Day one: Wonderful

Just... 
I don't even...


School.


Today was the first day of school.
And it was awful.


I mean, it certainly wasn't the worst possible day in the world, but it was much, much worse than freshman year. So much worse. 


I have math first thing on A-days. Wonderful. I actually don't mind that, but it's too damn early to think! Anyway, most of the class consisted of people from summer school. I may have talked to one or two people in summer school, but one of them is in another period and the others are waaay on the other side of the room. We have assigned seating, but it'll change, so maybe it'll be okay. Or maybe I'll make friends with the people at my table. Pfft. 
But. 
Since we were going to every class, we were in first period for 20 minutes. I decided to write up some character sketches since we weren't doing much. But then I realized. One of the characters I was about to write up had the same name as the guy beside me. So I had to quit writing out of embarrassment. It's really no big deal, but I hate having characters with names of people I know. 


I knew a couple people in most of my classes-- check that, I knew many people in most of my classes but I dislike almost all of them. It's terrible being antisocial, since I can't even work up the effort to pretend I like talking to them. 


Also. 7th period.
My homeroom teacher from last year is a sophomore english teacher, but for whatever reason, he also has a junior english class, and I was put into that class. Since I'm always put in 7th period english and I had a friend who always had that class that period, it was my only chance at having a class with a friend I could talk to about manga and yaoi and shit.


But.


She was in a different class.
And I do not like the students in my class one bit.
And all the noise from that class gave me an awful headache (which still hasn't gone away, thank you so much, fellow juniors.) 




So, my brother entered high school today, and his only problem seemed to be boredom. My only problems were crushing disappointment, loneliness and an awful headache. 


I hope you have a wonderful high school like, Bro. Enjoy it for the both of us. 














To end on a brighter note, apparently someone from my homeroom caught my brother running around the courtyard this morning, arms outstretched and yelling like a maniac. He does this. And he does worse. Often. 


So, all in all, today was wonderful. 
I hope you all have had a wonderful day, too. 

Dun dun DUNNNNNN

Oh. My. Divine. Entity. Of. Questionable. Existence.


School starts tomorrow.
I am slightly terrified.
But partially because I haven't felt that "Daaaannggg summer is soooo looongggg.... When's school gonna staarrrtttt?" at all this summer. Usually by this time, I'm like, I don't wanna admit it, but I can't wait for school. |:<


Right now, I just want two more weeks. Not two weeks of work my parents told me to do, but two weeks of time wasting and sleeping.


Cuz I've had approximately three days total of doing nothing but wasting time and sleeping. 




Also, I'm pretty sure that crayons/tigers/zombies story ain't coming. Not this summer, anyway. I'm sorry. It'll come eventually. Someday. Someday, that story shall come. 


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I really want to do a short comic about motorcycles. But. I can't draw motorcycles. At all. But I shall try. 


I also realize that maybe I should try writing stories in a realistic setting for once in a while. Stop doing fantasy and try out realistic fiction for a change.












Maybe. 
Someday.

I am a pansy (also, sorry about the lameness)

Since I've gotten my orange belt in Tae-Kwon-Do, I have to now partake in free sparring so I can practice all the techniques on a real person.


This started a couple weeks ago. I struggled into my arm pads and chest protector and stared nervously at the black belt across from me. 


The instructor barked a sharp "Begin!" in Korea, and I realized.


I am a pansy. 


I don't like hitting people. I don't. I don't care if they have protective gear on, or if my wussy kicks wouldn't do any damage if they had them off. I don't like hitting people.


Because I am a pansy. 


I just thought I should get that out there.


____________________




I was (and still am) working on a continuation of that short story from the last post. It takes place four years after the event of that story, and that's pretty much all I will say about it.


But struggling to write part 2 made me realize...
I don't know how a 12-year-old thinks. Or acts. It's been, oh, three and a half years since I was twelve. Do I remember how I was back then? Not really. I was kinda depressed and kinda cynical and kinda nothing like the narrator of the story, so that really doesn't help me.


So I wrote a first draft, and I liked it. I ran it through my mother, and I asked, Would a 12-year-old do that? (Sorry, no spoilers)


She looked at me and said, Would a 12-year-old do that? 


