Pinball is an excellent form of stress relief.

Particularly if you're envisioning certain heads in place of the ball.

"Send into hyperspace?  Don't mind if I do...."

*Contented Sigh*

{{I'm actually not pissed at anyone, just annoyed at the general idiocy which insisted on presenting itself this afternoon.  Annoyance is better karma than anger.}}

SweetJesusMotherofGod.

There is a CHILD here.  A noisy, BIPOLAR CHILD.

I have already tried to overdose on Aleve once, to no avail.
Now I remember why I leave home during these meetings.

(Explanation: Pony Club meeting, and somebody couldn't get a sitter (I hope).  Pony Club is where hordes of horse people descend upon our house and drive me to the shelter of the upstairs domicile.  These people are scary, as fellow members will attest.  They turn upon their own kind at the slightest provocation, and some are medicated to begin with.)

But I digress.... CHILDREN.  AGH.  POUNDING.  HEADACHE.

So not the June Cleaver sort.... The maternal cooings might be even more offensive to my ears.  "Aww, look!  His first temper tantrum!!"  Me: "You know, we do have duct tape in the garage...."

I just walked downstairs to notify someone of a phone call.
Random Girl: "Do you live here?"
Me: "*Insert Look*  Yes, but not often."

Now really.  Do I live here?  I'm only emerging from random sections of the house to which YOU are not granted access, entirely casual, obviously not part of Pony Club, and asking where Dad is because he has a phone call.  Now, granted, I could be from some parallel dimension and merely temporarily slipped across various spheres of existence, which is entirely likely, but the possibility that I am an agent of Satan here to collect your soul is more probable (then again, she's in middle school, thus probably doesn't have one).  So you tell me.

SweetJesusMotherofGod.

There is a CHILD here.  A noisy, BIPOLAR CHILD.

I have already tried to overdose on Aleve once, to no avail.
Now I remember why I leave home during these meetings.

Oh wait, I already said all that....

I can't even leave, because they have diabolically parked the entire family in on all sides!  IT'S A TRAP!!  AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

*Commences hiding in terror*

Funny how one can forget they wrote something....

Will I let myself be roped in once more?
Will I feel the bonds tighten at my neck?
Will I do things which I’ve sworn before
Would never tread on my mind’s deck?

You don’t know how it’s tempting,
To revert for former ways.
Though it really needs confessing –
I was there for barely days.

I feel my knots are tightening,
Straining at my neck and health.
Then, with a lurch, I slowly find:
I tied these knots myself.

-- May 18, 2006

I have fallen madly in love with a human coffee maker.

And discovered my HALO panic mode -- turn rapidly in many circles and shoot whatever's in the way while desperately throwing grenades, without really looking to aim either.  This is typically only employed when a certain someone decides to stalk me.

"Sniping rifles are not good short-range weapons!"  "I don't know how to switch to a pistol!"  "Use the black button!"  "Which black button?!  There are four!!"

"Ooh, I found a toy!"  "That means she either has a sniping rifle or a rocket launcher...."

"I discovered that I'm better at HALO when I'm drunk."  "Dude, that's just sad."

So the perils of washing hot pink shorts with anything other than hot pink shorts have been duly revealed to me.  I used to have a blue-and-white gingham shirt.  Now I have a pink-and-lavendar shirt.  Undaunted, I am taking the opportunity to maim, maul, and completely reconstruct this vestment.  My weapon of choice?  Bleach.  I'm going for the artsy-deconstructed vibe.  Don't judge me.  And maybe writing various profanities in foreign languages with fabric paint.  "What does that mean?"  "Yield to pedestrians."  "Really?"  "No."  The possibilities are quite literally endless, because the poor shirt is already a shadow of its former self, and not so averse to ruin.  Mwahahahaaaaa!

Things just keep on getting better and better.

And yes, that's largely sarcasm.  But I smile, because oftentimes it's all you can do.

:-)

Swing dance tomorrow night!
Otter Creek Church (formerly Living Word Community Church, formerly Brentwood Baptist), on Franklin Road.
Dance lessons 7:30-8:30, with generic dancing until 11:00
$6

As none of you know, I recently went out to Phoenix, AZ, to help my aunt move here.  Well this evening I made my triumphant return, but along the way, I witnessed several remarkable.... Things.  Now, "things" is not the most evocative word, but given the vast amalgam of phenomena which was presented to me during my drive across the greater part of America, it is certainly the most comprehensive.  I recorded most of them faithfully, and present them here for your digestion and entertainment.  Bear in mind that every single one of these were recorded while driving at upwards of 80 mph, so it is not merely a labour of love, but a risking of life for the enjoyment of others.  (Um, that's other peoples' lives.  Very important.)

