Sleepy Hollow(een)

Things are only a big deal if you make them into one. This applies to certain days, too. They’re only a big deal if you make them one. Kind of like today. Happy Halloween. Big whoop.

It was fun when we were little. My mom made our costumes (I don’t think she EVER bought one) and we went out to gather up pillowcase-loads of candy. We came back, turned our bags upside down to empty them of their contents and then sorted into piles based on the kind of candy. Trading ensued, but we never ever traded a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. That was part of our Unwritten Constitution (<-APUSH reference).

Seventh grade was the last time I went trick-or-treating. That was five years ago. Last year we ran around as our XC team, but that was in celebration of the team’s victory that day and we  only stopped at a few places along the way because we were on our way to our coach’s house to get candy out of him.

My brother, Trevor, went trick-or-treating up until his senior year in high school. At the time, it seemed like he was too old for it and I figured he must have been the only kid his age who went around with his friends. Now I’ve realized that a lot more do it than I thought. Everyone’s facebook statuses said something about going trick-or-treating, and that definitely surprised me. Trick-or-treating strikes me as something for kids in elementary or middle school; not high school. I’m not trying to be a stick in the mud or anything, I just feel that I’m too old to go parading around in a stupid costume just to get some candy off of people.

It sure is sad, though. That I feel too old to go trick-or-treating, I mean. I probably would have gone in ninth grade if I had not have had musical rehearsal that night (damn you, stupid musical). I opted not to go in eighth grade because I wasn’t allowed to go with friends and it seemed lame for me to go around with my dad.

I never wanted to grow up. I did, though.

Tonight I stayed in. My boyfriend came over and we carved pumpkins, passed out candy when my parents weren’t home (to our grand total of 9 trick-or-treaters) and then watched Sleepy Hollow with the ‘rents. We ate candy, listened to music, baked cookies and admired our pumpkins after the movie. It was fun. The only thing that made me feel festive was the Emily shirt I chose to wear that has a mummy cat on it. Other than that, it was just another day in the life. It was just another movie night with my boyfriend. It was just another fun time.

Holidays are only a big deal if you make them into one. Happy Halloween. Big whoop.

I’m scared

Lately I have been having a hard time accepting things. Namely the fact that once a moment is over, I can never get it back. All I can do is remember. That’s what really hits me hard.

I don’t cherish school days. Those are going to constantly be churning for the next eight months. I have plenty of those moments left. No, it’s the little things and moments that happen in my life that I’m scared to lose after they happen. After Homecoming, I told myself to cherish the feeling of the hot water bubbling around me and the pleasant conversation exchanging between the three (and at one point, four) of us. I told myself to live it because it would soon be gone. Now, all I can do is remember. And, it bugs me.

What also gets me is that I will have an amazing time with a certain group of people, but the sad fact is that the odds of being in the company of these same certain people are very slim. Especially once this year is over and some of them head off to college to begin the second part of their lives.

I’m scared that I’ll wake up and look in the mirror to find my 25-year-old self staring back and not know where the hell the time went. I’m scared about the future. I know that I want to get married and have a kid or two, but what is frightening is that I can’t see beyond that daydream. I can’t picture what my kids will look like or who my husband will be. I know it’s going to happen eventually, but that’s all I know. And, that scares me.

I’m scared that I’ll wake up and greet the morning of my very last day on Earth without even knowing it.

Pumpkin eaters

Yesterday morning, I walked into homeroom and found three of my classmates rushing to get their AP History homework. Oh, and did I mention that the majority of them were copying the homework of another classmate of mine who wasn’t even in the room? Yeah, I didn’t think so. The sad thing? Two out of the three are ahead of me in class ranking, even though they can’t seem to find the time to do their homework. It made me sick when we passed our homework up to the front of the classroom in AP History the next period. The girls that had copied nonchalantly passed theirs up and then struck up a conversation with their neighbor. They didn’t notice the smoke coming out of my ears due to the rage building up in my head.

Even though I did the homework, those two that are ahead of me will still beat me on the test we take on the homework. That’s just how it works. They get by by copying and cheating, and then when the time comes to take the test, they try their best and guess here and there, and somehow nearly always beat me.

I considered raising my hand and informing the teacher about the cheating that had taken place. I thought about getting in their faces and screaming. But, I never act on these thoughts. It’s extremely likely that the teacher wouldn’t do anything about it; people cheat all the time. People cheat all the time and get away with it. Even if I had raised this problem I’ve been facing now for YEARS to the attention of the administrators at my school, I doubt they would even give it a second glance.

My friend that is currently ranked 3rd in my class is smarter than our so-called Valedictorian. Our Valedictorian (at the moment) always asks my friend what answers she put for questions on homework, and her text messages to my friend are constantly about schoolwork.