I thought.
And realized... No. A twelve-year-old would not do whatever it was that he did, unless he was a serious case of arrested development. He still seemed to be eight-years-old. 


So, in a fit of self-directed rage, I tried to write a second draft.
 And I realized.
No!
Now he talks like he's 16. 


And so my struggles continue.






Also, school starts on Monday! Whoo hoo! 






















Just... kidding... I didn't....


I didn't mean that.

A Hawk Named Toad

(ALSO: This post looks pretty long, but I was just cheating cuz i wrote a story O: )


Ok, I know I just posted yesterday, but I woke up today at 6 am and ate breakfast for the first time in close to a year.


I just thought that should be noted.
While I was awake at 6am, I wrote a short story. 2 of them. One of them was crap and the other turned out okay. So, I am going to take a gamble and put that second story on this blog and hope no one hates me for it. It's a really stupid story. But I thought of the idea one day when coming out of the shower (which is when many great epiphanies are had) and...


Actually, I just thought it would be cute if in some story or other, there would be a character with a pet hawk and, for whatever reason, that hawk's name was Toad. So I started the story in a way that begs for a continuation and, depending on how the two or three people who read this blog react, I may or may not continue it and put the messy result here. 


So. 
Here's my crap story.
Also, it's about eight-year-olds (more accurately, about the main characters when they were eight.) I had also planned on giving their names but then I forgot about it because I'm a f***ing idiot. But I think it reads fairly well without the names anyway. If (IF) I ever continue it (which, frankly, I probably will, but I probably won't let it see the light of day) then the names will be given.


Also (again), the paragraphing will be a bit weird because most of this is dialogue, so I decided to group together a bunch of lines. Just assume that they always take turns speaking and the person who did the action just before the dialogue is probably speaking first.  
Looking at it again, it really is mostly dialogue... O.o




_____________________________


A Hawk Named Toad

I first met him when I was about eight. In fact, it was my eighth birthday. My family had been planning to throw me a birthday party in the garden but work had prevented either of them from coming. I'd escaped my grandmother's consolatory tea party-- a tradition from when I turned three-- to the hills outside my town.

My entire world was made up of a large town enclosed by huge walls. I never even considered the possibility that there could be anything beyond those walls for many years.

“Have you seen Toad?”

I looked over to the scruffy-looking boy who'd climbed up my hill, a bit angry that he was disturbing my solitude.

“No, there aren't any toads around here. There aren't any ponds, stupid.”

“Huh?” The boy scrambled to me and sat. “No, I don't mean a real toad. I'm talking about my pet hawk.”

“Then ask if I saw a hawk, stupid.”

“But his name is Toad.”

I mulled over this for a moment. It made little sense to me. “So, he's a hawk.”

“Yeah.”

“But his name is Toad.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Even though it's a hawk and not a toad.”

“Yup. You catch on quick.”

“Why?” Even after saying it out loud, it made no sense to me.

“Uh... I dunno. I mean, I found him last week when I was looking for toads,” he amended quickly when he saw my glare.

I stared at the grass at my feet and picked at it.

“That's stupid.”

“You say stupid a lot,” the boy said.

I stared at him.

Just then, there was a high-pitched squawk in the air. A small brown bird of prey circles over us.

“It's a hawk! Run away or it'll take your eye out!”

“Now you're being stupid.” The boy stood up and the hawk landed on his arm. “You wouldn't take anyone's eye out, would you, Toad? Not unless it's a bad guy, right?”

I stayed seated but on my guard. “How can you tell that hawk from the others?”

The boy thought about it for a moment and shrugged. “I just know. Toad is Toad. Other hawks are other hawks.”

The boy took a bug from his pocket and held it to the bird's beak. I shuddered as it snatched it up, still wriggling and alive, in its beak.

“That's gross!”

“Quiet, he's eating. There's a good Toad. You're gonna have to find more food yourself, though. You can't rely on my forever.”

The boy petted the bird's beak and it squawked happily. I stared at them with some envy. I was supposed to be having fun a good time, not this scruffy kid from no where!

“Oh, I gotta go. Uncle's gonna get angry again.” The hawk flew from the boy's arm as he walked down the hill.

