Strike Some Terror in Me

Picture this.
It's Halloween. I'm wearing my cousin's Goodrich jersey and some ADORABLE grey jeans. Clearly, I'm a soccer player.
Clearly.
Janelle is a cute little kitten, dressed in black with precious whiskers on her face.
And yes, we are Trick-or-Treating.
At 14.
One street away from my house.
Some complete ?.£%|%%?! comes up behind us off the street. We do not know this man.
We double our pace. He does the same.
Suddenly, he snatches Janelle's hard-earned bag of candy.
And for the first time in my entire life, I hate this city. It's foreign to me. I'm literally afraid to be outside.
All for a bag of candy.
This event made it quite difficult to remain optimistic. It called to mind every time I had defended the thieves and criminals of this town.
I suppose it was a learning experience.
I merely wish it was a lesson I didn't have to learn.
As they say, ignorance is bliss.

I'm sure you're probably thinking about how I am overreacting. I don't blame you.
However, this certainly can be noted as the first bad experience I've had in this town.

The Sweetest Feeling I've Ever Known

Relief. I'll just say it there. The best feeling in the world, perhaps outside love, is relief.
That moment when I know that everything will be okay, and I can breathe again, because I did my HH project and I didn't die.
The feeling when I just sigh and think "Oh, I have nothing to worry about for the rest of today.
Wow.
This has been enlightening. It has taught me many things, and not all of them have to do with weird religions.
1. I need to calm down. I'll be fine. The world will not end if I do not cry over a project every night.
2. People will still respect me. They'd still talk to me. Even if I bombed. (Which, note, I did not do.)
3. Ambition is not a sin. There are people with ambitions like mine. Many overachieve like I do.
4. If I focus, I can literally do anything.
5. Be kind. People will be kind to you and respect you during your presentation if you do the same for them.
Guys, the relief after a project like this was a blast of fresh air. It's indescribable.

I wonder if some people get that feeling ever.
Some people don't have a home to go to where they can unload on their family and be so ecstatic and relieved.
Rather, they are worried to go home and stressed on the way there. School is their haven.
I think if my world was that intense, that empty of relief, I wouldn't turn out well.
Funny.
Normally the people you hear of going around killing people didn't have a happy life.
They never had the sweet feeling of not having to worry about anything for just one day.
And honestly?
If you think about all the tension and worry they have bottled up, you might not blame them for walking around in a paranoid manner all the time.
It's not a happy world.
Maybe this is why I cut these criminals so much slack. There's something in them that makes their world a scary place to live.
If you were living in your own Hell on earth, admit it or not, you may not be so nice yourself.
I sure wouldn't be.
So, scattered as the point I'm trying to get across is, it remains.
There is reasoning behind why people do the things that they do.
It may not be obvious, or bright and shiny, but it is always, always there.

10-Letter Word for Busy

Homecoming. That's H-O-M-
You get the drift.
Admittedly, I've been very, very neglectful. And I'm so sorry. Unfortunately, as my to-do list grows longer, my days grow shorter.
Drat. My time to write dwindles. This is the first writing for fun I've done basically since my last post.
Needless, to say, I've grown desperate. One outlet, any outlet. Today I started writing on the back of a test I had finished. Everyone else sitting, working on their stick figures. Not Isi. She's working on some novel-esque note.

Desperate indeed.

Let me tell you a little bit about my week.
Monday- pajama day. Warm and happy. I matched EVERYTHING like the superdork I am. Same day, I went to the eye doctor, who told me I couldn't wear contacts all week, as my eyes were screwed.
As if that could happen.
Also, band practice. Little much.

Tuesday was twin day. I was twins with Jacquie, and that was a blast. Worked on homework till the cows came home.

Wednesday? Service day. Went back to middle school and did things there. Finally got to see my old teachers, who I still miss nearly every day.
That was a half day. Went home, worked on homework until about 5.
Yes, you read that correctly. I did bits of my HH project as well. Saying it was overwhelming is like saying the ocean is a little damp.

Today was superstar day. I did not dress up, as I am superstar enough as is.
In my glasses.
Clearly.
Also, I had no costume, which may/may not have been the majority of the problem.

Tomorrow will be Friday. (Thank you, Rebecca Black.) I'm looking forward to it more than one could express.
It's not "school", persay. It's spirit day.
And I'm in the band.
Well what does this mean, you ask?
Two classes of rehearsal.
Early lunch.
Playing band songs marching down the hall to get our friends out of class.
Facepaint.
Happiness, more or less. Spirit. Pep rally.
Oh yeah, and mass, as well as an earlier dismissal.
Days like tomorrow are good reminders of why I like life.

Saturday comes afterward, and that's the dance.
I'm nearly trembling with excitement.
Not that I have a date, but not that I care. That would be unnecessary and awkward. For the most part.

Until then, I have to write a paper on service day for my awesome theology teacher/ neighbor.
Fun class.

I do hope your week has been as lovely as mine.

Mindless Chatter

Everyone is gearing up for homecoming. And I mean everyone. Some people haven't been asked, others have been asked multiple times by multiple people. (Though I fall into the first category, I do not plan on holding a pity party anytime soon.
It doesn't feel all that great, to be completely and totally honest and vulnerable. But that's alright. I have my fun on stumbleupon.com anyway.
The amazing thing about Homecoming is the noise. I mean, my school's homecoming isn't for 3 weeks still, and people don't stop talking about it. 10 minutes after someone is asked, absolutely everyone in the entire school knows about it.
Conclusions are drawn, assumptions are made, and that's that. People talk, whisper, throw notes, mouth words across the classroom.
Nobody's quiet about it.
Because, really, let's face it. Homecoming is not a private business. It exists as a social event that everyone goes to, everyone hears about, and everyone makes little inside jokes there. Everyone dresses up, everyone dances. It's Homecoming. It's what everyone does.
Why can't the dates be private? Well, this is highschool. Nothing is really too private. I have yet to decide whether I like this or not.
But Homecoming. Admittedly, even I'm looking forward to it. I love the dresses. No, I cannot dance. I'm bad, even for a white girl.
I will, though. I will dance barefoot amongst the crowd.
Maybe.
I decided to comprise a list of the cutest ways people were asked thus far at my school.

One guy had the person reading the announcements call to the office the girl he was going to ask. In the window, he stood there in a suit, holding a bouquet of roses, and a little sign that said "Homecoming?".

Another taped arrows down the hallway to his girlfriend's locker, where a collage of pictures of them was, as well as a sign with the words: "Will you go to Homecoming with me?" on it.

Different guy wrote "HC?" on every page of a girl's flip folder, then signed it on the last page.

Others cover girls' lockers with sticky notes spelling things out.

Yes, this is highschool. Yes, everyone freaks out about these little romantic acts. And that is not an exaggeration. People just make so much chatter about it. I'm guilty of this as well, unfortunately.
So I don't really know how I feel about Homecoming. I don't know if I really even want to go. You could say I'm a little nervous about the prospect.
But it's Homecoming, for Heaven's sake. I certainly can't miss it..