Poem...time...

© 2010

Lovely, Lazy, Hot, and Not part 27

Thomas

Thursday, as it turns out, is my favorite day of the week. Nobody understand this.

Thursday? Why Thursday? What about Friday and Saturday, or even Sunday? Well, Saturdays

in this part of the country are more boring than Mondays in other parts of the country. Friday

is a school day. What's so great about Friday? Except that it's the day before Saturday, which,

as I mentioned, isn't a good thing in this area. And Sundays. Well. Sunday is the day before

Monday. Sunday is the end of the weekend, even if the rest of the weekend isn't that great. So,

the conclusion of this is that Thursdays are my favorite day of the week. On Thursdays, my

English teacher puts on one of her many movies from her Romance collection: Titanic, Pride

and Prejudice, Phantom of the Opera, etc. I'm not exactly a big fan of those particular movies

or any of her romance movies, but it beats doing work. My French teacher, a shriveled up little

old woman who knows less French than me, celebrates "Free Doughnut Thursdays" and

literally brings in enough doughnuts for her entire class every Thursday. So that's nice.

I sit down alone at lunch and look out straight ahead of me as I eat, observing all the

different groups- the Spirit Horses, sitting together on two benches because they're just too

too cool for tables, the actual popular people, split up between the quad, where they stand

scattered around talking loudly and throwing things, and the tables closest to the quad, sitting

on the tables and also talking loudly and throwing things. Then I look over at the other tables-

the weird nerd kids who literally seem to have some kind of inner force that lures them

together, the loner kids whose only friends are each other, a few strays sitting alone or with one

or two other people, and then all the other grades- the seniors break up into cliques also, but

all of their groups, no matter how unpopular, stay closest to the cafeteria-the area that might as

well have big letters painted across it reading "SENIORS ONLY". The sophomores and freshies

break up into cliques too, but they just kind of scatter everywhere and mix in with the other

grades, so they seem like they're less stick-to-the-clique based. They're not. Then I look over at

the table closest to the classrooms and farthest from everything, where only the true loners sit,

and spot Venice sitting at her usual table. Only now, someone is sitting with her. Russel. I raise

an eyebrow, surprised by this. Venice usually sits by herself on purpose, not attempting to talk

to other people, simply sitting down and pulling out a book, homework, or her sketchpad, and

keeping to herself. But now she's sitting across from Russel, laughing and throwing lettuce

leaves at him from her salad. He's laughing too, and as he turns to escape the blow of the

lettuce, I catch his eyes and he smiles and winks at me before turning back to face Venice.

What's that about?

"Hey, Thomas. Saw you gettin' jealous at lunch," Russel says as he walks up behind me in

our next class. He smirks and I raise en eyebrow. "Huh?" He laughs, "Oh, come on, don't try to

hide it. I know you were trying to check Venice out and were interrupted by my intruding." He

chuckles, "Sorry for the interference." I gape at him, "I wasn't checking her out! I was just

looking at all the different tables..." He raises an eyebrow at me at me and grins mischeviously.

"I was people-watching," I insist. He sits back in his seat and crosses his arms over his head,

"People-watching. Right. At the place that you go everyday, full of people you've seen everyday

since kindergarden."

"That's not true!" I protest, "There's a lot of people I met much more recently than that! And I

don't know any of the freshman." He waves this off, "Ah, fresh-meat don't count. Who would

want to observe them?"

"Whatever. Think what you like."

"'K." I glare at him and he laughs and looks up at the front of the classroom.

© 2010

:P

Well, no, I don't think this is going to become a regular thing...

Well, I missed 11:11 tonight. Bummer. Now I have to wait another twenty-three hours and... currently, 44 minutes, until I can make a wish again.

Or, at least, an 11: 11 wish.

Not much happened today... well, I mean, actually, a lot of stuff happened today, but not much that would interest non-existent people. (They're the hardest kind to impress.) What happens if you miss New Year's? Do you just not make a resolution?

Person #1: Hey, what was your new year's resolution?

Person #2: Oh, I didn't make one.

Person #1: What? Don't you want to help improve the planet by improving yourself?

