Somebody I used to know

Disclaimer: If any of you went to middle school with me, you might know who I'm talking about. One of you specifically knows exactly who I'm talking about, while I think there might be two people familiar with the person, but never actually friends. I won't mention by name, since that's mean and pointless. But something interesting happened recently, and I wanted to blog about it. I'm not friends with this person, and haven't been for almost three years, so she won't read this blog. 

So, with that in mind, here we go.

A former friend of mine dropped out of high school. Not at HC, where I go. I haven't seen her since 8th grade graduation, but according to several of the comments after one of her more lengthy, dramatic FB posts, she has dropped out. I don't know why, although I have a guess. 

She just turned seventeen.

What.

Yeah, I'm not making this up. 

I'm not one of those people that likes to constantly display my gratitude, or rather, I like to avoid it in public. Today is an exception.

All I'm going to say was that in a time I had no friends, I met her, and joined her during quiet lunch. I thought of her as my best friend, and then found out she thought of me as a parasite. I still stuck to her until the end of that year, until when we graduated, going to different high schools. 

I'm not here to reminisce about the shaded past. That's not the point of this post. 

The point of this post is that even though sometimes I get overwhelmed by the pressures in my life and lonely and sad and sometimes ungrateful, I'm really happy about where I am right now. Yeah, I have alot of pressure from myself, my parents, and my peers to be the best person I can be, and that does cause alot of emotional turbulence and what not, but I'm not being left up to fate or my hormones to determine the course of my future. At least, in the span of three years, the seeds I've sowed and now are reaping aren't totally bad ones. They're ones filled with opportunity and hope and maybe even success. 

Of course, I'm biased. My life has been easy in that I have great parents and a great education system and supportive friends who listen and stay with me even when I'm annoying and insecure. I'm not sure she has had the same thing. Maybe that's her fault or maybe it's because of the whole seed/reaping thing. I don't know. But I know I'm really grateful not to be in her shoes right now. 

(I really hope she doesn't end up finding this. This isn't exactly a flattering post)

Damn it I'm writing an actual post

I genuinely honest to god wasn't going to write anything more for the day, but then I saw something.
Now, maybe I'm overreacting or maybe this has been building up for awhile, but someone recently (I don't want ya'll stalking my FB and finding out who this is) did a Truth Is...and there reply for me wasn't "Oh, you're a good friend" or "Oh, I love being in class together". No. It was "You love reading, and that's pretty coool. You always have a book to reccommend. Tomorrow will be our last day together" (I'm paraphrasing. She probably didn't have any malevolent intention and probably does think well of me, but this set me off)
Holy shit, if something ever happens to me and all I'm ever remembered for is reading alot, then screw it.
What the hell is so special about me reading alot? More like, why the hell don't people read more often, or TRY to read more often? What the hell makes me reading so special that most people have to comment on it? I like reading. It's my right as an American citizen. Yes, I devote much more time to studying than reading, much more than I used to, but that doesn't mean I don't fracking try.
During AP Lang on Thursday, our teacher told our class to bring an SSR book (independent reading book) to class for Friday, as we might finish ahead of schedule. That happened. As our class happens to be in another teacher's Senior Lit classroom, there is a bookshelf on the wall solely for fun, independent reading books. I even borrowed one and brought it out of the classroom (Last Christmas by Kate Brian, don't judge) last week and returned it there, even though I was already reading something else at the time. But on Friday, when our teacher announced that it was SSR time, every freaking kid walked up to that bookshelf and plucked a random book off the shelf. One kid even asked me to lend him a book! (I did. It was Prince Caspian by C.S Lewis, and I haven't had time to get into it yet. Yes, I had two books on me at one time. Don't judge) I even said, out loud and not even joking, "Does nobody read this days?"
It pisses me off, so much, that the people who used to read all the time in middle school now can't be bothered to pick up something for fun unless its about to become a major motion picture. They're honors students, they don't have time, yadda yadda yadda. Then I say this. If you have time for Facebook and Tumblr and Twitter or whatever, you have fracking time to pick up a book and read. In twenty years, you will have gained so much more from reading than you would have from texting your friends or Tweeting. I'm biased and angry and ranting. And now its 11:43 and I really have to go to sleep.

