I Never Want to Know of Stars Again

It's true.

I came home from school at like 2:25, 2:30 yesterday, and worked--without Facebook or TV etc.--until 11:15. Oh. My God. AND, I found out a few days ago it's double spaced not single spaced and I was like, oh yeah, thanks Mrs. Teacher, how about putting that on thee rubric next time? And I worked the entire week anyway, completely neglecting everything else, subsequently lowering my science grade a few other percents to the point where I'm .1% away from a B+, not my beloved A- which I've worked so hard for this year. It was one lab, maybe two labs okay, that I completely fucked up on because I'm basically asleep when I'm doing them. And oh yeah I'm sorry my writing isn't legible. I'd rather it be weird looking and slightly eccentric than use that enormous bubbly girly handwriting every female person in the developed world has seem to have adopted for no reason I can find. You could be the smartest person in the school; if you write like that, you look ditsy.

I have a test on Tuesday and I don't understand anything and I really need it to be at least an A- and I've got two graded labs to do, and I'll probably end up, like, wearing sterile gloves and doing ten drafts on one-word sentences, because if I lose even the slightest fraction of a point, I am fucked for good. PHYSICAL SCIENCE, PLEASE END. YOU ARE KILLING ME. IT IS A FRIDAY EVENING AND I AM FOURTEEN YEARS OLD AND YOUR GRADE IS ALL I SEEM TO THINK ABOUT.

Bam, there went my so-called sense of calmness for, like, forever.

Speaking of that, here's an interesting thought, why am I apparently prone to being stereotyped and generalized? And I mean, more than most people it seems, but of course that's a hugely self absorbed thing to suggest, but for today, I will anyway. This week, in particular, this has happened frequently. First in Geometry I'm at my table and I'm not talking, because I don't want to. And really, there's no sizeable reason for any of this. They're talking about something I don't want to talk about or have anything to say about. is that such a crime? Well apparently in this world, yes it is, but actually no it isn't but that's sort of an angry mini-rant in its own right. And then out of the blue someone at my table starts talking about me being quiet. It's partly an English thing. She knows I'm British, she thinks I'm gonna be like Matt Bellamy's personality clone. Oh, how I wish I was. Trust me, I'm not that interesting or whatever, but even if I was, leave me to be quiet. And then my Geometry teacher starts talking about how she wrote in my progress report I'm too quiet. I may be the quietest, but I've also got a 97% in that class(in case you haven't noticed, my brain is 95% numbers right now) so apparently it isn't killing me. People in study and gym call me 'cute' and the way you might call a baby cute and I'm like, why? You don't know me that well. I don't understand it. Someone told a sub-par 'perverted' joke the other day and I think I smiled. They were no Frankie Boyle, but I smiled. And then someone's like "oh, look at Naomi. She's like 'I shouldn't be laughing at this but i am anyway'".

Excuse me, but when did I ever say that or suggest anything to that extent? By not talking? By being quiet? Somehow, that and my sense of humour don't really add up. Do you assume that by my thinking that a lot of jokes I hear are sexist or xenophobic or distasteful or racist or offensive to someone, somewhere? By the way, I do have a sense of humour--and it is frequently quite dark. you don't know that, you don't know what I think. And let me tell you, dark is not necessarily the same as disgusting. It's everyone else who doesn't know that. People in gym are annoying. I'm always the last left in the game because no one wants to get the kid who isn't a threat out, right? So then I keep running the length of the gym in whatever stupid game we were playing, and these girls are like 'look at her, she's so cute'. In Spanish today, which mind you was a total waste of time minus the sweet tea(since when did I like sweet tea?) we spent nearly an hour assigning traits to people. We're comparing people and using the superlative but the whole thing falls flat to gossip after a few minutes. for example, when people aren't there, we don't get 'he is the funniest in the class' and 'she is the prettiest in the class'. No, we are as inhibited as to say 'he's the most childish in the class' and 'she's the most freakishly skinny in the class'. And the teacher doesn't do a damn thing, you just stand there being examined head to toe and in your brain, not that they know what goes on in there. I eventually got 'she has the best accent in the class'. I'm trying to work out whether that's better than Naomi You're So Quiet, but this really is another matter, so I'm stopping that.

This whole thing does lower you as a person as a tiny bit. I guess it happens to everyone, but if you're ever so slightly off to one side of the imaginary bell curve of normality, people think they know the inner workings of your brain. Or is it me? if so, why? Is it a physical thing? My being awkward? My not wanting to run? Just being...not as talkative as is maybe within social convention? It happens and I hate it. But tell me the answer, because I really, really want to know.

I never thought in a free country one would have to make a sort of liberal bullshit-ridden 'stand' about how much they speak, but if I have to, I will; Introverted And Proud. Hardly a complicated thing to discuss, anything but, yet apparently we have to. Separate your minds and your mouths and let others do the same. and don't boast about how not to judge people while simultaneously judging the quiet kid. that's just nonsense.

This wasn't supposed to be a rant post, I haven't gotten a chance to write all week. I'm exhausted, by my standards, and am going through a Friday Night rampage of fashion blogs, David Mitchell clips on YouTube, Sweeney Todd, men's clothes in Sweeney Todd(honestly my favorite period male fashion wise, not that I know a single thing of it. Ditch the too-skinny or too-baggy jeans and baseball caps, boys.), and House of leaves by Mark Danielewski. I haven't read in forever too and it's a breath of fresh air. Marry me, Mr. Danielewski. You and your perfect illustrations of teenage angst and your random half empty pages and your fetish of all things whimsical. Love it.

I think I'm writing like his main character anyway. I'm no grail of coolness in terms of how my blog is, but I'm writing ever so slightly weirder than normal.

also, apparently, I'm so 'normal'. You know, I'm not your fucking parameter for how weird you are. You and your uggs and yoga pants and American Eagle sweaters and your paramore songs on your ipod and your so-called hilarity and your hoards of friends and your normality. yes, it is certainly logical for you to be the weird one in this situation. because you talk more. which is normal. MAKES SO MUCH SENSE, YOU KNOW?

I tend not to have a problem with most of the above list, other than it's sorta boring, but don't claim to be God Of Diversity because of it, kay?

I think my mom thinks I'm going to have an aneurysm because of my homework, or something, so she wants to go out of her way to make this weekend relaxing. I made cookies after school and I'm gonna look for more Christmas sheet music tomorrow. I'm seeing Weezer on Tuesday. Christmas in 15 days. Hey remember when I hated winter and didn't want it to snow yet? Haha, yeah...*blushes* I'd die without my white Christmas, and it had better hurry up, like, now.

Since this is a hate post, let me add something; thing I hate #286. Fake Christmas Trees. Oh my God we don't live in Mexico, it's fairly simple to go out and buy a tree. And yes it'll go off. That's why you're not supposed to put it up the day after Thanksgiving. These are the same people who meticulously clean leaves off their lawns the first day of october. you people depress me. live a little. ironically listen to Mud and sing even though you can't. contradict yourself fairly regularly.

what am I talking about?

I'm not even trying to be all allovertheplace indie. I'm not. That is why these posts are so long.

At risk of turning away anyone else at the endless list of slightly irritating things I've written about, I'm going to leave and watch Buzzcocks. Good day.