“Hey!” I called after him, “Today's my birthday!”

The boy paused and half turned toward me. “Happy birthday! How old are you?”

“I'm eight! When's you're birthday?”

The boy's eyes widened, and dropped to the grass. He scuffed it with a shoe. “I dunno.”

“Do you know how old you are?”

“Not really. Probably around your age.”

“I got it!” I ran down to him and took his hands. “Today's your birthday, too! Happy birthday!”

He smiled. “And how old am I?”

“You're eight years old, too! Congratulations!”

He smiled again and laughed.

“We gotta sing!”

“What?”

“When it's someone's birthday you gotta sing!”

“What're the words?”

“Something like... Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Sing along!”

“Is that it?”

I nodded furiously and dragged him back to the top of the hill.

“Happy birthday, happy birthday! Happy birthday to you!”

We fell to the ground laughing.

“You're an awful singer.”

I laughed again. “Well, we got plenty more birthdays, so I'll get better.”

“Haha, you bet.”

We lay sprawled in the grass like that for hours, a hawk named Toad circling above us in congratulation. 

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I saved this for last because it's not important and I bet you've all left by now.

In elementary school,  I wrote a book of poetry with a friend.

Actually, I wrote all the poems but two. O.o 

I actually wrote a lot of poetry in fifth sixth grade, which is strange because I don't think too much of poetry now. 

Anyway, I was looking over it recently and I just wincing at the awful emo-ness of my eleven-year-old self. 

However.

There are fourteen pages of poetry. The first seven or so, I remembered the bitter self-entitlement behind every word I hit onto that word document so long ago. 

But then.

Come page eight or so...

I didn't remember writing those poems.

At all.

Reading them over once or twice did nothing. I had no recollection of those poems. Not even small phrases. I vaguely wondered if maybe some little elf had hacked into my computer and wrote the things but from the style they were definitely mine.

I just hope that never happens to me again. 

Phew it's been a while...

Just so I can get this out of the way, TODAY IS YAOI DAY!!!!
(DON'T GOOGLE IT YET)
(Because 801 can be read as "yaoi" in Japanese.) 




So.
That zombies/crayons/tigers story is coming. I promise. It's sitting in my list if posts with that orange "draft" hanging on it, laughing at me. 




So... um... I'm not planning on ranting about yaoi today. You guys probably know what it is, and if you don't, I dare you to go google it. However, in accepting that dare, you agree that I hold no responsibility for whatever finding out what yaoi is may cause. 


*ahem*


__________________


Since it's already August, I have, like, 3 weeks of summer left. 
I don't want to go back.
I know junior year's going to be horrible.
A friend told me she wanted to go back because she missed socializing.
I called her crazy and we moved on, but I suppose I do miss having people to pretend to laugh at my lame jokes. 


That reminds me, I still have some history work to do. 
Aw, man. 


I really haven't done anything so far.
Well, my parents forced me to do calculus and chemistry work, but besides that. I've spent a lot of time drawing and very little time writing. 
And I'm kind of sick of waking up at noon every day. 
I have my alarm set to nine, but I always shut the thing off. 
Today, I may or may not have improved. I hit snooze the first time it went off and... turned it off the second time...


Luckily, I'm not waking up at 3 every day. 
Mostly because I'm not staying up until three...
I'd love to, but I can't.
Especially now. 


______________________________


Hm. There was an anecdote I wanted to share with you...
Oh, I remember now. 


When I was in fifth grade, we had a student teacher. Two of them. They were both young woman and I remember nothing about them. Actually, later that year, we got another one. The third one was an amazing person and make the news once, but I don't remember her name. 


Anyway, those two first ones. We asked them how old they were a few times, and they told us to guess.
The most common guess?
16.
It didn't occur to our little 10-year-old minds that, Oh, we can be teachers in our sophomore year! Wait...


That took up way less space than I thought it would, but it still never ceases to amaze me what a small child will believe. 
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My mother just walked in with omelette rice (look it up). 
There are also little sausages cut to look like octopi! I squealed.
So, I will be eating, and here this post comes to an end. 
Let's hope I can squeeze in another post before the summer ends (THE ZOMBIE ONE) because once school starts, I won't have time to do anything D: