Lyrics Are Confuzzling, Guys.

I confuse lyrics all the time. So I was listening to "Girls Chase Boys" by Ingrid Michaelson and thought it was "it's so simple" but it's actually "it's all the same thing," and thus I was inspired to write this. Enjoy, I guess!

Girls Chase Boys, Ingrid Michaelson: What I thought: Oh oh oh oh, it's so simple! Actual lyric: Oh oh oh oh, it's all the same thing!

SexyBack, Justin Timberlake: What I thought: Go, go, heppi-co. Actual lyric: Go, go 'head, be goin'.

Paradise, Coldplay: What I thought: Meals take all the butterflies. Actual lyric: Wheel breaks the butterfly. (?!?!)

Bulletproof, La roux: What I thought: This time baby, I'll eat meat. Bulletproof... (no kidding I actually thought that!). Actual lyric: This time maybe, I'll be-e-e, bulletproof...

Machine, Regina Spektor: What I thought: Hupped in the machine! Hupped in the machine! Actual lyric: Hooked into machine! Hooked into machine!


Yeah. And those are just off the top of my head.

About Kittens

Well.
I AM A DOG PERSON. Cats are cute, but I only like kittens. I recently found out I am allergic to cats, but that doesn't change my views. Cats do not interact with you NEARLY as much as dogs. When is the last time you said "come, bring me the ball and we'll play fetch" to a cat? So, here is some of these:
WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU...

-Told your cat to "sit, give you a paw, no, the other paw, uh-uh, the other paw, now lie down"?
-Took your cat on a walk?
-patted the foot of your bed in attempt to get your cat to sleep on your bed?
-Said, "WHO'S A GOOD GIRL?" over and over in a baby voice to your cat?
-gave your cat ten billion tummy rubs? no. I take that back. ten kajillion-zillion-tribillion tummy rubs?
-Told your cat to "come here, puppy!"
-TOOK YOUR CAT ON A FRACKIN' WALK?!?!

So yeah. Although once when I was nine. I saw a cat on a leash and I burst out laughing and nearly caused my babysitter to crash into the curb.
Also, why in the world would you let your cat be an OUTDOOR CAT?
It's basically like saying, "Okay, so I love you kitty! I'm just letting you run away so you can get hit by a car or bitten by some wild animal with rabies or get lost and never find your way back!" And some kitten lovers may argue that most cats find their way back, but I can give you many examples of friends' and others' cats who have run away and gotten lost.

Before I continue with my point (which honestly I have no doubt where it is heading), let me just justify my current point with this BUZZFEED ARTICLE. JUST, JUST, YES.


http://www.buzzfeed.com/chelseamarshall/best-dog-pictures

Okay. Totally forgot what I was going to say, so... um...
BYE!

Just Thought You May Wanna See My Journal

hi i am  ella and i am stupid....yaaaaay*
*That was written by my au pair. Siggggghhhh

10:46 PM, May 20th, 2014
Hello! So today I had school, but you know, I do most of my life, so... yeah. Let's see what I can talk about?

Well, do you (I'll just call "you" a "you" for now because you're just a notebook, but I can't really give you any other appropriate pronoun, hehehehe)realize how ironically the word "funny" is used (based off an idea by Esther Earl-- btw rest in awesome, Estee)? Even when you're not using it sarcastically. e.g. "Omg it's sooooo funny, Bob, just, like, texted me!" What the crapbuckets is funny about that?!?! >.<

It's pretty late and I have a math test tomorrow, but my "fatigue" usually wears off by, like, the middle of first period. So I guess that should buy me some time. It's funny (DARN IT! I've been trying to avoid using that word ironically, but I guess it's a filthy old habit. Mwahahaha), I used to never dot my "I"s, and people would be like, "What the poop?" So lately, I've been working on it. In retrospect, let me just say that
OOPS forgot what I was gonna say.

My hand hurts ugggh.

Sorry for the messy handwriting. I bet that, like, in *some* many years I won't be able to read it and my handwriting will probably be TOTALLY different ummmm. Yeah but it's likely I'll have no idea where in the world this is. I hope you find it, Future Me.

LUKE, I AM YOUR FATHER.