Byler's Amish Kitchen

Wildfire Danger High
Use Ashtray

Detention Centre -- Do Not Stop For Hitch-Hikers
(At 6:00 am without coffee, this is not the ideal sign to see.  Actually, it's never the ideal sign.  Hit any pedestrian you see.)

Scenic view vending machines

Golden Cobra Kickboxing

Elk Country --
Be Aware

Chain up area

Black Bart's Saloon and Musical Revue

Lone Tree Drive
(It's in the middle of an (actually forested) national forest)

Dinosaur Park This Exit!

Winslow, Arizona
(No, we did not stand on the corner.  We didn't even get on the exit ramp.)

On a scrolling marquee: "(Gas price).... (Cigarette price).... AND TACOS!!"

Second Mesa, This Exit
(There is no First Mesa.)

(Route 66!!)

Got Petrified Wood?

Aunt Katie: "Well, if I'm reading that tree correctly...."

Win A Big Rig!

Mocassins For The Entire Family!

Knife City!  Wholesale!

(The random collection of plaster dinosaur statues on dunes along the freeway.)

Ostrich Eggs!
Meteorites 50% Off!

(A random school bus perched on top of -- no joke -- a cliff.)

Microsurgical Vasectomy Reversal -- Money Back Guarantee!
(And they said everything was bigger in Texas....)

(A 2-headed lizard statue, also on the side of the freeway.)

(A graveyard.  With a grave on the wrong side of the fence.)

(Big random white "S" painted on the mountainside.)

(The Navajo reservation!)

Ortega's Tacos

Blake's Lotaburger

Gusty Winds May Exist

Want A Natural High?  Grant's Has It!

Ice Cave!  Bastera Volcano!

Caution: Dust Storms May Exist

10,000 Video's
(How possessive of them.)

Notice: Do Not Pick Up Hitch-Hikers In This Area
(Again.)

Zero Visibility Possible
(If it's zero visibility, we can't very well see that, can we?)

Albuquerque -- It's A Trip

Flea Market In Louisiana!
(As advertised in New Mexico....)

Albuquerque Next 17 Exits

Caution: Entering Congested Urban Area

(The cement which forms Albuquerque's freeway lamp posts, guard rails, signs, walls, et cetera.... Is all Pepto-pink.  No lie.)

World Pyro Headquarters!

(What appeared to be a giant eggbeater attachment in the middle of a New Mexico field.)

(Falling rock signs have insanely amusing pictures on them.)

(And seeing an 18-wheeler full of onions is always interesting.)

(More signs warning of the perils of high fire risks.)

Billy The Kid Tombstone Race
(Something tells me it's not very fast.)

Big Rig Truck Service!
(The billboard had a pink-and-white theme.)

Enough Is Enough.
Vote Democratic.

Adult xxxSuperstorexxx
(So, is it.... Straightedge?  Hardcore?  Disillusioned emo?  I ceased to ponder this when I realised that, more importantly and ironically (or not so-), the store was conveniently positioned across from a motel.)

In God We Trust.
United We Stand.
(To Lease, Call 864-7935)

And now for some observations:
~ In Arizona, there are plenty of national forests.  You just have to get 45 minutes into it before you see what would pass for a tree.
~ In New Mexico, there are plenty of weigh stations.  They're just all closed.
~ In Texas, there are plenty of rest stops.  They're just all closed.
~ In Arkansas.... Yeah.  No entry for Arkansas.  The Ozarks are still there, like they have been for the past several centuries, so that's always good.
~ In western Tennesee, there are plenty of adult bookstores.  And they're all open.

Mmmmmmm, Americana.  How it pervades our very pores.

People have a curious attachment to their past.

"We know what we are, but we know not what we may be." -- William Shakespeare.

In other news.... Mum and I went apartment-sniping today.  My favourite locale??  Haha.... Chelsea Place, strangely enough the same complex in which I was conceived (I like irony in life).  Even stranger: Building S-8.  I went on to be born on the 8th of November, and my last name is Sullivan.  Oooooo.  More irony.  How delicious.