Person #2: Well, yea, I'd love to, but I missed New Year's.

Person #1: Oh. Ok then.

Hm...that would be a great excuse for not doing things. "Hey, I thought you were going to set a goal to go to the gym more this year!"

"Oh, I was, but I missed New Year's."

"Oh. Right. Cool." Yea, I'm definitely gonna save that one.

Now it's time to move onto a new subject: teenagers.

Teenage girls all say that boys are impossible to figure out.

Teenage boys all say that girls are impossible to figure out.

Ok, well, here's something to ponder: THEY'RE GOING THROUGH PUBERTY. OF COURSE THEY'RE IMPOSSIBLE TO FIGURE OUT. You ever tried to get a girl to make photocopies when she's being hormonal? It ain't a pretty sight.

Of course, I wouldn't know. I've never done it. I'm just saying, it probably wouldn't be a pretty sight.

So, I re-read Pride and Prejudice recently, and now I'm reading Sense and Sensibility. As I read, I'm paying close attention to the language used so that I can use similar language in Visitors and Owners, my story that takes place in a time close to the life of Jane Austen. (Jane Austen is my hero, by the way.) If you've ever read Jane Austen, or anything else from that time period, you've probably noticed that the word "an" is used incorrectly a lot, (well, I mean, it was probably correct at the time, but it's incorrect now.) I payed close attention to this and noticed that most of the incorrectly-placed "ans" (...) are before words that start with the letter "h". So, here's my theory: Jane Austen was English. As in England, for those of you who are stupid. English people usually don't say the "h" in a word when they're talking. So they say something such as, "I hate hugs they make me too hot when I wear hats." Except they say, "I 'ate 'ugs they make me too 'ot when I wear 'ats." (They also say 'mum', but that's beside the point.) So anyway, the rule for the word "an" is that you put it before words with a vowel sound. For example, you have to use the word "an" before the word "hour", but not before the word "opossum", because though the word hour starts with a consonant, the pronunciation does not, and though the word opossum starts with a vowel, the pronunciation does not. So my theory is this: "an" was used before words that have vowel sounds to British people. I'm probably totally completely wrong and there's most likely a much more sophisticated and obvious reason why "ans" were placed so strangely, but I like my theory anyway, so I'm just gonna go ahead and keep thinking it. (Actually, maybe it's Australian people who don't pronunciate "h's"... whatever. Wait, why does pronunciate have a little red line underneath it while I'm typing it? Isn't that the write spelling? ...The computer says no guesses found. How is that possible? Wait, is pronunciate a word? Oh my gosh, I guess it's not. Wow. Everything I know is a lie.)

You learn something new every day...I did, but it was in school and had absolutely not relevancy to what I was just talking about. I learned quite a few things, actually... like click save every 15 milliseconds whenever you're doing anything on the computer, ever.

Song recommendation of the day (not that I'll do one of these every day): If My Heart Was a House by Owl City

But Sienna, you already recommended an Owl City song! Why yes, non-existent person, I did. And I could recommend MANY more, but since I know that if you actually payed attention to my last recommendation and listened to the song, you would be long addicted to the one-man-band of my future husband Adam Young, (he's even a strong Christian!) I find it pointless to tell you to listen to any more of their songs, because by now you'll have heard and memorized the majority of the lyrics to pretty much all of his songs. (Wow, THAT was a long and confusing sentence.) So, I guess I have to make another recommendation, since you already know that one... Furr by Blitzen Trapper. This song is pure brilliance, and this is coming from a person who hates all country music excepting Taylor Swift and a couple Carrie Underwood songs. If you've read the book Shiver, (which, if you haven't, you should... hey, book recommendation!) then you will truly be able to experience how amazing this song is and how much it just totally coincidentally relates to the book. Like, majorly.

Like. Like totally. Like. Like. Like.

Teenagers scare me. And I am one.