Okay for now, I'm gonna sign off and read a book until I fall asleep.

'Night, dahlinks.


12:09 AM
Okay, so it's been nearly an hour and a half, and I am nowhere close to sleepiness. I hate it when you are totally drowsy and you can't fall asleep and you just wait there like a total idiot or something. I also have that really unpleasant/uncomfortable thing where one of my nostrils is all stuffed up and I keep getting all paranoid that If I close my mouth when I sleep I'll only have one nostril to breathe out of and yeah. Do you know what I'm saying? Correct answer - no, 'cause "you" don't have a brain. *eye drawing* and that was a random eyeball in case you feel like looking at a random eyeball. Yeah...

#insomniacproblems

Sooooo in case anyone steals this, just warning you, you probably won't find any "juicy" stuff in here, heheheheh. Like, no stuff about crushes or girly things like that. It's interesting, I've always wanted a journal to confide in, and now that I've finally got one and am writing in it, I don't feel that urgent need to...
spill. I feel like all my secrets are kind of (semi-)permanently etched in my brain. :/

*suckish cat doodle* <---- cat (a.k.a. what I'm allergic to)

good night (for now).
:)

Thoughts.

I think a lot. Most of it is SUPER random thoughts, and I'm gonna take a (non)educated guess that 40% of my thoughts during the school day actually have to do with school. So um, here are some examples of my majesticalistic thoughts and such:


-What if we pronounced words like they're actually spelled? Ha. Suc-hool. :)
-Hey, I went to day camp with that 8th grader a while ago! I wonder if she remembers me?
-no. I just threw an awkward "hi" smile at a girl who thinks I'm a total and complete stranger... (#strangerdanger)
-My stomach hurts. IS IT APPENDICITIS???
-"Medieval" should be spelled differently. Mid-evil...
-STOP TALKING I'M TRYING TO READ SECRETLY UNDER MY DESK AND YOU'RE BEING ANNOYING AND IT'S A REALLY GOOD BOOOOOOKKKKK!!!
-Hee hee. The teacher said "duty." Think about it...... think about it.....
-I wonder if I can fill a whole page with doodles...
-doodle is a funny word.
-Why did the chicken cross the road? Why? To get to the idiot's house. ...Knock-knock. Who's there? The idiot.
-Wait, if I answer that the idiot's there, doesn't it mean that I'M the idiot?!?! Mind = Blown
-I want to go to beddddddddddd
-hee-hee, when I'm sped up I sound like a chipmunk. Or a squirrel? I don't know.
-Here's a song: butterfly, should be "flutterby", 'cause it flutters by! Oh Butterfly, why oh why? I don't know! Are you covered in butter, O majestic creature?
-OOOOooOOh foooood. Lunch is just in.... 79 minutes! O joy.
-Food is smexy.
-I should write a best-selling novel.
-Mwahahahahahah hee hee.
-Swagggggggie - the wise words of the late, great Justin Beaver.


Okay, so that's about it for now! And I know that this is about as cliché as you can get, but... I hope you enjoyed!

Embarrassing Stories!

Here are some embarrassing stories. I hope you enjoy (but not really they were pure terror for me).

School Related:

1. You know that new song "#Selfie"? Of course you do. Well, when I find a new word I really like, I tend to use it rather frequently. So I found this word in the song "ratchet" and I wasn't exactly sure what it meant, but I used it anyway. My first period class is Science, so I walked in early (which is not exactly a usual thing, and I was über excited), and screamed LOUDER THAN I INTENDED TO "Guys, I'm early! Isn't that totally RATCHET?" And everybody cracked up and I turned beet red. No, I take that back, Beet-stains-on-your-fingers Red. Now my friend makes fun of me for it EVERY DAY.

2.  In my school you can go to this thing called extra help, which is where you go to the teacher either early in the morning or during lunch, for... extra help. I was a little behind in one class, so I went to extra help in the morning and got caught up. I was like six minutes early in the hallway, and there were about five or six people at their lockers. So I shouted "WHO'S READY FOR PERIOD ONE, D WING?" relatively loudly. And only one boy replied, "Me! Yeah!" and it was very embarrassing for the both of us.

