And Then I Said Fuck it, I'm Not Going to Let Myself Feel Unwanted by an Awards Show

See, I get in these moods with pop culture. If I forget to be properly hyped beforehand- like for the Superbowl- then I end up forgetting or being preoccupied when it comes on. This happened with the Grammys, and I actually can't think of other awards shows but believe me, it happens all the time. And then I proudly flaunt my indifference the next day when everyone's talking and Tweeting and debating about the results.
But I'll tell you a secret.
A part of me, the part that is locked in an eternal catfight with my non-conformist side, DIES.

So I forgot to start watching the Oscars because frankly, I didn't know what time it started or what channel it was on and I was doing math homework and watching Adventure Time/ Criminal Minds, blah, blah, life.
And then I went on Tumblr and saw the Oscars blowing up my dash, and I was like. Huh. Here comes that familiar pang of I'm being left out here.
Because I'm just apathetic about pop culture, obviously I'm up for watching the Oscars passively while I do other things (namely writing this post), so the clear answer was just to ask my mom what channel it was on and turn on the TV. However I'm a total freak, and I started to internally yell at myself.
"YOU CAN'T JUST TURN ON THE OSCARS IN THE MIDDLE OF THEM THEN YOU'RE JUST JUMPING ON THE BANDWAGON AND EVERYBODY WILL THINK YOU ARE WEIRD."
But then I said, fuck it.
And I think I've started off almost every sentence in this post with a conjunction. But I don't give a shit.
I'M WATCHING THE OSCARS AND MY THERAPIST WHICH IS MADE UP WOULD BE PROUD.

Normal Inactivity and an Awful Amount of Alliteration

Sorry I've been away for so long. I'm a bad blogger, but boy, babbling becomes boring briskly. A-plus for addictive alliteration.
[Let me explain. Alliteration is my favorite of all of the literary techniques because it's easy to do, fun to read and makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside, like I'm an actual writer instead of a bored teenager with a penchant for rambling]
Besides the usual excuse (school is super stressful, stupid, senseless), I've also run out of past poems to post. And I'm far to lethargically lazy and lack the drive to actually write more. I've also been supremely uninspired, uncreative and unproductive as of late, so every time I sit down with my beat up, battered (but still badass) journal, I just end up sighing, scribbling some random thoughts in the margins, and then baking cupcakes.
Don't judge.

So I apologize profusely for my lack of posting.

Not that anyone follows me.

Except for my one follower. Hello, one follower.

It's Kurt Cobain's Birthday and I'll Cry If I Want To

Happy 44th Birthday, Kurt Cobain. 
I find it mildly interesting that I can be so attached to someone I never, to borrow a cliche with no intention of giving it back, shared the earth with. Not that I share the earth with anyone. It's my earth. I'm a very possessive person.

I was thinking the other day. I do that sometimes, think. Most of the time I then forget. Like I just did. I can't remember, for the life of me, what I was going to say next.

I'm going to post a legitimate post, either a poem or a ramble or a thesis, in a little while, but I have to post this wish for a happy birthday before it becomes midnight here- and thus not Kurt Cobain's birthday any longer- or it'll bother me.

Why can't I be witty?

Not Poetry

Ways in Which I am Like a Cat:
I sleep a lot
I don’t like change
I yawn way too often
I like the sun
I like comfy places
I stretch a lot
I’m lazy as fuck
I don’t love unconditionally much
I like others to do things for me
I’m manipulative
I like the dark
I like to be clean; I’m kind of a germaphobe
I’m fastidious
I meow occasionally
I can see pretty well in the dark for a human
I do not like vacuum cleaners
I get scared easily

Ways in Which I am Not Like a Cat:
My ears do not oscillate. In fact, I can’t move them at all
I do not have claws
I am not furry
I do not hiss
My teeth are not long and pointy
I like having people around, except when I don’t
My thumbs are opposable

It's Valentine's Day

And instead of spitting out some quips about consumerism or depression, I'm just going to tell you about how I almost burned someone's homework today, but I was foiled by a safety match.
Actually, that's about the whole story. I was coloring with a match, slightly hoping that it would catch on fire because I hated that kid, whose homework I was scribbling on with frenzied abandon, who began to hate me with a passionate passion for no good reason at all about a month and a half ago and I just can't forgive him for that because I thought he was going to be, in my friend's words, my Black Lightning. But then I looked up the difference between regular friction matches and safety matches (the difference being that safety matches have powdered glass in them which causes friction when it strikes the pad, which only works

