Life Updates with Bailey

so for 12 years i've been at this school, and 12 years i've been looking forward to going to europe at the end of my senior year and having so much fun with my friends. But not that payment is due, i'm finding out that none of my friends are actually going to europe which means if i went, i'd be alone and wow that would be the most dreadful thing ever. So, ma made me a deal. I wouldnt go to europe, but we'd use that money to go down to Universal for the weekend again and go to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter and go to the new Diagon Alley and ride the new Hogwarts Express and go to GRINGOTTS FOR THE NEW RIDE. and i am very amiable with this because wow the wizarding world of harry potter was good before with the castle and hogsmede but now theres a working train and new stores and a new ride so of course i'm dying of excitement! And this time ma said we'll save an extra $100 so we can get me some Gryffindor robes so i can complete my transformation into a Gryffinclaw. Which is a mix of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw because I have no clue what house i'd be in. SO i have my Ravenclaw scarf and pair that up with my Gryffindor robes and bam. Gryffinclaw. Liz is a Ravenpuff? or is it a Huffleclaw, i can't remember. But yeah, so i guess I"m excited.

Violin

So, big news, I've decided to play violin again. I took lessons in like third grade, but with swimming and stuff i dreaded wasting more of my life on practice and i HATED the recitals so i gave it up. But now that i've quit swimming, I've decided to try it again. Ma bought me a new violin and i named her Victoria, and my first lesson is next monday at 7:30. I'm really nervous but also really excited. ma spent a lot of money on my violin and, well, I'm nervous cause something inside me is regretting choosing the violin over guitar but now that she's spent all the money i have no room to regret. But that's okay. I'm excited! I've always dreamed of owning a white violin, and ma said if i get good enough at it, she may consider getting me an electric violin. Like. Wow. Imagine a white electric violin how pretty would that be?

LOOK AT THIS THING IT"S LIKE THE MOST GORGEOUS THING I"VE EVER SEEN.

One day. Maybe a graduation present. Wow my graduation present list is racking up. I want a car, an xbox one, this violin, a macbook pro, the list goes on i'll have to narrow it down. but that's okay. I have a year it's whatever. But hey. Violins. Pretty.

Revolution

This is the beginning of something new
Our golden haired leader with eyes of blue
Will lead our France victorious
And from the oppression he will free us

Our little boys gone off to war
If they'll return we aren't that sure
We'll keep their toys and games and meals
And with the devil make our deals
To bring our babies home

These guns are real between their hands
Beneath their flag and patriotic bands
The bullets will certainly maime and kill
The people have all had their fill

Our little boys gone off to war
If they'll return we aren't that sure
We'll keep their toys and games and meals
And with the devil make our deals
To bring our babies home

Their flag is red just like their blood
They fight for what they've deemed good
Spurred onto fight their student's war
They're children playing at men's chore

Our little boys gone off to war
If they'll return we aren't that sure
We'll keep their toys and games and meals
And with the devil make our deals
To bring our babies home

The barricade falls at dawn
The pools of blood across the lawn
The boys all dead upon the ground
Their leader shot without a sound

Our little boys gone off to war
If they'll return we aren't that sure
We'll keep their toys and games and meals
And with the devil make our deals
To bring our babies home

Lillian

So my little cousin, Lillian, is turning 6 and wow i can't believe it. I actually just came from her birthday party and she's gotten so old. First grade. I can't believe it. What's even more unbelieveable is that her brother is almost 8 and he's going to start second grade in the fall! Jeez i remember holding them when they were born, what is this blasphemy? If theyre getting so old, then I'm freaking ancient and I'm certainly not okay with that thought. I mean hey, I'm almost a senior. I'll vote in the next presidential election. This is crazy stuff here. But yeah, Lillian. I got her a cute little bathing suit for her birthday and a coverup that can easily double as a dress she can totally wear to school because bam I am good like that. And that little dork asked for two things for her birthday: a bike and a lynard skynard cd. Of course she got both but wow. She's six. and a lynard skynard cd? But i love her to death because she is totally one of this family with that weirdness. Hey, at least she fits in. Could be worse...

Done

I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done. I am so done.I am so done. I am so done.
That's 256 words. That's enough to be a blog. The rules for blogging is that each post has to be 200 words, yeh? Well. It never said anywhere that it had to make sense, and aren't blogs supposed to be an extension of what we're feeling? Well. This is my brain process at the moment. I apologize. We have one day of school left, and it's the end of my junior year no less. This was supposed to be the hardest year yet (it was wow three exams ive done so bad) and it's basically over. So pardon my doneness. Well, see this doesnt even scratch the surface. I'm like, 9000% done, so the appropriate amount of "I am so done"s is far more than I've graced you with. But yes. Bailey out.

Summer

So it's almost summer. That's super exciting, right? Yeah i guess. I'm kind of nervous cause i'm at that age where i need a job but i'm also really young so people won't hire me and all these college kids are back home and they're taking all the jobs. It's annoying and i dont want to be stuck babysitting all summer cause ugh, one of the kids is nice but the other is an 8 year old boy and how on earth do i take care of an 8 year old boy at the same time that i'm catering to a 3 year old girl? The struggle. Anywho. I forsee a lot of youtube in my future because wow i love Pewdiepie and Achievement Hunter and stuff. AND RTX IN JULY I"M SO EXCITED FOR THAT CON I WANT TO CRY. mother is also very excited. I'm also gonna draw a lot more, i want to get decent at it. At the moment I'm working on a little series like thing that are faces of girls but over their left eye is a different flower, and everything is shaded in pencil so its all grey and white except for the flower which i'm using to practice shading. Ugh. Art is hard. So is blogging. But yeah. Wish me luck on the job hunt cause no matter how many resumes i'm putting out there, it isn't going very well so far....

Animazement 2014

So last weekend was Animazement, right? And it was kind of the greatest thing ever. Three days of cosplays, raves, nerds, and homestucks like, what more could a girl ask for? And of course I cosplayed those three days because cosplay is fun. Mother and I worked nonstop for that entire week leading up to it so that we could finish my cosplays in time. Let's go for a line up here.

So Friday I went as a wingless God Tier Meenah Peixes from homestuck (wingless cause wow those wings are big and I was not walking around that convention center with all those people and those huge wings sticking out running into everything.) and Liz was my Jade

Saturday I went as this dork, Trickster Dirk from homestuck, with Liz as my cohort, Trickster Jane

 

And Sunday was this cutie right here, Yang Xiao Long from RWBY and Liz was my "little sister" Ruby (the one in the black and red in the middle)

Here have some other pictures like of Liz and stuff

its like the Puffnstuff guy or whatever



the cabbage merchant from Avatar (such a babe)



Liz being Jade Harley cause adorable



Me with that megafoxyawesome Condescension. wow. much pretty. and happens to be Liza's boyfriend's friend. How Dawson. How are you friends with people like that? She's awesome.