3. Another gullible story. My friends convince me of lots of things, and recently small things. For instance, my friend Emmie (you know her if you read this blog) did this braided headband thing. It looked really good and matched her hair color exactly, so I thought she didn't. Three days later she removed it from her head and I gasped. "Got ya!" She yelled. Also I was away in California for a family event for a week, and O said, "By the way, while you were gone, they changed the announcements to period 2." So my teacher Mr. L. was talking wondering when the announcements were, and I replied, "Oh, they changed them to period 2." and everybody was cracking up to themselves. Later I learned it was because of testing. The next day, obviously, it was back to period 1. Now whenever we go too long without funniness/awkwardness/embarrassment, everyone brings it up. UGGGGGGGGGH


Camp Related

4. I was sleeping in my bunk bed until I heard a squeak. I abruptly shot up into the air. My best friend, S, was in the bunk below me. "Wake up!" I whispered. "Wake up wake up wake up!" She woke up looking scared. "WHAT'S WRONG?" she whisper-screamed at me. "Do you hear that?" I asked. She listened for a little while, but there was no squeaking. I sighed. "Just listen. It will come again." She rolled her eyes. "Go to bed, El." I heard a whatever coming from her as I climbed back up the ladder. But there it came again. The squeak. I could've sworn it was a squirrel! Coming from the corner of our cabin. Her head shot up. "I hear it!" She stuck her head back down into her bed. I confirmed she was sleeping when I heard gentle snores coming from below me. I slowly crept toward the corner. The only problem was that the counselor was sleeping right next to the squirrel. Finally I saw it, nibbling in a little corner. And- I can not make this stuff up- It JUMPED. I did a half scream, half OH MY GLOBS I HAVE TO BE QUIET OR ELSE EVERYONE WILL WAKE UP whisper yelp. The counselor woke up as I creaked open the door for the squirrel to escape. And that's how I got briefly yelled at (yelling meaning "ok it was just a squirrel go to bed) by my counselor for being scared by a squirrel.
Sheer...
Terror.

My Book Yay!

Remember when I told you guys about Isolated, that book I was writing? Well here is chapter one!!!!! PLEASE READ AND COMMENT YOUR FEEDBACK. 

here it is!

One                                         

  Of all the things to forget, I've forgotten the most important. I've forgotten who I used to be and who was close to me; I've forgotten my enemies, my best friends. Although these things define everyone else in the world, they seem merely irrelevant to me. Some might consider this a weakness, like my lack of ability to note an evil gleam in the eye, or how I somehow am not able to feel any embarrassment whatsoever. But like I said before: irrelevant. You know, life is funny like that. We always are so confident to step in, but once we're in, stepping back out again seems urgent. Yet, coming back to it all, the only important thing I remember is how it all started.

  It started on my fifteenth birthday.

11:49 PM,  December 2nd, 2099

The first thing I notice when I walk in the waiting room is the smell- it's that deadly waiting room smell of fresh paint and unscented hand sanitizer. I check myself in at the front desk with the fidgety receptionist, whose name (judging by the name plate on her desk) is Naomi. Her over-gelled brunette hair is in a perfect bun sitting on the top of her head that looks so tight is it was scalping her. Naomi pushes her glasses up from the bridge to the base of her nose.

  I choose the most isolated seat, which is basically far away from everything else. Although, the chair is exactly identical to all the others: gray and cushioned. I glance at the hideous cream-colored walls, complete with chipping paint and grease stains. My grandmother, who was an interior designer, would be rolling in her grave if she saw this room. The place is unsettling.

 After a bit of observing, I decide to focus my eyes on one place. I look straight ahead to see a boy my age, with tousled dirty blonde hair and green eyes. He is wearing an old green v-neck t-shirt with distressed jeans and some old sneakers. He is attractive, but not my type. I've never really had a boyfriend anyway; this is just my fifteenth birthday. And judging from that we are both here, it’s his too.

  But the thing about him is that he is staring at me.

  He’s looking at me like I'm the most interesting thing in the world. It’s probably my eyes. My stupid eyes always make everybody stare at me, just because they are different. It kind of ostracizes me from the rest of the world. Well, in terms of my eyes, anyway. I accidentally make eye contact with him, and my eyes immediately flash downwards. I clear my throat and bring up the courage to talk to him.

