, reading, sleeping, hanging, relaxing, loitering, musing, watching TV. But seriously, I am going to be in two plays (the summer play for the high school and the summer play for the junior school; more on those later), I'm on swim team that meets every day, not including meets, I babysit, I bike, I'm taking guitar lessons, I'm teaching myself to play Just the Way You Are by Bruno Mars on the piano, and I have to find time for all that other stuff too. And I tend to be less responsible during the summer.

Anyway, to quote the words of (the song by) Alice Cooper, who is actually a dude,
"Schoooooooooollllll'sss out for summeer!" *neer neer on guitar*

Have a GREAT summer, everyone!

Monday, June 13, 2011

A Lost Generstion?

I think this is really interesting... I like it, I really do. It reminds me of, well, me! And I totally agree.

"A Lost Generation"
a poem by Jonathan Reed
I am part of a lost generation
and I refuse to believe that
I can change the world
I realize this may be a shock but
“Happiness comes from within.”
is a lie, and
“Money will make me happy.”
So in 30 years I will tell my children
they are not the most important thing in my life
My employer will know that
I have my priorities straight because
work
is more important than
family
I tell you this
Once upon a time
Families stayed together
but this will not be true in my era
This is a quick fix society
Experts tell me
30 years from now, I will be celebrating the 10th anniversary of my divorce
I do not concede that
I will live in a country of my own making
In the future
Environmental destruction will be the norm
No longer can it be said that
My peers and I care about this earth
It will be evident that
My generation is apathetic and lethargic
It is foolish to presume that
There is hope.

And all of this will come true unless we choose to reverse it . 
 Reverse it. 

Literally, read the poem backward
Read each individual line the regular way, but go from the bottom up. 

It will make much more sense.

(If you don't get it, watch this video)

:)

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

P.S. This Never Happened

Today, a neon unicorn in pantyhose walked up to my dad and danced seductively while making whipped cream shoot out of his eyeballs!
 
 
 

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Logos

Don't you just love logos? For places? The best ones are the optical illusions. Like FedEx. You guys know about the FedEx arrow, right? Look between the E and the x.
Isn't that cool?
Also a good one, for Spartan Golf Club:

Now this next one is kind of subtle. After Amazon stopped selling only books and started selling books plus everything else, they added the arrow. So they're really saying they're selling everything from A to Z. 


Finally, my favorite of all and probably one of the least known, the Tostitos logo! Tostitos sell chips and salsa. So, what a better logo than people chowing down on Tostitos! Just watch:


Don't see it, right? Get ready to have your mind blown....


OMG THERE IT IS!!! Pretty dang amazing. I want to meet whoever came up with this. Seriously, I ate Tostitos my whole life and didn't notice this until a friend pointed it out.

Optical illusions are cool.

Now there's another kind of logos, the Greek kind. It has something to do with persuasive writing. Just watch this video. It's pretty ridiculous. Keep an open mind and Hey! you might even learn something.

Okay, I can't get the video to show up so just go to this link

Logos (both kinds) ROCK!!!!!! 

The Real World?

You ever hear of the All-American Rejects? Yeah, me neither. I think they're a band or something. Just kidding. :)

But really, they aren't that famous but probably should be. Or at least this one song by them, The Real World. It's creepy in a really, really awesome way, especially if you listen to the lyrics. Our English teacher showed it to us because it relates to the book we're reading so much it's scary. We're reading Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury. Yes, we're in seventh grade and rocking the Ray Bradbury. Welcome to Honors English class; aka high expectations; aka too much work for 8 students to handle together but we do it alone anyway; aka the Overachievers Club (school nickname). Okay, just listen to the lyrics of the song, watch the video, and read Fahrenheit 451 if you haven't. As confusing and Ray Bradbury-y it was, I liked it.