So yes, i hope you've enjoyed this look into the secret (not really secret) nerdy life of Liz and I. And yes i had to include Liz because i was not going down this very nerdy road alone. And yes we totally skipped friday school for this and it was worth it.

What are Friends For [part 6]

The couch hadn't been comfortable when he was smaller, and nothing had changed about that besides the fact that Daaron was a good deal taller and his feet hung over the edge like a giant in a midgets bed.
"Are you comfortable?"
Daaron shrugs, unsure how to respond. At first he had been glad to see Emmit, they'd been best friends when they were younger and he thought nothing could change that, but he's quickly learning that maybe the relationship was one sided and Emmit no longer saw him in an amiable light.
He has his eyes closed, trying to focus on the fact that he actually has a proper place to sleep and not the fact that he has to leave the next day, so he doesn't notice Emmit come and sit down on the floor beside him.
"Why'd you do it?"
"Pardon?" Daaron's eyes flash open and he turns over onto his side so that he can direct his full attention to the male on the ground.
"You promised you'd pick me up after school and walk me home. You promised my father he wouldn't have to worry about driving to get me. You promised - " He chokes up a bit and waves the rest of the statement away like the memory is too painful to even think about.
"I-I was going to pick you up, but then things happened and I didn't get to say goodbye."
"There's always time for goodbye, Daaron" Emmit's words are acidic and Daaron almost flinches from the force behind them.
"I was going to get us ice cream and tell you I had to leave and that I'd miss you but, well, my father had other plans."
"You can't always blame him, Storm. He didn't make you leave. He searched for you endlessly. Heck, he almost hurt me cause he thought I was harbouring you!"
"He what?"
"No, Storm, not now. You can play fiercely protective friend later, don't turn this off of you."
"Emmit. He almost killed me that day. I wasn't supposed to leave the house, but i defied his wishes saying I'd promised you. Then he told me that you were more important to me than him and that after he was done killing me, he was coming for you. I have only been scared of one thing in my life, and it isn't bullies or broken bones" he pauses to hold up his hand for effect "it's him hurting my friends. And so, I left. If he couldn't find me to kill me, then he couldn't act on the second threat and hurt you. Or so my naive brain told me."
"And did you never stop to think how the rest of us who weren't keyed into your little plan would feel when you were gone for five years?"
Daaron shrugs and starts fidgeting with the hem of the blanket that looks comically small around his waist and legs.
"I figured you'd be happier without poor pitiful Storm. Your father had to have been ecstatic. He always walked on eggshells around me because he always thought I'd blow a fuse one day and become like my father."
"That's not true"
"Then why'd he never let us be alone together. Why was I never allowed to stay the night unless it was because you were helping me? He was scared of me Emmit. Scared of what I could do to you."
"You're not a monster."
"I was raised by one."
Emmit has no retort besides silence, and he heaves out a sigh.
"Goodnight, Daaron."
Daaron's red eyes watch Emmit as he stands up and heads out of the living room, pausing to switch off the light.
"Night, Em."
Emmit pauses, his hand still on the wall where the light switch is as if he has something to say. He opens his mouth a few times, but thinks better of it, and just adds
"Remember, only one night."

What are Friends For [part 5]

Daaron lapses into silence, unsure how to go about a proper apology, so he leaves it unsaid in the air as Emmit slowly pulls out everything he needs. A cold cloth to wipe the blood off his face, ice to help the swelling go down, and lots of ace bandages.
"I figured he'd be a lot meaner. It has been five years, Storm. He probably missed you."
Daaron lets out a discontented hmph deep in his throat, refusing to meet his old friend's eyes.
"Yeah, since all fathers welcome their wayward sons home with a swift fist to the face the moment they walk in the door."
"You hurt him."
"And he hurt me. A lot."
Daaron doesn't notice that the longer he talks, the more Emmit bristles, and as soon as he's done with the very basics of repair on Daaron's hand, he snaps the first aid kit shut and climbs to his feet.
"That's still no reason to do what you did. Go shower." Emmit's finger points for the downstairs shower in the guest room, the one Daaron's all to familiar with as the other's father refused to let him stay in Emmit's room when they were kids. He was kind, but overprotective to say the least.
The hot water feels nice and novel on Daaron's callused and dirty skin. When he steps under it, it's like the years of dirt and grime he's caught up just falls away down the drain. For the first few minutes, the water is dark, but after a little it turns crystal clear. He shampoos his hair, delighted by the sharp smell that emanates from the bottle.
After some precursory cleaning paired with some scouring to get some particularly bad patches of dried blood off, he pushes his back against the far wall and slides down it, bending his head forward so that the water runs over it. He isn't sure how long he's in there for, but his mind wanders to the point where he almost falls asleep, brought back to reality only by three sharp raps on the door.
"You'll shrivel up like an old man if you don't get out. I want to look at your hand again."
Daaron sighs and turns the water off, shaking his hair out like a dog as he wraps a white towel around his waist. His old clothes are disgusting but he picks them up anyway, planning to put them out in the guest room.
Emmit is outside the bathroom door holding a pair of sweatpants and a tshirt.
"They're my dad's, but they'd fit you better than if you tried to squeeze your bulk into my clothes"
It's true. Emmit is a good head shorter than Daaron, and of considerably smaller structure. Where Daaron is muscular and strong, Emmit is dainty and slender.
"Thanks."
"You can sleep on the couch, I'll be up in the master bedroom. Dad's letting me sleep in there since he's hardly ever home."
"Thanks" Daaron repeats, beginning to sound like a broken record "Emmit I-"
"Save it." Emmit holds up his hand and leaves Daaron in the hallway with the pile of clothes in his hands.

