i miss 308/310.
where if i were mad at grace, i could talk to madee.
and if i were mad at madee, i could talk to ashlyn.
and if i were mad at ashlyn, i could talk to grace.
and if grace were mad at me, she could talk to ashlyn.
and if ashlyn were mad at me, she could talk to madee.
and if madee were mad at me, she could talk to grace.
i mean.
we all talked to each other.
and we never really hated each other.
at least i didn't hate anyone.

i miss that room.
i miss that bed.
and the pictures above the bed that ashlyn would make me.
the pictures that i still have in a shoe box that daniel gave me.

i also miss the shower.
at one point, we had a pizza pan, mugs, and 3D glasses in the shower.
along with our supermarket sized shampoo collection.

ten more miles.
that’s thirty for the week.

what would it be like if all the raindrops were candy bars and milkshakes?
(love)

i have miles to go before i sleep.
and we’ve come to the point in the night where the random food cravings are kicking in.
my car is just across the lot. an empty (hungry) vessel.
checkers, anyone?

miles to go before i sleep.
hours to go before i eat.

i ate breakfast today. oatmeal.
i think people forget how to love oatmeal.
like mary.

i've reached the point in the night where i can say
'it is possible for me to finish this in the morning and not be rushed/stressed/suchas. shut your eyes, child.'
and so i will, okay?

i've started talking to my thoughts as i drift off as of late.
especially in between the initial alarm clock and snooze button alarm.
'this is YOUR time. Your OWN.PERSONAL. Time. Stop worrying about today and ENJOY your ten more minutes of sleep.'
And so I do.

I think the biggest lesson I need to learn is that the internet isn't going anywhere.
if i sleep NOW, i'll have TWICE as much in the morning.

My bed smells like sweat.
(sorry for that)
I rode my bed for ten miles.
Bed?
BIKE.
I rode my BIKE for ten miles. And also yesterday.
I will wash it tomorrow.

Wednesdays are good.
This is a blog post.
What?
Hey, everyone. I'm Blair.
How are you?

you got what you wanted

It's a weird thing. Visiting an old home. Stomping grounds. Play yards. I used to own the place. The lingering scent of pride. A distant melody. Sixteen part harmony. Sixteen part disarray. A family. A friend. A memory.


---


Fancy cheese. Hors d'oeuvres. Classical piano compositions. French films. Swoon.

MARTYR

Justin: Blair Bingham im asking you nicely to please quit commenting on my statuses. i don't recall asking for critiques. thank you

Blair Bingham: It's for your own good.

And for the record: I'm not im.

#thatisall
about an hour ago ·

Justin: thanks haha
about an hour ago

Brittany Bunny: Gosh, wannabe literary, huh?
about an hour ago

Justin: haha. lol. i mean. pisses me off, buy im acting mature about the situation. ya know!
about an hour ago

Brittany Bunny: I feel you my nig...could've swore fb was a social networking site, not dr lebow's class. You handled it in a very mature way. If she decides to take offense in it, that's her problem. Kudos to you.
about an hour ago

Justin: lol. i deleted her.
about an hour ago

Brittany Bunny: Lol double kudos! Delete. Delete!
about an hour ago

Justin: HAHA.
about an hour ago

Erin: You deleted Blair?!?!
51 minutes ago

Justin: yea. cause she was being janky and trying to be my english teacher.
50 minutes ago

Erin: Aw, I love Blair. She didn't mean it, i'm sure.
49 minutes ago

Justin: yes she did. i private chatted with her on skype and she basically told me that it was unprofessional.
48 minutes ago

Justin: im like wtf. am on a freakin job interview or something. i just strongly dislike stuff like that.
47 minutes ago

Erin: Well, I read an article on MSN how future job employers are now using facebook as a way to get to know who they hire before they hire them, so maybe that is what she was getting at. I'm not trying to make you angry, but I don't think Blair meant to make you so mad that she had to be deleted off your facebook. You know her better than I do probably, she was in your class. It just doesn't seem like she would be spiteful over improper grammar.
43 minutes ago

Justin: Well I see it like this. I don't go on her page correcting her, and neither should she correct me. This is my facebook profile and i will write what i want, how i want, and when i want. if i needed her help i would ask, but i don't. if i don't get a job because of my grammar on facebook, then oh well. i don't need anybody to employ me that is worried about my grammar on FB, and not my skills. so. and im not made at you. you are just stating your opinion and i respect that. thank erin.
39 minutes ago

Ashlyn: When you post something on Facebook you are offering it up for judgment.

If you use Firefox it will correct spelling, at least. Just BTW.
13 minutes ago




Here's the way I see it. Justin wants to be a doctor. If I were dying, I would want him to save me without having to ask him. I, on the other hand, want to be a teacher. So I have taken it upon myself to save HIM without him asking.

every light in the house is off
and every thing is not perfect

i'd rather not move

Help.

I suppose if you audition for a movie, you should know what it's about right?

Awake at Stupid o'clock with no one to keep me company.

Future

LIFE PLAN: Open an ice cream shop. Call it The Yard. Specialize in milkshakes. (All the boys will come.)

Conversation from 2007 with Stranger

"Either your boyfriend, fiance, or your husband did something to really piss you off..."
-No. I'm just really tired.
"So you're just going to go home and go to bed?"
-Yeah..
"Well ok. What do you do for money?"
-I babysit.
"You babysit? Awesome. So are you still in school here?
-No. I'm in tenth grade.
"Are you serious? I thought you were 25."
-I'm fifteen.
"Oh gosh. I'm twice your age."
-And how does that make you feel?
"Pretty shitty, actually. Pretty, pretty shitty. I mean I saw you standing there. You're attractive. I mean you've got things going for you. And I'm thinking you are 23, 24, maybe 25... And here you are 15?"
-Yeah.I'm fifteen.



This is why I'm not going to Ole Miss.

want a strawberry?
-no thanks. i'm enjoying my coke and these things.
what things?
-you know... the things.
no mom. I don't know. what things are you talking about.
-the things that come with the coke.
mom. cokes dont come with anyting.
-yes they do! you know. THINGS. like fizziness. and happiness.
those are the things that come with cokes?
-yes. and i enjoy them.

i love my mother.