 "Um, excuse me?"

  My words bring him out of his trance. He looks mesmerized, and a coral color rose to his cheeks as he realized that he was being sort of rude.

 "Oh, sorry."

 "It's my eyes, isn't it?

 "What do you mean?"

 "Um, I have one green eye and one blue eye?"

 "Oh, sorry. No, it's actually not that. I just, I mean… you have, like, really bright eyes.” Now it’s my turn to blush. If I’m not mistaken, that was a flirt.

  "Thanks," I mumble.

  It is getting really awkward until Naomi calls my name. I walk towards Doctor Bloom's office, but my heart is beating rapidly as my old boots click against the tiled floor. I round the corner to try and keep up with her fast-paced footsteps. When we finally arrive at the office, I feel the claustrophobia start to creep up on me as I notice how tightly confined the space is.

  Doctor Bloom pats the blue padded counter-like thing, a notion for me to get up on it. I hop up, and my feet are swinging in the air. I was always tall, yet I feel quite petite every time I sat on one of these things; they make me uncomfortable. My back starts hurting. I notice I'm slouching, so I try to sit up as straight as I can. The doctor is in the corner, checking something over on a clip board. It could be my health info... or a criminal record or something. Not that I have one...

  "Okay, Devin. So you know the drill- it was discussed with you at the town meeting by the mayor. All I'm going to do is give you this shot, and in the fluid is a microscopic tracker that will be injected into you as soon as the syringe goes beneath your skin. This tracker will tell you what Nemblar you will be grouped in." She pauses, as if waiting for me to say something. I can't help but notice how casually and nonchalantly she says these words. When I don't say anything, she goes on.

  "Anyway, the syringe is not that big, and I mean this when I say it, it won't hurt. The only time it might pinch a little is when the tracker enters your body, I promise." I nod in reply; I'm not really afraid of shots. Syringes.

  But she lifts the syringe up and I start to feel a little... queasy. I think the thought of having somebody following my whereabouts for my whole life just sort of panics me. Doctor Bloom sees the slight fear in my eyes and gives me a soothing look. " Oh, Devin. Don't worry. I promise you, the most amazing thing will happen..."

  Amazing??? Nothing amazing has ever come out of a shot. Except a sore arm.

  I inhale deeply as the sharp needle pierce my skin. I exhale, relieved that it doesn't hurt that much. I do feel a slight pinch, but that stays with me the whole time. The pinch is the tracker. Then I feel a surprising tickle on my forearm, and in a splurge of green they come. The words.

  Almost like a holograph- except it is coming out of my arm. It is green lettering, but the broken up kind, like those of the numbers on a clock radio or some kind of digital clock. Rather than scaring me (like it should- that should be the gut and initial reaction of everybody except me), it fascinates me. When they arise, the tickling vanishes. These words appear, hovering about six or seven inches over my arm: YOU ARE GROUPED IN NEMBLAR THREE. REPORT TO YOUR TOWN REDEMPTION OFFICE IMMEDIATELY.

  "Okay! Devin, good luck in Nemblar Three."

  "Doctor Bloom?"

  "Yes, Devin?"

  "Um, what Nemblar are you in?"

  "Nemblar One."

  "Oh. Thanks, Doctor Bloom! I'll see you at my annual checkup."

  "Yep! You'll take the AirTube."

  With a quick, astute smile, I walk out of the door. Walking out from the door parallel from Doctor Bloom's office is the peculiar boy from the waiting room. It just occurred to me that I never asked him his name. He isn't staring at me anymore, but I have the urge to cover my eyes. Even if he likes me, my eyes always make me feel so weird.

  "Hi," I say, surprised at my own voice; surprised that I am the first to speak.

  "Hey."

  "Um, what's your name?"

  He seems pleased that I wanted to know his name. It's oddly unnerving. It's almost like an "agree to dissagree" scenario- he likes me (well, I think he does) but I don't like him. Or at least I think I don't. I realize we are frozen in the middle of a hallway, a hazard to any passerby. I motion for us to move along in the hallway.