What are Friends For [part 4]

Emmits house is exactly as Daaron remembers it. Two stories with a stone exterior and a long driveway to arching wooden doors. It looks at its best in the light of the setting sun when the red sky reflects in the tall windows to make the house look alive. Inside hasn't changed much either. The living room still plays host to the same sleek modern furniture and the TV on the wall had only changed in the sense that it'd gotten flatter and larger.
"Couch" Emmit says firmly, pointing to the brown sofa against the far wall. Daaron obediently takes a seat on the very edge of the cushion, trying not to bleed on the dark fabric.
Emmit is gone for a few minutes, allowing Daaron time to look around and reminisce. All his memories from his own house were of pain and hatred, but every one from here was good and kind. He remembers the way Emmit's father would open the door for him with a smile, or pretend he didn't notice that Daaron had snuck into the house in the middle of the night bloody and in need of repair. A smile curls up on his battered lips, and his crimson eyes scan the familiar area with more care than he thought possible.
"How bad is it really?" Emmit's voice is sharp and Daaron looks up to see the short boy walking in with a first aid kit that Daaron knows he at least used to keep under his bed.
Daaron shrugs noncommittally and clasps his hands in his lap.
"Storm"
"Fine fine. It's not that bad. Just a little beat up is all."
"Mmhm a little beat up. Sure. Give me your hand."
Daaron's brow creases and he keeps his hands folded together on his lap.
"Why?"
"Don't question me, Flinn. Give me your hand." For such a small person, Emmit is full of demanding and the ability to hold the worlds longest grudge.
With a heavy sigh, Daaron holds up his right hand, his index finger purple around the bottom and swollen.
"You're an idiot"
"So you keep reminding me."
Emmit kneels down, taking the hand gingerly into his own, turning it over so that it's palm up.
"It's not broken....I don't think" he adds onto the end. Over the years, Emmit's had to acquire some working knowledge of the human body. When Daaron would come to him in the beginning, Emmit would subject him to random attacks of neosporin and gauze, but as they got older, Emmit seemed to grow in knowledge and he'd always produce the proper cure on the first try.
"Well it still really hurts so I'd appreciate if you'd ow stop bending it!"
Emmits green eyes are dull as he looks up at Daaron, making it a point of folding all of his fingers into a tight fist and patting the swollen top of his knuckle, leaving the seemingly invulnerable, strong Daaron, flinching.

What are Friends For [part 3]

Daaron's father was an abusive man with just enough money and power to pay off anyone who came sniffing around inquiring about Daaron's well-being when he showed up at school with bruises and broken limbs. The only person who actually knew about Daaron's father and what he did, was Emmit, and since childhood he'd treated Daaron in silence, playing doctor to the stoic silver-headed boy.
The two had been friends since third grade, when Daaron had saved Emmit from a bunch of bullies who where on the verge of beating the small boy up, and they'd become nearly inseparable when suddenly, in 9th grade, Daaron disappeared without so much as a goodbye. His father still lived in the same old house, and it came to light later that Daaron had gone away without his father's permission, because the older man had sent out squads of people looking for him, but every search turned up inconclusive. Daaron was gone.
Now, years later, he's grown much taller and stronger, yet for some reason, he still lets his father get to him, and the result was a years worth of yelling to come home to.
Emmit easily slips back away from his hatred into an easy caretaker sort of role, his compassion for his old friend outweighing the fact that he'd spent several years completely alone, having to move on past the friend he'd been told to assume dead.
"I can't do anything right here. What do you want me to patch you up with, my homework?" His tone brings Daaron away from his thoughts and he looks down with raised eyebrows
"I mean, wouldn't that be a good excuse for not doing it? 'Oh sorry teacher, I had to stop the bleeding on Daaron with my math, that's why it's not done'. I bet your teachers would love that."
"I didn't miss this at all." Emmit grumbles in response, shaking his head. "I thought I told you to shut up." He heaves a heavy sigh like he's deciding to do something against his best wishes. "Look, I can't do anything here. You'll have to come back to my house if you want help. And you can stay there one night until you're better. One. But then you're gone again. Fair?"
Daaron grimaces and hangs his head, but his shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. "Do I have much of a choice?"
"Not really, no."

What are Friends For [part 2]

The silence that follows is thick with unresolved tension and years of things that needed to be said but wouldn't come out. Instead, Emmit just stares dumbly at Daaron who, taking his silence as a bad sign, returns to stacking up the books and papers and standing up with them cradled in one arm as his other stretches out to assist Emmit to his feet.
"I'm sorry....about all this" Daaron spits out, groping for words that won't make the other upset.
"N-no. It's fine." Emmit replies, clearing his throat as he stands up on his own and moves to take his books back into his own hands.
"How have you been?"
Emmit shrugs and begins studying the sidewalk intently. The two hadn't parted on the best of terms, so Daaron isn't exactly surprised by the distant treatment he's receiving.
"I've been better. Why are you here?" Emmit's voice takes on an accusatory tone, and he finally turns his eyes up to meet Daaron's, the pain and anger in the emerald irises so intense it makes Daaron take a physical step back.
"I..." he holds up his hands in an unspoken plea of forgiveness, not wanting to cross any lines "I just had to get things from my dad's house. The last few years have been, well, hard."
Emmit snorts, rolling his eyes and shifting his books from one arm to the other. Silence ensues between the two of them until a car drives by, the headlights throwing ghostly light across Daaron's face so Emmit can get a real look at it for the first time since their collision.
For a brief second, every mark on Daaron's face is like a giant neon sign. His bottom lip is split and swollen, and both of his cheeks are already blackening and huge. A line of blood trickles over his left cheekbone from a cut on his temple, and the rest of his face is littered with cuts and marks of different sizes and shapes.
"Storm" Emmit breathes out, and Daaron knows by the tone of his voice he's seen his face, and his hands involuntarily pull his hood back up around his head, casting him into shadows again.
His crimson eyes glow in the darkness like a monsters, and they watch carefully as Emmit sets down his books and reaches up with small, feminine hands to push back his hood one more time.
"Idiot" Emmit grimaces, shaking his dark head accusingly. "After all these years and you still let him do this to you?"
"I don't exactly have a choice. It's not like I go in there and say 'hey dad, I think today is a good day for you to beat me to a pulp. thanks.'"
His sarcasm is rewarded with a sharp wrap on his swollen cheek that causes him to flinch away in pain.
"You go away without so much as a word for almost five years, and I hate you for that, but you need my help right now, so I'll help you, but you're not allowed to talk."

What are Friends For [part 1]

The door shuts with a sharp bang as Daaron Flinn tromps with heavy steps down the stone steps that lead to his house.
"You best get back here, boy!" His father's voice is loud behind him, but he ignores it, pulling the hood of his dark sweatshirt up around his head to hide his face from curious onlookers.
Daaron shoves his hands into his pockets, curling his bruised fingers into fists and ignoring the pain that shoots up through his index finger. It's probably broken, or at least sprained, but he's had worse so the incessant throbbing doesn't phase him.
The moon hangs low and full in the sky, like giving off so much light is taxing on it, making it hardly able to keep itself up above the horizon, and the freshly blooming trees in the park beside his house give off a sweet scent that carries on the gentle breezes that make the night cold. He has absolutely no idea where he's going to go, he just knows that he doesn't care, as long as it's away from that house. He never should've come back. Never shouldve-
Daaron's thoughts are cut short as his tall body collides with someone walking the opposite direction, and both crash to the ground in an ungraceful show of limbs and papers and books.
"Watch where you're going" The other person snaps as he crawls to his knees, hands shaking slightly as he moves to pick up his spilled things.
"I'm sorry" Daaron mumbles in response, his slender artist's fingers joining the others in a futile attempt to help.
In the fall, Daaron's hood had been pushed back, and now it falls about his shoulders, revealing his silvery hair that falls too long into his eyes and around his collar. What people find the most surprising about it isn't the colour of it, but the fact that it's naturally that colour.
"Storm?" The other's voice is incredulous as he sits back on his haunches, using a nickname Daaron hadn't heard in years. The last person to call him Storm was-no. It couldn't be him. There's no way he'd be so lucky to run into
"Emmit?" he says the name tentatively as his crimson eyes flick up to meet the gaze of the male.
In front of him with wide green eyes covered by the bangs of hair so dark it gives a raven's wings a run for its money, sits the boy who used to be his best friend, Emmit Jasick.

my intense feelings and spoiler alerts part 3

 **WARNING. MORE SPOILERS AHEAD JEEZ IF YOU HAVENT GOTTEN THAT MESSAGE BY NOW....**
Lets see, Jace and Clary (OTP #2) can't kiss or really get near each other cause of the fire inside Jace, Clary's brother has threatened the life of Clary's parents and Alec's boyfriend unless Clary and Jace give themselves up to what would no doubt be their demise, and wow MAGNUS AND ALEC ARE STILL BROKEN UP I CANT DeAL. also, Jordan Kyle, a werewolf I was particularly fond of, just got stabbed and died, so that's a thing. All i need is for this book to resolve itself in a kind manner. You know, without Jace or Clary or Alec or Magnus dying. I mean, the likely hood of that happening is slim to none, but a girl can dream. I made it only 60 pages into the dang book before my soul shattered for the first time. And this is the kind of series that breaks you down to nothing, then gives you a glimmer of hope before yanking that away and pushing you further into the depths of despair. Why do i do this to myself? I dunno. Its so beautiful and Cassie Clare (I met her, she told people to call her Cassie instead of Cassandra, like, how adorable is that? She looks like a redhead Mrs Robinson, it was cool) is kind of the greatest person ever and I've been emotionally invested in this series since the first, actually nice book in 2007, so theres that. But yes. I apologize for this its just been killing me as of late and Liz refuses to listen entirely cause she wants to read it. Ugh. Pain.

my intense feelings and spoiler alert part 2

**MORE SPOILERS (I'M ONLY DOING THIS CAUSE LIZ WOULD KILL ME IF I SPOILED MORE THAN I ALREADY HAVE)**
But hey, there has been a little bit of good. In one of the spin off series, The Infernal Devices, there's this really sick main character named James "Jem" Carstairs who I was kind of in love with, but in the third and final book of that series, we're led to believe that he dies from the illness that plagued him since childhood. Well, in the later chapters, we find out that he didn't in fact die, but was converted to this series' equivalent to monks, called the Silent Brothers. They keep all the Shadowhunter (the people in the story) records, they take vows of silence, and they live forever, and that was the only way to save Jem, so he became Brother Zachariah and all was good. Except he couldnt be with his fiancee, Tessa, which left her with his best friend, Will and the two got married blah blah blah. Well in the epilogue of Clockwork Princess (Infernal Devices book 3) something happened to make Jem human again and he meets up with Tessa and bam, love. But the question was: how did he become human again? Silent Brothers are forever Silent Brothers. Well in City of Heavenly Fire, we find out how. The main character of the main series (Mortal Instruments) Jace, was stabbed by a heavenly blade and now heavenly fire (irony cause the title hahaha) courses through his veins. When Jem (at the time still Brother Zachariah) tries to heal him, Jem catches on fire and later we find out it burned away all the things in him that made him a Silent Brother, so he was human again, albeit still immortal so he could be with his girl, Tessa. THAT'S ABOUT THE ONLY GOOD THING THAT'S HAPPENED IN THIS ENTIRE BOOK THOUGH AND I"M 400 PaGES IN

My intense feelings and spoiler alerts part 1

**WARNING. SPOILERS AND A DEEP SEA OF PAINFUL FEELINGS AHEAD**
I shall now take a moment to convey my feelings about City of Heavenly Fire.
So, the Mortal Instruments Series is by far my favourite series ever so of course I've been waiting on edge since the beginning for the next books to come out. At first i believed it only to be a trilogy, but Mrs Cassie surprised the entire fandom by announcing two spinoffs and three more books in the series. Well, books four and five were pretty painful to say the least with Jace going bad and Clary's brother, Sebastian, going crazy and whatever, but at the end of City of Lost Souls, book five, my biggest ship ever, Magnus and Alec, broke up because of a stupid decision on Alec's part. They've been head over heels for each other since book one. And now the tension between the two is painful because they both love each other so much but neither will act on it because of pride and issues and now Magnus has been captured and Alec may never see him again cause the warlock might get killed and wow so stressful.

Storm

I got a new cat recently, and wow he is super fluffy. Hes this really pretty grey colour all over and his hair is "medium length" even though theres no such thing so we dont know how that happened, and we named him Storm cause of the way his grey looks like the sky during a storm. Hes four months old and his personality shifts from being the spawn of satan to the sweetest baby ever. Im his momma when its bed time cause hell crawl up next to me on my pillow or in the space between my arms and just flop over, nudge my chin with his nose, and fall asleep. Of course the rest of the time hes mean cause he bites a lot, my arms are covered with scratches from. Amd when hes done sleeping he lets me know cause hes up playing around amd messing up my room. And hes usually done sleeping about 5am so needless to say ive been pretry exhausted lately. But thats okay, hes still my little baby since our other cat, Ryna, hates cuddling and therefore, hates me, so yeah. He makes up for his evilness with his love and adorableness so I can deal with the arm scratches and lack of sleep. Its practically summer anyway, everyones sleep deprived over summer its cool.