© 2010

Lovely, Lazy, Hot, and Not part 26

Russel

I close the driver's door of Jameson's truck and walk up to Joe's with my hands in my pockets, looking down at the ground. It's dark and my parents went out, leaving Jameson I home alone. Amber and Stacy went to their friend's house, as did Kenny, and mom insisted on taking Lellin with her to the movies. That should be an interesting experience for them. I look up as I walk closer to the curb and notice Venice sitting on the bench, with her lap top open on her legs as she leans forward, staring intently at the screen with her eyes narrowed. She sighs and looks up, and notices me standing there. "Russel!" she exclaims, clearly surprised. "Hey," I reply with a small smile, "What are you doing here?" She sighs and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, glancing back at her computer screen, as she says, "There's no internet connection at my house. I usually get it in my yard, but occasionally I have to come over here." I laugh, "Bummer! Desperately needed to check your facebook, huh?" She smiles, "No, actually, I emailed a research paper to myself from the library." She sits back, crossing her arms over her chest and looking over at me, "But I sent it a while ago, so now I have to search through a million emails before I can find it. Then I have to edit it, and then go home and print it out, so I can turn it in tomorrow." I raise an eyebrow, "Wow. And you left this all for tonight?" She shrugs, "What can I say, I'm the queen of procrastination." I chuckle, "I'm gonna go get a Coke, you want one?" She looks back up at me from her screen and smiles slightly, "Sure. Thanks."

"No problem." I push Joe's door open and step into the tiny convenience store. The blasting air conditioning sends a chill down my spine as I walk back toward the cooler and pull the door open, pulling out two Cokes." I walk over to the candy aisle and grab a super-size bag of Swedish Fish, which of course Joe has even though he doesn't have shampoo and conditioner. I chuckle to myself and go up to the counter where a sleepy red head rings me up, then step out of the store and hand one of the Cokes to Venice, who gratefully takes it and flashes me a smile before quickly opening the bottle and taking a long chug. "Thirsty?"

"Jeez, you have no idea," she says as takes the bottle away from her lips. She pouts, and her lips pucker perfectly, sparkling from the liquid she just chugged. Jeez, she's gorgeous. "Why didn't you buy some soda yourself?" I ask, forcing myself to look up at her eyes, which really isn't that hard seeing at they're gorgeous too, darkened by the night sky so that they look like a lake under the night sky, a sparkling dark blue-green. I can almost imagine a boat sitting on that lake, with a man waiting on it for the morning to come once again. "I forgot my wallet at home," she sighs, brushing her hair out of her face with one hand and running the thumb of her other hand around the circular top of her coke bottle. She puts the bottle down next to her on the bench and looks back at her lap top screen, and I sit next to her and watch the distant trees sway with the evening breeze. Venice shivers slightly and pulls her baggy sweater tighter around her, and I look down at my bare arms, noting that I don't feel cold at all. I smile, happy for the extra heat of muscles. I look at Venice's slim figure and can't even imagine how fast she must get freezing. She has no fat or muscle to protect her. "I would offer you my jacket, but I don't actually have one," I say, taking a sip of my coke, leaning forward on the bench and looking back at her. She glances at me for only a second and then looks back at her screen, typing madly, as she replies, "No, it's Ok, I have a sweater." Another breeze comes and she shivers again, and I chuckle, "Yea, a lot of good that's doing you." She sticks her tongue out at me without looking away from her essay, and I laugh, leaning back again and taking another sip of my coke before stretching my arms out behind me on the bench. She straightens slightly and I smile. She continues to type and we sit there in silence for a few minutes before she finally says, "Ha! I finished it!"

"I hadn't even realized you found it."

"Oh, yea, I remembered that I starred it so I wouldn't have to look for it so long, so I went to my starred emails, found it, and edited it." She closes her lap top and smiles at me, taking another sip of her coke. "Well," I say, standing up and dropping my empty cooke bottle into a nearby trash can, "since we're both here, and free," I pause for a second, and she narrows her eyes at me, but I can tell she's trying not to smile, "How'd you like to go for a drive?" She stands up, "Sure. Why not? Not like there's much more to do in this town." I role my eyes, "You can say that again."

"Not li-"

"Don't say it!" I yell, and she laughs before following me to Jameson's car.

"Other than Good Charlotte?" Venice asks.

"Yea."

"Owl City."

"Really?"

"Oh, yea. Definitely."

