Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Well Played, Tuesday

Tuesdays are almost as bad as Mondays. Tuesdays are sort of like that day of the week that wishes they were as evil as Mondays, but never quite got there. Like, they try to instill despair into the minds of hopeless teenagers, but they just aren't as good at it as Mondays.

Somehow though, this Tuesday managed to reach the same level of evil as any Monday. I congratulate you Tuesday, on achieving your dreams. However, I would like you to go back to being significantly less awful.

Maybe it's because Friday doubled its level of awesome by being a no school day, so Tuesday felt like it had to step up its game.

Omigod, what am I even talking about.

I really need some sleep.

Or extensive time in a mental hospital.

Or both.

Saturday, October 26, 2013

Klutzy Kryptonite

Not only am I a reclusive nerd with questionable social skills, but I am also a complete and total klutz.

Like, I will actually and literally walk into walls. I'll just be walking around the house, minding my own business, when WHAM wall to the face.

Of course nothing hurts as bad as stubbing my toe. It happens at least once a day, and it's ALWAYS THE SAME TOE.

Always. The. Same. One.

At this point, stubbing my toe hurts worse than a stab wound. Not that I've ever been stabbed, but let me tell you I am 100% sure stubbing my toe is more painful than any petty stab wound.

Okay, 99% sure.

Along with stubbing my toe, paper cuts are also one of those things that just hurts way worse than it should. I mean, they're maybe, what, half a centimeter long? HOW CAN SOMETHING THAT TINY HURT SO MUCH.

Maybe I just have a low pain tolerance, I don't know, but stubbing my toe and paper cuts are basically my kryptonite.

Like, I could be a super hero facing off the evil boss villain, and I would be invincible until the villain brought out a piece of paper and swiped it across my finger. Super hero me would instantly fall to the ground and the villain would win, eventually taking over the world and enslaving its inhabitants thanks to his knowledge of my fatal weakness.

Maybe I shouldn't try being a superhero...

Friday, October 25, 2013

Grey


Well would you look at that! It's Friday again! Which means short story time:

The boy sitting across from me never stops fidgeting. By now I’m so bored that I count the number of times he does each quirk. Hair tugs: 5. Knee taps: 20. Finger cracks: 3. When he moves on to twist his bracelet tightly around his wrist I give up counting and look out the bus window.

The sky outside is the color of slate. The scenery is barren except for a few scraggly half-dead trees and endless road. I still can’t tell where we’re heading. I look down at my own bracelet, identical to the fidgeter’s except for the numbers that read: 1206.

We each have our own identification number bracelet. That and the bright orange jump suits expose us for what we really are. Prisoners.

A tall man in front of me stands up, even though the bus is still moving. The guards at the front and back of the bus clutch their batons, ready to fight.

“Sit down,” says one of the guards. The hand that grips his baton is white at the knuckles.

“Actually, I’d rather not,” says the prisoner. I hear a shuffling sound and see a gun in his hands, pointed at the guard who spoke.

The guards at the back of the bus tense and begin to move slowly towards the man with the gun, not willing to risk the life of an officer.

“Stop the bus,” says one of the guards. He sounds confident, but I can here the tremor in his voice.

They’re terrified of us. Everyone is. I know what they call us.

Murderers.

It stings that the word rings with truth, but they don’t know the whole story. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

“Put the gun down,” the chief officer says through clenched teeth. The prisoner takes a moment to reply.

“You,” he says, “Are going to let everyone on this bus go, or I am going to shoot.”

I can see the movement of the officer’s throat as he swallows. His dilemma is hard. Self-preservation, or the safety of the entire country, maybe even the world?

Self-preservation wins.

“Open the doors,” he says to the bus driver. Inwardly I sigh in relief. We were lucky, getting a bus with such weak willed officers. The ones on the other buses will not be so  lucky.

One by one, we file out of the bus.

I stand under the slate sky and will myself to feel the joy of my newfound freedom.

The joy does not come.