The Real World
I woke up on this side, I thought it was a dream
At first we learned to walk then learned to scream
You can't understand, when you're fed from a TV screen
You can't see the things that I can see

But I forget, that you thank God and pray
Some things just never stay
And we all just slip away

This can't be the real world now
I don't believe it, when I can't see the truth
Welcome to the real world now
The old are carried in only to poison youth
Am I, the only one who thinks it's tragic
'Cause I know
This can't be the real world now
Oh no oh
Oh no oh

I look for some hope in every face there's a vacant stare
The shadows come but no one seems to care
The darkness floods every light that could promise change
She passed sound asleep when the blood is stain
But blood is pain

Somewhere I know, that I'm not all alone
With this bated breath I hold
My lungs want to explode

This can't be the real world now
I don't believe it, when I can't see the truth
Welcome to the real world now
The old are carried in only to poison youth
Am I, the only one who thinks it's tragic
'Cause I know
This can't be the real world now
Oh no oh
Oh no oh
This can't be the real world now
Oh no oh
Oh no oh

Just as soon as we see
Every flaw and every need we'll understand
And for the first time
A child to a man says only pure words that he can
He's too late the man he knows it he said
With all emotions set aside in a whisper say goodbye

This can't be the real world now
I don't believe it, when I can't see the truth
Welcome to the real world now
The old are carried in now just to poison youth
Am I, the only one who thinks it's tragic
'Cause I know
This can't be the real world now
Oh no oh
Oh no oh
This can't be the real world now
Oh no oh
Oh no oh
This can't be the real world
This can't be the real world
This can't be the real world now
Oh no oh
Oh no oh

"The shadows come but no one seems to care."
See? Just... gives me the shivers. Every time.

God, this song should be so much more famous.

My favorite quote from the book? Well (and remember Ray Bradbury said this, not me), here it is:

"The good writers touch life often. The mediocre ones run a quick hand over her. The bad ones rape her and leave her for the flies."

Good old Faber! I always knew life was a girl! Yeah!... oh, right. Not the point of the quote.
(Gonna steal a little of your thunder now, Caitlyn)

"Am I the only one who thinks it's tragic? This can't be the real world now. Oh no oh. Oh no oh."

Sigh

The outside, indifferent Grace covers up the inside Grace who is actually bawling her eyes out. Yes, I am feeling very very very depressed.

Talent show results were posted today. And if you aren't smart and can't put two and two together:

P.S. The girl is me.

And the thing is, I can't really cry about it. At school I'm pretty much a well known nerd, so I like to prove peoples opinions wrong by being tough. And for people who know me better, they know I really am tough.

I was just... really hoping with this, you know? I sort of knew I wasn't going to get in last year-- my act really wasn't that good. But I thought I truly had the shot this year.

The only thing I think is worse than not getting in to something is getting your hopes up and then not getting into something. Like when I tried out for the school play, they told me I had a beautiful voice, and then gave me a part in the chorus. Well, here, I got a callback. A callback! And it went really well even better than my fist audition and it was a callback! that means they liked me they liked me and afterwards the chorus teacher who was listening but not judging it was just happening in her room told me I was really good and I would get in for sure yayyay and now all that's left to do is wait and wait and finally the results are there and.... It all comes crashing down. You know what they say-- the bigger they are, the harder they fall. The farther up on my my self pride I am, the more it will hurt when I finally fall off.

An expression I really hate is this:
"Always shoot for the moon! Even if you miss, you'll land among the stars!"
It's on all these happyhappyjoyjoy posters around my school. Well, I'm living proof that this is wrong. I must've shot for the moon, what, 6 times since I came to Junior School? 7 times? Whatever, a lot. And I'm definitely seeing stars, but not because I'm among them. More because the universe decided to punch the lights out of my self esteem.

Also painted on the wall in one of the hallways in my school is the question:
"Your reach should exceed your grasp, else what's a heaven for?"
which is actually really depressing and not very motivational but totally 100% more true than landing among the stars. It's just-- why do some people's reaches exceed their grasps, and other people's reaches get reached, and hugged, and loved, and rubbed in everyone else's face?

Whatever. Every time this happens I tell myself I'm not going to get my hopes up next time and then guess what? I do. I do. IdoIdoIdoIdoIdoIdo I ALWAYS FREAKIN' DO!!!! It's amazing I still trust anyone or anything after my life of high hopes and hard falls.

I am not a drama queen. I really, really, wanted this, and the only problem with a blog is that you can't hear the pain and struggle in my voice. I rarely tell anyone anything. I'd rather carry the world on my shoulders with no help than have a serious conversation. I hate having serious conversations. 

Whatever.

Life is full of little disappointments.

Monday, May 23, 2011

Mini-Me

I had to write another memoir for English class, this time with author notes. Enjoy. 

            My chubby five-year-old legs ran outside into the warm outside air. I could hear my neighbors. “Can I come?” This frequently asked question was practically my catch phrase. As a hyper little kid with no cable TV (aka nothing fun to watch during the day), busy parents, and no kids on my street my age, I was constantly tagging along with the “older kids.”  Out of the six of us, I was the youngest- at least four years younger than all of them: Connor, Sharlys, Tony, Michael, and Brian.
            They all had their unique personalities. Tony lived down the street- he was the jock, the one who we’d go to play street hockey or soccer. Michael didn’t actually live on our street, but the street behind ours, which was really busy. He would just cut through Brian’s backyard and come to hang with us. Brian was also a sports enthusiast. He had a basketball hoop and a playground in his backyard, so his house was a popular hang-out spot. Tony, Michael, and Brian would have been all nine when I was five. Finally, Connor and Sharlys were brother and sister, always fighting. They lived next door to me. When I was five, Connor would have been twelve and Sharlys would have been ten. They were both talented musicians, members of their family’s band. Being the oldest, Connor was pretty much the leader of our little group. As the only girls, Sharlys and I always connected the most, but she always loved messing with me. She still does. They all teased me, but I was cool with it. I was just happy that I got to come with them and listen to their grown-up conversations.
My strongest memory of hanging with all of them was a time we went to Michael’s house. Being right behind Brian’s house and having an awesome recreational garage, we went there a lot. Today, we were going to clean up the fish pond in Michael’s backyard and make a sign for it. Michael’s dad was making him clean this fish pond (currently, we weren’t sure if we couldn’t see the fish because the pond was too dirty or because they had all died), so we were going to make the most of it. It was going to be a great little pond when we were done. Everyone was talking about how much of a scorcher it was going to be that day. We were all getting sodas from the refrigerator in the garage. Well, more like they were getting sodas from the refrigerator in the garage. Naturally, I wanted one too, but…
            “No,” Sharlys said, completely serious except for the mischievous glint in her eye. “This soda is for people ages ten and up only.”
            “But they aren’t ten yet!” I whined, gesturing at Tony, Michael, and Brian.
            “Yes we are,” Michael claimed, popping the top off his soda bottle with a fizz, “We all turned ten just a little while ago.”
            My chubby face examined his serious one. I was pretty sure their claims weren’t true, but I hadn’t mastered the art of lie detection yet. Although I was learning.
            “You aren’t ten. I’m five, and you’re four years older than me. Five plus four is nine,” I stated, hoping they would see the logic in my reasoning.
            “Oh, good at math, are you?” laughed Tony. But they couldn’t come up with a better response.
            They were about to give me a soda when Connor came to their rescue and said, “Sharlys meant to say that you had to be eight to drink it. Tony and Brian and Michael can, but you can’t.” He held his arms out and shrugged, “Sorry,” but I didn’t buy it. He was grinning the whole time. This was surely a lie…
            “Yeah, we can drink it and you can’t! Ha!” Brian jeered. I stuck out my tongue at him. I wasn’t friends with Brian. He had once called me an ugly duckling. I was still mad.
            I began to go through what I can only call the five stages of grief.
“N-no!” I stuttered. “There are no drinks that you can’t drink before eight! It’s eighteen, right?” Denial.
            “Nope, sorry, munchkin.” Sharlys said, ruffling my hair and using the pet name I hated, “It can be eight OR eighteen.”
            “Please! I’ll do all the work. I’ll clean up the pool for you guys.” Bargaining.
            “No, you’re too small.” said Sharlys. That really made me bristle. I was a big girl.
            “Well, we could let her work for us…” contemplated Brian.
            “No. She’s too small to do real work, and she can’t have a soda.” Sharlys said, plucking the question I was about to ask right out of my head.
            “I don’t believe you. You said it was ten- then it became eight years old. The age can’t just change like that!” I pouted. They were being so mean to me. I wanted to cry. Sadness.
            “Sure it can,” grinned Tony. Liar.
            “Besides, it’s my house,” said Michael, who had already gotten bored and was playing on the pinball machine in the garage.
            “NO, it can’t!!” I stomped my foot. Anger. I really hated being tricked. People didn’t expect me to be smarter than them because I was younger than them, but I was. I was smart. I was already reading Blue-level books in school, which was higher than White-level, Yellow-level, and Red-level books.
            “Okay, Gracie, we’ll make an exception just for you. You can have a few sodas, just because you figured us out.” Connor said.
            “She did?” Brian and Tony asked at the same time (and proceeded to jinx each other).
            “Yes, of course she did,” Connor laughed, “Sharlys was right the first time, it is ages ten and up. We’re letting Tony, Brian, and Michael have sodas, though, so I guess we can let you have a few, too.”
            “It’s my house, I can have soda whenever I want,” said Michael.
            “Yep, she’s a clever little munchkin,” Sharlys completely ignored Michael and got me a soda from the fridge, popping the top and handing it to me. I watched the cold steam rising from the top and listened to the bubbles popping for a moment before taking a cold, refreshing sip. Something still didn’t quite ring true about the whole “Ages ten and up” deal, but I had finally reached acceptance. And I was sure my lie-detecting skills had gotten much better. And I realized that no matter how many times these guys tried to trick me, I would figure them out in the end. This experience hadn’t been all bad. I felt smarter, and more grown up, and like I had the upper hand on my older friends. Finally, remembering we hadn’t just come for soda, we got the pool cleaners and heavy-duty rubber gloves, and had that late summer afternoon well spent. 

