Oh my god.

Has it really been so many months?! Okay, this is bad. This is very bad.

I’m so sorry for neglecting my little blog! There’s definitely something wrong with me lately. I can’t quite place it, and I’m really sorry.

Okay, so quite a bit has happened since I last posted… My goodness. I’m a sophomore now! Like, officially and everything. Marching band has become more of a thing to be wary (and weary) of instead of a sanctuary, which is a bit unfortunate. I broke up with boyfriend a while ago and I’m still single (he’s not… whoops) and I’m kind of really annoyed at the lack of appealing gentlemen around. Or just the lack of gentlemen. Gentlemen who aren’t girls. Because I am quite a gentleman, but I would not date myself, would I? Anyways, knitting has come to dominate my life, which is a bit worrisome as of late, because I’m scared that I’m never going to become a writer.

Let me go into this now, if I may.

Ever since around seventh grade, I’ve carried a little brown journal around in my purse, along with a blue Snoopy and Woodstock pencil tin, and whenever I had a moment, I would write in my diary, filling pages and pages, keeping a tiny calender in it for every month, keeping track of how many books I’d gone through, writing faster and faster with each passing journal. It was more than standard for me to break it out during class and write for as long as I could before being told to put it away. And I prided myself on this. And I kind of wanted to be labelled “the girl who writes”. I mean, it’s a bit of a silly thing to want to be labelled anything, but since we all do it anyways, I might as well promote a label that I liked, right?

Some girls are that girl on dance team, that cheerleader, that blue-haired one, some boys are that one with the beard, that one who plays guitar, that one who scratches his name onto the desk. I wanted to be “that girl with the diary, the one who always writes during class.” Like, when people would talk about me (as I am wont to do them), they would say, “Yeah, you know, Sami. Sami? That chick with the diary, she writes all the time during Spanish and stuff?”

But now, I have a sneaking suspicion that I’ve become, “Sami? You know, that girl who knits under the desk during history and stuff.”

Because I don’t really write as much anymore. I mean, clearly you can tell that I haven’t updated my blog in a while! And looking at my diary, I’ve been writing maybe once a week in it! Why? Because I’m knitting! All the time that I would take during school to write, I spend knitting. And all the time at home that I would take to write, I spend writing on Tumblr. Which doesn’t really count.

Anyways, I woke up this morning, and hand this really bizarre moment. I was just laying there in bed and I didn’t see my sister around, and I dunno, I guess I looked at something in my room and then a small voice said to me (well, it was my voice, and it was in my mind), “You’re going to be a famous writer someday. You will write wonderful novels and people will love you. Also, why did you stop dreaming? It’s not immature to dream, you know. It’s not something that just seventh graders do. I get that you don’t like seventh graders. You’re a tenth grader. You can dream. You’re going to be famous and write books. Stop knitting all the time. Make time to read and to write, okay? No, not right now, you’re completely void of thought, it’s early in the morning. What the hell are you doing,  no, don’t get up, you can’t just read right now… Okay, fine…”

Anyway, I thought this, and to myself, I thought back, “Oh, you’re quite right, aren’t you? I can just write stuff and people aren’t going to laugh at me and think I’m stupid, are they? Well, I will, and maybe, silently, somebody will, but fuck ’em, I’m a cool freaking person! Maybe I ought to keep writing that zombie story! Not right now? Well, I should at least read The Young Unicorns, then, right? No? Well, I’m going to!”

So here I am, guys. I’m going to keep writing. I mean, of course I’m going to keep knitting, too, but I’m going to try to write more often. Or read. I need to do more reading under the desk…

Anyway, let it be known that the Chickedy is back in black and ready to… attack? Agh. This is why I hate rhyming. So corny.

Be seeing you, chicks!

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Heyo!

Hey, guys, I’m back! Sorry for not writing in such a long time. It seems I’ve become addicted to Tumblr. And Harry Potter. For those of you who don’t know, these two addictions feed each other–everyone on Tumblr loves Harry Potter, so naturally, there are about a thousand posts about it all the time, and Harry Potter is oh so exciting and wonderful to read, so I have plenty to post about! Like how I totally cried over one of the chapters in The Order of the Phoenix.

Anyway, for the past few weeks or so, I’ve been constantly Tumbling and reading Harry Potter, and I swear it’s unhealthy. I’ve hardly written in my actual diary in about a week. That’s bad.

Anyway, my computer’s dying, so I’m going to go now. I’m at Starbucks and there’s not an outlet within convenient distance, so good day, chickedies! ❤

Hello From Portland

I saw this and thought I’d give it a go. I like these things.