My Life

so the weirdest thing happened to me over Animazement....like, the whole weekend i was all "hey I'm gonna flirt with some boys cause why not, I'm cosplaying and I'll never see them again. Well, I made a few friends and we're still talking and they're cool and all, but then saturday night it's like the fire nation attacked. A boy told me i was cute and we decided to hang out and walk around the convention together sunday. Well he was being sassy and trying to make me blush and i told him he couldnt cause i'm too used to it and he went all "fine, want to go somewhere with me?" so of course my smart alec self shoots back with "you mean on a date? I expect lunch" AND NOW I HAVE A DATE SATURDAY HOW DO THESE THINGS HAPPEN? and the weird thing is, well, everyone knows that Liz and Dawson finally put seven years of tension behind them to FINALLY date, but the guy who's crushing on me, well, his name is Dawson too. It's like fate. Liz has her Dawson so now maybe I won't be so lonely since Liz has her boo now. Idk. I'm nervous. Never been on a date before cause i refuse to count prom night with Robert cause I don't want to talk about that night EVER again. So yeah. I get myself into some sticky situations. But that's okay, I think I'll be okay with the repercussions of this sass....

Achievement Hunter

So my biggest love at the moment is the Achievement Hunter boys. What can i say? They're perfect. Well...they have this thing in their work town of Austin - a three day con called RTX - and I've been dying since last summer to go to this thing. Well. Mother and I were supposed to fly to Florida for a swim meet, but that fell through so we had these plane tickets that we were doing nothing with. Well somehow, mother got into watching the AH boys with me (don't ask how that happened I thought she'd be totally indifferent to them) and I easily convinced her that, if i payed for the entrance tickets, and she the hotel, we should go to RTX2014. Well. Long story short.

I'M GOING TO MEET THE ACHIEVEMENT HUNTER BOYS.

Well. Actually Achievement Hunter is a sub company within Roosterteeth....so a lot more than just these six are gonna be there, but hey I don't mind. They're all pretty cool. (and pretty) ((wow so pretty))
I mean, I have just about zero words to describe my feelings at the moment. And I get to cosplay one of their characters there. It's like, my pride and joy at the moment.
So. Lets see. We have:

Ray Narvaez Jr. and his ability to "Just blaze" at any time

my babe, Michael Jones with his puppy face

Gavin Free the idiot of the office (even though he's actually pretty good at games)

Mr. Boss Man Geoff Ramsey 

Jack Pattillo, resident nice guy

And the Mad King himself, Ryan Haywood

So yeah, i hope you enjoyed this delving into my six favourite people. Achievement Hunter. Check them out. Love them. They're perfect.

Why

So Ive been swimming since I was 3, and this is my 11th year swimming year round. Lets just say i havent exactly had much of a childhood because swim practice was always more important than whatever plans i may have had. Sleepover? Nah practice. Movie? Got a meet. Want to sleep in this weekend? Hahahaha no get up at 5am four days in a row to swim till 12pm, come home that afternoon, sleep, get up and go back at 5pm to swim till 9. I know i shouldnt complain...i chose this life, but ive loved it and ive committed myself to this. But now Ive made my own decision that i dont want to swim in college. I want to be a real person, not defined by when practice is....But nobody will listen! my mom and coach and excoach keep going on about "what about this school? Great swim program" amd i tell them no. No im not going to swim and all i get from them in return is "hahaha i talked to the swim coach, they want you" Do i really not get a say??? My coach is trying to GUILT me into college swimming. LET ME LIVE MY OWN DANG LIFE. Ive been swimming every single day since i was SIX with no more than two weeks off in August for a break. I just want someone to listen to my opinions. I dont care if id be the best on the team. I dont CARE if the coach really wants me. At this point im looking for schools that have NO team just so no one can condemn me when i dont swim. Sure ill do club swimming and go to the pool to keep in shape but im ready to let something else be my focus. Im ready for friends to be more important than whether or not im going to miss practice.
End rant.

Gladiator [part 5]

"Make it swift, Riegion. I cannot bear any more humiliation." Rowine's face is covered in blood and bruises, but even so he manages to give a hint of a smile up at Riegion.

   "Maybe the Emperor will acknowledge your abilities and allow you to fight another day."

   "You are young, but not naive, Riegion, you know that he has never given second life to one as pitiful and dead as I. I have served my purpose, now do a you must."

   Riegion stands up and looks up to where he knows the Emperor is seated in a special box with his wife and the Commander a either side.

   "Riegion Vaselle. His Excellency, Emperor Taurence Valisky has declared you victor. Finish your opponent and claim your prize."

   He looks down at Rowine who has since closed his eyes. Either that or the swollen lids had finally given up the struggle to stay open. Riegion takes his remaining sword in both hands and angles the blade down over the others heart. The sharp tip will easily pierce through the tight muscled flesh of Rowine's torso with even the lightest of pressure, but Riegion can't bring himself to do it. This is always the hardest part for him. The killing.

   "They're watching. Do not lose yourself at my expense." Riegion looks down to see Rowine's hand encircling the blade of his sword. Blood drips down the tip of it where it's cutting into his palm.

   Riegion takes in a deep breath, squeezes his eyes shut, and drives the blade home, embedding it deep into Rowine's chest before twisting it and pushing down a bit harder. Rowine didn't cry out, just gurgled nonsense around the blood pooling in his mouth before falling back against the dust and laying still.

   The crowd erupts into cheers around him as Riegion's hand slides off the hilt and he looks up around him, everything blurring into silver and white.

   He isn't a killer. But he has to be. Killing is what it means to live now, because without doing it he'll end up dead himself. Killing is what it means to be a Gladiator.

A/N: And that is what i like to call milking a story for all the blogs it's worth. Thank you. Thank you.

Gladiator [part 4]

 A metal circle to the legs probably doesn't feel good, but Rowine's training has him up again in no time, diving for his lance as Riegion advances behind him, drawing out his long thin swords from off his back. Rowine's fingers close around the wooden base of his weapon and he turn onto his back in time to use the long grip of the lance to block a particularly harsh blow Riegion rains down on him. Riegion grunts as his opposer delivers a swift kick to his gut and he stumbles back, giving the other just enough time to roll back to his feet.

   They carry on for a while in the deadly dance. Riegion stabbing and thrusting his swords just to be blocked by Rowine and vice versa. Every now and then one person lands a solid punch to the face or chest or gut but otherwise they circle in an evenly matched war. Just as the crowd wants.

   Riegion goes to make a jab with his sword but at the last second, he throws it to the right and, as Rowine is preoccupied with blocking his face from a blade, Riegion folds his hand into a fist and buries it into the flesh of the others stomach, earning a strangled groan and a wheeze of air as Rowine falls expended to the ground.

   Riegion kicks the lance out of Rowine's tired fingers and kneels down to pull his sword from its belt and cast it too out of reach.

Gladiator [part 3]

Rowine noticed the act and his face twists down into an annoyed frown. The lance is his primary weapon, and, by throwing it away, Riegion gave himself the upper hand.