My neighbors really were my life from ages four through six. After first grade, they started to turn more and more into teenagers, but we still hung out. We would play hide-and-seek tag and capture the flag and football. I learned everything a little girl would need to know: the best hiding places on the block, how to tell when it’s about to rain, how to pretend you understand something when you really don’t. How to cheat in hide and seek by saying “One, two, skip a few, ninety-nine, one hundred.” They were such a big part of my childhood; it was hard not to think of them when I was told to write a memoir. This particular memory is just the one that stands out the most in my brain.
One of the biggest things that brought this memory back was Easter Sunday. Connor was back from college, and we were all looking for something to do, so we got together, for the first time in a long while. We played football in Brian’s backyard and then went down to Michael’s house and got sodas from the refrigerator in the garage. They were just as good as I always remembered. Then we went to Michael’s pond. He had really let it go. The sign we had put up years ago was faded and weather-worn. The pond itself was just as murky, so we cleaned it out a bit with sticks. I found a plastic bag. By the time we were done, we could actually see some fish. I think they could survive anything. My neighbors and I don’t see each other very often anymore. I think when they see me, they are surprised to see how much I’ve grown, how different I am from my five-year-old self, and how very much the same, too. But this memory…. It just gives me a blast from the past and let’s me remember what it was like, back when we were young…. 


 

By the way, this isn't me. I was
a) never as fashionable to wear a blouse that matched the leaves
b) had a weird, bowl-like haircut
c) would never be standing still long enough for you to get a picture this good
d) I was way cuter than this

Monday, May 16, 2011

Get Ready to Feel Dumb

SPOILER ALERT!!!!: Read this before reading this post!!! Or you will be very sad from riddle withdrawal!!

Okay, I figure I've tortured you all long enough. Here is the answer to the riddle I posted a little while ago:

NOTHING!!!
Nothing has seven letters.

Nothing precedes God.

Nothing is greater than God.

Nothing is more evil than the Devil. 

Rich people need nothing.

Poor people have nothing. 

