I got picked up an hour early from school today. When my dad and I were dashing to the car in the school parking lot, he told me something very, very, very huge. And it's not like elephant-huge, it's mammoth-huge.
"Name 3 cities in the U.S. that you would like to live in," my dad says oh-so-randomly.
"... Hmm, well, maybe Seattle, because I like rain and coffee..." And I do. I like them oh-so very much, and I've always wanted to go to Seattle. "... Maybe Florida?... Nah, I don't like hurricanes."
"I mean, pick 3 cities near Washington D.C... because we're moving."
MOVING?! To Washington D.C?! I think that news is uberly whimsical and spiffy, don't you? I'm glad my dad's gots a promotion in his job. This is oh-so-very exciting, though since Washington D.C. might be a little too much for our wallet, we're probably live somewhere near - like a suburb in Maryland or something. Wheeee!
I have never truly noticed how many addictions I have. It's quite surprising actually, because I've always thought I had only one addiction. But now that I think about it, I've got several of them. They're pretty serious too. If I don't go to rehab soon, I'm afraid I might become sort of wild... but, that might have already happened.
First of all, there's my cookie addiction. If you must ever put a plate of chocolate-chip cookies in front of me, please do not be surprised that the plate will be squeaky clean in less than a minute. Also, there might be a small mess of cookie crumbs on the floor because I prefer to devote my focus on the cookies than how cleanly I eat them. You should even feel free to think of me as the cookie monster, only not blue and fuzzy. As well, I'm somewhat afraid that my future husband and me will look like this at our wedding:
Another addiction of mine is... bubble gum. My mother and I might go to Wal-Mart to buy some waffles and a packet of gum for me, and then in two days, I will have chewed 18 sticks of gum. I'm not picky when it comes to gum - I like all kinds of it, whether it's cinnamon gum, or minty or strawberry-watermelon or even orange-flavored. Though, I still have yet to tackle the task of blowing a bubble with bubble gum. Every time I try, I always just get a funny noise coming out of my mouth.
I also quite like the computer. A lot. It's sad that I stare at it for so many hours a day, but I can't get off it. The computer that I use is not even that great. I imagine how addicted I would be if I actually had a laptop that wasn't about 8 years old. Even if on some occasions, I have to kick it to make it work, I have the greatest respect for my PC. And the Internet. And websites. And everything that's computer-related. Maybe if my cookie husband and me happen to divorce up one day, I could always marry my computer.
What addictions do you have?
Like always, I attended school today. Yet, this wasn't any ordinary day - this was an extraordinary day! 'Tis was the day that I made a new friend!
In my 4th class of the day (Honors Science), I dashed into the classroom, sat down at my desk, and noticed the dead earthworm on said desk. Then, I made friends with the dead earthworm. I tried to make talk with it, you know, but I quickly learned that dead earthworms like to give you the silent treatment. I named this earthworm 'Camilla' (I think it's a very pretty name, don't you?). Camilla was a very, very, very, and very stinky earthworm. I don't blame her. I would be stinky too if I were a rotting dead earthworm.
The dissection went very fast in my opinion. I was grouped with three other girls, all who seemed to be scared of Camilla - and because of their fear of innocent Camilla, they made me do basically the whole dissection. I put on these gloves (like the ones my dentist wears!), grabbed the scissors, and started to... errr... cut Camilla up. It was really disgusting. I saw lots of worm juice ooze out of Camilla (and onto my dentist-ish gloves) and I was almost ready to faint. I swear I will never look at juice the same way again.
Once Camilla was cut up, I had to pin her down and look at her internal organs (and yet, there was more worm juice)... Camilla's insides happened to be all the same dull-ish, brown-ish color, and all the organs were too small for my four eyes to see. I kind of poked around with her hearts and brain, literally. They were squishy, if I may say so.
I could go into much more detail about this dissection, but I'm afraid that either you or I would vomit, and that's not... good. Happy Earth Day! (And please excuse the weirdness of the dates on my comments. If you know how to fix that, please contact me.)
My class is going to dissect a frog either this week or next week. 'Bruce' sounds like a good name for it.
I've never really liked poetry before... I should rephrase that -- I have always liked poetry, but I've never really loved it before. To me, it was not my thing. It was boring and tacky in my opinion, but now... I think I'm really starting to love love love poetry. It sorted of started today, at school.
The scene was my English class, around 11 in the morning. The class's assignment was to write a poem about childhood in class, and it was to be 40 words at the very least - and it had to be about childhood. Which stinks. Because I like writing random poems. Like really, really, really random poems. Like the one I wrote in my head (because I'm far too lazy for paper and pen) that was about a family of turnips who lived in an igloo in a lady's shoe. Nevertheless, I wrote a poem that was about childhood, and I gave it to the teacher to inspect.
She looked over it, nodded, and told me it wasn't really anything about childhood and to perhaps change it. Though she did say this politely, I decided not to change my poem. To me, it was about childhood. It wasn't really straightforward about it, but not every poem about childhood has to be straightforward, does it?
Then, some classmates of mine read their poems out loud to the class, and they were all the same stuff. The same words. The same things. The same yawns coming out from my mouth. I'm quite surprised all my classmates had the same childhood - they all had a fear of getting cooties, and they often rolled around in the grass, played outside with friends, and ate Grandma's cookies...
My poem was actually one of the few that didn't rhyme. Mine was perfectly free-verse, because I like free-verse poems the bestest. They're free... of course.
Mariana's Childhood Poem
this poem has to
have forty words; but
to me it is
not possible to fit
all my childhood in
just forty! words. childhoods
are different from person
to person but sooner
or later we all begin
to miss them.