Hobo 1: "There isn't such a thing as ugly. You've been taught to believe what ugly is by television and the media, but it is ultimately a relation to how you see yourself. If you spend enough time on it, you realize that there really isn't such a thing..."

Hobo 2:"Or maybe you get drunk enough and have sex with a dead animal."


What an enchanting conversation. I love strangers.

Spending my birthday weekend at the lake.
But more importantly:
Spending my birthday weekend in the kitchen.

अ पूर्ली व्रित्तें ब्लॉग इन व्हिच इ कंप्लें फार तू मच फॉर माय ओवन गुड

(I will PAY anyone who can tell my why my blog titles are not in Enlglish.)


Run down of morning:
Wake up to 85 degree heat blowing on me. (Aside from having someone purposefully wake me up for no reason, waking up in a sweat is what pushes me into a fine frenzy.)I suppose roommate/temperature Nazi decided to stick it to me by upping the temperature a solid twenty degrees.

At the same time a loud voice comes on the intercom. "If yo phone don't have a label, please come see me to get a label fo yo phone. If yo phone don't have a label, please come see me to get a label fo yo phone." Not only is this woman waking me up for no reason, but she is also using poor grammar. (I would say I was fuming, but it's hard to fume hotter than 85 degrees.)

I venture downstairs to clock in and hand in my phone. Administration says my dress is too short. (I'm wearing shorts and leggings.If I wanted to be immodest, I'd just wear the dress.) Upon turning around, she calls me back.

"Either lengthen the shirt or lengthen the shorts."

(I am terribly tempted to tell her to lengthen the rules in the handbook, but I refrain. See, my dress was longer than arms length, but she wouldn't take it.)

So I run up the stairs. Change into jeans. And arrive late to class.
I'm not a happy camper.

However. I DID finish my paper. As in I finished it for good. Done. Over. No more.
I can rest easy.

I saw you from across the room in a very expected place
Talking to my parents as if they were your own.
I suppose it's because I view you as a brother.
And for so many months of my life, you were.

(But we were only actors)

I was surprised, really
To see you in a place where you once belonged
I followed you here only to find that you had moved off
Leaving me in this brave new world

(The last thing I heard was that you were a stripper in some gay bar)

You haven't changed at all
Granted, you're taller
And you have more memories now
But I'd say our relationship still the same

(and that's saying something)

I'm not trying to be vulgar, but the "lasagna" that was served for dinner looked like something that would exit the lower end of my body. I am famished. ::grumble/grumble::

I met Mr. Forward tonight. He was wearing sparkles.



me: how was the show tonight?

mr. forward: eh. better than last night. the audience was totally dead though.

me: well the audience is always dead the first night.

mr. forward: yeah. so you wanna make out?

me: ...

"I didn't know the Bible was the best..most..uhh..TOP selling book in the world. That just goes to show how great God is. Amen....(babble babble babble)"


PUH-LEASE!

Jesus belongs in my heart. NOT SHOVED DOWN MY THROAT.

किंग James

I'm watching someone give a powerpoint.
I'm just going to be blunt here.
It sucks.

I give her credit for trying.
But I take the credit back for trying too hard.

I think she has broken every rule possible.


That is all.

तेच-नो

Blog titles are in a foreign language again.
This should be called "Tech-NO"


The only lasting relationship I have ever been able to maintain happily is the relationship I have with my computer. This isn't necessarily a deep relationship: I don't know his past,and I certainly don't care to know about his internal problems. I live in harmony with my computer. He gives back on the exact level that I put in. We are perfect for each other. We've traveled the world together. He's introduced me to a countless number of people. He's the last thing I see before I go to bed.

Everything was great until the unthinkable happened. Last Monday, my lovely boyfriend developed a heart condition. And when his heart is broken, MY heart is broken. I don't know how to function without my Internet. (everyone knows the Internet is the heart of a computer.) One thing led to another led to another and a brain tumor was detected. I didn't even know my lovely boy was in the hospital. I found out by accident when I opened the doors and he was nowhere.

This morning, I went to the hospital to visit my poor baby, but before I could even see him, I was sternly greeted by his father, who happens to be his doctor as well. Father informed me that my lovely computer was in a coma, and he couldn't be saved. But because my boyfriend loves me and genuinely wants to look out for me, he held on long enough to have an organ transplant.

So I carry his insides in an ice chest (USB drive) around my neck. Outside appearances never mattered in our relationship, so I will search diligently until I find a new body. And once I do, I will arrange his organs in the exact location as his old home. Things will be normal again.

____________________________________________

Good gracious. Excuse that. Here's a summary: I had been working for months on a term parer. It was saved to one computer. The Internet on this computer broke. Then the hard drive crashed. Tech guy came in and took the computer on Friday, but ran out of time to do anything about it. He would have swiped its memory, but like I said, he ran out of time. Luckily, I found him this morning and we managed to save my files. He sighed a lot and grunted far too often for my liking, but it doesn't matter as long as I have my paper. And I do.

Hearing Voices

I'm sitting up in bed. Only 12:19 am. Stumbling through the world of blogs, (secretly, we all just want to be loved by a stranger) and I realize something slightly unsettling. I've communicated with so many people via this here Internet. I've read your blogs. I've seen your pictures. I know your child's name, and i know what you serve your husband for dinner.

But I've never heard any of these people's voice.
It's almost as though they are fiction.



I can't sleep. My ceiling fan is shaking the entire room, and every time I close my eyes, I relive the exact same scene.
I have an hour drive to make starting in six hours.

Call me to keep me company; heaven knows I can't make conversation with real people.

Tomorrow I will be playing live music on live television.
I am very nervous.

Church is not a cocktail party.

Wealth of Nations

I'm starting a major film project today.
Wish me luck.

उफ़

Someone PLEASE tell me why my titles are not in English!


Here I am. Sitting in class. Not necessarily working. But I'm minding my business.
When out of nowhere. Principal. Picks up 1284 page hardback literature book and SLAMS it on the floor. Two people were sleeping. Two people still ARE sleeping. Slamming books does nothing but give me a heart attack. Don't ask why Principal is in the room. She just appeared. (Is this room being monitored? Are there cameras in HERE too?) She makes the two girls move to a table in the back of the room (as if THAT would fix the sleeping problem?) and now one is sitting upright. Chin tucked against chest. Asleep. Peacefully. Once again.