   For a moment they circle around the weapon table, their eyes locked on each others with twin glares. Outside the arena Riegion and Rowine aren't exactly friends, but Rowine had once picked Riegion up  off the ground after a particularly rough training session when Riegion had first been dropped in the barracks. They have no malice towards each other, but in a fight to the death, friendship doesn't matter.

   Riegion can see it in his eyes the second before Rowine acts, and he's in the middle of his counter attack as Rowine fakes left and turns to sprint right in a desperate attempt for his precious lance. He makes only one mistake: turning his back on Riegion.

   There's a circular shield on the table and Riegion picks it up, throwing it like a frisbee at the back of Rowine's legs. It hits him square in the back of the knees and he crumples to the ground midstep, skidding a few more inches in the dirt before stopping. Riegion could've thrown one of his daggers right into the others back, but he didn't want Rowine to die a cowards death just as he didn't want to stab a comrade in the back.

Gladiator [part 2]

A loud bell echoes off the stone walls and before the sound is done Riegion is shooting forward towards the center of the arena.  

   He reaches the long stone block of a table first, naturally, he's got the best legs in the barracks by far, but Rowine's gaining quickly so Riegion doesn't have long to find his weapon of choice. Of course he'd been surveying the area the entire time he'd been waiting for the fight to start, so he knew the twin swords were on the left end of the table buried under a broadsword and a quiver of arrows. The only problem is that his secondary weapon, a belt with six throwing knives dangling off of it, is on the opposite end of the slab, thus taking up valuable time to grab them and throwing off his entire plan to dodge left.

   He takes a second to make a decision and opts out of the knives, settling rather for two slender daggers that slide into sheaths already dangling from his hips. The Commander knows his fighting style. He's obviously just teasing Riegion by making his weapons of choice unreachable.

   But the Commander knows Rowine just as well and, while the older male is shuffling through the pile of sharp metal on the other end of the table, Riegion picks up a long lance and throws it as hard as he can towards the side of the arena he just came from.

Gladiator [part 1]

A/N: hey we get to do that thing now where i write something really long and then break it up into 200 or so word blocks so i can meet blog requirements! Yay.

The sun is harsh and relentless as it beats down on the bare backs of two young men who stand facing each other across the width of a huge arena. Riegion Vaselle flexes his fingers before curling them into two fists so tight that his jagged nails threaten to break the skin.

   His heart pounds in his chest and he closes his eyes, breathing in a slow breath and doing his best to tune out the monotonous roar of the crowd. It isn't his first fight, but each and every one leaves a pit of fear and despair in his stomach.

   "Fighters at the ready." A voice that's trying too hard to sound deep and commanding booms over the loud speakers, pulling Riegion up out of his semi-calm trance.

   Riegion reacts as he was trained to, by crouching down so low that his bare knees almost touch the dusty ground and leaning forward on his front leg like an animal about to pounce. Even with his eyes closed his mind had been running calculations on his first move once the bell tolls. He practice every day in this arena so he knows that it takes ten long strides at a dead sprint to reach the weapons table in the middle, and five more steps to the left to make sure that he's out of the way of his opponent who's coming up on the table at the same time he is.

   The only problem with his calculations is the fact that Rowine Ainsly, his opponent, has been practicing just as long as he has and knows Riegion's fighting style just as well as Riegion knows Rowine's.

   "Begin!" 

Kitties

So I think I've finally convinced mother to let us get a new cat so i can, yet again, attempt to get it to love me. Because Ryna (my right now cat) kind of doesnt like me because she doesn't like to be held and i hold her....a lot. Also i love cats so why not get another!! so right now we're between a Bengal

which is half cat half WILD ANIMAL so why not. also...comes in white

much cute am i right?

Yeah but then mother sends me an email and she's all: What about a Savannah? So i google that.

turns out these things are HUGE. WAT? GIANT CAT. YES.

But then i came across the Ocicat. Which isn't wild at all so its cute and sweet and wow very cute. and comes in white too

Wow. look how adorable. and tame. tame is good.

And this is a normal coloured one. I mean ugh. how precious.

So i'm surrounded by stupid dog loving people who are like "Yeh cats whatever but DOGS" and that makes me mad because look at these things. they're kind of freaking perfect. So. you can take your dog opinions and shove it. 

Aiya [part 11]

That was the last work of Veronni Adain, the greatest member of the AAS to date, and probably the greatest artist in the history of mankind. In the memorial hall at the entrance to Trawl – a place anyone entering the city must walk through – there are ten paintings hanging on either side of a white stone bust. He actually refused to paint anything else, wanting to his career and life on something he was proud of.

On the left of the bust is The View from My Window as painted by a sixteen year old Veronni, all the paintings having been repurchased by the AAS and brought back together from their various new homes to hang in their new home where they rightfully belonged.On the right, The New View from My Window hung, the timeless brush strokes playing host to the history of a man whose name hung off everyone’s lips years before he even made a name for himself.

Veronni Adain. The Angel of the Poor.

In his last days as a particularly rough battle with cancer took its toll on him, he told his wife that the best window to watch from was the window of the past.

Aiya [part 10]

April 23, 2231, two months before his wife’s eighty eighth birthday, he closed himself in his room and kept everyone out.

In June, on Evalonna’s birthday, he left her a note on the counter that said:

I made my masterpiece when I was sixteen, but that was then. Now my life has changed, as has the view from my window.

She smiled at the familiar scrawl and ventured further into the house. Mimicking his show in the streets during his sixteenth summer, Veronni was standing on the coffee table with a line of blanket covered canvases.

“You’re going to hurt yourself up there, old man.” She teased in a lighthearted manner.

“Sit down,” he chided as his hand waved towards the sofa, “I finally made it; my final masterpiece. The New View from My Window.”

He dramatically pulled the blankets off his work and immediately Evalonna burst into tears.

The first canvas showed her when they first met with her hair pulled back and yellow dress skirt whipping around her tan bare legs. Next was their first child, Kaleera, playing in the garden surrounded by explosions of reds blues and greens. The next two were simple paintings of their house and grandchildren, and the final one was a self-portrait of himself wearing an open locket around his neck with a picture of his mother on one side, and Evalonna on the other.

Aiya [part 9]

Aiya’s slums never got cleaned up like Veronni wanted, but he gave the oney he earned from selling the Elmir children painting, to Liela and Mikael, the two eldest, and only surviving, Elmirs.

Mr. Flinn, or, Storm as he insisted on being called, became one of the family. He and his partner, Emmit, retired together in a small cottage on the outskirts of Trawl, and went over for dinner at the Adain’s at least once a week. Storm had ended up heading the AAS for a few years, which fulfilled a life-long dream he’d shared with his actor husband. Emmit had been the lead actor for the AAS for almost a decade alongside Veronni who had been head of both the painter and writer sectors of the AAS. Heading a section meant being the face of every person in Aiya – whether part of the AAS or not – who partook in the activity.