A. Age: 14 and a half. Too young.
B. Bed size: Twin. With gigantic sheets.
C. Chore that you hate: All of them.
D. Dogs: Not a fan of those.
E. Essential start to your day: Diet Coke? A good night’s sleep? Five more minutes?
F. Favorite color: Yellow, for now.
G. Gold or Silver: Silver’s classier, I think.
H. Height: 5’8″ or so.
I. Instruments you play: Flute! And I can play a scale on the bells? Lol
J. Job title: Sophomore? (almost)
K. Kids: are cute from a distance. Or if they’re Penny. Or Max.
L. Live: I like to, yes.
M. Mother’s name: Momma, duh.
N. Nicknames: Lately, Smai (read: SMAY)
O. Overnight hospital stays: Never. Not that I can remember.
P. Pet peeve: Bad grammar, and people who don’t mind it, blatantly rude people, cockiness.
Q. Quote from a movie: “Am I not turtley enough for the Turtle Club? Turtle, turtle.” Master of Disguise
R. Right or left handed: Righty
S. Siblings: Many.
T. Time you wake up: On a good day, nine or later. On a normal day, 6 or earlier.
U. Underwear: Isn’t it nice?
V. Vegetable you hate: Most of them. I dunno. All those obscure ones that they have at authentic Chinese restaurants. I pretty much can’t stand any of that.
W. What makes you run late: My inability to wake myself up or set my own alarm; I need other people to wake me up, so if they don’t do so on time, I don’t have backups.
X. X-Rays you’ve had: Teeth? Y’know, at the dentist. I’m pretty sure that’s it.
Y. Yummy food that you make: Mac n Cheese. Ramen. Toast. I have a very simple palate.
Z. Zoo animal: I don’t like them.

Pretty Much Satisfied

I now have about half of a Meg Cabot book (Queen of Babble Gets Hitched) to read at my leisure, along with a bagful of Harry Potter–books 2 through 5–and a comfy, warm blanket to hunker down under during this unseasonably chilly July evening. I have some yummy Sunny D to drink and I just ate two chocolate mint cookies (from the 99 Cent Store, but they taste just like Thin Mints). I managed to patch things up quite nicely with my deary dear boyfriend with whom I am happily back together. Comic Con is near on the horizon, and will be followed shortly by a family trip to Portland, OR.

Also, I discovered that we have microwavable bacon in our fridge. If I may borrow the words of my funny but cynical math teacher and club adviser, Can I get a hell yeah?

This all being said, you can see why I’m actually pretty happy right now.

And sure, after we get back from Portland, I’m probably going to have to slide into my studies and get cracking on that painfully dry AP biology textbook, but at least I’ll (probably) be studying with my friends. We agreed to study together, especially since some of them will be sharing books in exchange for extra credit–a whopping 10% bonus, lucky bastards–so we’ll probably have a few meetings at the charming townhouse that is one of these book-sharing friends’ domicile, and then a few meet-ups via Skype, and hopefully we’ll finish the assignment that way.

And there is, of course, band camp to look forward to! Apparently, being a sophomore will not exclude me from being considered a freshman in band–at least not until the second semester or something like that–but at least I’ll be that much closer. Not to mention, I’ll finally be above someone. Not even, really, though, considering I’ll likely still be the worst flutist in the section, since one of the incoming freshman flutes was the middle school’s drum major. Not that that really means anything. Besides, I hear she’s a conceited bitch anyways–not just hear, actually, I know it, because she signed my yearbook when she was going into eighth grade as “Band Drum Major for the 2010-2011 school year” and I happen to know that she did the same in everyone’s yearbooks. Which I think is toootally not classy.

But that’s beside the point, right? Because even being the drum major of the middle school band (which is, admittedly, a smidge more impressive than our high school’s band) does not mean that she knows anything about being in a performing marching band. And I’m quite sure that she’ll find she doesn’t. Okay, so she’ll probably play better than me, just my luck, but at least I’ll have a clue what I’m doing. I’d like to see them make a fool of me this time! There will be no business of me getting my hand stuck in the not-pockets of my marching band uniform pants like last year! Ha!

Anyway, I’ve got Queen of Babble to get back to, and later, Chamber of Secrets. That said, goodnight, chickedies!

AWOL

…that’s what I’ve been for the past several days. I’m really sorry, I haven’t been on the Internet much lately. Too busy doing real stuff in the real world.

Anyway, I don’t actually have a lot to say. I saw the last Harry Potter movie and I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to write an incredible series of book and become as famous and beloved as Ms. Rowling herself. That is the only way I can ever feel complete. Her fanbase is one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen… And that’s why I must become this woman.