(I swear. If another book gets thrown, I will pick it up. And throw it back. Not necessarily at the ground. Although your face DOES seem to get walked on quite a bit.)


When in the third grade, mother was trying to teach me how to spell "principal." I always thought it to be P R I N C I P L E. She kept reminding that the principal is you PAL. I now have reason to disagree.

Have you seen the movie MATILDA?

दरें स्लीप

I don't know how my language was changed. Ohzwell.

In between two exploding alarms this morning, my mind managed to do something pretty amazing. Now a dream really doesn't sound too spectacular, but I'm pretty proud.

See, we're in my house as it is being robbed. It's terrifying. Three large men are banging on windows. Kicking in doors. My mother and I are laying flat on the living room floor in an attempt not to be seen. As the dream rolls along, the men make it into the house, find our family, and yell "We need a glass of water! Our friend ate wasabi peas! His mouth is on fire!"

They weren't trying to rob us. They just needed help.

The reason I'm so pleased with myself is because I am absolutely in awe of my little, broken brain. This was the first complete dream I've ever had. There was terror, there was a sentimental moment between me and my mother, and there was a comedic, happy ending resolution.

Make the best of your situations.
Turn your nightmares into comedy.

I love talk time.

CLICK

Please.
Take some time to click my cornify button.

As many times as you'd like.


(ohmygosh)

September 3

"I'm going to knit a blanket next week.
I'm going to apply for colleges (at least one) next week.
I'm going to bring my trig grade up to a B next week.
I'm going to get caught up in my online classes next week.
I'm going to mail a Christmas present next week.
I'm going to get all of this done next week."


Looking back, I never knitted a blanket, I didn't apply to college until about January, Trig maintained a C (much to my dismay,) Online classes took ages to finish, and I STILL haven't mailed that Christmas present.

This shouldn't really surprise me, but it definitely bothers me. I make too many empty promises.

There was a book drive throughout the month of March for the Mississippi Delta. I had so much motivation. I had so many people who were going to donate. But the last weekend rolled around, and I went to prom, lost my phone, and fell asleep. I keep seeing pictures of people who donated hundreds, no, THOUSANDS of books, and I can't help but feeling like a failure. I wanted to help. I was GOING to help. I have stacks and stacks and stacks and stacks of books in my room that I got out JUST for this book drive.

But the end came, I didn't have the money to ship hundreds of books, and I didn't have the time or energy to pick them up.

We all know this is a lie though. If I really cared (which REALLY, I do,) I would have put my tired prom body in my car, and I would have picked up the books, dug into my VidCon fund, and sent the books up to the Delta. If I could have, I would have hand delivered them a week later, but that wasn't allowed.

I tried. I really meant to do well.
But you know how I am.

Inspiration?

This is the first image on a website of inspiring images. (The website is more of a cluttered desk drawer full of images that every teenaged girl writes in her diary, but secretly, I really like some of them.)

When I see this picture, all I really think about is the Sephora on 5th Ave. that is one block down from SAKS. That place is crawling with young girls who want to smell like a pop star. Crawling with workers who don't necessarily know anything about makeup.

Who needs eight tubes of lipgloss? It all looks the same. It all tastes the same.
My Advice to Girls: Whatever boy you are crushing on does not want to kiss your lips when they feel like honey.

This is What You Get.

A - Age: Seventeen

B - Bed size: Twin, at school and at home

C - Chore you hate: cleaning rooms

D - Dog's name: Chance

E - Essential "Start Your Day": Checking Twitter

F - Favorite color(s): Greens

G - Gold or Silver: Gold

H - Height: 5'7"

I - Instrument you play: guitarish

J - Job titles: Queen Bee

K - Kids: I love them

L - Liquor, Beer or Wine: Wine if I have to choose.

M - Mom's name: Super Woman

N – Nicknames: Bee

O - Outie or Innie: Innie

P - Pet Peeve: Passive Aggressive people

Q - Quote from a movie: "I'm the K I N G of the world."

R - Right or left handed: Righty

S - Sibling(s): A sister. And a whole lot of friends.

T- Time to get up: 7:50

U - Underwear: None if I have a say in it.

V - Vegetable you dislike: None.

W - What makes you run late: The Internet.

X - X-rays you've had: Arm. Brain. Lungs.

Y - Yummy food you make: I make it all.

Z - Zoo animal favorite: Can the Elephant slide count?

Margo.

Soon.

An inbox full of URGENTs, ASAPs, NOWs, ME FIRSTs, RESPONSE REQUIRED emails.

A telephone full of "WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO SEE MEs...WE HAVE THINGS WE NEED TO GET DONE"

Classes full of GET THIS TO ME NOWs.

And a me full of PLEASE GO AWAY.

(in other news, my mom just called to ask what my phone number was.)

______

This was a first.

When you crowd twelve sopranos in a concrete room the size of a walk-in closet and ask them to sing high C's, it's only natural that the sound-waves would move at a high frequency.

We peeled paint off the ceiling with our voices.

Back and Forth

It's amazing how different a place can look in the daylight. I swear the swings were on the other side of the park...

It's really nice to have a friend who can just sit.

Retained.

Retainer in mouth.

I am guilty.

You staring up at me with Iris colored eyes.

Neglect.

New year.

New start.

Retainer in mouth.

I am hurting.

Oh, The Irony

It's been my goal to give as much blood as possible as often as possible.

Be Positive.

I'd like to save a life.

After convincing my mother to donate with me, we hop in the car and race to the front doors.

Mississippi Blood Services close at 2:30.

We pull on the doors. Frown. And as we turn away, a little nurse angel opens the door and invites us in.

They never give you fun Band-Aids when you grow up.

Pricked finger. Curled toes. Wince. SQUEEEEEEEEZE.

"Your iron is too low, sweetie."

-what does that mean?

"It means your iron is too low."

-what does that mean?

"It means you should eat more"

-ha.

She tries again. SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZE.

"Now it's even lower."

Hands me pamphlet. ("Why You Can't Donate Blood" blah blah blah)

"Would you like me to prick your other finger?"

-maybe next time.