Veronni’s family grew excessively by the latter portion of his life. His fifth grandchild was born on his sixtieth birthday, and, ten years later, after the death of Storm (emit had passed away three years prior) he had twenty two little ones that pined for his attention.

Veronni painted almost five hundred paintings during his fifty years with the AAS, but, after finishing each one, he would shake his head and mutter:

           “Still not the one."

Aiya [part 8]

One week with the AAS turned into a month, and then a year, and then the years kept on flying by. The people of Aiya appreciated Veronni’s works in a way the citizens of his community never could. The going price for one painting could have kept electricity and food flowing into a whole street of houses for a lifetime.

He was vacationing at Aiya’s Frescia Lake during a break when he was nineteen and met Evalonna West. They fell in love and got married beneath the spring blossoms of cherry trees a few weeks later. Veronni brought his mom up from her new house in Avon in the Aiya countryside to give away his parentless bride.

The two young adults moved in together in Trawl, Aiya’s capital city, to stay close to their work. Surprisingly enough they both had worked with the Aiya Artist’s Society for years; he in the both the writer and artist sector, and her in the musician.

He spent every day writing, painting, and sketching; his job was to pump new materials out for Aiya. Every night he came home to spend the evenings with his wife, and, four years after their union, his daughter Kaleera. By the time he was thirty, his house was host to five more mouths: Felix, Meerah, Aldriech, Frescia, – named for the place her parents met at – and Veronni’s mother when she grew too sick to care for herself.

Their lives were marked by one success after another, a stark contrast to his sixteen years of poverty and wondering where his next meal would come from.

Aiya [part 7]

“Come with me. Just live there for a week, if you don’t like it, I’ll send you right back here to…whatever you have here, and leave you alone.”

“I really don’t know…”

“One week.”

Veronni knew he was right. There was nothing tying him down besides his mother, and she’d tell him to jump at the first chance he got to escape the fate she’d lived in since birth.

“Can I at least say goodbye?”

There was a moment where it looked like Mr. Flinn was seriously considering saying no, but he flipped open his pocket watch and let out a long sigh before he nodded his consent.

Five hours later, after a meal that was considered grand for Veronni and a snack for Mr. Flinn, Veronni’s mother helped him into the front seat of Mr. Flinn’s car and kissed him on the forehead.

“Go on my little Angel. Fly away and never look back.”

A few kids pressed up against the car to say goodbye, and the older people stood back to wave their farewell from afar.

“All right, all right, back it up. We’re moving out.”

Mr. Flinn started the car and the kids lept back withsurprised squeals like the car was some sort of loud monster about to strike.

           “C’mon boy. Time for you to meet the real world."

Aiya [part 6]

Veronni walked up behind the male, peering over his shoulder with a bewildered look on his face.

“That’s beautiful?”

“It’s special. Such care that’s obvious with every brush stroke, and the choice of colour perfectly reflects the somber mood of the painting.”

“Then why was it so good at making people hate me?”

A pregnant pause filled the air around them for a moment as Mr. Flinn pondered his next question.

“Veronni, look around, what do you see?”

Veronni’s eyes moved over their scant surroundings before he ended on the view of his own leaning shanty.

“I see desolation thanks to a government that’s forgotten us…”

Mr. Flinn waves his hand dismissively.

“Besides that. I see a poor place that needs help. Children like these are starving and dying daily all around you, and you cant change that. The people here looked to you to take their surroundings and use your power of art to make the hideous look bearable. The moment you unveiled reality to them, they turned away.”

Veronni hung his head, but when Mr. Flinn clapped him on the shoulder, he looked up once again.

“Come with me.” Mr. Flinn leaned in and whispered the words in Veronni’s ear.

“Where?”

“The AAS. Veronni, you have something special in you. You can still see the beauty in a world where there seemingly is none.”

“I have no place in that world, though.”

“You’re smart, Veronni, you’ll make it. You have nothing here anymore anyways thanks to your little stunt here. Also. Think of your mother. The income you’d make in a week would feed this whole street steak dinner for a month. She’d be well taken care of.”

Veronni’s bottom lip trembled, but he bit down on it to still it. Even with all his intelligence, with, and skill, he was still only a kid in the grand scheme of things

Aiya [part 5]

Veronni’s eyes widened. Even in the poorest parts of town, the AAS was a big thing. Aiya prided itself on its artistic abilities, and formed a “society”, or business, of the greatest writers, musicians, and artists to be at the forefront of all of Aiya.

Veronni bent at the waist in a low bow as he tried to humble himself before someone from so high a place. “Pleasure to meet you, sir. I’m-“

“Veronni Adain, yes I’ve heard of you. Everyone’s heard of you.” Mr. Flinn took his hand in a firm grip. “Everybody has at least heard tale of this phantom angel of the poor who turns everything he touches beautiful.”

Veronni’s tan cheeks turned red and his eyes flicked down in embarrassment. For him, being this so-called “angel” was a curse; a burden for those around him, even when their uneducated eyes could’nt see it.

“Veronni, I was wondering if you’d like to do me the honour of returning to the AAS with me.”

Blue eyes met the strangely dark crimson colour of Mr. Flinn’s.

“Why would you want me?”

“Because you see beauty where others assumed there was none.” Mr. Flinn’s words were almost reverent as he ran a hand down the edge of the Elmir kids painting.

Aiya [part 4]

“What did you with our Angel?” one man shouted from the crowd, and in a fit of curse words and disappointment, the people scattered back to their daily grind.

Veronni was satisfied with the reaction and started slowly breaking down his ‘stage’.

“Need any help?” A man crept up behind Veronni with his hands shoved into the pockets of his pleated black suit pants.

“Come to see the fall of an Angel? That’s the kind of thing you rich people get off on in your movies and such, isn’t it?” Veronni was wise beyond his sixteen years of age. He was self-educated off books he’d picked up along his way, and easily the smartest person in his community. A bit of sass wasn’t beyond him.

“No, I’ve come to patch up his wings so that he can fly higher than ever.”

Veronni stopped what he was doing and turned around to get the first glimpse of the older male.

He had salt-and-pepper hair that was receding on the sides even though he didn’t look that old, and his strangely red eyes – probably contacts – were framed by thin eyebrows and laugh lines.

“I’m Daaron Flinn. I work for the Aiya Artist Society."

Aiya [part 3]

Word leaked into town, and, on the day of his grand unveiling, a good amount of rich people arrived in their cars – much to the amazement of the poor children who’d never seen one before – to watch.