[Your regularly scheduled blog post has been interrupted for this special announcement: I just watched the series finale of Medium, which is a show I'm not obsessed with but I followed it for the last couple of seasons, and I am crying SO HARD. It was like The Notebook. Your regularly scheduled blog post will resume.]

when the pad also has powdered glass in it, or something) and I stopped, figuring it useless, and flung the match dramatically across the room, where it landed in the corner for some inquisitive and lucky 6th grader to find and wreak mayhem with, if they can manage. And then I got depressed on the bus, fell asleep, daydreamed about zombie killing with a certain extremely attractive person until I was happy again, got off the bus, tried not to slip and kill myself on the melting ice while walking home, sprinted past a dead squirrel conveniently moved FROM THE STREET WHERE NOBODY CARED TO THE SIDEWALK WHERE EVERYBODY DOES, stopped, gagged, got over it, ran inside.
That was my day, or at least the highlights/lowlights of it.

Also, I fell down the stairs yesterday and thought I died for a couple minutes, went into shock (which I believe because my heart was beating super fucking slow) and then got up and realized I just had a bruise back, elbow and ass. Awesome. Black and blue in time for the one day of the year when I get my hopes up that someone will send me a secret note or confess their love or something and nobody does.

This was more melodramatic than I'd hoped. Oh well.

Edit: Oh, I forgot to post a poem and stuff. Poems. Hmm.

How far would I go for you?
Maybe I’ve become
Immune
The clock in my mind is set to June
Who knew?
Nature dies and seasons change
Lives crumble and brim with pain
Bound together by a lifeblood chain
Who gains?
Papercuts and freezerburn
Tides rise and waves return
Firewood for flames yearn
Who burns?
Limbs twitch in dying throes
To this sweet dark night they owe
A last lover’s whisper death bestows
And breathes
Who knows?

...Like I said, not everything posted on this is going to be polished or even remotely good. I try.

Yeah, I May Be a Sadist

Lucifer, Lucifer
Beckon with your forked tongue
Gilded golden guileless fun
Is it true the game's just begun?
Toy with me, coy with me
Duel in the shadows
Lucifer, Lucifer, what do I owe?
What must I owe?

Lucifer, Lucifer, what have you done?
Dangerous dallisome dominant fun
Stripped of the pieces that made me one
Lucifer, Lucifer, what have I done?

Random Exercises and the Scribbling of a Madwoman

Interspersed throughout my writing notebook are random poems I write sort of subconsciously when I'm trying to come up with a line for an actual poem. Thought I'd share, some are pretty ridiculous.

Caffeine:
Tricky to spell
Impossible to smell
Still I can't quell
Shaking like hell
Stressed by the bell
But that's just as well
For headlong I fell.

Untitled Something 1:
The need for acceptance and
the fear of being rejected clash
in the most spectacular way
you can imagine
fireworks tears and song.

Untitled Something 2:
Hopes are like butterflies
Adrift on the ocean
Miles from home and
Brimming with emotion.
What I write makes no sense
So I guess it's called art
But only by those
With a pitiful heart.

Untitled Something 3: (originally part of US2)
My rhyming is weak
my tempo off beat
my words have no heat
the bones have no meat
the legs have no feet
the dog has no treat
the drunk has no mead
the flutist no reed
the cows lack their feed
the addict no need
the pothead no weed
the Nicenes no creed
there's nothing to read
except my incredibly amateur
poetry.

It's Fun To Write Limericks!:
Ah, what fun it is to write a limerick!
Your results could be quite terriferic!
I think you will find
It's a hard skill to refine
Because nothing quite rhymes with limerick!

I give up, this is a writing blog

Nobody really wants to hear about my day. Hell, I don't want to hear about my day. It sucked.
I don't think people necessarily want to read my writing either, but whatever.
This one is a work in progress, and I think it will perpetually be a work in progress. Does that mean it's just a bad poem? Maybe.
I thought I watched the pattern
of the swiftly falling guillotine
rising, falling, darting like death
flashing brightly, blade unseen.

Opposite the guillotine
A golden apple beckons
Inaccessable behind the winking blade
A softly sweeping beacon.

I thought I watched the pattern
Neck outstretched beneath the guillotine
But as I strained for the golden apple
The blade plummeted, vicious and keen.