If you eat nothing, you die. 

Bet ya feel pretty dumb now, huh? Here's some lolcats to cheer you up. They are also pretty dumb.



Teeheeheeheehee!

Sunday, May 15, 2011

iPods, Music, and Me


I would probably die without my iPod. I love it so much. It's pink. Now don't take this the wrong way. I am NOT one of those girly-girls. But I do like this color. It's really pretty. But you will catch me wearing black just as much as I wear pink.

Anyway, the reason I love my iPod is not because it's pink. No, I love music. I grew up listening to music. Some history of me and music:

My mom is the choir director and organist at my church. And no offense, but the choir at my church is really something to brag about. We ROCK. Seriously, our children's choir starts at second grade, and they all sing Mozart and Rutter and Requiems and such. It's truly a sight to behold. So I grew up at choir rehearsals. My mom is also the director in a choral society called Harmonium. They rock too. They have rehearsals every Sunday night. So from ages about 2-7 I was there for several hours a week. Oh, and concerts 3-5 times a year. No wonder I'm so music oriented. I have a really early memory with that. Harmonium has certain songs they sing a lot. One of them is an arrangement of "Sidewalks of New York". So one day, after listening to them sing this a lot in rehearsals, I started singing it, that particular arrangement. Even the harmonies and descants. I was five and harmonizing to myself! My mom heard me and was pretty shocked. She told my dad, who denied it, saying I couldn't learn it just from listening. But I had, and I am definitely part audio learner.

Anyway, all this music I grew up with was choral music, so I wasn't really ever exposed to the popular music at the time. The closest I came to that was KidzBop, which everyone knows stinks. No one wants to hear kids sing popular songs, they want to hear the artist sing popular songs. If you like KidzBop, I'm sorry, but look up some of the songs on your CDs on the internet. Sung by the REAL artist. You'll enjoy yourself much more. Unless it's Justin Bieber, and then there's no difference between him and a ten-year-old girl. Okay, back to the subject. And we didn't have cable, so no Disney channel or Nickelodeon for me to even know. But in fourth grade I got cable, and in sixth grade I started listening to Z100, the radio station with "all the hits" as they say. So now I'm basically caught up.

I got my iPod in the summer before seventh grade, when my sister's boyfriend got a new computer that came with a free iPod. He already had one, and knew how much I wanted one, so he gave me it. I am forever grateful, really.

Before I got my iPod, I had an iTunes gift card, which I used through my sisters account. So I had about ten songs before I even had my iPod. But she left (to grad school) before my iPod arrived, so I never got to put them on. For my first few months I just listened to the radio (which actually opened me up to a lot of new songs and helped me develop a tolerance to rap). It was okay though, because my iPod can pause and rewind and fast forward the radio, which is uber-cool. When we finally went to visit my sister, she put those on, plus her Lady Gaga and Taylor Swift songs so I had a total of 99 songs.

Then she came to visit us, and put more songs I wanted on it (I had another gift card). She also put a bunch of her songs that she chose. She had to load each album individually, so I went outside to play. She could put anything she wanted on my iPod. Stuff she said was "good for me" to listen to. Resulting, I have everything from Pink and Green Day to Kelly Clarkson and Demi Lovato to the Beatles and my church choir. 591 songs. I still want MORE!

Also, some great artists on my iPod, no one's ever heard. Like Daniel Bedingfeild. My sister says he was a singer when she was like a sophomore or junior in high school, a few years ago. She says he only had one really famous song, but he's really good.

And Mika. Oh, Mika. He is great. He's British, so that might be why no one knows him here. But he has brought such songs as Lollipop ("Sucking too hard on your lollipop, oh, love's gonna get you down"), Grace Kelly ("I can be brown, I can be blue, I can be violet sky"), and Love Today ("Anyway you want to, anyway you've got to, Love love me, Love love me"). His songs are just ridiculous and amazing. One of his songs was the theme song for a movie, Kick-"Butt". It wasn't actually called Kick-Butt, but my parents read this blog.