Observation, by: Dorothy Parker (favourite poet ever)
If I don't drive around the park,
I'm pretty sure to make my mark.
If I'm in bed each night by ten,
I may get back my looks again.
If I abstain from fun and such,
I'll probably amount to much.
But I shall stay the way I am,
Because I do not give a damn.

Comment, also by: Dorothy Parker
Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song,
A medley of extemporanea;
And love is a thing that can never go wrong,
And I am Marie of Roumania.

Mmmm, cast party.... Again, delicious.

It's over.  (High school, that is.)
I feel no regrets.
In fact, "frantic rejoicing" could be an applicable phrase.

Weekend was freakishly busy.

Events included:

• Seeing a friend of contemporary age get married.


• Almost had my first cigarette (allergies prevented this, but I've had a strange itch to try one lately).


• Had a drunken stalker at faire.


• Had a Viking entourage.


• Eaten authentic Viking entourage honey cake-stuff.


• Had a major snafu on the chessboard during our fight.


• Wordlessly convinced cast and audience that I had just sliced my hand open when I grabbed a "sharp" sword blade.


• As a result, felt really guilty when half the world came and asked about the aforementioned hand.


• Slapped a guy with actual intent (so I had no idea that "dragging across the stubble grain" even existed or was painful, but apparently it is).


• Been slapped back.


• Been paid for the first time in MONTHS.


• Learned that a former neighbour died (sad, but we haven't seen each other in a decade, so....)


• Realised several times that "God yes, it's time to leave home."  And not felt particularly bad/scared about that decision.



Major thanks, by the way, to all the cool kids who have come out to the Renaissance faire so far!  It's awesome seeing you guys in the lanes!!  :)

"Now, bring me that horizon...."

Major thanks, by the way, to all the cool kids who have come out to the Renaissance faire so far!  It's awesome seeing you guys in the lanes!!  :)

"Now, bring me that horizon...."

So I made créme brulèe for a French project.  Everything went fairly well.  No mishaps mixing the eggs and sugar, the hot cream didn't scramble said eggs when I poured it in (one.... tedious.... spoonful.... at.... a.... time....), it cooked, it chilled for six hours (during most of which I finally slept, hahaaa).

I sprinkle the brown sugar on it this morning, then put it in the oven under "broil" to caramelise it.  I go upstairs, comb my wet hair, and start to put volumiser in it -- an operation which took roughly 45 seconds total.

Long story short, I caught the oven on fire.

ON FIRE.

FLAAAAMES were shooting out of the oven, the smoke alarm started screaming, I stand there yelling "WHAT SHOULD I DO?!  WHAT SHOULD I DO?!"  And all Mum can think of to say over the din is, "I HOPE THIS DOESN'T WAKE YOUR SISTER!"  (Wtf?)

In a log home, this is not the best chain of events.

And further proof that I need a hired chef once I move out, or at least a husband who is culinarily inclined.  I am domestically challenged to the extreme.

{{BTW -- the custards, aside from resembling petrified hockey pucks, were unharmed and delightfully edible.}}

Hard-Core Conservatives Fleeing Bush's Side

Actions > Words.
{{And yes, I am happy about that article.}}

Tax refunds > ....Um, no tax refunds??

Yeah.  I can't think of anything else that would sustain that method of communication.

Once more, I find myself living for the weekends.... I heart faire more than probably quite literally anything else.  Even chocolate, go figure.

"Listen.... Do you want to know a secret?
Do you promise not to tell?  Woah wooooaaaaaah,
Closer.... Let me whisper in your ear....
Say the words you long to hear....
I'm in love with yo-ou.
(Woo-oo-ooooooooo-oo.)

I've known the secret for a week or two....
Nobody knows, just we two....

Listen.... Do you want to know a secret?
Do you promise not to tell?"

Part of my horoscope for today:

"Today may very well be one of those days in which other people realize that you're really not as crazy as they might have first thought."

Gee, thanks.

"Life is a triumph."

Technically I'm supposed to be writing papers for science about how a meat-based diet will destroy the world.

Technically.

Let it be known that this, the eighth day of May in the 2006th year of the Common Era, is the date which after 2.5 years have passed exactly, yours truly will be of official legal drinking age.

Disperse, go forth, and bear this good news to the masses.

(And a highly ironic MSN Fact-o-the-Day: Some edible mushrooms are poisonous if alcohol is consumed within five days of eating the mushroom.)