Somethings to Note

Today is my sister's 18th birthday. My Jane Austen loving, fangirl with as many flaws as great attributes sister is eighteen today. Woah. Of course, there is no celebrating on finals week (Thanks Central) but there were donuts.
I have to go to sleep soon, because I have to get up at 6:00 for an AP US review session, but one more thing.
From now, every sunday is Short Story Sunday. I'm going to wing a short story in a day and publish it on here. That way, I have to get things done and I'll have an incentive. Yay. Not today though. Cuz of finals and stuff. (Procrostination, alter ego says)
This isn't exactly a very thoughtful post, but hey, I have to write often in order to make sure I don't go blaaaaaah on the keyboard when I actually need to write, hence the practice and all.
I think I'm going to wake up super duper early and be all organized, the way my brain doesn't want to be as the darkness/night/blackness of the world progresses. So I think I'll get up.
I'm thankful, though. Its during these kind of hard, stressing times that I think "Well, thank God I even have this to worry about" because having something to worry about means that you have something good that you want to keep, and that's always reason to be thankful. I think. (I don't have time to be politically correct, its 11:26 PM and I need to read some Quran and go to sleep.)
Night, and good luck on your finals, whenever you have them.
Also, I didn't get into Honors Sem. Didn't know why that was important to share, but you know, details add up. Somebody had to be paying attention to that post I think I made a week ago about novel-writing. So maybe I'll have more time to write next year after all. (Even at the expense of, you know, Honors Sem.)
P.S That was alot more than one more thing...Silly me.

Trust-My own Response

I wasn't going to make a Blog post today because of finals and whatever, but then I read this blog post, and decided "Why not?"
Okay.
I trust too much, for the precise reasons that shouldbesatisfied can't. This isn't a noble or courageous thing, its actually pretty cowardly. I trust that my friends care about me and aren't so annoyed by me that they secretly hate me and think I'm a decent person and all that type of thing. I can't afford to be cynical because I don't have an alternative. Either I maintain my friendships with people in the trust that they aren't acting every time they talk to me, or I hyperanalyze everything they do towards me and everything I do towards them and start acting weird and desperate.
I do believe in people's inherent goodness, (despite all our misunderstood or malicious attempts to hide and masque our own insecurities) but I don't believe in their selflessness or their tolerance towards others with visible flaws, especially not towards me. I believe that when people are annoyed or bothered by somebody, they will not care how that other person feels until they after they get rid of that annoying person. If they tolerate that person, its only to make a nice face to not seem bitchy in public, or they'll wait until said person is gone and rip them apart behind their back. People only care about others when its not at their own expense. I've seen some of my best friends do it to other people and other people do it to me. That's the truth.

Music is there for you (Except if God doesn't will it)

That's what I feel like every time I play a song on my iPod now, especially if its one I like. The songs I choose to listen to resonate with my feelings, my buried thoughts and emotions allowed voice as they insist, now more than ever, to get out. Sometimes a song that I used to play is ignored for a month, that emotion untapped and unneeded until the day crashes and I need to hear it. Music provides comfort, it makes us feel like we belong even when we don't. It gives fancy to our desires. It makes you feel at home.

Playlist for lately:
Dead Hearts by Stars
The Last Time by Taylor Swift feat. Gary Lightbody
Viva Primadonna (A remix of Primadonna and Viva La Vida together)
How To Break A Heart by Marina and the Diamonds
Demons by Imagine Dragons
Fallen by Imagine Dragons
The Last Goodbye by Ke$ha
Dirty Love by Ke$ha
Lose Yourself by Eminem
Hear Me by Imagine Dragons
Wild Ones by Flo Rida

(Oddly, no Paramore or Panic on this list. This will most likely change as my mood does, and when Paramore's new album comes out in April OMGYAY)

