Well, it’s the countdown to the last week of summer for me, and I do not want to go back at all. Period.

But, true as that is, I still have to go. And to make it as painless as possible, I’m prepping for school. Moving furniture around, cleaning, vacuuming, putting together notebooks and whatnot. Bleh.

I don’t have much time for a post, because I need to get back to doing all of these things, but I wanted to state that the name of the college blog I talked about will be “Brainery”, a slang term for “school, college” (or a great institution of learning and edification [sarcasm]). Speaking of schools, again, I’m going up to Willamete University to take a tour and do an interview. Hopefully, I’ll have “Brainery” up and running by then. When I do, I’ll be sure to post the link.

Oh, and if any of you are curious about that techno-ish arabic music I keep mentioning, you should check out http://www.mazika.com/. It’s full of free MP3 downloads for that stuff. “Gnomnony” is a really good track.

That’s all for now, and hopefully I post another journal scan soon. With all this school stuff on my mind, I’ve produced quite a handful of them. Which brings me to another point that I forgot to mention. I plan to get a new fall layout up and running within a couple weeks. It’s quite a bit different than this one, so I’ll let you all be (hopefully) pleasantly surprised. It’s a different piece than my usual work, and I think it’s one of those things where you either love it or hate it. For my pride, I hope it’s the former. Ta ta!

Well, I’m officially stressed out.

I just finished my last day with the college prep class, which turned out to be pretty much a waste of time. The only helpful thing was the SAT math prep. But other than that, ka-put. Why didn’t they just send me a packet for websites? Sheesh.

But on a good note, I ran a search for IR majors + foreign languages and got a Boston Univ. match. I went to their website and was awed. It’s a large school, but it fits all my needs and the campus is gorgeous.

That got me thinking. I’m a girl going through the college process and I know that a lot of other people need help with it all. Shouldn’t I have a blog on all of this, with resources and whatnot?

Well, a new blogging idea was born. Soon, that, and the new and improved Combat Boots blog will debut. I’ll post when that happens.

Maybe since I’m stressed (and PMSing), I shouldn’t be listening to angry music. Hmm. D’espairs Rays, you gotta go. Sorry! It’s back to techno arabic indie for me, I suppose.

Bleh. Arrg. ETS. These are my feelings today. A disgruntled hatred toward SAT testing. The good news is that I’ll score about an 800 on my verbal. The bad news is that I’ll hate every minute of it. And math– I’m shooting for 750. Probably te best I can do. Bleh. Arrg. 

Today’s stinker was waiting in line. For two !@*&@# hours.

But, let me digress chronologically my day.

Okay, so I woke up nice and groggy, on fire with knowledge (sarcasm) for my college prep class. I put on my comfy jeans, my black mock-converse shoes, a black top with a drapped waist and a pyramid stud red belt, with my quilted red coat. Boring info, I know, but I was happy because I looked so gosh darn cute in the mirror. Not bad for someone who would rather be burning under miles of comforter deep in the land of slumber.

So I reached the SOU campus, and went into the art building. I was really early, so I had to wait for the rest of people. They have this faux fireplace with these modern black leather huge chairs in front of it, and in the back an installation piece that looks like something out of “The Village”. The chairs are comfortable, so I curled up in one and journeyed to sleep with sweet and short bliss. All too soon my rest was interrupted, and I went into the room and was lectured on interviews, time management, blah blah blah. Geez, our generation is under soo much pressure to perform. I mean, each and everyone of us in the room was talking about how to manage in sleep, extracurriculars, chores, and maybe just a little fun time? Only 24 hours in a day, kids, said the instructor. We need all of this crap to get into a good college. We’re stuck with lots of “leadership” activities, community service, sports, yada yada. We get no sleep, plus hard academics. Sheesh, we’re mindless ETS robots by now. College –> Degree –> Job –> Money to live on in this world. Life stinks for teens sometimes. We can’t vote but we can drive, hold a job, and be pressured into all of this crap to try and get ahead in the world.

Enough of the rant. It was drizzling today. Ick. But after noon it warmed up quickly. Mom picked me up and took me back to her office. I tried to nap on the floor and failed, and when she got back from her meeting, we went to SMHS to fix my schedule. I didn’t get choir like I was supposed to, I was scheduled for two classes, and I wanted 2 AP classes that I didn’t get. The line was huge. We stood in line for 2 hours– 2 hours so that they could fix their mistakes. Then we got reports that all electives were filled, you could only drop classes, etc, etc. I was like: “not with THIS miss, they’re not gonna do that.” Sorry, but that crap doesn’t fly by me, I would tell them. I was the fourth junior to get my schedule entered, so I know they didn’t run out of students in my classes, so get it fixed the way I want it, NOW, plzthx.