I thought I watched the pattern
of the guillotine swiftly falling.

But I was wrong;
cruelty has no pattern.

Yeah I hate the second stanza. I hate the whole thing really. Whatever.

I watched the Super Bowl and it was actually really fun

I rooted for the Packers, since they were the underdogs and gosh I love me a good underdog story, and they won. Just goes to show you what magic my support generates.
Just kidding. They played a fantastic game, really, I can't believe I actually had fun watching it! Anyway, it was worth the homework-ignoring that went on. Sweet fuck I'm tired, skiing wears you out, so sorry if this post makes no sense or my sentence constructions are a little off. It happens. So I'll post something I wrote when I wasn't tired. And that makes sense. Hopefully. Am I drunk?

A Poem and Stuff:

There’s a time when the world is magical
Lit with a soul anew
It’s a precious kind of miracle,
The wondrous afternoon half-light.

Spiderwebs stretch across blades of grass
Like a precarious tightrope of beauty
They shine with the light of the rainbow,
In the glow of the afternoon half-light.

Moths anxiously flit from spot to spot
Touched with a golden shimmer
Even the smallest of creatures are exquisite,
Basked in the glory of this afternoon half-light.

Red-gold leaves are scattered throughout the grass
Like jewels throughout a coal mine
Their colors sparkle and dance like fairies,
Feeling the joy of the afternoon half-light.

There’s a time when everything shines gaily
And no creature is left without grace
Every farthest dream seems possible
In the wondrous afternoon half-light.

More Crappy Poetry Because I Can't Be Fucked to Actually Talk About Something

How cruel is a drop of water
if only a drop;
in the midst of the dry desert.
That drop of sparkling hope, fuels a
thirst for many more
to follow.

How cruel is an implication of love
if only an implication;
and not in practise, for it only makes
the heart yearn for
emotions scorned.

How cruel is a taste of heaven,
if only a taste;
what Lucifer threw away with vengeance
but one can not linger; how cruel, then
is but a taste of heaven.

Thus the cruelty of that drop of water,
as innocuous, as innocent as it may seem;
for just a taste of perfection only
makes the absence that much
clearer.

Snow, Julie and Julia, First Strike, and More Snow

As what seems to pervade my entire life in a sort of suppressive manner, snow has once again descended upon my state. Which sucks, because we only got like two days of rest since the last storm... and there's one tonight, and there's one Saturday, and in my unprofessional opinion WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE.

Since I was forced to stay inside today (aside from shoveling. I tried my best to get over to my friend's house, but we got stuck in the snow, and when we finally rolled precariously out of our driveway- I say precariously because the snowbanks on either side make it impossible to see down the street so the possibility we were going to be hit by an oncoming car was present- we got stuck at the end of the street and had to push our car out of a snowbank), I obviously had to comb through my massive collection of books to find one I haven't read recently, and I picked up Julie & Julia. It's a movie now, and I saw it, and it was good, but I still love the book.
It makes me really hungry, even though I would never eat half of the things she makes. So I made myself a turkey and cheese sandwich for lunch which, trust me, is an unusual display of culinary prowess given that usually Ramen is a stretch. That's all related to laziness, by the way.
Then, when I finished Julie & Julia and played my fill of Fallout: New Vegas, I decided I would fork up the $15-odd bucks for the First Strike map pack for BlackOps. Now, normally I don't buy DLCs or map packs because I have no need to, and I didn't really care about the multi-maps, but once I heard they included a new zombie map, I HAD TO HAVE IT, because I really hate Kino and Five is growing old, although it's certainly better. I've yet to try Ascension, but I will soon. As for the multimaps, I DESPISE Stadium and Berlin Wall- especially Berlin Wall- but Discovery is all right. I haven't tried the others yet.
Also I had a bit of a mental breakdown today, but that's nothing new. I threw a bit of a cabin-fever fit when I realized I couldn't go anywhere, and then I stubbed my toe which made my rage rear its ugly head and breathe fire over everything I love. And then I realized I'll probably never be good at Call of Duty, but I got over that, too.
So my mental health state is now stable, but fragile.
I'd also like to make a new YouTube video, but I don't know what it should be about. I filmed something about the Obama interview taking place there, but I think it's passed and it was stupid anyway. Scratch that, I don't want to make a new video. Maybe I'll write something for once.