Ate pork chops for dinner had nice applesauce too!

I love South Park.

Thank you, South Park, for making my Wednesday's the best.

Thank You, Mr. McBride

Kids my age usually don't respect their teachers.

I hear the most awful comments about so many.

Well all I have to say to that is:

I've had the pleasure of having Mr. McBride. Hands down, the best teacher I've ever had.

I want to thank him for teaching me how to find myself.

Also, for the copy of Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace.

Thanks McB.

"Nantes", "Liar (it takes two)", "A Decade Under the Influence", and "Landslide".

Every once in a while, it becomes necessary to live your life. Now, I will admit that it is difficult to NOT live your life (unless, of course, you are dead), but what I mean is that you get lost. You get lost in the routine. You get lost in the day to day struggle full of vapid people and unbearable apathy. You get lost in your meaningless thought process. You get lost in yourself. Yes, agreed, the statement, "you get lost in yourself." is entirely cliche, but I would just like to point out that in order to live your life, you need to be utterly cliche. You have to do things. You have to meet people. You have to fall in love. Not fall in love with a person exactly, but fall in love with yourself. No one will love you, if you don't love yourself. Now, let's get just a little less serious here. Today I took a chance. It was a small one, but I still took it. Since the 8th grade, I've thought about this one person so much, it's ridiculous. He's younger than me. So, in order to avoid the potential scorn and/or shunning, I pushed this boy out of my mind. Then, the other day, my mother picked me up from school (in the Mormon "church" [it's actually called a 'ward'] parking lot). We were talking about stuff and this is what happened:
                      Mother: "Blah Blah Blah orthodontist appointment blah blah blah"
                      Myself: (idly sits in the seat secretly listening to the 'ol Ipod)
                      Mother: "HEY! who on EARRRTH is that cuuuuuteeee boy?!"
                                 --It was him.
                      Myself: "Oh, that's _________. I have a huge ass crush on him."
...and there in the car, I told my mother about the boy. I told her about the meet-cute. We met at Church when I was in 8th grade and he wasn't. I told her about how when I transferred from Rancho to Alta Loma, my first thought was, "Soon, he'll be attending this school!" All of this, was extremely embarrassing and the kind of stuff that you do not tell your mother. She told me to talk to him.

That was my mistake.

I spoke to him.

With the help of Chloe Keedy and Israel Collins, I spoke to him.

Now the only question is:
Will I speak to him again?

We'll see.

Research Paper

Dear Research Paper,

I do not like you. You have caused me much pain and suffering. We haven't even technically been assigned you, yet you still consume my life.

Yours unconditionally,
Lizzy

P.S
I really do like you.
P.P.S
But I would like some guidance.
P.P.P.S
Thank you Chloe Keedy(:

In Banning

I love my grandparents.
But I do not enjoy Ambrosia salad.

Today, I have a plan.

My plan consists of:

1. Eating
2. Taking a nap
3. Watching my sister play soccer (in the rain)
4. Eating some more
5. Listening to music
6. Waiting for Izzy to come over
7. Having a dance party with Izzy
8. Eating again
9. Doing something exciting and adventurous with Izzy
10. Not sleeping until like 3 or 4 am.


Yes, It will be a blast!

I have a friend...(reply to his song)

Despite the way he makes me feel,
(which is mostly angry and sad)
he did something that surprised me.

He wrote a song,
and though it wasn't exactly for me,
it was inspired by me.

(not in a good way)

Now, we've both been bad friends to each other lately,
but I was very hurt about something he'd done (recently).

I don't want to specify.

Anyway,
he wrote a song,
so I figured I'd write one back.

I call it,
"One day at a time"

("sounds like a country song!" -old man in "The Wedding Singer")
(it isn't.)


Once in a while,
I lose my cool.
I yell at you,
I cry on the phone.

I try and tell you exactly how I feel,
it always makes sense in my mind,
but it never comes out right.

I try every day,
but you still won't stay.
There's always something,
usually a someone else too.

I look at you.
I feel ok.
I look at us,
day after day.

one day at a time.



*crowd cheers!*
*CHLOE KEEDY points out obvious mistakes (such as it is petty/ has no bridge)*

Well,
If you read this (referring to him)
then,
well let me know.