Shameless Plug!!!!
Tennessee Renaissance Festival
Every weekend in May, and Memorial Day.
10am-6pm
On New Castle Road, in Triune.
Jousting, games, food, human combat chess, and various other diversions.
$15

So we had a meeting about graduation today.  Looks like I can't do either chess match at faire that Sunday.  :-(  Curses.  They also told me not to wear heels -- a double blow to my soul!  [Hmmm, like I'll listen to them.]

Ican'twait.
Freemenow.
Eliminateallspacesbetweenwords.

Jazz fest this Friday.... Who's going??

So prom was {a fantastic} experience.  It has been journalled with much wit and commentary in the exceedingly-long paragraphs below.  Feel free to skip, but take a look at the second picture in this entry.  It's a sight.

Pictures in the picture-thingy. Only the related foliage received billing, because otherwise it would all be the same, single word. {I.e. "prom."}

Photographs at my grandparents' were really an elaborate excuse to document the newly-installed deck. No, really, they confessed to this. Then a great to-do was made about some 'blue potato plant' which absolutely must be in a picture with Nemanja and I. What this plant is, do not ask me; I just stood by it. Subsequent attempts in the car to decode the significance of a 'blue potato plant' were unsuccessful, and resulted only in laughter.

 <-- Exhibit A: The famous Blue Potato plant.

The drive to Macaroni Grill was rife with excitement. It began with sitting in a left-turn lane and some guy in a white Blazer taking up half of the lane beside us for unclear purposes. The light turns green. He decides he wants in front of us, and belligerently accelerates almost into the nose of my beloved Accord, R2-D2. Before I could stop it, my right middle finger was displayed for all the world and the Blazer driver to see, while the left hand had cemented itself against the horn. Because those kinds of people irritate me. Waiting to turn right onto the freeway, Blazer Boy raises his hand for me to pull up beside him. He was either going to yell at me or make an excuse; the former was much more likely, and if the latter was true I didn't want to hear it unless the woman with him was giving birth. Access denied – we zip to freedom!! Or… So I thought. Long story short: "Did I just blow by the 840 exit???" "Yes, yes you did." {Insert string of expletives here. And a few moves that I question the legality of.}

But we prevailed. The line at Macaroni Grill was extended out the door and around the sidewalk – very club-like and elitist of them, the snobs. ;-) Fortunately, we were prepared for such an event. "Hi, we have a reservation. Donner, party of four, please." Next time reservations are needed for something, we can all go under the name "Nero," because who doesn't want to share billing with the completely-sane-of-course man who made his horse an advisor? Macaroni Grill is now the Best Restaurant Ever, because they give you paper and crayons. We all practised writing our name upside-down like Elise (our waitress) did, except much slower and less precise.

-- "Is that girl gray?" "Oh my god, she is!" "I hope it's not natural." "I think it is." "Can tanning beds do that?" *Collective shudder* "Let's give her the benefit of the doubt. She could have sniped someone and wiped the camouflage make-up off just before going to dinner."

Fuelling both our desire to be fashionably late and our energy levels, a stop at Starbucks was (of course) mandatory. Jerod Frenzel accused us of stealing his glory by adding to the former non-ratio of prom kids at Starbucks. We mocked him. Not really, but it's the best ending sentence I can concoct right now. Better than being accused of glory-stealing, so there. :-P

Prom. DanceDanceDance. Because really, what else can you do there but walk around and not recognise people? "GAH! Woah, hey, it's you!"

Post-prom involved lots of food and lots of burning things. Well, wood mostly, but marshmallows and plastic cups and orphans were also involved. "Who's pulling into the driveway?" *Gasp, fear* "I don't know! Let's take the marshmallow pitchforks and go check!" {So Reese, Rachel, and Mechelle were greeted by three girls wielding travel-size steel pitchforks. Welcome to the farm.} We discovered the hard way that horse sounds which would be perfectly ordinary by daylight are perfectly abnormal and downright scary around a fire in the middle of a field at 2:00 am. And we also discovered that roosters do not crow at dawn alone. Oh, no, this one got a head start. At every quarter-hour. Reese: "That bird is just asking for it."

*Random noise* "OHMIGOD WHAT IS THAT?!" "It's a donkey."
{That's as far as I'm going with that one.}

Disband at 5:30 am.