Here are Mika's two album covers, for his albums Life in Cartoon Motion and The Boy Who Knew Too Much:



Okay. So I love music. YAAAY! Here's a funny picture!

Teehee! Byebye music lovers!

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

This May Seem Mature for a Twelve Year Old

Well, you've probably heard the news. Osama Bin Laden is dead. He was killed two Sundays ago, in a big mansion house, shot in the head along with his wife and son. They wanted to have verifiable proof it was him (even though they knew, they wanted it to be verifiable), so they took a week to get a DNA test and then released the news to the public. Yay.

Why no enthusiasm in the "Yay"? I don't actually know how to feel. Someone dying isn't exactly a happy occasion. I know he is a horrible person, caused thousands of deaths, probably millions, but I can't help thinking... Maybe this is why Americans are the way they are. Why we have so many murderers, kidnappers, and sickos. Why we're known for being the rich, overprivileged guys who act out a lot. I mean, people are celebrating this guy's death. It's like the kids in America are being told "Always be sad when someone dies unless you don't like them."(This'll sound corny, but) What  does that say about our country?

Yes, I'm glad he's gone. I'm glad he won't be able to to hurt anyone else ever again. But this guy was a leader. People looked up to him, even if we didn't. He had military generals, followers, a family (which they also killed.) They put a bullet through this guy's head. And his son and wife. That would be like Barack, Michelle, Sasha, and Malia Obama all getting shot by Bin Laden's men. Did you know that the original assassination plot for Lincoln also included the Vice President and Secretary of State (the next two in line) as well? The South would be rejoicing if it had worked. And we would be mourning.

(Here comes a really personal part. Here goes nothing.)
I don't think anyone is born bad. Something happens to them when they're kids, they're raised with certain beliefs, whatever. But no one wakes up in the morning saying "Hmmmm, what evil am I going to commit today? Bwahahahaha!" No, they all think they're making the world a better place in some way. Even Hitler thought he was doing good, eliminating all but the "Master Race". Even though these people are wrong, it's not like America never does wrong either. I mean, we pretty much started this war. We can't even keep peace among each other. Did you know the Civil War was the war with the most deaths ever? This is including the World Wars, people. Open your eyes. Life is great, but people are stupid and tend to mess it up.

Did you know that Osama Bin Laden was supposed to be killed of that Friday, not Sunday? They decided not to because the weather was bad. Think about that. For something as trivial as weather, he got three more days of life. Three more days to spend with his family, with his friends. No one should have the kind of power to just add or take away days of someone's life.

So
I'm happy he's dead.
But when it comes down to someone dying, should we really celebrate?

They're talking about releasing pictures to the press. Let's not.

This picture pretty much sums up what I feel (because I really don't know what to feel)

*Sigh* See you later.

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Riddle: This Will be Short

I has seven letters.

I precedes God.

I am greater than God.

I am more evil than the Devil.

Rich people need me.

Poor people have me.

If you eat me, you die.

What am I?

Can YOU figure it out?
(Please, if you know the answer already, refrain from giving it away in the comments.





NJASK

NJASK testing started today. It's standardized testing for New Jersey. It stands for New Jersey Assessment of Skills and Knowledge.

I always wondered if they did that on purpose. Make it so that the acronym is "ask." I mean, it's not uncommon for and or of to be left out of acronyms, but somehow it seems like a bit of a stretch. IT'S A CONSPIRACY! A CONSPIRACY I SAY! No, get out of here, Rebellious Grace. But still...

Also, I crack up when they have those pages in the middle where it says in big letters "This page has intentionally left blank."  I mean, it's not blank now, is it?

Testing is so annoying. We arrive in school. We take a 2 hour test, with 5 minute breaks after every section (basically every 40-50 minutes). Since it's probably illegal to talk about what's in the test, I'll just say it was a Language Arts part today, with two reading comprehensions and a persuasive essay.

It's king of funny, though. Since our schedule is all messed up (Our periods go something like 1, 4, 2, 5, 3, 6, 7, 8) we actually have lunch at a NORMAL lunch time. Usually it's at 11:15, but today it was a whole hour later. Wow!