  "Liam," he replies. "What Nemblar?"

  "Three. What about you?"

  A sad look clouds over his face. "Four."

 "Well, we'll still see each other at the Town Redempton Office!" I say in a attempt to cheer him up. He nods solemnly. Even though I know it is sort of creul, I'm sort of flattered and amused by his sadness to see we won't be grouped together. For once in my life somebody is interested in me, my looks, not just that I have two different color eyes.

12:07 PM

I walk out of the building, forgetting what a nice day it was. I strap my helmet on and take off on my midnight blue and white bike. I feel kind of rude leaving him behind, but I remind myself that I didn’t even know him until today. Liam. It is such an old fashioned name.

   A block away from the Redempton Office, I start to wonder why exactly it’s called the "Redemption Office." Who or what is it redeeming? My bike slows to a stop in front of the antiqued wooden green door. I see a bike rack and park it. In 2099, nobody uses cars: the AirTube and bicycles are basically our only transportation. Naomi the receptionist told me that I would be going here for a presentation on what the new Nemblar Society would be.

  There is no waiting room here, but the old and wrinkled receptionist asks me my name and tells me to go to room 125. I walk up the stairs - I never really feel like taking the elevator - and turn a corner. There is a big white board with a projector in front of it.  I sit down on the crimson couch, and there's nobody there. My big green sweatshirt droops over my faded jeans, and my tall combat boots lift off the ground as I cross my legs.

  I guess if no one is there to start the presentation for me, I have to do it myself. I see a headset hanging from the ceiling in the corner of the room. I put the headphones around my ears. I know what this is. I close my eyes, clear my head, all except for one thought: Turn on. Turn on. Turn on.  And the screen turns on. This is a fairly new device (buy new I mean mid-2080s or so), but recently it's been more popular. They call it the "Mind Reader." The. I see two big selections on the board: "Play" and "Chapters", and I think play. It starts.

    I move back over to the big crimson couch. It's like watching a movie. All that's missing is some popcorn.

  The first thing that happens on the screen was a woman appeared. She has soft brown eyes and textured brunette hair. She wears glasses that rest low on her nose. She seems to be looking straight into my eyes, and then she says my name softly. "Devin. Welcome to your presentation. This will tell you everything you need to know. My name is Kendra, and I will be narrating the pictures. Listen."

  I'm sure some of the stuff I am going to be learning is information I'd already learned in school. In the U.S.A. (Unattached States of America), you would come of age on your fifteenth birthday. Not in terms of alcohol and stuff like that- it just means that in the new Community, you'd be seperated from your parents, and you no longer have to get an education. By your fifteenth birthday, the education is already programmed inside you.

  Kendra begins to narrate the first picture: a map of what used to be a united country. It is America, with the magenta lines determining the borders of where Canada and Mexico begin. "In 2098, the government (the Realmkeepers) decided  to make the country smaller, especially after the nuclear wars of 2073 over the land. Now, Canada owns the land from Washington to Massachusetts, and Mexico owns the land from California to North Carolina." The borders lower on the map, leaving ownly a strip of land right across the mddle.

  "As you know, our country will be divided into four sections starting tomorrow. That's when the gates will be dropped. There were also be an unbreakable glass half-sphere around the country, so nobody can get in and nobody can get out. They don't want any more wars starting." The map is divided into four sections representing the Nemblars. I tense up a bit, my heart rate quickening. I'm not quite sure I'm ready for this yet. I wonder if anyone is.

  "Everybody over fifteen is going to be living on their own. Well, not necessarily. Everybody over fifteen is living in a Community House that you will share with one roommate of your gender. The Community House is made up of two floors: each belonging to one person. Every Saturday, you'll get visiting hours from ten AM to three PM, to spend with family and friends in other Nemblars. Each village has an AirTube, which as you know, is a long train hovering ten feet over the ground that travels at an average of one hundred and ten miles per hour. You won't feel it moving fast at all.