A Fact

I am not popular.
You can say I'm outgoing, loud, annoying, empathetic, loved, and ambitious, but you can't say I'm popular.
Today, I realized this. Really realized it. It's been coming for a long time, and I know for a fact that I was never as in-touch with school gossip as my peers, but it's been dawning on me for some time how much I've been missing out.
This, for some reason, pisses me off today in ways that haven't bothered me in years.
***
During lunch today, a sophomore friend of mine brought up the subject of middle school, and I joked "I was such a b***ch in middle school."
"Why would you call yourself a b***tch?"
I'm smiling, because I believe it. "Because I was."
She asks, "Were you a bully?"  Confused, I answer no.
"Than you weren't a b****. Only bullies are b****ches in middle school." She says, laughing, good-intentioned.
 And then I laughed, adding without even thinking "I wish I was one."
She was the one who was confused now. "Why would you want to be a b****?"
I had an answer on the tip of my tongue, but her other friend, as usual, inturupted our conversation as she started talking about Wisconsin or something, and then they got offtrack. I still have the answer, but I am still hesitant to say it.
***
It takes guts to be a b***tch. People admire guts, and strength. I don't think I have that, not when it comes to being clever or social or a good friend. I wish I was a good friend.
I hate sounding like this, needy. I hate depending on people to feel good about myself, or to feel good about anything. I want to be someone people admire, not someone they ignore or don't pay attention to. The fact that I publicly display that need on my blog is a good enough reason why I don't have it. It's probably why most people don't really like me, or even know about me. Terrific.

Rich Kid Books

You know the ones I'm talking about.
Clique. Private. The A-List.
We're all familiar with them, or at least their trope.
A bunch of rich, beautiful people go to an esteemed private school. This private school is esteemed, destined to lead its attendees to the Ivy League and into a glamorous life. The main character is estranged, having arrived at this school out of sheer coincidence or scholarship, and finds herself enchanted and horrified by her peers, particularly THE Group.
There all always variations of this group, but their members always embody these characteristics: Wealthy, gorgeous, ambitious, and smart. The alpha (There is always one) is the epitome of these traits to her peers; to them, she is unstoppable and superior. Nobody can top her. The main character inevitably finds herself wanting to be a part of this group. She wants to prove to them that however badly they might regard or treat her, she is not inferior. Eventually, with persistence and manuevering, they get in, as the plot goes.
I hate these books.
But I still read them.
I have a long history with reading these kinds of books. (The Clique series comes to mind easily) but for a long time, I'd abandoned these almost-political books in high school. That was when I started reading about real people with real lives, and if not, then those about urban fantasies. That changed this year, mostly by accident.
I had owned a copy of The A-List for some time now, but I hadn't actually read it until I was perusing through my bookshelf in winterbreak, bored and wanting something completely new to read. I noticed it, and with a chuckle, I started reading it. I found myself sucked in, not in admiration, but out of sheer disgust at what these people are.
They are wealthy and self-assured in their wealth and beauty through expensive cosmetics and lucky birth. They are arrogant because their wealth and status has assured them that they are important. They are ambitious and ruthless to keep it that way. These people have no qualms about doing whatever it takes to maintain the status quo.
It's easy for people born into these high-society bubbles to forget about the world around them. After all, it's undeniably hard to notice and act on the flaws of a society when its serving you well. At least for these people, the only thing standing in the way of their ambition and desires is their peers, not the faults in their stars. A Roman noble can easily say "The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars but in ourselves, that we are underlings," because the stars of his birth have not faulted him the way they fault so many others through disease and death and poverty.
There will always be an avid audience for these books because there will always be people who want to be like these people, however wrong and shaded they may be. Or rather, there will always be people who want what these people, despite their many faults, can hold on to.
Pride, and an ability to maintain it.
***This is my shaded way of highly highly recommending The Disreputable History of Frankie-Laudau Bank as a great book to read that intelligently subverts this trope with a highly-intelligent, ambitious girl turned renegade that ends up fighting against these ideals through clever pranks.