Veronni set up in the center of his street on a small platform he’d made out of planks of mismatched wood. He had five canvases on varying tables, all covered in tarps and holey quilts he’d taken from their linen closet.

“You praise me for an angelic touch,” he began in a grand, practiced voice that wavered with youth and conviction, “but all I’ve ever done for you is wrongfully blind you.”

Confused murmurs spread throughout the crowd and a few of the rich leaned forward in their car seats. No one understood. Veronni had been a Godsend to them, taking the edge off of their painful reality.

“That is why I made this: The View from My Window.” HE sauntered over to the first canvas and tugged down the ratty blanket. “Day one.”

On the canvas was the haggard face of Franny White with bruises that crawled up her cheek illuminated in the dying embers of a fire. She was crouched beneath the overhang of the leaning building adjacent Veronni’s trying to shield herself from the freezing rain.
As he went down the line, the paintings grew progressively darker, ending with the naked emaciated bodies of the Elmir children as they shivered under a broken street light. It was common knowledge that Eliza and Francis Elmir had died in a huge fire over a year prior, but everyone in their sector was too poor to take in three extra starving mouths. It was quite honestly a miracle to everyone that all three had survived for so long

Aiya [part 2]

With money earned from taking odd jobs and people buy his work, Veronni kept up his cache of art supplies, but in the summer of his fifteenth year, he broke down and turned away anyone who came inquiring about his work.

For a while he took to writing stories, but those just pleased people all the more, and they flocked to him to acquire some new valiant tale to read to their children.

Veronni knew hes peers were as poor or poorer than he, but every single one refused to take anything on charity. Poor people had the worst sense of pride when it came to only taking things they earned. There was an air of wonder that intoxicated them and they felt they had to have his drawings and stories, and families were growing hungrier because of that.

So Veronni began to work on his masterpiece. He went to town and spent all his money on a set of the highest quality paints and five canvases, and locked himself in his room to begin. His mother begged him for days to come out and eat, but he just turned her away and continued his feverish work.

People were on edge for a week and the air in their meager community grew tense as they waited for their “Angel’s” grand piece.

Aiya [part 1]

A/N: before I even start I'm just going to apologize because blogs are due really super soon and I needed blogs so I kind of wrote an entire short story and it's like eleven parts so strap in it's going to be a long one. Also it's really long because I kind of milked it and split it into eleven 2-250 word parts. Blogs are hard to come by. Don't look at me like that.

Veronni Adain was born in the slums of Aiya to one of the poorest families in the sector. He was a happy baby, and, given his dire circumstances, he remained carefree and excitable throughout the entirety of his youth. His wide blue eyes saw something in the world that the people around him could not; he saw beauty.

His mother scraped together her meager savings to buy him some paper and pencils for his tenth birthday saying that every little boy should have a chance for creativity. By giving him that pitiful excuse of an art set, she’d given him his future.

Veronni used every inch of those precious pages writing and sketching. He would sit outside in the dirt and watch the world happen around him, and transpose it to paper. But his drawings were special; different. The slums of Aiya were drab and gross and small with too many people packed into too little space. Yet somehow, the pencil of a ten year old made it worth looking twice at.

He would catch the passing smiles of children who ran by playing tag in their bare feet and brown clothes, or the relieved look on a mother’s face when she saw her husband returning from another successful day at the mill. The people said Veronni possessed some sort of magic and would pay money just to have his beautiful versions of reality hanging on their rotten wooden walls.

Life Update

So i have the SAT tomorrow and im kind of really worried to say the least. i feel pretty good about my writing and reading portions (okay i kind of suck at vocab but thats whatever) but then comes math. to say im bad at math is an understatement. (i need to bring my pre-calc grade up. ick) but i have to get over 500 at least, because that would be pretty nice. Ma keeps trying to get me to study but how do you study math??? you dont. thats the thing. You go in and wing it. but see the problem is im not particularly good at multiple choice kind of tests. Ill write essays and long short answers all day long so i can explain my answer, but multiple choice messes with my head, especially after this test thats like 10 years long. But anywho. Liz will be there with me so thats cool but theres no guarentee we'll be in the same room together even though ourblast names are super close, but afterwards we're going home to play Call of Duty Zombies and die and scream a whole lot because we're good like that...But yes. Also my friend Haley from swimming is going so thatll be pretty cool too. (i have zero clue what time i have to be there to be honest) Wish me luck. I need it sorely
Foreverandalways,
Ave

Life Updates with Bailey

So get ready for the excitement yo, cause here it comes. Sit down if you have to cause the news is pretty startling, trust me, i didnt believe it myself for like a whole day. I, Bailey Douglas Murray, got invited to prom. Yes and by a boy too! Strange isnt it. im like an anti-person/really anti-boy thing. Idk. im pretty charming man, but easily forgotten and avoided. But still! A public school prom too! granted he just got broken up with and hes like my best guy friend and his asking went "Well Haley and Patrick (other two friends) are going, why not go as a group?" which kinda hurt a little but hey. prom. and he asked to come to mine too! i just told Tina id go with her if we werent asked and i feel bad for saying that i may have a date. oo. date. i like the sound of that. Im going dress shopping tomorrow. though i hate dresses im kinda excited cause since our jr/sr is masquerade and im basing my outfit around a loki theme. nerdy, whatever, but its gonna be kinda amazing so dont care. But yeh. Pretty sure K and Liza are already way past annoyed with my overexcitement but thats okay. Im sorry. Really. I just kinda wanna cry because im a loner and loners get too happy when we're noticed. booyah.
So yes.
End rant.
Bailey out.

This is my haiku dedication rant

This post is about
How much I hate these haikus
No, I really do

I apologize
If the syllables are wrong
See...I just dont care

I really hate them
They are the Devils lyrics
No...see...I mean it.

My good friend just asked
"Bailey, what is a haiku?"
How do you not know?!

Why write haikus then?
Thats just how desperate I am
To finish these blogs

Weekman...do you see?
What on earth youve done to me?
It is criminal

200 words yet?
Wow i really hope it is
So i can stop this

So as it turns out
That was only a hundred
Woopdee-fricking-doo

So we have more time
We can spend together here
Isnt that just great...

I really dont know
What possessed me to do this
Guess im desperate.

Haiku oh haiku
Why is it that you exist
Except for torment

Why do i feel like
Im committing some sort of
English treason here

No offense is meant
Im really passionatly
Against these dang things

I apologize
Should any slander occur
I do love poems

Writing poetry
and doing a lot of rhyming,
now that is some fun

But writing these things
I guess you could say that its
Not my real forte

Even though Ive now
Written like seventeen ones
Doesnt change my mind...