"Huh. Who would have thought?"

"My family."

"Wha?"

"They live with me. I listen to music loud."

"Ohhh. Right. That makes sense." I laugh and run my hand through my hair as Venice and I sit in the back of Jameson's truck with my super-size bag of Swedish Fish, looking at the stars and quizzing each other on favorites. "What's your favorite band? Other than Good Charlotte." Venice asks me. I ponder this for a moment, "The Beatles."

"I don't think that counts. We were talking current bands."

"Oh. Ok... The Black Eyed Peas."

"That's weird."

"What? You don't like them?"

"No, I do, I just didn't think you would."

"I do."

"Um, yea, thanks, I got that." I laugh and rip the candy bag open farther so I can reach in and grab a big handful of the fish. "Wow. You just swallow those things whole," Venice says, watching me eat the entire handful in a matter of seconds. I laugh, "Maybe, but your extremely slow dissection of every single fish kind of evens us out." She laughs and agrees, biting off a corner of a tail of a fish. "Ok. Favorite...movie."

"Hm. That's a toughie."

"Phantom of the Opera, for me. No doubt. Ooh! And Pride and Prejudice."

"Of course. Why am I not surprised?"

"Well, what's yours?"

"I don't know. I don't really have one, I guess."

"Ok, then. What about TV show?"

"I like Lost."

"Yea, but who doesn't? Something more original."

"Um...ok..." I think for a minute but can't seem to come up with anything. "You know what, forget you. New subject. Favorite song," Venice finally says.

"Furr."

"Fur?" Venice asks. I widen my eyes at her, "What?! YOU'VE NEVER HEARD FURR?!" She blinks, "Um. No?" I jump up out of the back of the truck and run to the driver's side door, throwing it open. Venice turns and watches as I hook up my iPod to the car and turn the radio on. I scan through my music until I find the song and then turn the radio up full volume. I get out of the seat, close the door, and jump over the side of the truck, back into the trunk, sitting down next to Venice again. She crosses her arms over her chest and I watch as she nibbles on a fish, listening intently to the music with her eyes narrowed. About a a minute into the song, she says, "You know, this is weird music for a guy who's favorite band is Good Charlotte to listen to."

"Shhh!" I hush her, "This is the best part!" I pretend to play a guitar as I put on a passionate performing expression and sing along, "You can wear you fur, like a river on fire, but you better be sure, if you're making God a liar, I'm a rattle snake babe, I'm like fuel on fire, so if you're gonna get made, don't be afraid of what you've learned..." I pretend to play the guitar again and sing along with the next verse, and Venice just smiles at me, as I slip into the words, "So I took her by the arm, we settled down upon a farm, and raised our children up as gently as you please." She joins in with me as the chorus comes around again, messing up the words and pressing her hand to her chest for dramatic effect. We both laugh as the song ends and my iPod plays another song, but we pay no attention to it. "Wow. That's a cool song, actually, but really surprising as your favorite song. Were you saying other than a Good Charlotte song, or does the beat them?" I smile, "I love Good Charlotte, but that song is the bomb."

"The bomb diggety." I laugh and Venice says, "It reminds me a lot of a book I read, actually...what was it called..."

"Shiver?"

"Yea! That's it."

"Yea, that's what my sister said, too, when I showed it to her." Venice laughs and lays down on her back, looking up at the sky, and I lay down next to her and grab more Swedish Fish, smiling widely.

© 2010

Aw, College Students

Yes, another post about my actual life. Shut up. Stop it. Be quiet. Why are you so mean?

Well, thank you so much for screaming next door and making me think someone was murdered or something. Also, thank you for having a crazy party and leaving shards of beer bottles scattered all over the road in the morning. You don't know how much I appreciate that.

Wait, you thought I was being sarcastic?

Sadly, no. I am one of those people who is really easily entertained. You know those people who walk up to you with their friend and they're like, "Watch this, she laughs at anything," and then they turn to their friend and they're like, "Muffin," and their friend starts cracking up hysterically. ... Those people really annoy me. I'm not like that. I'm not going to laugh if you walk up to me and say muffin. (Well, I might, but that's just because I have a lot of inside jokes involving muffins and I occasionally laugh when I'm confused, which I would be if a random stranger came up to me and said muffin. Not that you're a random stranger. You probably aren't. Hi, mom! No, actually... my mom doesn't read this. ...Hi, dad! If you read this...