I’m not saying I’m perfect, but I don’t blatantly ask someone for their homework so I can copy it word-for-word. That, to me, is not called rightfully earning what you have. I’m ranked eighth. I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but I’m not arguing with it, and I plan on staying up there. It just sucks knowing that the people ahead of me are going to stay up there by cheating their way through.

Dear old friends,

Yep, that’s what you are, old. You’re not the shiny new car with that new car smell. You’re the old rustmobile that needs several air fresheners to keep the air inside bearable to even breathe in. What’s my problem, exactly? The fact that you’re old. Now I’m ready for some shiny new friends that won’t be stupid like you.

When I kissed the last person I kissed, I was completely sober. Were you for yours? Do you even know who you kissed? Were you certain that it was a person of the gender opposite you? Do you know how completely stupid you probably act and sound when you have vile substances in your body? Probably not. So, why do you insist on continuing? Since you most likely do not have an answer that meets my high standards for any of these questions, I would like to say adieu to you.

I feel sorry for you. I’m sorry that you think you need alcohol in your body to have fun. I’m sorry that that has become the only way you can ever have any fun. I’m not planning on inviting you to anymore of my movie nights or anything I have with friends in the future. There won’t be any alcohol involved, so you probably won’t want to come anyway. I suppose I could slip some beer into the Jell-O to please you, but that’s not me. I’m sorry that that’s you.

I have morals. I’m not about to fuck myself over for life because I got drunk one night. One mistake is all it takes. I hope you have fun washing your beer-stained clothes the next morning and attempting to hide the fun you’re having from your parents. Sounds like a bitchin’ time. I’m sorry that I don’t feel right being a part of it. I’ll have fun drinking when I’m at or close to the right age. And when that time comes, I’m sure I’ll want something more sophisticated in my body. No beer for me. I don’t need to be drunk to have a fun time with my “friends.” Have fun at those parties in the future. I won’t be around to “enjoy” them with you. I’m choosing not to. And yeah, I may be a stick in the mud, but it’s because I know what I want. Maybe you should figure out what you want. The next time you’re wandering around drunk and stupid, I’ll be sober enjoying the company of a good book or my boyfriend. Sounds like a hell of a lot more fun than what you’re doing.

Sincerely,

Emily

The only girl

NeXt Correspondent

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On Nov. 5, 1993, I joined my three older brothers in this world. It went from just Jordan, Trevor and Adam to Jordan, Trevor, Adam and Emily. Friends of my parents told them that I was the icing on the cake – the pink icing.

The pros? Thanks to my brothers, I’m one tough cookie. Secondly, there was never a dull moment when we were younger. I joined them in their game of Annie and ran away with “Daddy” Warbucks (aka Jordan) and Little Orphan Annie (aka Adam) from Miss Hannigan (aka Trevor). I attended countless baseball games and “watched” from my secluded little perch: a stroller. We assigned ourselves Teletubbies (Jordan as Tinky Winky, Trevor as Dipsy, Adam as Laa-Laa, and myself as Po), we watched “The Big Comfy Couch” and they assisted Loonette the Clown and me with her Clock-Stretches and the Ten-Second Tidy before running out of the room screaming when Mr. Rogers came on.

Adam was my buddy. We were inseparable. He would make me cry and then he would “run into” a wall and pretend to get hurt so my crying would cease and turn into a giggle. My hands and knees were coated in dirt throughout my childhood. Adam and I had adventures and dug holes with intentions of making it to China. My brothers molded me into the perfect little tomboy, much to my mother’s dismay.

The cons? We couldn’t get through a weekday morning without fighting. Adam drove me nuts at the breakfast table and then laughed at me when our mother took out the torture tools: girly hair ribbons and clips. I used to take my dinner to another room when it seemed to my fragile little mind that it was “Pick On Emily Day.” Whenever I whined, the boys would chant “wheh wheh wheh wheh” in singsong – which absolutely infuriated me. The physical fights that occurred after my fury resulted in bruises, scratches, bite marks and even a bloody nose once (To: Trevor – Love, Emily).

Though they caused me pain and I have a dent between my eyebrows from a “rogue” Frisbee, I miss those days. Now my brothers are annoyingly overprotective, but I know they mean well, and that’s what older brothers are for, right? The older we get, the more girl-like I become, and next year, estrogen will rule in our home. Adam graduates from high school in June, leaving me behind to fend for myself. Next year it will be just my mother, my father and me.

Growing up with boys has prepared me for many things, but not this. I’ll give being an “only child” a try, but I probably won’t like it. My boys are all grown up, and as much as I want to, I can’t pause or rewind life. They may bring girls home from time to time, but they’re still my boys. Jordan’s my hero and inspiration; Trevor’s my main bodyguard and Adam’s still my buddy – no matter what he might tell you! To my new baby cousin Aubrey: good luck with your three older brothers. Believe me, I know you’re going to need it (I also know you’re going to love it)!