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

JOHAAAAAANAAAAAA

It's gotten to that point in rehearsing for the musical where I can barely think over all the songs swirling around in my head.

I'll be having an innocent thought about how much I like pizza when all of a sudden a song lyric will pop up in my head.

I'll think, "Gee, pizza sure is delicio- SWEENEY PONDERED AND SWEENEY PLANNED! LIKE A PERFECT MACHINE HE PLANNED!"

It's sort of annoying when I'm trying to concentrate on homework and all I can think is "There you'll sample, Mrs. Lovett's meat pies! Savory and sweet pies! As you'll see!"

I'm pretty sure the next time a teacher calls on me in class I'm going to start singing 'Johanna' instead of saying the answer.

"Nina, can you answer question number five?"

"I'LL STEEEEEEEAAAL YOOOOOOOU JOHAAAAAANAAAAA!"

"Nina, are you okay?"

"I'LL STEEEEEEEAAAAL YOOOOOU!"

"Nina, stop standing on the desk."

"DO THEY THINK THAT WALLS CAN HIIIIIIIDE YOOOOOU!"

"Oh God, now she's dancing. Someone call security."

Monday, October 21, 2013

Thank You, Homework God

By some amazing fluke I managed to have no homework today.

The homework god must have looked down on me from his fortress of tortured teenage souls and said, "You know what, Nina could really use a break."

Because I didn't have any homework I was able to do all the really fun stuff I usually never have any time for, like...

Um...

What do people do when they're not doing homework?

Maybe partying?

Yeah, I went out and partied all day and all night because I totally do stuff like that.

All the time.

Totally.

Saturday, October 19, 2013

Bowling for Pizza

Pizza is amazing.

I'm not sure how, but somehow Americans took traditional Italian pizza and created this delicious combination of grease, dough, cheese, and your topping of choice.

Even awful pizza is still amazing (except for maybe cafeteria pizza, I'm pretty sure they're serving us prison food). 

Pizza, man.

Just... Pizza.

On another note, I went bowling for my brother's birthday party, and apparently I am actually competent at bowling, because I scored over 100 points and I'm pretty sure that's considered good, but then again my knowledge of sports is about equal to my knowledge of open heart surgery, which is to say, none. 

Seriously, you don't want me playing any sports just as much as you don't want me preforming open heart surgery.

And now that that analogy was overused, it's probably time for me to catch up on the newest episode of Welcome to Nightvale, so bye!

Friday, October 18, 2013

Us and the Stars

And here we have another installment of Short Story Fridays!:


It was one of those old, tacky vans with the wood paneling on the sides. The light turquoise paint was mostly chipped off and it only had one wheel. Vines crept up the sides, mixing metal with vibrant green nature. Putting it plainly, the car was a wreck.

So of course it was exactly where Jamie would be.

The front door on the right side of the van was missing. Cautiously, I peered inside. She had really out done herself with this one. All of the seats had been removed and red gauzy clothe hung from the ceiling, beads and beanbags scattered all over the stained floor. It felt warm.

Jamie herself was curled in a ball on one of the beanbags, which was piled high with blankets and pillows of all shapes and sizes. “Jamie?” I said softly, stepping into the van. I had to stoop not to hit my head on the low ceiling.

“Go away, Ian,” she sniffed, burrowing deeper into her fortress of blankets.

I walked closer and sat down next to her on the floor. “You have to go back and talk to your mom, Jamie.”

“No.”

“Hey, no pouting,” I said, poking her arm.

“I’m not pouting,” she said, turning her head to face me. Her eyes looked red and watery, and dried tear tracks made two vertical lines down her face.

“Look, just go back and talk to her, she only wants to-“

“Why can’t she just talk to me herself? Why do you always have to come here for her?” Jamie blurted out.

“Because she doesn’t know how to find you,” I said, giving her my best cheeky grin.

Her eyes softened just a little. “I’ll go back and talk to her in a little bit,” she said, “I just need some time.”