I was so pissed and stressed that when I went through the door I couldn’t keep still at all. My feet and back were aching, but the conselor who changed everything was really sweet and understanding. She explained that all economics classes were cut because of the budget, so I couldn’t have that. Also, AP Euro History was going to conflict with AP Chemistry, so I opted for AP Government instead. Also, because I booted Family Health off, even though it was a requirement (I plan to take it online), I got to take Creative Art, which will give me a balanced schedule and an outlet for all of that frustration that accumlated because of the beauracracy in the school system.

So now my schedule looks like this:

Period: Class

1: Creative Art 1
3: AP Chemistry
5: AP Government
7: Algebra 2 Honors

2: English Honors 3
4: French 2
6: Concert Choir

The reason why there isn’t a fourth class on the second day is because they cut classes down to only six per student. Wait a minute, you say, you have seven! That’s because I’m in an audition choir, and they allow a seventh class for an audition choir. But, still, I have that open spot, and for every student that’s a mandatory “study hall”. Utterly lame.

So to calm down for getting so wound up over the schedule, Mom and I stopped by starbucks and picked up some blended Frappechinos. We went over to Target and got some pink earrings for my DC wear (pink and black is the theme). I also picked up a satin and lace spaghetti strap black top. Most of those kinds of tops have those built in bras that I fall out of (I’m a D), but this one didn’t. When I got home I was disappointed to find that the arms were a little wide, but with a little needlework I can make that go away. I love knowing how to sew.

Back at home I’m cooling down and sipping on iced tea. Sheesh.

I got a new hair color today! YES!

For a while I had this kaleidoscope of hair which my mother had messed up. I went from natural blonde, to black, to a color stripper which made me look like a leopard, to a lighter leopard from bleach… ugh, a big mess. Lesson # 1: don’t let your mother dye your hair. Lesson #2: don’t go black if you’re blonde. Lesson #3: don’t use the home haircoloring! Go to a salon, cheapskate!

But the colorist was fantastic, and I’m making SalonVivid my home base for all hair care needs.

That really made my day. More on the SAT math prep and how I really SHOULD work for Big Brother later.

Music: Holy Light (Hikari no theme), BOA’s Duvet from “Serial Project Lain”, Enigma’s Gravity of Love, Kelly Clarkson’s Breakaway, Britney’s Toxic, Mazika Maryam’s Ghomorny
Mood: Satified
Watching: Nothing
Eating: Salmon with bread crumbs and capers
Wearing: A geisha print red t-shirt, stained jeans with one belt loop torn out, Nike crosstrainer shoes, my Dad’s socks
Thinking: About how much I love music
Reading: The Wedding by Nicholas Sparks

Yes, I usually don’t post the above, but I’ve seen it done, and thought I’d give it a try. Interesting info to read about other people, though I can’t hope the same for my readers.

Today was meaningful. For most of it, it was just my Dad and me. He had coerced me into using our dusty bread machine to make a bread mix. He had bought it for my mother, and she used it for a bit, but then left it to sit and decay. I miss her use of it. She made some wonderful banana nut bread. Now she complains that she never has time for it, but, you don’t need time. Seriously, you take five minutes to collect the ingredients, pour them in, and push “start”. Now, I know that we’re all busy, but that wouldn’t take long at all. So now, I’m putting another mix in it. Dad loved the fresh bread this morning. I popped a piece into the toaster oven, and was talking about the slant in our local (crappy) paper, the Mail Tribune. Seriously, I wish that paper would putter out of business. They have better papers on pencil sharpening. Well, anyway, we were talking and I had this running thought that it was starting to smell like a campfire. Well, lo and behold, our toaster oven had gone up into flames. I made a mad dash for the egstinguisher (a word of which I cannot spell, please forgive me), just in case the flames got out of hand. Water wouldn’t work, so we just unplugged it and let it burn itself out. The whole kitchen was clouded with smoke, and the toaster clearly ruined. As soon as my mom got home, she dumped into our trash can. I was proud of her. She didn’t even complain one bit.

Besides that minor detail, Dad and I cleaned up the kitchen, which was (as usual) an atrocious mess. I was so happy that he helped me, because most of time he just dictates the job to me and goes off to watch sports in a recliner. The mess was so overwhelming that if I had to do it by myself I would have cried.