  "You will have a designated time to wake up and curfew. The children must wake up no later than seven AM on weekdays, and they must be in bed by eight thirty PM. People fifteen and older must be up for work at seven thirty AM and be in bed no later than ten. On weekends, the curfew is eleven thirty. If you break this curfew, you get a warning. Three warnings and... well, the consequences will be explained to you." Those words send shivers up my spine. I straighten my posture. Kendra also says something else that I'm not really paying attention to. Something about... romance. If there is a boy or girl you were dating and couldn't bear to be apart from, the only way you, he, or she could switch Nemblars is by getting married. I'm not sure why, but my mind flashes to Liam. I shake away the image and focus my eyes on the screen before me.

  An image of Kendra returns to the screen. "Enjoy your time in Nemblar Three of the New Realm! On your way out, Pam will hand you your key so your Community house will be accessible. Have fun!"

  None of this sounds fun. It all sounds grim, if you ask me. I wonder who will be my housemate while I collect my house key from the weary looking receptionist. While I am getting my bike, I notice a familiar person walking toward the AirTube stop. That's when I realize it's Liam.

  I have the urge to turn away and go spend my last night with my parents in the same house, to forget it all, just like I planned to. To forget him, even when he still remembers me. But I know it is wrong, and its guilt will engulf me if I just don't say goodbye. So I get on my bike and pedal towards him. "Liam!" I call.

  He turns around and I can see a smile creeping up his face. "I never did ask you your name."

  "Devin."

  He pauses for a moment, as if taking in my name. As soon as he hears me say it, his intense blue eyes shine brighter than I'd seen before in the doctor's office. He snapps out of it though. "I'm going to miss my AirTube. I'll see you around?"

  "I don't know how that's possible. This is our last night as a joined country, and you're moving out of this town. I don't know you. But strangely, I hope I will see you around. Good luck in Nemblar Four!" Wow, that came out sounding rather harsh/awkward, I think.

  He just nods in reply. I think he was hoping I would just nod and say "see you," but I was just being honest. Although I am flattered by his fascination in me, I barely know him. Yet, I want to know more about him. He is mysterious. Anonymous. And he was the only boy who thinks I’m not… well… weird.

  But the hungrier I grow, the lesser my interest grows for him. Politely, I bid him goodbye and head home for the last meal made by my mother. Starting tomorrow, on the day after my fifteenth birthday...

  I’ll be cooking for myself.

Milliana 2.0

 (AKA the story of Sally) in which I tell you more about the beloved Milliana...

Before you read this, I highly suggest that you read my old entry, Milliana. If you're too much of a lazy butt to read a whole other entry, then I'll just summarize Milliana as briefly as I can. Milliana is a story character I made up when I was little. I wrote stories about her from Kindergarten throughout third grade. She is named after my kindergarten class pet Millie the Millipede.

Anyway, this is a story about Milliana's - I guess you could say "partner in crime" - Sally. Sally was created by my best friend O (just an initial not a real name). Now O thought it would be a grand idea for Milli here to have a best friend to go through all her adventures with. Naturally, seeing as this idea was introduced to me by O in first grade, the first thought that popped into my head was, "He's copying me!" I didn't want to hurt his feelings, though, so I told him, "Sure!"
   Surprisingly, though, it was not as much of a recipe for disaster as I though it would be. Let me describe the appearance of Sally and Milliana.
   MILLIANA: Long, brunette hair worn down, wore LOTS of pink and messed-up, horribly illustrated high heels.
   SALLY: Curly brown hair, wore sneakers and a buttload of blue.
   It was fun for the time-being.
   That is, until...
   He wrote his OWN sally book.
   I felt a fire-y jealousy building up inside me. I never really listened to my conscience back then. Either that, or I was to young to have one. Most likely the latter. Anyway, here I was, with a finished Milliana book in my hand, and the teacher was over by O's desk and complimenting his book! Yet I was far too old to be envying him like that. So I (unfortunately rather reluctantly) packed up my jealousy and hid it in the cupboard for a few years. That's when it happened in third grade.
   If you read "Giraffie," you know that third grade was a VERY dramatic year. Basically what happened was O used Milliana in a Sally story and I got upset. That was our first fight in all of our seven years of knowing each other. But to me it was more of a mental telepathy fight... we didn't really talk.
#awkotaco

Well I hope you enjoyed! This goes out to Snickers. Know you wanted a blast from the past!