“Okay,” I said, resting my head against the side of the beanbag. We sat there like that for a long time, just her and me and our own thoughts, until the sky turned orange and then purple and then black, and then it was just us and the stars. 

Thursday, October 17, 2013

Pep

So, pep rallies.

My school's homecoming game is coming up, so of course there was an accompanying school-wide pep rally.

This basically involves a lot of cheering, or sarcastic cheering, or even ironic cheering depending on what social circles you're in. 

I'm a member of Team Sarcastic Cheering, which means eye rolling and the occasional "Yay. Go team." 

Not that I mind pep rallies. They make classes shorter and I'd much rather be sarcastically clapping  for our mascot, Richie the rocket (who looks suspiciously like a giant yellow crayon), than be in math trying to decipher Sine and Cosine. 

The joys of being a high schooler. 

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Lunatics

So PSATs were today.

The joys of being a high school student, amirite?

Luckily I got to vent out my inner frustration at the ridiculousness of standardized tests by being a lunatic during drama rehearsal.

There's an insane asylum in Sweeney Todd (no spoilers as to how or why it is there!) and basically everyone in the ensemble gets to be a complete and total crazy person.

I mean, I'm a crazy person usually, but I guess I just got to let my true colors shine a little brighter.

True colors meaning twitching and giggling and muttering, but you know, just expressing myself.

It's totally normal for people to talk to themselves on a normal basis, right? RIGHT?

Yes, of course, Nina.

Thank you, Nina, for agreeing with me!

No problem, Nina!

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Chipotle Is My Life

I had Chipotle today!!! This automatically means everything is wonderful and awesome. Like seriously, burritos must have magical healing powers because no matter how bad my day was, Chipotle always makes it better.

Thanks, Chipotle. You're a good friend.

In other news...

I should probably do something with my life so that I have other news to tell.

Yah.

So.

Nice weather we're having.

A little chilly.

Yah.

That's my cue to go back on tumblr.

Bye now.

Monday, October 14, 2013

House of Hades

I'm finally been able to start reading House of Hades, the newest book in the Heroes of Olympus series! It's not nearly as good as the original Percy Jackson, but at this point I'm too emotionally invested in all the characters to care.

You know you're emotionally invested in characters when you read a book and people keep asking if you're okay.

Most of the time I'm TOTALLY NOT OKAY for reasons I won't mention because I'm too good of a person to spoil the book. 

Anyways, my entire life is now devoted to maximizing my time so that every possible free moment is spent reading House of Hades (especially because it's 597 pages!!!).

And on that note, I will now go back to working on finishing it.


Friday, October 11, 2013

Class E


It's short story Friday again! The only day of the week during which Nina reliably posts something!

"Audrey Vega,” the loudspeaker announced. 

I wiped the palms of my hands on the smooth skirt of my dress and stood up. My legs shook slightly and I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. I was more nervous than I’d ever been in my life, but I was also excited. What would the serum manifest as in me? Would I be able to fly? Heal? See through walls? The other teens waiting in line looked like they had the same mixture of emotions as me, but finally it was my turn to receive the serum.

The room I was led to was spacious and bone white, bare except for a small table with three chairs, in which sat the three examiners. They looked vaguely disinterested as the nurse told me to sit in the metal chair facing them. She wiped a alcohol-soaked cotton ball over a bare path of skin on my arm. “You can look away if you want, Sweetie,” the nurse said.

I did. Needles made me nervous. A few seconds later I felt a slight pinch of the needle going into my arm, injecting the serum, and then it was gone. The nurse smiled, whispered “good luck” and then bustled out of the room.

The door closed with an ominous click behind her. “All right,” one of the examiners said, “show us what you can do.” I nodded and squeezed my eyes shut. In school they had taught us how to be calm, find our new source of power, and then draw on it.

I concentrated, feeling the rush of power within me. In my mind I latched onto it, drawing it out and then…

I burst into flames.