January One

After coming home to find an immaculate room, I immediately do some searching. (If everything is off the floor, I won't know where to find it.) Upon my investigating, I found some 4x6 prints of pictures I took in New York when I was 14. It's amazing how many memories flooded my mind. On the bottom of the stack was a photograph of a girl playing the washboard in Washington Square Park. I had no idea who she was, but man. I can still hear her voice to this day.

There comes certain times where I get an itch. This itch wants to find something. This itch wants Washboard Girl.

Google Search: Washington Square Park washboard player darn handy

You'd be surprised at how many empty results come up.

After a good half hour of searching, I see a thumbnail of Washboard Girl on some random person's Myspace. I honestly can't believe my eyes. Jessy Carolina. On my computer screen.

New Years Day Success.

VidCon2010

A video in which thetalesend speaks about legally blocking VidCon2010.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YcrT4Q_M6cM

I understand why he wants to know where the money is going, but I think there is a better way to do so. Is contacting Los Angeles schools, malls, hospitals, and traffic councils really the most effective way to ask for a published budget? I fully understand why the LA County Planning Commission and other city councils were contacted, but from the sounds of it, all he seems to want is to know where the money is going. What do schools, malls, and hospitals have to do with the funds of a convention. He seems to have different LA groups and places in a fuss because they are receiving no money from this. Are you required to give funds to the surrounding area when having a conference? I'm honestly curious. What are the legalities and logistics of holding a major convention?

__________

I'm driving down I-55 north (so I suppose I'm driving UP, not down...) through incredibly dense fog. Little traffic. Half tank of gas. I have a little over an hour left to drive when I put in my Memorial CD. I can't sing along with the score, so I'm mumbling along with the Arabic as best I can. It occurs to me that any passing car would just assume I am singing along with whatever hit is top on the chart. (I can't be asked to give an example. My preset radio stations consist of NPR and oldies.) But really, I'm rehearsing for a concert for Carnegie Hall come January.

This was my little secret for the drive home.

I know the Bible says not to kill, but I killed the ACT today.

I feel really good about it. (Maybe a 28?)

<>

I got mail from AMDA and Juliard. It's sort of shocking..

Liquid Leggings

Positivity is key.

No I am not a motivational poster.

Someone told me I sounded like a second grade teacher, and I took it as a major compliment.

I bought three pairs of leggings today. They are absolutely wonderful. I feel fierce when I wear them.

The new 9weeks starts on Thursday.

I've spent quite a bit of time thinking about this blog entry.

You'd think 100 posts should tell you something about dedication, but it's not like that at all. This is probably one of my most neglected projects ever. And it's no one's fault but my own.

excusesexcusesexcusesexcusesexcusesexcusesexcuses

I've spent the last few weeks reading Kristina Horner's blog (www.italktosnakes.blogspot.com) religiously, and I don't think I have encountered so much dedication. She's been through a lot lately, but not once has she let her blog slip.

Gosh, I'd kill for that much dedication.

Next Week.

I'm going to knit a blanket next week.
I'm going to apply for colleges (at least one) next week.
I'm going to bring my trig grade up to a B next week.
I'm going to get caught up in my online classes next week.
I'm going to mail a Christmas present next week.
I'm going to get all of this done next week.

This can't be healthy...

I was accepted into my online health class today.
Three weeks late.

I have 257 discussion messages unread.


My first assignment is to discuss my emotions.
I think "overwhelmed" covers it.

Your life is like a spaceship with no recognizable components, no rivets or bolts, no entry points, now way to take it apart. It is very shiny and it has no discernible flaws. Or you could somehow smash it into smaller pieces, there would certainly be no way to put it back together again. It simply is.

At no time while living are you unaware that you live a life of complete obsession, of a stretching of the mind and body of a yourself to the point of, we assume, near madness.

But you are a different sort of madman., one in full control of your tools, one who instead of teetering on the edge of this precipice or that, seems to be heading ever-inward, into the depths of memory and the relentless conjuring of a certain time and place that evokes utmost order despite its mayhem.

It's complicated, but there are pleasures everywhere, but there is also a very quiet but very sturdy and constant tragic undercurrent that concerns a people who are completely lost and only want some sort of direction or purpose or sense of community, because who would live if not for a want of connection and thus of love?

Flopper.

I ordered a 1920s flapper dress.

They sent an extra large.

I ordered a small.

We called the company.

They said they were sending the right size.

The box just came.

But they didn't put a dress in the box.

The party is tonight.

I think I might cry.

A Recent Death in my Life

There is something strangely liberating about throwing a pair of shoes away.
There is also something strangely tragic.

Five Stages of Grief:
DENIAL- Honestly, I didn't believe my toes had worked they way out of my sides of my shoes. Those brown, patent leather flats were my absolute favorite, and I am still having a hard time imagining my fashion world without these gems. "This isn't happening. Not now. Not ever. Please. Just let this be a nightmare."

ANGER- The shoes were near and dear to my heart, and my friend are well aware of this. It infuriates me to see my feet peeking out of the sides of my sole. "Who makes shoes like this!? Where is the quality?"

BARGAINING- "If you just wait and break once I find another similar pair of you, shoes, I promise I'll give you a proper burial. Just hold out until I go home soon. You can do it. Come on. It's okay."

DEPRESSION- Having breakdowns in class is not uncommon at this school, so it wasn't all that strange for me to shed a few tears in my Government class. "How could this happen to me? The love of my feet are gone. There is no way of getting another pair of these shoes. WHY did this have to happen now?"

ACCEPTANCE- And just like that. After all of the emotional turmoil, I felt better. I got over it. I moved on. Put the shoes in the trash. And moved on. "Rest in peace, little brown flats."


MIA Brown Patent Leather Pointed Toe Flats: March 17, 2008-August 28, 2009.

Monster Running

It's a known fact that stairwells are made up of concrete and echos. I had to point this out to a friend who nearly ran me over one morning. He said something to someone, made them mad, started running away, and was terrified because he was being chased. By his own footsteps.

Poor thing.

Third Floor Dash

For the entirety of my junior year, I lived on the sixth floor of my dorm. When it comes to female residency, this is as far from the ground as I can get, and I more or less hated it. I had little to no friends near me, and when it comes to being late for class, I had virtually no time to get from my bed to the classroom.

By no means am I saying that I am always late, it's just that now that I'm on the third floor, life is a whole lot easier.

I'm writing songs.