Well, that’s about it for now. Sorry if you were expecting some real substance, after I’ve been gone for so long. I’m swamped right now with Comic Con preparations, so I don’t have a lot going for me in the spare time department. Anyway, have a nice week, chickedies!

Tired, Uninspired

So the reason I haven’t been posting in a little while is because I haven’t had anything to say. That isn’t to say that today I have something to say, but I thought I should say why I haven’t been saying much in the recent days.

I need a breakthrough. I’m watching a documentary thing about this thing called TED. Oh, it’s “Technology Entertainment and Design”. Oh, look at that, Bill Gates. He just said a bunch of  stuff about… um, mockingbirds? And it rhymed, well, sometimes. It was kind of funny.

Anyways, these people are all supersmart and geniuses and stuff. It’s a bunch of crazy smart CEOs and inventors and innovators and they’re all doing super cool stuff to save the Earth and the children and everybody in China and the children and books and stuff. It’s just great, really. Maybe I should go there someday? Where’s Monterey? That’s in CA? Cool. Oh, well, it’s a lot farther north…

Anyway, it costs a bazillion dollars to go to it anyways. Well, more like $300, but that’s a lot. Oh, look, these people win prizes? That’s cool.

I should be famous someday! That’s it! Ah! Why haven’t I thought of that before? Hello!

Oh, wait, I have too thought of that! Damn. Well, that’s okay. I’ll just do that, too.

Theeeeen, after I’m famous and stuff, I’ll, like, go save people in third world countries, or, um, something. I don’t know! Famous people can’t be bad people, that makes them worse than normal bad people! I want to be able to do great things. And I think I want to be famous in order to do that. Then I can do even greater things! Sound like a plan?

Okay, I’m so sorry, this is a really exhausted late-night rambling. Well, it’s not even late. It’s only 11. But I’m tired. I walked a lot today, okay? Good night, chickedies. I’m sorry about this silly post.

“Help me make sustainability sexy!” What.

 

Observations About Authors

Do you like the all-vowel-alliterative title? It took a lot of careful consideration and forethought.

On topic, though, I have compiled a short list of traits that I think most authors that I like have in common. This is that list.

  • They live in multiple places—check. My parents are divorced, so I live between two houses. Totally swank, dude.
  • They really like animals. They have plenty of pets and bring them up frequently—not check. I have a Chihuahua named Spike, but I really just don’t like dogs. I like cats, and I like big birds, but there is little chance of me  obtaining any of these in the near future, so if I become a published author before I become a , I’ll have to make some up, but that’s just a sacrifice I’m willing to make.

This is an excerpt from my future “About the Author” page: “Having realized all of her childhood dreams, the brilliant and acclaimed authoress Sami now happily lives between Nova Scotia and sunny Southern California with her pet lamb, Ibel, and her Cooper’s Hawks, Idgey and Racecar. She (just barely) graduated from Indiana University with a degree in Musical Performance Whistling and is now doing a double-major at UCLA in Underwater Basket-Weaving and Feminine Studies, all the while knitting her way to the top of the craft-blogosphere and working part-time sweeping floors in a small bakery with her sister and some of her close childhood friends.”

  • They are super active as web presences. Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, the blogosphere in general, even some of the weird websites that you’ve never heard of—almost check. Facebook, Tumblr, and a blog, I have. But all famous people Tweet, and I just don’t. The last time I Tweeted was about two or three years ago, when I said that I got a haircut. I’m going to have to work on that someday, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get there, and not a moment sooner.
  • If they ever write memoirs, they don’t sugar-coat it. That is some soul-baring, harsh, revealing, and cynical stuff, the memoir of a writer—not even close to check. No, I make myself seem like either the hero or the victim in just about everything I do. I can’t just say I messed up, oh no. It’s someone else’s fault, I was at the wrong place at the wrong time, or I was trying to do the best possible thing and the consequences were completely unpredictable. But it was never my fault.
  • I bet they secretly look down on everyone they see. They act pleasant, sure, but in their minds, they are shaking their little writerly heads in condescension and a smirk of superiority—hopefully not check. And if I ever get that way, feel free to pull my hair until I see the error of my ways.
Anyways, that’s all for tonight! I hope you enjoyed that little blurb! I’m pretty sure none of those things are true–except the one about pets, authors can’t just say that they hate animals and get away with it–but hey, I’ll die before I deny any of these claims!
Not really, though… I’m not so good with the dying thing. I don’t like it much. I just thought it would have more impact. But I don’t really need impact right now. What I need is sleep, dammit, so good night, chickedies!