My mother arrived to a clean kitchen, which, of course, put her in a good mood. We need a fridge desperately, so we went off to Sears. A new fridge will be spectacular. I’m sick of getting a backache from bending down to reach the freezer, and having the drawers stick, and not having enough room. The air leaks– and, well, it’s the Refridgerator from Hell.

After that we headed to Costco, where I got a polish sausage with all the trimmings. I also met up with Linaya, who I haven’t seen in several months. We’re friends, but not particuallarly close, though I wish otherwise. She’s only one in my group of friends who understands my obsession with tough academics and good colleges, besides, perhaps, Aimee Ocean. I got a quilted red coat, which is so comfy and warm, and will help keep me stylish and cozy this fall and winter. After that, I stopped by the book sections, and got sucked into The Wedding by Nicholas Sparks. I had read the first two chapters the week before at Costco, and now I was eager to read some more. Mom came back all too quickly, and I reluctantly set the book down.

“Do you want to get that?” She asked.

I snatched the book up in less than a second. “YES!” You should have seen her smile. That knowning, friendly Mom smile.

As we checked out of Costco, she said: “it’s fun going out with you!” We tried to race the shopping cart, and had fun looking for earrings at Fred Meyer.

That night, as I was reading my new, wonderful book, Dad teasingly scoffed at it. “You’re acting like a girl!” he told me.

I sniffed. “That’s what I am! It took you that long to figure it out?”

“That means you’re not using your mind,” he smirked, and was immediately pouced on with feminist fury.

This is meaningful to me because it happens so infrequently. Happy family times, easy conversation and teasing. It’s so special to have fun with the people you love, and I don’t get to do it a lot. Things are really improving, and it makes me feel so much better about the school year that I have ahead, which will be by far my most challenging.

I almost got killed today.

Five times. Or, really, six. Now that I think about it.

It wasn’t my fault. Well, the sixth time it was partly my fault, but the others I had nothing to do with.

I got up early this morning and went to do my behind-the-wheel hours with my partner and driving instructer. I like them both, and things went well with them– except for the fact that we were almost killed. Several times. The first time we were at an intersection. I was driving, and the instructor told me to make a right turn. I did. Someone honked because we had just turned onto a one-way street into oncoming traffic. Luckily I kept my head and turned into a business ares. It was my first time doing it, and the instructor was really embarassed. But, it was okay. Things worked out.

The second time was when I was on a two-way street, with only one lane for my side of traffic. There was an illegally parked bus, and I drove up behind him, fully visible. I was going forty, the speed limit, as well as the oncoming traffic. Then, without looking, the bus pulled right into my side. I braked– hard– and saved the car and everyone from being shoved into oncoming traffic. My instructor was glad that I had seen that.

The third, fourth, and fifth times are hardly worth mentioning. The six had a lesson attached to it: don’t make lane changes without looking even if your mother is yelling at you to do it.

On a lighter note, I went shopping today. Got some more stuff for this thing in DC, I’ll have to post about it but am not in the mood right now. Basiclly, I need business clothes to wear, and I didn’t want to look frumpy. So I found some more clothing– a cute black vest with pink piping, a black purse with pink piping, a pink blouse to wear under the vest, and a pink and gray flower pin that will look good on top of my black blazer. We also went to Value Village, a thrift store. I found some basic stuff– a black satin blouse, to wear to DC or over jeans, and a black pleated skirt. I also found a Savage Garden CD for $3.99. There was a scratch on the edge, but for the price, I thought: What the heck?

When I was going through the shirts rack, my mother popped up with a ugly blazer. It was a 1 inch square patchwork pattern, on this fabric crossed with felt and flannel. It had huge shoulder pads. She liked it. It was utterly disgusting. Eventually,. I managed to convince her that if she wouldn’t buy it for $ 30, why would she for $3? “Don’t buy things on sale that you wouldn’t buy if they weren’t”, was the rule, I told her. She gave it to me to put back. I skipped all the way up the aisle. My god, it was a monstrosity!

Another journal scan. Are you starting to see a theme? A couple of really crappy anime sketches, in crayon. I’ve always loved crayons. The little poem in the side reads: “It’s not me, it’s a different kind of influence. Driven to despair, I’ve found my way. Others fly at a different altitude. I’m not them, so cut me some slack.” A free poem, nothing special, but it sums up how I was feeling at the moment. In the top left corner, there is a sketch on my pink mock-converse shoe. I love those shoes, I wear them with everything. My new friend Michelle and I have a deep love for high-tops, as well. 