And it's not like the teachers cut us slack anyway. Sure our periods are 25 minutes, but that's enough time for us to learn. The only teacher who let us do anything fun was our math teacher, Mrs.Dostie. We played an online game on graphing. Save the Zogs!

Another thing to look forward to: They're making really weird schedules for Thursday and Friday. You know the four Core subjects (Social Studies, Science, Math, and English)? Well, now you do. Instead of just having shortened periods, on Thursday, we're going to have two of them, and on Friday, we'll have the other two. But here's the thing: The reason we're spreading them out over two days is that they're going to be AN HOUR AND FORTY MINUTES EACH!!! What the h-e-double-hockey-sticks?!?!?!?!? I can't even comprehend taking the Math testing and then spending two hours in math!!! GRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!

And now, just because babies are awesome:


The End.

Monday, May 2, 2011

7 Ways to Look

In English, besides memoirs, we're working on some poetry. We recently wrote 7 Ways Poems, where you write seven ways to look at a certain thing. There's a format you follow.... Anyway here's my poem. And don't forget not to judge, although comments would be nice.

Seven Ways to Look at a Stuffed Golden Retriever

1.
The sweet brown-yellow fur faded to a simple tan,
Battered, tattered, sticky in places.
Obviously well-used.

2.
The toy dog puts a child to sleep and quiets her down
Just like any pacifier,
It’s fur as soft and gold as desert sand.

3.
Playing with this stuffed animal is to a child what coffee is to an adult:
Comforting, and if you have some in the morning,
You’ll be happy all day.

4.
All the other toys in the world added together
Wouldn’t be equal to this one.
Not if you asked its owner.

5.
The small stuffed dog jumped out a little girl’s hands
And ran across the floor, yipping at her,
Until she picked him up and he flew again.

6.
Without it,
Life would be hectic,
And some sad parents would be exhausted
From trying to get their little girl to stop crying.

7.
A million cuddles and hugs made it old and dull,
But yet still more radiant than the sun.

-by Grace Van Cleef

 Ha. Two posts in two days. I guess I'm just a superstar now. Here's your picture:


It doesn't have a caption. It is amazing in itself. 

Well, I have to go to sleep now. Standardized testing in the morning. *Groan* Will the madness ever end? Summer is so far away.... Now I've bummed myself out. Goodnight.

Sunday, May 1, 2011

Memoiries

No, the titles not a typo. We're writing MEMOIRS in English class. I left my memoir open on Word, my mom read some, and she said I should put it on here because it was really "good." So I decided What the heck? It'll give you guys something to read while I organize my life to write for something outside of school again. I've already written the memoir, so it requires minimal work, so, why not?