The judges startled in their seats. Two of them began frantically writing notes down in my file. I stood, frozen inside the fire. I didn’t feel any heat or pain but the blue of my dress had to begun to shrivel and burn, crumpling into black shreds of clothe.

I concentrated again, trying to turn the fire off. For a panicked moment nothing happened, but then slowly the flames petered out until nothing was left but the charred remains of my dress.

The silence that filled the room made my ears ring.

One of the examiners cleared his throat and then spoke, “It appears you have a class E power. You will be detained shortly.”

“You can’t be serious,” I choked out, a mixture of disbelief and anger stirring within me.

The examiners said nothing.

My mouth opened and closed, no words coming out. They couldn’t do this to me. They couldn’t do this to me. I raced over to the door. Desperately, I tried to open it. It was locked.

Then an idea struck me. I horrible, crazy, impossible idea. They couldn’t do this to me. Because I was stronger than them.

I walked over to one of the pristine white walls and pressed my hand to it. A few moments later I was engulfed in flames again and my hand began to burn through the wall, destroying it.

“Stop that!” another one of the examiners shouted.

I didn’t stop. The hole burning through the wall was almost big enough for me to walk through. Alarms sounded, shrill and screeching. Finally, enough of the wall was burned away for me to leave.

I made my escape.

Sunday, October 6, 2013

Happy Birthday, Lil' Bro!

It's my brother's birthday today! I got him one of those yoga-exercise ball things because even though no one ever actually uses them to exercise, we've both just wanted one since forever.

Aside from exercise, which no one actually uses them for, yoga balls have a variety of practical household uses:
1. Use one as a chair
2. Throw them at your enemies to knock them out
3. Dress one up and have a tea party with it
4. Use them as a substitute for a soccer ball
5. Bounce one on top of some potatoes to mash them
6. Use one to pretend you're a kangaroo and bounce around the house
7. Stage a dramatic soap opera where the pink yoga ball is married to the blue yoga ball whose evil twin the slightly-darker-shade-of-blue yoga ball slept with the pink yoga ball and their child is the yellow yoga ball who was in a coma but has now woken up but has amnesia
8. Name your yoga ball Fido and take it on leisurely walks through the park

Basically, I'm really good at giving helpful gifts.

Saturday, October 5, 2013

Blanket Burritos

So I haven't been able to post as much recently because I HAVE BEEN SO BUSY.

I hate being busy. I go insane without a leisurely hour or so every day to slump in front of a computer or read a book or just do something that isn't REQUIRED.

I mean, it's a lot more relaxing reading a book I picked out than reading something for English that is do tomorrow and I have to fill out some chart or whatever while I'm reading it. 

Also if I'm away from the internet for too long I start getting withdrawal symptoms. Let's just say it's not pretty. And it involves a lot of sobbing. And rolling myself up in a blanket burrito. And muttering quietly about memes.

Basically I look like I should be in an insane asylum.

Well, more than usual anyway. 

Friday, October 4, 2013

The Edge of the World


Wow, another not-creepy short story. That makes a grand total of two not-creepy stories! You should be proud of me. 

Lucy looked down at her feet. Her polished Mary Janes stood on the very edge of the line between solid earth, and nothing but air. The cliff was impossibly high. Its edge descended into a mass of clouds, too thick to see through to the bottom. If there even was a bottom. Dark strands of her hair whipped forward in the wind, like they were pulling her towards the edge. She spread her arms wide and let the wind push against her back. She could almost pretend she was flying.

Footsteps crunched from behind and she turned her head to see Ben walking towards her. He stood next to her, lining up his shoes with hers, against that same line between something and nothing.

“You gonna jump?” he asked, not quite looking at her.

“I might,” Lucy replied.

They stood like that, together on the cliff for what seemed like hours before Ben finally said, “I’d miss you. I mean, at least a little.”

Another eternity of silence passed.

“Come on, let’s go back home,” Ben said, tugging at Lucy’s hand. Taking one last glance at the swirling clouds below, she followed him back to the village.