To make a long story short, I have my modem back, and it’s better than ever. Unfortunately, my life isn’t.

Yesterday had all the makings of a good day. I woke up relaxed and ready to take on the world. I checked my e-mail and got a really nice message, I had a good breakfast, everything. I got to Driver’s Ed and things were a little less boring and one of my new friends there gave me a pair of scrunchies, which made me feel so loved.

But family has a way of ruining all that. My brother looked up porn again, which meant that he had the computer taken away– from me as well. Which was frustrating because I didn’t do anything and that he continues to look up this crap. Luckily I got the computer back today. Then, my parents have a fight. A huge fight. The throwing things, cursing, screaming, door slamming, hitting kind of fight. And I was just sitting there going: “not again. Oh, please God, not again.”

I’ve had too many years of that to have it start all over again. So my good day was ruined, and as I went to bed I couldn’t help but break down into frustrated tears. Can’t I have a day to myself, where I enjoy simple things, without other people squashing that? Why is it that everytime I’m remotely happy, they seem to sense it and decided to throw something nasty on my radar?

I didn’t want to cry. But I did anyway, just out of pure frustration. I remembered saying to my mom: “most of my childhood has been spent having poeple angry at me, or being angry at them. Now that things are getting better, I’m going off to college!” But now, it seems that things maybe won’t get better. And I feel like an insipid fool to ever think that they would. To ever think that a person would change!

A lost childhood. I remembered then a song that I had written: “I want to cry for lost innocence, purity and joy. Like a meteor from heaven, gone before it’s time. For fallen doves, and years gone wrong…” Then, following this train of thought, after I had shed some tears on that, I thought about what inspired me to write that song– a chorale piece called “The Prayer of the Children”, which everytime I hear it, it breaks my heart. The composer, an American, Kurt Bestor, went to Yugoslavia as a missionary. War broke out between the conflicting ethnicities. One day, he came back to his apartment only to find that the orphanage by his building had been bombed. So he wrote this song:

Can you hear the prayer of the children, On bended knee in the shadow of an unknown room?Empty eyes with no more tears to cry, Turning heavenward for the light.

Crying Jesus, help me to see the morning light - of one more day!But if I should die before I wake, I pray my soul to take.

When you feel the hearts of the children, Aching for home - for something of their very own.Reaching hands with nothing to hold onto, But hope for a better day - a better day.

Crying Jesus, help me to feel the love again - in my own land. But, if unknown roads lead away from home, give me loving arms - free from harm.

Can you hear the voice of the children, Softly pleading for silence in a shattered world? Angry guns preach a gospel full of hate - Blood of the innocent, is on their hands.

Crying Jesus, help me to feel the sun again - upon my face. For when darkness clears, I know you are near, bringing peace again

Hearing it is even more dramatic. Here’s a link to an mp3:

Prayer of the Children

This depressed me more. I started crying uncontrollably. I mean, what kind of person who bomb children?! Is that some kind of war? No one gains anything by that! Nothing! Nothing but pain, heartache, injustice! And these children– a short life already full of pain. Orphans! Wishing for love and acceptance, and hoping perhaps to find it– to be killed– for nothing.

I just couldn’t reconcile myself with that concept. I recalled yet another song: “The Lord will restore the years that the locust has eaten!”

And I just cried. And cried.

Nothing could have enlightened me more that last thought. A few minutes later I went to sleep.

Short post, gotta book it. My cable modem is down so I thought I’d post to let everyone know that I’m not dead, but that I’m not able to upload or do anything. Pity really, I’m actually getting some visitors.

Things are okay, except for the fact that just about everything is going wrong. Our sprinklers broke, as well as the aforementioned modem, the drawers on the fridge (again), the ice maker, the Mercedes (our 79′ Mercedes), our computer inside the console on the new Toyota truck, the upholstery, and our new remote.

Gee, isn’t life great? It has everything break the same day.

To counter my sarcasm whenever this subject arises, I usually just tell myself: “these days are to keep you humble”. Well, maybe they are meant for that, BUT! I’m still not humble. So the higher power who is ordaining my misery can cut it out, it’s not working.

I’m on the library computer, and my time is almost up, for I need to go to Driver’s Ed. Joy of man’s desiring. I like the teacher, but three straight hours of listening to a rehash of the IPDE process (Identify Predict Decide Execute) is neither the most entertaining nor fun thing imaginable. In fact, it’s one of the most boring.

Cheers.