-sigh- I have no one to say hi to.

How terribly sad my life is.

Wait, what were we talking about again? ...OH! Right. College students. So anyway, I actually do appreciate their loud parties and shards of glass, because, frankly, it's really interesting to observe. I'm a writer, in case you haven't noticed, (if you haven't, I pity your teachers,) and I'm pretty sure writers see the world in a different perspective... one where things that annoy most people are fascinating and things that some people find fascinating are annoying. Ok, well, maybe that's just me. OH! Speaking of the word Ok, I found out today that it's a verb, a noun, an adjective, and exclamation, and an adverb. AND the abbreviation for Oklahoma.

You learn something new every day.

So anyway... no, actually, I'm not going to talk about the college partiers anymore. They don't really party that much. (The world hates me. Ok, no, that's false. My life is fabulous. BUT STILL.) ... so, I was freezing today, and I was wearing a strapless dress, (wow, SMART, Sienna, where a strapless dress on a day that's clearly going to be freezing,) and I forgot a jacket, (-_-), so I was walking around school with a towel wrapped around my shoulders, (I had the towel for a good reason, trust me, although I didn't actually end up using it,) and since I happened to be wearing a strapless dress, it looked like I was naked. Oh, yea, go ahead, laugh at me. Thanks. You're so nice. -sigh- So, the guys who never ever look over at my friends at I in our lunch spot, (cliques,) were all looking over at us wide-eyed and pointing, all shocked and staring and everything, so I sigh and yell, "I'M WEARING CLOTHES!" Clearly, though, not everyone heard me, because they continued to stare at me through lunch.

Note to self: No strapless dresses on freezing days. Or, if you do, don't wear a towel to stay warm. Just sit in the office. Idiot. O.o

Song recommendation of the day (not that I'll do one of these every day): Stuck In the Moment by Justin Bieber

... did you just recommend a Justin Bieber song, Sienna? Really? Why yes, person who doesn't read this, I did. Oh gosh, don't be so judgmental. It's a good song. Just listen to it. -sigh-

Back to watching the ducks fly over my head... tents are so pointy underneath the afternoon sunset...

Does Megan Fox realize she is a gilded butterfly? I'm just saying.

© 2010

Broken Glass, Broken Hearts part 53

For Ariana: I still love you. Don't forget that.

Robert really wasn't a bad guy. He was nice, good-humored, smart, and he clearly loved my sister. But he was just so freaking clueless! It was like he knew nothing about our family. Not to mention, nothing about teenage girls. At all. Whatsoever. "So, Vinny, do you have a boyfriend?" He asked her as we sat around the table. I looked up at my older sister, my eyes wide and my cheeks red, but she just kind of looked down at her plate and smiled. Vinny, on the other hand, was staring at Rob with wide eyes and an open mouth. "Um...no."

"Oh. Well, do you like someone?" Really, dude? Really? She blushed, "Um."

"Do you like the Dodgers?" I asked Rob quickly. Vinny let out a small sigh of relief. Rob looked at me, seeming surprised that I interrupted my sister. Freaking idiot. "Well, sort of, but I'm more of an Angels person." Strike one. "Oh, really?"

"Yea. But I like the Yankees better than both combined," he said with a laugh. I rose an eyebrow. Strike two. "Oh, really?"

"Oh, yea, they're the best. Plus, I love New York." Strike three. "Oh," I said, smiling slightly at my older sister who was now, finally, after half a meal of idiocy from her fiance, blushing as red as a beet. See, this family isn't really into sports. We don't even watch any of the games. But the Dodgers are our team, and if you disagree, well, you get two words:

Good. Bye.