Then, after a maximum 1 hour 15 minutes of sleep, it was time to go to faire rehearsals. Faire rehearsals are an interesting event to attend half-drunk from fatigue, especially when you have to rehearse a fight. {Everyone was super-nice to me, though. It was weird. I think they just liked to watch me sway around like Jack Sparrow and run into things.} Pretty sure I fell asleep standing up during notes for the opening gate scene. There is photographic evidence, but only two people have access to it. And I intend for it to stay that way. ;-P

 <-- Our fight director was very intent during rehearsals.

I have "Dancing Queen" stuck in my head.  It's what Andrew/Sven and I process to in the opening gate scene.  Because Abba and Anna are not only palindromes, they're Swedish, too.  It works.

Sarina and I fit two hoopskirts in the front of R2-D2 this afternoon in a downpour.  Then waited by the gate for someone else to come in behind us so we wouldn't have to get back out in the torrential rains to close it.  Really, we saved them the added trip of having to unlatch it again, thereby keeping them a little dryer.  More dry?  Whatever.  This post is too long, and I'm bleary from want of sleep.

Bon soir.

So Caroline [sister] only recently told me about some pernicious aging hag of a woman [my description] who physically accosted her at the 'academic' pep rally.  As in, grab-her-arm-painfully-and-demand-voice-dripping-with-venom-to-know-where-she's-going accosted.  (To which, I'm so proud, Caroline responded to with a sarcasm-laden "Um, back to band."  *Walks off*)

This is completely out of line.  I am so unimaginably pissed off right now you won't even believe it.  It breaches the boundaries of interaction between faculty and students, demonstrates a severe need to assert her feeble power through the physical and verbal intimidation of others [blatant psychosis], and could technically be construed as sexual assault.  Or attempted murder, if she clamped down on one of those arteries.  Whatever works.  [I am so ready to be a prosecuting attorney.  See if I can't turn an innocent glance into all sorts of allegations.  Teehee.]

Suffice to say, Mr. Nolan and I are going to have a little audience with each other come Monday.

Mess with me or mine, you mess with the entire damn mountain.

And I'm the freakin' Himalayas.

It has been concluded that Brian will be my step-dad, and Nemanja will be my adopted brother.

Weep for me, particularly where Brian is concerned.  ;-)

Senior night = rocking out.
-- Weird inflatable obstacle course thing.  "There's TWO ledges?!  *Feral-cat leap*  *War cry*  AIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!"
-- Strange dancing.  But fun.
-- Free food.  Quality irrelevent.
-- HALO 2 in Mr. Hanson's room.  I ran through a massive battle, jumping and spinning in circles and shooting simultaneously, survived, only to fall off the never-ending cliff.  It's almost like respawning three times in a row in front of the same tank, driven by the same person.
-- Not checking in until noon today.

Yesssssssssssssss.

So I went to talk to Mrs. Noblin's 4th grade class at Christiana Elementary about poetry.  Daaaang, those kids got into it.  It was exciting.  We talked for about an hour.  Kids got up to read.  They had me read my stuff, Dorothy Parker, Shakespeare, and Robert Frost.  Good times.  I got two cards, some candy, and a neck rub out of the deal.  The children were really awesome, though, and not just because of the massage.  It was phenomenal to see them get so into poetry and literature.  Makes me feel better about the future generation.

And then I almost hit a prepubescent peacock driving home.

Stupid birds.  I do not gently apply breaks so you can run out before me at the last second and cause me to skid yards avoiding your sorry tail.  I do it so you can run away from the road in fear of the behemoth bearing down upon you.

Skid-skid-skid.

Come to the Renaissance faire, opening May 6th.

Skid-skid-ski.

Time for some overhaul and personal weeding.

We are only temporary.

I've felt frustrated all day long.
Never fear, it will pass, it always does.
Of course, of course.

Sometimes people you see only one month per year or have only known for three years treat you better, with much more consideration, than people you've known twice as long and see much more often.  "Funny ol' world, isn't it?"

I prefer not to discuss any of it, as nothing would be relieved by such explanations and may very well exacerbate my condition.

Suffice to say, the outside world needs to sod off severely.

The National Honour Society induction ceremony was today.

They so told me to be there at 8:15.

So why did I stroll in two scant people before I had to read about the emblem??

A day in the life.... I thought it was funny.  "In my defense, I was late to my own birth by three days, so I could have shown up on Saturday."  Mom wasn't so amused.

And we stole a box of leftover cakes from the teacher's lounge while we skipped second period, offering it as a sacrifice to Mrs. Wolff.

Quite possibly the funniest stint I've ever been involved with during school hours.