Killer Smile



Why Dost It Need A Title?

I’m not even sure if that is gramatically correct.  If not, sorry, I’m lame at trying to speak Shakespearean. 

Anyway, today I’m sitting in bed, waiting for my heel to heal.  I think it got banged up when I fell down stairs about . . . three times in one day.  I got out of school since I can’t walk without limping majorly, and I don’t like limping.  Sucks for me, I guess, since we’re watching Donnie Darko in English, and have a major debate going on in History.  I’ll be covered for the latter, but it was still going to be a fun day.  I mean, come on, we’re supposed to get REPORT CARDS today!  And I really want to know what my teachers said about me BEFORE I get to Parent-Advisor Conferences on Friday.  Blehh.

Hopefully I’ll be well enough to go to Teen Theatre later today, in fact I’ll probably go regardless of whether I’m better or not.  Which means I have to remember to get out of the house by 3 at the very latest, which I’m totally never going to remember.  I  have to get my lines together (and get back into reading Pride and Prejudice, but that’s irrelevant & more on it later).  Auntie Em may have the same line over and over again, but learning your lines and knowing when to say them are two VERY different things.  I’m pretty good when I’m just reading them out of a book, but once I go off book I’m all over the place and can’t remember what I’m saying and forget to act. 

Anyway, back to books.  No, I still haven’t finished Pride and Prejudice, which I do feel very bad about, but a certain author named Ellen Hopkins has distracted me.  First and foremost, this woman is AMAZING.  All my life I have hated poetry with more burning passions than you would ever care to hear me discribe, but her poem-novels are ridiculously incredible.  The first one, Crank, is about a good-girl who gets addicted to methamphetamine (aka crystal meth, aka crank).  It’s really intense, and while the books seem thick (they are about 600 pages each, sometimes more), they’re really quick reads because it’s all very short poems.  The second one, Glass, is the sequal, taking place three months after Crank, is the same girl, but harder drugs (well, same drug, still meth, but meth that’s more pure and intense, etc., aka glass, aka ice, etc.).  Anywhichway . . . both are INSANELY good (I finished the second one yesterday), and neither take very long to read.  READ THEM.  NOW.

Haha funny story about them, actually.  I was sitting reading Glass at a bus stop, and some older woman stood next to me and said “Are those haikus?” and I was like are you CRAZY no!  because these stanzas are like 8 lines long . . . and haikus are only 3.  But instead I just said “No, they’re just . . . normal poems,” hoping to God that she doesn’t realize what they’re about and start questioning me about that and go all teenagers-these-days-suck-they’ll-never-amount-to-anything rant on me.  Then she keeps going.  “Who’s your favorite poet?” and I’m at a loss for words, because like I’ve said, I can’t stand poetry, so I just said “Well I don’t usually read poetry, I kinda picked this up on a whim.” Yes, I used the word whim in an every-day-life situation.  “Oh but you MUST have a favorite poet!” she keeps going on and on about how I have to have a favorite poet, who is it? and I keep going, well I don’t really read poetry, and she’s like Oh my goodness, you’ve never read poetry?! and so I say I’ve read poetry, I just don’t read it that often.  Finally, she asks me for my favorite poet yet again and I just give up and tell her E. E. Cummings, since I’ve read a few of his poems in English class and he seems pretty cool.  Her reaction was priceless: “But he’s a MAN!  Come on, who’s your favoite poet?”  This just drove me crazy.  Men have every right to be poets if they want to be!  And E. E. Cummings may not be a completely legit poet, but that’s not because he’s a man; it’s because his poetry is absolutely insane.  So I gave up and said that I liked Emily Dickenson (one of two female poets I know, the other being Sylvia Plath or however you spell it, and she’s insane and I couldn’t say her because I haven’t read anything she’s written).  After my Dickenson response, she gave a dissappointed “oh” and walked away to bother someone else.  Thank God.

Anyway, I don’t think there’s much else to say regarding my life, except that there are now only nine more days until I turn 16 which is ridiculously exciting.  OH and I had a killer birthday party on Saturday, but it’s such a long story I don’t think I’ll explain it now.  Pretty much we watched Heathers, ate food, and hung out.  It was a surprise party for myself that I planned, and there were a lot of different reactions.  Some thought it was cool, some creative, but a lot of people were just generally pissed about it.  I don’t get why–it’s not my fault that they misread who was going to be “surprised”.  Whatever.

I’m gonna go . . . do stuff now.  Later <3

:D

EDIT: PS: This is my 40th post!  Yay!  I totally forgot until I went back to my dashboard.  How exciting.  Can’t wait for ten more; we’ll have to celebrate fifty :D

EDIT II: PSS: Not only is this my 40th post, but I’ve also just hit 250 tags (too many, I know), and the big one . . . drumroll please . . . 400 views!!!  Wow!  Thanks guys!  Really appreciate it <3  Sorry I didn’t notice earlier!

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