Vinny laughed and I just smiled widely, shaking my head, as Jane put her head in her hands and shook it, groaning. "What?" Rob asked, clearly confused, "I'm sorry, did I miss something?" Jane leaned over and whispered, "Honey, please, you've dug yourself into a deep enough hole." Rob smiled, "Oh, I see. You guys are loyal Dodgers fans. I totally get that. No, they're totally cool too, don't get me wrong, I just prefer the Yankees." Vinny, Mom and I burst out laughing and Jane groaned loudly as she pushed her chair away from the table and walked into the kitchen, carrying her plate of barely touched food to the sink. Vinny and I were still cracking up as Jane pulled Rob away from the table to give him "The Talk", which, in our family, may as well be called "Don't Say You Like The Yankees Unless You Want To Die Soon".

"Tammy?"

"Yes? Hello? Who is this?" I paused, realizing how long it had been since I had heard this familiar voice. "It's Angela."

"Angela...?" I waited. "OH! Angela! Hi! What are you doing calling me?" I was slightly hurt and felt incredibly bad for this question. "Um, I...I just wanted to...talk, I guess." Tammy was silent for a moment. "Oh," she said, clearly surprised, "Ok. What about?"

"Um. How's...how's Canada?"

"Eh. Canadian. Ay." I laughed, "Yea, I suspected as much."

"Yea. Hey, so, what happened with that guy Tyler? Are you guys going out?" I fell silent for a moment, and played with a string coming out of my jeans, hoping I wouldn't unravel them more. "Nope," I said, and Tammy didn't say anything in reply. I sighed before saying, "He moved." I could almost hear Tammy nod, "Oh. Sorry about that." I played with the string for another moment until she added, "Yea, that's kind of a relationship-killer, huh?" I blinked, "Oh." Oh? Oh? Wow. That's just great. Tammy sighed, "Listen, Ang, I gotta go, I have like a butt load of homework. I'll talk to you later, Ok?"

"Yea, of course. Ok. Bye."

"Bye, Angela." Tammy hung up and I put down the phone, looking over at my bedside table where two picture frames still sat: One of Dustin and I, and one of Dustin, Tammy, and I. The second frame had the words "best friends forever" engraved into it. Well. That changed, now didn't it?

...Did it?

© 2010

A blog post that actually talks about my life?! What is this madness?!?

Yes, it's true.

I'm actually making a blog post that is similar to the rest of the blog posts in the world. "But Sienna, what caused this change?!" I don't know, person that doesn't read this, (hello, by the way, to all the non-existent locals of this website,) I just feel like it today.

So, I was talking to my friend the other day, and I was about to say "Come to me, duck gods!" (Don't ask...) but I accidently said, "Come to me, character gods!" CHARACTER?! How did I accidently say character instead of duck? ...the world may never know.

So, here's a couple of my pet peevs for you to lie awake tonight pondering, (because you know you will):

1. Open doors

2. When people call me Sianna (I've actually gotten used to it, but I wish people would call me my real name.)

The fact is, it drives me crazy to be sitting in a room where there's a door open. But, I mean, once you're sitting, you don't wanna get up again just to close a flippin door. So it just sits there, open, mocking you. Grrr. About my name, when I tell people "Call me Sienna." They're like, "I do...?" And I'm like, "No, you call me Sianna."And they're like, "I don't hear a difference." -_- Of course you don't. No one does. Except me, 'cause I have to listen to it 24/7. Ok, it doesn't really bug me that much. But I just really think my real name is much prettier than Sianna, which sounds like one of those names that some person says in a really nasally voice before calling you a hillbilly and throwing a bologna sandwich at you. (I don't speak from experience. Thank goodness.) Hmmm...I just spelled bologna wrong, (I thought it was balogne,) so I typed it, "baloney" just to see if the computer was stupid or not and it didn't put a little red dotted line underneath it, so I was terribly confused. I looked up the word and found out that when people say, "That's bologna!" about some sort of lie or whatever, the word is actually spelled b-a-l-o-n-e-y, but when they say, "That's bologna!" referring to an actual slice of meat, it's spelled b-o-l-o-g-n-a. ...You learn something new every day.

Song recommendation of the day (not that I'll do one every day or anything): The Bird and the Worm by Owl City (I LOVE ADAM YOUNG)

Seriously, listen to it. Now. NOW, WOMAN! (Or man.)

© 2010