Rollercoaster


            One of the longest moments of my summer was also one of the scariest. And one of the most suspenseful. And one of the most exciting. I had been waiting for this, my first rollercoaster, for an hour in line. But in a way, I had also been waiting for it my entire life. I was well ready. So why was I so terrified?
            We had just recently finished going through the long, hot line with a million people around us, talking, laughing, and some freaking out. Like me. I watched the excited people starting the ride, the screaming people at the peak of the rollercoaster, and the satisfied and/or traumatized people coming off while I was in line. I remembered that you could hear those screams, of everything from pure joy to insane terror, from the parking lot. That night in bed, the sounds of the TV in my parent’s bedroom turned into those screams. The sound of every car that passed outside my window became the rumbles and clicks of a coaster. But that was later. Right then, I was way too caught up in the moment to even think ahead to the next ride.
            When our set of cars came, I walked up to the nearest one and strapped into my seat, the one on the end (this was my first real rollercoaster, I didn’t want to miss anything), with my sister Virginia directly to my left, and my other sister Lucy next to her. At least they were there to give me moral support, unlike the last ride. It was a small thing called Skull Mountain. Just a warm-up coaster, to get ready for the actual thing. It didn’t even go upside down, although I hadn’t been on an upside-down ride yet. The rows only had two seats in each, instead of four. There was a guy already sitting in the first seat, so I could either wait for the next ride or ride with a stranger. Well, I had waited long enough. My sisters were nervous that I’d be terrified, but I loved it. It was an inside coaster, completely dark, so it didn’t even matter who I was with. Although, this was a real rollercoaster. I needed them here, so it was good that there were four seats per row instead of two.
            After we strapped in, the floor beneath us slowly fell away, and I practically wet my pants. My sisters explained this was standard, having a floor so people could get to their seats, taking it away so that the coaster could go. But it still made me nervous. The coaster started with a fast, short drop, and then we started to go up.
            And up. And up some more. Just how long was this ride? We had to walk up steps to get to the start of the ride, so we were already maybe 20 feet up when we started. And we still had a long way ahead of us.
            As we got higher (and higher and higher and higher), there was a great view. I could see the surrounding rollercoasters perfectly. Then I could see the entire park perfectly. Then I could see that, and Hurricane Harbor, and the Safari place too. I started to hyperventilate. My sisters held my hands.
            “Are you sure you’re okay?” asked Virginia with concern.
            “Well, it’s too late now, isn’t it? We can’t exactly turn back!” I started breathing faster and heavier.
            “We’ll be fine! You loved the last coaster!” Lucy yelled. We neared the top. We had been going up for probably over two minutes. I remembered at this exact moment that over 6500 people got injured on rollercoasters every year.
            “I’m freakin’ out now. I’m really really freakin’ out now!” I said. Definitely hyperventilating. We were insanely high now.
            “We’ll be fine!” Virginia practically shouted, just as we were going over the top. I tried to scream like you should on rollercoasters, but I couldn’t because we were going so fast, it took my breath away. 

There, now remember, this is my first time writing a proper memoir, so don't judge. You know how I hate the judging. (if you don't, read this post.)
Here is you're funny picture:
picture copyright of "the Confuzzling Life of Me", another blog, by my friend Sarah, inspired by ME of course, that you guys should definitely check out. 

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Falling for Niagara


 My vacation in pictures: A picture says a thousand words, so I'll post some instead of writing.
Also, most of my writing is related to the picture(s) above it. Keep this in mind, or you may become very confused.
 

Here I am the first day we got to New York. The place we were staying at had lots of cats.  



Here I am in Skaneateles, dipping my feet in the freezing water of Skaneateles Lake. There were lots of ducks. 
And now here, I'll give you what you want: NIAGARA!
This is the view from the observation deck. It was pretty dang foggy. But amazing. Oh, and I also have this fear of heights, so I was pretty nervous. I can't climb ladders, but under 20 feet is okay. I can sit easily on the lower parts of my roof. But higher than that... I'M FREAKIN' OUT, MAN! 

Here? Here, I was hyperventilating. My mom just told me to smile for the camera and not look too petrified. 

Here are some more pictures of the falls. The white and brown stuff is snow mixed with dirt and shaped with wind/water.
It looks a bit like ice cream, doesn't it?



These are from when we went down into the gorge next to the river. The one on the right is the Bridal Falls, a smaller waterfall next to the American Falls, which is on the left. What you see in those pictures is actually only a small bit of the American Falls, the whole thing would be the view from the observation deck. There were also a lot of seagulls around in the gorge. Apparently it was breeding season, and there aren't a lot of predators, so seagulls just mate it up. I saw two that were either fighting or kissing, but I didn't get a picture. They were flapping their wings and clacking their beaks together. It was pretty danged cool.

But really, these don't really show how many seagulls their were there were, like, thousands. Seriously.


 

These are all pictures from the Three Sisters Islands, which go right through Niagara River. They were pretty cool, and small too. All three only took about 25 minutes to walk down and back. Here are more pics:




Thanks for bearing with me through my trip to Niagara.
Spring break is over tomorrow. I go back to school. *SIGH* How depressing.

You guys need your funny picture for the week. Now this is a real life fail, I seen it with my own eyes. The picture taken with my moms camera. Right at my own church. Here you go:


Fail. 
Hilarious.