Mississippi School of Death

First thing in the morning, I get on the bus to go to Trig. (I've never taken the bus before. I'm afraid.) This will kill me. From there, I get back on the bus, return to campus, and go to AP Music Theory. This will beat the dead horse. In Government, we will finish the 25 chapter book. That, dear readers, will put me in my grave. From there, I take to online classes at the same time. These two lovely boogers have no problem with spitting on my grave. And lastly, choir: the class full of 39 loud and opinionated divas, will "sing me to heaven."

What might possibly be my favorite part of Art Boarding School is the spontaneity. I receive a text message saying "Come down" from Madee, and despite it being very vague, I figure out there is a guitar jam session going on. So, being the talented guitar star that I am, I grab my Taylor and hit the stairs. Of course I'm nowhere near as talented as the other guys playing, but I sure did enjoy myself. I suppose it was nice bonding time for all of us.

Scheduling

I have fifteen minutes to make a blog, edit it, and get it up.

There's a poster of Kim Kardashian in my bathroom. It's a total joke. I don't know if my suitemates understand that.

I'm signed up for AP Music Theory. Do you understand how insane that is?

Schedule for tomorrow:

Principal's session

Why Art? Seminar

Break

Why Art? II Seminar

Vocal Hooplah.

Tuesday:

Plagiarism Seminar

Technology Seminar

Ettiquette/Professionalism Seminar

Schedule Changes Seminar

I love all of this business business.

The Farmer's Dog

As a form of mandated fun, the entire senior class was called to the cafeteria for a lovely game of BINGO. Now, I, of all people, am an avid fan of BINGO. I know there is no B-24. I know that "Four Corners" will only be counted in the bonus rounds. I know you must announce "BINGO!!!" loud enough to stop the caller from proceeding with the game. It's an exciting game, and I'm always in it to win it. (I refuse to let my nursing home pals down.)

When playing a game with about 60 other people, chances are you won't win much, if at all. But that didn't stop me. I was hunched over my card, ready to win. However, my time never came. I was close. Extremely close. One number away from a double bingo. But fate just didn't have it in for me. And I can accept that.

Sleep deprivation at its finest has finally hit me. I have forgotten the point of this entry. I promise I'll improve. I'm still a little rusty.

For Lee:

Thanks so much for your help. (I apologize for looking utterly horrible.) You are fabulous.

I just can't decide. What's your opinion.

Me vs. I

I posted on my English teachers wall telling her of how I almost made a grammatical error. (I am a grammar FREAK, and I cry when I make a mistake.) Her friend responded saying "lol." Teacher responded to the "lol" telling Carla she didn't understand how serious the matter at hand was though. She said "When it comes to grammar, Blair is more obsessive than me." Clearly it should be "more obsessive than I" because "than" is a subordinating conjunction, making the "am" in "I am" understood. I pointed this out to her and she deleted the post with the error saying she didn't know what I was talking about. She deleted my proof! This caused me to become incredibly light headed because I easily second guess myself.

She has now admitted to her error. And I am starting to feel better.

This entire post is incredibly rushed. I am still having trouble thinking straight.

Again.

Dude. I'm just really good at this. Maybe even too good. Can you be too good at capturing the butt-cut? Is there a major for this kind of thing?

The Joys of that which is the Screen Cap.

In all seriousness, I am not a creepy person in any way. (Sometimes my heart gets too big for my body and I make cakes for celebrities, but I call that love.)

With that being said, I will say this: When watching a YouTube video, there comes a time when you must hit pause and do something. (Whether that be going to the grocery or answering a phone call, I really don't know.) But once in every blue moon, you hit pause at the perfect time and you see something like this:

I tried to resist the "Shift+Command+4" combination, but I know that whenever bad days roll in, THIS will make me feel better. No matter what.

@Hannahcatherine's response to the photo: So I left a dinner party to log on... and see this picture. I thought I was being stealthy until I laughed out loud. This is an epic win.

I have a best friend named Alyce. She is beautiful and smart and talented.
Yesterday, she had a poetry reading in New York City.
Jesse Eisenberg was there.
He asked her to go get coffee.
She said no.

The last time she went to New York, I wrote down my number for her to give to someone.
I didn't do that this time.
I wish I did though.

Hello?

I'm on a slight Internet break this week.

Regular programming will resume shortly. 

Amputation. Black Market. Crayons. Dreaming again. Escalation. Fascination. Graham Crackers. How Much am I? I Spy. Kindergarten. Living the Stereotype. Moving. Omegle. Prizz-om. Radnom. Sleeps. Thursday. Ummm. Wave Hello. 

I'm only missing J, N, Q, V, X, Y, Z to have a blog post starting with every letter of the alphabet. 

All dolled up for a night in a small town. A moment on the train tracks and memory lingering in the air. Breathe it in, sweet bird.

0/100

Every day in my lovely, little Chemistry class, we receive a participation grade. You pay attention and take notes and you get a 100%. 

Well today, that's exactly what I did. I worked along through the droning and complaining, and I learned about the states of matter. However, at the same time, I flipped through the year book. I mean can you blame me? I was pictured hundreds of thousands of times. 

And you know what happens?? I get a 0% for my participation. 

I find this very unfair seeing that I fully participated. 

Maybe the teachers just aren't a fan of multitasking.   humph. 

Lee needs shoes.

http://www.urbanoutfitters.com/urban/catalog/productdetail.jsp?itemdescription=true&itemCount=60&startValue=61&selectedProductColor=&sortby=&id=15611825&parentid=M_SHOES_SNEAKERS&sortProperties=+product.marketingPriority,-product.startDate&navCount=108&navAction=poppushpush&color=&pushId=M_SHOES_SNEAKERS&popId=MENS_SHOES&prepushId=

http://www.fluevog.com/code/?w%5B0%5D=attribute%3AMens&w%5B1%5D=order%3Afresh&pp=1&view=detail&p=6&colourID=2537

http://www.fluevog.com/code/?w%5B0%5D=attribute%3AMens&w%5B1%5D=order%3Afresh&pp=2&view=detail&p=51&colourID=2062

http://www.urbanoutfitters.com/urban/catalog/productdetail.jsp?itemdescription=true&itemCount=60&startValue=1&selectedProductColor=&sortby=&id=16457467&parentid=M_COLL_NEWSHOES&sortProperties=&navCount=12&navAction=poppushpush&color=&pushId=M_COLL_NEWSHOES&popId=MENS_SHOES&prepushId=

These last shoes should be shipped to my house. Because I'd paint them for you. Nothing beats a good ole pair of custom kicks by yours truly. 

This is...

...neglect in its purest form. Much apologies, my dear birds. Blair is back.

You know, I used to feel bad about listening to my music too loud, but I recently came to this conclusion: People need and deserve to listen to these little ear gems of mine. I've always prided myself on my taste in music. I keep it local. I keep it fun. Enjoy. 

YearBooks were delivered today. And of course mayhem was included. "OMG SIGN THIS WITH ALL THESE FUNNY INSIDE JOKES THAT I WONT REMEMBER COME NEXT YEAR!!!"

Geez.

I was astounded at the poor grammar of my generation. It's a horrible realization. Text messages. Research papers. Speaking in general. It makes me sick.

Neglect in its purest form.

_________________________________.

How much am I?

I 

have insane writers block. and there is a bird on my shoulder. 

i'll write again when he isn't looking.

i'm to tired to pay attention to grammar rules. that really says a lot, folks. 

Loss of Respect?

I have quickly lost respect for a lot of my fellow students. Laughing at inappropriate things. Making fun of unfortunate things. And honestly, it infuriates me. For goodness sake, people! We are old enough to be mature. I can't really explain things, but maybe there is a chance you understand me...

Phk.

I just deleted this entire blog. My heart stopped and I almost wept.
But It's back. However I don't think my heart is beating normally yet.

Good gracious.

Omegle (II)

Stranger: Do you have anything interesting to say?

You: I'm sure i do

Stranger: Shoot then

Stranger: *cough

You: Hold on..I need a minute to type.

Stranger: Oh I would not want to rush you.

You: Close observation of a single subject, whether it is as tiny as Pasteur's microbes or as great as Einstein's universe, is the kind of work that happens less and less these days. Glued to computer and tv screens, we have forgotten how to look at the natural world, the original instructor on how to be curious about detail.

Stranger: That is not true.

Stranger: Plenty of people do it

Stranger: Just not the majority.

You: Yes. But it is true in some cases. However that was just a generalization.

Stranger: Plus, the truth is in the details.

You: Yes.

Stranger: Do you watch a lot of TV?

You: No i do not.

Stranger: Any at all?

You: Not really. I do sometimes. But I don't watch certain shows.

Stranger: See- I gave it up entirely.

Stranger: Just a waste of time really.

Stranger: Serves no practical purpose.

You: This can be true.

Stranger: Even the history channel. 

You: However, there are things that can be learned from the form of media.

You: But that information can be found elsewhere.

Stranger: Televised media?

Stranger: Is that a joke?

You: Not really.

Stranger: Do you own a TV?

You: Not personally. There is one in my parents house though.

Stranger: Ok.

Stranger: Watch the news sometimes.

You: Why should I watch the news?

Stranger: It always follows a pattern.

Stranger: Observation of phenomenon.

You: It has its way of hooking viewers.

Stranger: They always show a few crisis stories, then a mildly boring or semi-comical story.

Stranger: Yeah.

You: It's all geared on gaining more viewers.

You: Which causes the view to stray from the basis of the story.

Stranger: When people think of subliminal messaging they think of hidden words.

You: But it isn't always that.

Stranger: Usually it is just the camera angle or film techniques.

You: The angle changes at least every ten or fifteen seconds. Your lucky if it even takes that long.

Stranger: watch a commercial. The shot changes every 3.5 seconds like clockwork

You: Always music playing behind sitcoms/soap operas.

You: Nothing is really real anymore.

Stranger: In children's commercials it changes as much as every 1.2 seconds.

Stranger: Nothing was real to start with.

You: True.

Stranger: Artist use lies to tell the truth right?

You: Explain.

Stranger: But there is no art.

Stranger: Explain?

Stranger: Ok.

Stranger: The novel 1984 was used to indicate the possibility of dystopia.

Stranger: It was fake.

Stranger: A lie. It really did not happen.

You: But that was a fictional book.

Stranger: Yeah.

Stranger: I'm not saying it is a bad thing.

Stranger: My point is that television is serialized.

Stranger: There is no art.

Stranger: You can still find it in film.

Stranger: Some film.

Stranger: Ok.

You: But television isn't necessarily art though.

You: I don't know how you got that.

Stranger: Then what is it. It is not true.

Stranger: And it is not a good lie.

Stranger: So what does that leave?

You: But what does the truth of television have to do with it being art?

Stranger: Nothing.

Stranger: I'm just saying.

Stranger: It is either truth or art.

Stranger: If it is neither than it does not matter.

You: Can it not be both?

Stranger: Yes it could.

Stranger: Do you read much?

You: What constitutes "much?"

Stranger: What was the last thing you read?

Stranger: And why?

You: I'm in the middle of reading now.

Stranger: Ok the book before that one.

You: Read a book right before.

You: Bought three books on Monday.

Stranger: Ok what were they?

You: Listography, The Boy and the Dog are Sleeping, How to be an Explorer of the World, So B. It, Love is a Mix Tape.

Stranger: Never heard of them.

Stranger: Any of them.

Stranger: Non-fiction or fiction?

You: Non-fiction.

Stranger: What is the one you are reading about?

You: How music has the ability to bring people to other places, and how it can trigger a person's memory just by playing a certain melody or harmony.

Stranger: I take it you have experienced this?

You: Yes.

Stranger: Elaborate.

Stranger: That was a verb.

Stranger: As in- I would like to know more about you experience.

You: A lot of good memories I have had have recently been brought back due to me finding certain mixed tapes. And I can remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when I heard each song.

Stranger: Really?

Stranger: Like you hear a song and you remember the place and time?

You: Yes. Even the month and time of day.

Stranger: Do you remember what you were thinking at the time also?

You: Sort of. I remember the general feeling of the time.

Stranger: That's cool.

Stranger: And I'm not just saying that.

That was a recent conversation of mine. The music part at the end isn't really necessary, however that's where the conversation went. 

I was just surprised at the persons ignorance. He posed an argument, however he could not support it. Maybe I am wrong though.