Attention Bookworms: (latest article)

Last year I was introduced to a Web site called Shelfari by my English teacher. Sure, she told my whole class, but I was among the few that actually went home and joined the site. Now I am addicted. Shelfari is a Web site that lets you create your own virtual bookshelf. Join, log in, upload a picture for your avatar, name yourself and click on the “Add a Book” option to begin your journey. Categorize what books “I’ve read,” “I plan to read,” or “I’m reading now,” then add books to “Favorites” and “Wish list.” Customize the kind of “wood” you want your bookshelf to be made of, and make it your own. You can write reviews of books you’ve read, rate them, or just simply move them to “I’ve read” as is. The best part about Shelfari is that you can interact with other readers who have the same taste in books as you. Visit another person’s profile. Click on “Books in common” to read their thoughts on books you’ve also read. Send notes to other readers, make Shelfari “friends,” and join a group or two. Having a Shelfari page is basically like having a MySpace or Facebook profile, only with books. If you’re an avid reader, I suggest you log on to www.shelfari.com and get goin’ on those reviews. Visit www.shelfari.com today.

“We are going to pick ourselves up, and dust ourselves off”

Today my brother and I were supposed to be at the orthodontist at exactly twelve o’clock to let them torture us. My mother called the office yesterday and informed them that we would not be attending our appointment. We all wished to watch Barack Obama’s Inauguration.

Every classroom I entered today had either their TV or their SMART Board tuned into the news, watching this historical event.

In 7/8 period Global, we sat down and began writing the thematic essays for our mid-term examination. I finished mine, and sat twiddling my thumbs (well, I read) until my teacher, Mr. Leous decided it was finally time to turn on his TV. “You can put your essays away now,” he said.

We watched. And watched. And watched. I mouthed the Lord’s prayer along with the man who recited it, and then Aretha Franklin got up and sang her heart out. The bell rang just as she started singing, so my friend and I hustled to the Chorus Room, and turned on the TV. We stood around the piano until Mr. Lerew entered the room, switched the channel to a station without any static and told us we could watch it for the whole period as long as he could have five minutes at the end.

Biden became Vice President (when they said “would everyone please rise,” we rose and when Mr. Lerew came along and motioned for us to sit down, we simply told him that they told us to stand), and then came the short performance with the lovely violin and Yo Yo Ma on cello. My jaw dropped, and at 12:01 it was announced that though Obama had not been sworn in yet, he was now our new president.

His speech was beautiful. I hung onto his every word and was thanking God that it wasn’t Hilary I was listening to at that moment. The way he talks makes me believe that he is an extremely smart man – there were and are never any stutters or silences. I had tears in my eyes as he spoke, and was so relieved that he is our president. I feel so much better about our country now that he is in charge.

I will never forget that historical moment for as long as I live. I sat in a choir room filled with friends and watched the TV with such interest as the subtitles (which we attempted to take away, but to no avail) echoed everything he said. When I am older and my kids are learning about this moment from their history textbooks, I can smile and tell them that I witnessed it as it happened. I will always remember what happened today.

My friend Gemma Doyle

You know what? Forget Twilight. Forget New Moon. Forget Eclipse. And FORGET Breaking Dawn.

Take those books off of your bookshelf and shove them in the nearest trash can. (Sure, I enjoyed them a little, but not as much as I thought I would.)

Now, go to the nearest Barnes & Noble or Borders and pick up copies of the Gemma Doyle trilogy. Place said trilogy on your shelf where Twilight used to take up space, and take them down one by one to devour them. Join red-headed Gemma in her travels, her curiosity, her love and her troubles. Erase Bella Swan and Edward Cullen from your mind and replace them with Gemma and Kartik. Befriend Ann, Felicity and Pippa and travel with the three of them to the realms to frolick in the garden or take a ride with Gorgon. Find out who Circe is, find out who your friends are, and who your enemies are. Ignore the Rakshana’s requests and continue employing your magic.

I finished The Sweet Far Thing last night, and was struck in awe (well, awestruck). It wasn’t the ending I was hoping for, but strangely, it fit nicely. Libba Bray is far more talented and descriptive than Stephenie Meyer is in Twilight and the other novels. C’mon! Who doesn’t love an author who puts “She has never lived in the Victorian era, is not British, and has no superpowers, though if she did they would involve being able to eat her weight in Swedish fish without feeling the urgent need to shave her tongue afterward” in the ABOUT THE AUTHOR section? Bray’s ideas are fresh and original. If you do not love her, you must be mad.