Thoughts?

Omegle

Stranger: but what is interesting...

Stranger: you are stranger

Stranger: but...

Stranger: i am stranger

Stranger: so...

Stranger: we are the same person

Stranger: and yet...

Stranger: i am you

Stranger: but...

Stranger: you are not i

Stranger: you are you...

Stranger: but then...

Stranger: if i am you

Stranger: then you must be i...

Stranger: no

Stranger: we are very much the same now

Stranger: we are i

Stranger: so how am i doing today?

Fascination.

I have always had a love for conversing with strangers. And I've recently learned a lot from them. Maybe my book will be "Things I Have Learned From Strangers" Not really creative, however it would be something. 

I had an argument with Stranger about art and how there was truth in it. And how it really existed. I like to believe I won.  I mean he held a good view, but it wasn't accurate or correct. Just facts he'd heard, I think.

I also talked with someone about science experiments. He was posing the possibility of letting a gorilla play in the NFL. I believe I had nice answers to it. He was surprised I actually gave it thought.

I'll post these lovely conversation at lunch, dear ones. 

Home?

I don't even remember the last time I went home. Nor do I remember the last time I updated this blog. Much apologies, dear ones. 

Drip.

Sometimes, I'll have dreams where I get hurt or sick. And I find myself in the hospital. And I try to imagine who comes to see me. And if I get a lovely card or something of the like.

Well tonight, I strolled on over to the coffee shop and within 30 minutes, I began to feel incredibly ill. Shaking, light headed, and drained. I couldn't speak. I couldn't walk. Not even California jokes could make me laugh. 

I ended up having to get the boys to drive me back to school because I felt so faint. Apparently my body decided to go through a sudden detox due to not taking my migraine medication. It is such a horrible feeling. 

Moving.

As I find myself growing up, I realize all the circumstances in which I must decipher between work and play. Fun and funny. Childlike and childish. And whenever possible and or necessary, I strive for the former of each. 

While in school, there is a definite line between work and play, however, I am always trying to make my work seem like play. I've learned quickly that it is all about your outlook and attitude. 

In movement, I see everything as fun. I'm learning loads of new things and I have gotten so much stronger, both physically and mentally, from it. However, I am often find myself in playful spirits due to me loving to brings smiles and giggles to peoples faces. This, I have learned, must be left at the door once I enter the studio. There is a definite line between fun filled learning and goofing around. 

Although "funny" isn't always called for in the studio, I have found that there is a difference between being funny and being like a child. I have always been fascinated by children. They have this fearlessness about them, and they rarely have the distractions of outside conflict. They are content in there own little world, and this aids in their ability to learn things so quickly. I think if every movement student had the childlike mentality, things would soon be easier, calmer, and wouldn't be this striving for top class rating. 

It is a big step, but once our class has attained the fun, childlike attitude towards our work, we will soon see everything as necessary fun. And the entire atmosphere of our class will change greatly.

Escalation.

I figure there are worse things I could be addicted to. You know, Chapstick really isn't that bad. But why on earth do i find the need to buy six at a time. I guess I just like having options. And a single chapstick isn't guaranteed to be the IT thing. I admit I have a problem, I do. But please don't stop me. My lips love me for it.

Sleeps.

Running on little to no sleep. No energy for complete sentences. Bullets? Yes.

• I slept above a room full of boys. I heard everything they said. They didn't know.
• I brought my guitar to the house. Everyone jammed. I love having musical friends.
• I made pancakes for everyone's breakfast. They seemed to enjoy them. 
• I loved how easy it was for my date to make friends.
• We had a nice drive back.
• We need to talk. 

Radnom.

I applied for a position on Lookbook today. 

I also had a very strange but wonderful dream during my morning nap. I really need to start recording these things.

My peppermint addiction goes along quite nicely with that of the chapstick. I woke up with incredibly soft lips. OH MAN.

I just figured it out. The chapstick addiction has lead to the multiple dreams of random people kissing me. I totally just figured it out. (But I mean, can you blame them?)

I am very ready to be home. Hot water. Bed. Only for moment. Prom. Lets go party, Wood. Pictures later. Maybe on Lookbook? I hope. 

Oh yeah... . . ...

I just found a  journal entry with two really great days. 

Funny how quickly things change.

Thursday.

I bought a Virgin Mary paper weight to go in my gnome collection. 

Every morning, I wake up at 7:15 to go tell the world I am alive. By 7:24, I am always back in bed. Asleep. But what is weird is that every morning, once I am back in my lovely little bed, I have the strangest dreams. I don't know why I don't have them sometime between 2:03 and 7:14, but by no way am I complaining. 

Living the Stereotype.

Art school is only stereotypical on sunny days. 

Home.

I was Adventure Girl for the past four days. 

I slept in the world's largest tent, however it was not the world's most comfortable tent. There were roots and sticks and leaves and all in all earth underneath me. (I was sleeping on an incline at that. Just imagine falling asleep in one place and waking up a foot or two lower) The food was nice considering we were camping. 

 I went repelling and rock climbing on the side of a mountain. And I also went repelling inside a cave. It was the most intense thing I have ever done. Complete Darkness is a scary thing. The water in the cave was about waist high and I was walking along when all of the sudden I step off a drop off of 130 feet. It was such a weird feeling. To have stable ground beneath you and then nothing but water. It made me glad I could swim.

There were times where I was crawling on the ground with water filling half of the tunnel. I could barely move, yet I made it out alive. 

I highly suggest going on an adventure like that one day. I'd love to join you. 

Wave Hello.

There's an idea brewing inside my noggin.

I want to know if there is a way to correspond the tone waves of a picture to the sound waves of different tones. Thinking. Editing. Transposing. It's a long process. And I don't really know how to do it.

Help?

Fluorescent.

The highlight of my yesterday was by far hearing an in depth retelling of how my friends beat The Legend of Zelda. Who knew it could take over an hour. I think I was laughing the entire time.

Ty is quite a comedian. 

Prizz-om.

"Oh my gosh. He's like a local celebrity!"

ummm

Summer Daze.

I played a rousing game of Ultimate Frisbee today. It felt slightly empty due to expelled friends not being there, but I sucked it up and played anyway. I've gotten very rusty over the winter. Hopefully I'll make a comeback soon.

My feet smell like grass, but I guess that's what I get for playing without shoes. 

Dirty feet don't belong on the bed.

History is history.

I jsut took my US History exam. And it was incredibly easy.
However that didn't stop me from doing exceptionally bad. I have a horrible problem of second guessing myself. And it is really starting to hurt my grade.

This has been a horrible day for more reasons than just the above.

Running Backwards.

I found myself back at my old high school tonight. And I couldn't help but remember the previous four years I had spent there. I really liked there, but I am so content where I am now. 

I really have a lot to say.

I just don't know how to say it. 

Where are you, Fanny?

I found myself with an incredibly large work load last night, which was unusual due to the fact that I have been doing a superior job at managing things all year. 

I think the major problem was my assignment for my Computer class, which is more or less just Keyboarding. 

Our latest assignment was to write a business letter applying for a Summer Program emphasizing you major, however I am really not interested in Musical Summer Programs. (Since I was already accepted and given full scholarship to the Spanish program at Summer College, I figured I would just use this instead.)

We were told to make up the details that went into the letter, but they must be accurate. Due to the fact that I only have a Keyboarding Textbook and no teacher, I felt very lost. The text doesn't teach you anything. It merely gives you practice letters to type. I had quite a bit of trouble deciphering the five formats that I was supposed to use. 

And to top off all my troubles, I never installed Microsoft Word onto my little ole Mac of mine. So I was forced to use...oh gracious, do I dare say it? I was forced to use a PC. (It's horrifying, I know. I feel very contaminated.) Gosh, I had no idea how much I had adapted to Macs. 

Goodness. It is 8:34 in the morning. The world hasn't seen my face at this hour in quite some time.

I'll be in the May issue of Vogue.

I was needed for a little photo shoot this evening. 

Hop in a phone booth, looking like scum. Jump out looking like America's Next Top Model.

Here's a little picture I managed to snap afterwards. 

I spy.

I am having blog troubles. Nothing will show up. 

Dear God..

Please let this be a temporary problem.

Amen.

Nothing is saved. Anywhere. Except Here.

Heart, please start beating again. 

Writers Block.

It appears I have hit a wall.

I absolutely cannot find something to write about.  Writer's Block. What an inconvenience. I took a Journalism class when I was thirteen. I had a very good teacher and I wanted so badly to impress him. His mother died, and while he was gone, he gave us an assignment to write about the importance of education. The majority of the class did a half-ass job seeing that it was only a "Filler Assignment," But I really wanted to create a good paper. And it took me about two weeks to finish. My teacher said this was perfectly fine because he understood that I was working quite hard on it. And of course, after a while, I finished. 

He read it to the class, and quickly jumped in at picking me apart.

I highly doubt I could forget his critique.

"You are a perfectionist who is dysfunctionally indecisive. Do you want to  pursue a job in the writing industry?"

- Probably not.

"Well good. Because you wouldn't amount to anything in the writing world."

And that was that. Hours of writing and editing. All to amount to nothing.

I don't know. Maybe that's what is driving me to blog so much. I want to prove him wrong. Of course, this little blog of mine won't find major status, but I enjoy updating. And like I've probably said before: I am absolutely fascinated by people. And I find great pleasure in reading other people's blogs/twitter updates/daily booth photos. 

Gracious, my internet is going to cut itself off in very little time. I need to upload this puppy before it gets lost. 

Short film I was in a year ago. My acting was not at it's best, but it was such a marvelous experience. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ollz4r5wVFk

I find it fitting for the beginning of this entry.

Eye am sorry.

I bought some reading glasses today. 

From the dollar store. For some reason, I just couldn't resist the BroRan styled frames. 

(See Dailybooth.)

These are the first glasses I have bought that were not Marc Jacobs. 

I've made up for it by putting on some Lanvin perfume. I feel much nicer now. It's weird not wearing my usual Demeter Gin and Tonic. But this new scent brings me back to New York. I feel slightly sophisticated, although I by no means look like it. 

Today.

Cosmopolitan called "following people on twitter" sexy. 

But this is what I think. Why do some of the people following me also follow over a thousand other little birds? Are they living under the "I'll follow you, and hopefully you will follow me and then I can say I have thousands of people following me" mentality?  Honestly, I find that sickening. You couldn't possibly read every single update. 

I just don't understand. 

38 and Feeling Great.

I think every person I encountered today verbalized the fact that I wasn't wearing a jacket. It was 38 degrees and the straps on my dress were about two fingers wide. 

"Are you not wearing a jacket?" 

-Do you see one, lady?

"Where is your coat? It's cold out."

-I find it very refreshing, Thank you.

The truth is, I refuse to wear a jacket if it doesn't match my outfit. I'm sorry, but it just isn't a sacrifice I'm willing to make. 

It snowed last night. In Mississippi. Gracious it's March!  Now don't get me wrong. I absolutely love it. I guess it just surprised me. And I did not enjoy seeing Facebook albums and statuses about the minimal white powder.

Here you are, sir.

After some thought and consideration, I'd like to pass the Blog Award to Johnny Durham. (pumpkinsplat.blogspot.com) If I remember correctly, he was the first Blog (and Vlog, now that I think about it) that I started following.

Johnny, I love everything about you and your creative outlets. Keep up the good work, my friend.

Where's the plumber when you need him...

]

This is me stuck inside of a sink. Mother nearly had to cut me out with a saw. This is, after she finished recording the moment on video.  I was always a very adventurous child.

I wonder how many entries I can make in one night. 

Kindergarten.

"Well, we lost a lot of great warriors at The Battle of Fingerpaints," but we did win, with many casualties on each side, our right to eat all the glue we wanted."

Gavin is my little Kindergarten hero. 

He made this anecdote up because he couldn't remember anything from kindergarten. And I just think that is absolutely tragic. I remember loads from my five year old school days. 

One day at Show-and-Tell, a girl brought a doll dressed in Mexican attire. The teacher told us to guess where the doll was made.  I said it was made in China. And she sounded appalled. Clearly it wasn't from China. But you see, I was a very observant little child. And it seemed that every toy I owned had a "Made in China" sticker on it. So I figured it would be a safe assumption to say the doll was made there too. And to this day, I think it was. 

Just because you are wearing a sombrero doesn't mean you are Spanish.