Anyway, have someone pry Twilight out of your hands and read and remember A Great and Terrible Beauty, Rebel Angels, and The Sweet Far Thing. Instead of viewing that ghastly Twilight movie, read! I get angry if somebody compares Twilight to Harry Potter, but if one were to compare Gemma Doyle to Harry Potter, I actually would not mind. Nothing will ever beat HP, but I believe that Gemma comes pretty close.

Don’t “go with the flow”

These days I live in a world where people quote lines from movies constantly. Maybe I am bitter about this because I do not tell stories or quote movie lines very well, but it gets annoying when I ask a question and someone responds with a line from Stepbrothers or Juno or The Dark Knight. It’s as if there are no more original thoughts anymore… it’s like everyone has their own personal screenwriter. I guess people just piss me off in general.

Am I the only person in this world with confidence? When I first brought my knitting to school, everyone laughed at me – but was I discouraged? No. I kept bringing it to school despite what people thought or think. If you like something, don’t be afraid to express it. Liking something makes you who you are and what’s wrong with showing who you are? Watch me walk down the hallway in what people call my “hooker” boots and my adorable Tripp skirt. Sure, people will stare, but do you know what they are really thinking? I think that they are wishing they could do something like that; dress like that; be who they really are. I can tell when someone has their shield up…and it’s kind of disappointing. I am kind of sick of taking the initiative. There are too many people that just “go with the flow.”

I have a friend who has changed a lot in the past year. Sure, I have changed too, but I haven’t changed what I believe in or my sense of humor or anything. My friend (he has been a friend for years) recently discovered his love for God. He goes to this church that sucks people in (at least, I think they do) every Sunday, and for the extra teen things that they do. I think of it as a cult. Going to church (should church be capitalized? ‘Cause I really don’t think it should be) so often has changed him completely. It’s as if he thinks he needs to be righteous all the time and do the right thing. If we gossip around him he gets pissed off. Oh, but when he wishes to gossip, it’s okay. I really miss who he was before he became super religious. Before he started bugging me about going to church. I feel like he has a wall up, and it needs to come down. I wish to knock it down, but we fight everyday over stupid things, and I never get the chance. I am very opinionated, and he can’t seem to accept my opinion, so he gets all cheesed off when I say mine. When he says his, I consider it. I don’t really know about him anymore. He is a completely different person these days. I don’t know what happened.

Anyway, yeah, people piss me off. Most people are selfish and it drives me nuts. I may not seem like it, but I think about other things besides myself. I am concerned about world hunger (which is why I visit the Free Rice website often), the economy – I was even thinking about how I was complaining about having to wake up early to go to school this week. Then I thought about it and here’s what I came up with: here I am complaining about going to school to be with friends when there is some kid who has to wake up early to go to school and gets beat up everyday and comes home covered with bruises that his/her parents don’t even notice. Yeah, suddenly waking up early to go to a place where I have friends and am at no risk whatsoever of being beaten up (unless I piss someone off) doesn’t sound too bad.

I have scratched the two resolutions I wanted to tackle. I can’t just quit everything cold turkey – I will ease into breaking free from my habits. Right now I am trying to be extremely thoughtful. And people still piss me off.

I have now been to a beach

For the past few years, I have been complaining about how I have never been to the beach. Friends have promised to take me, but, alas, their promises were not kept. I remained a beach virgin. Until today.

We had a cross-country meet today at a State Park near the lake. I swore that I would go swimming in the Lake after my race, and I did. We finished the girls Varsity race (third place for me…we went against an awesome team) and my two friends and I headed down to the lake. We did not end up swimming. We touched the water, took a few pictures, then fled to watch the “men” in their race. (THEY WON!)

After their race, my brother wanted to go swimming. My friend Ashley and I were all for it, and we began walking back towards the lake with the new guy. Soon we were joined by half of the boy’s team, and we ran to the beach. I took off my warm-up pants (my best friend’s PJs, hehe – I borrowed them from him and never gave them back), and ran to the shore. Yeah, it was cold, and today wasn’t the hottest September day we’ve had. I looked behind me and saw half of the boy’s team running towards me in just their spandex. Haha, hello!

We all ran into the water, and jumped over the waves as they came. New guy even joined in and wore his boxers (he didn’t run today – not enough practices). Soon, Ashley and I realized that our shorts were see-through, so we waded deeper and deeper into the water in an attempt to hide ourselves.

It was the most fun I have ever had at a cross-country meet (and I have been to quite a few in my lifetime). Cute guys in spandex in freezing water with waves that reached my shoulders…yeah, FUN! I will probably be sick tomorrow, and if I am, I will just remember how much laughter our little adventure brought me. Today was a day I will not soon forget.