Of Trees and Page Numbers

I know I have not written in a very, very long time and this may seem like rather a strange reason to start up again, but something has just been brought to my attention: the recent popularity of e-books. Just a few minutes ago, my attention was caught by an article on one of the, "little-known benefits" of them: eco-friendliness. Now, why this should be little-known is a mystery to me: it seems it should be pretty obvious that e-books reduce the amount of trees being cut down. And here is where my dilemma begins: I am an avid advocate of environmental friendliness. After all, if the earth were to cease to exist, everything humans have worked for would, too, so, in my opinion, the environment is the single most important issue. However, it has always been my dream to see a novel I wrote published. Something I can hold and flip through, see my words on a printed page, see my name on the cover. If there were to be a complete switch to e-books, I would never get to experience this. I can see my stories published digitally anytime I want: it is an easy task to self-publish stories on the web. But to hold something you wrote in your hands is something entirely different.
And thus begins my dilemma.
Undecidedly,
Rosie L.

Novelties

I suppose, in the interest of consistancy, that I need to do another one of these for my new friends (which I should have done quite a while ago-- I'm already in the second semester).
L- new bestie
To- new friend
L- ditto
Nc-.... ditto
Iz- ditto
H- ditto
Dy- nerdiest of nerdy
Tm- his twin?!
Au- ???

This list seems to be sadly lacking compared to the old one...

Of Mushrooms and Drudgery

Time to type in website: half a sencond. Time to navigate to website: anywhere from a second to several minutes, depends on my computer's mood. Time to sign in: a couple seconds. Time to go to "New Post": a couple more seconds. Time to compose my post: tenish to twentyish minutes. Time to post on my blog: not altogether long enough for me to keep putting it off.
i.e. From here on out, I am writing in my blog at least every other day. This is my plan.
Life lately has fallen into a monotonous routine. No explosions. No ridiculously good-looking transfer students. No random appearances in other realms. Only school, rehearsal, homework, bed. Every single day.
We are, however, putting on quite the play for school. Alice in Wonderland. And I am... the Caterpillar. Two hours of sitting on a mushroom and smoking a hookah. Sounds like a good time to me. Of course, Dy (nerdiest of nerdy) is in it. And, you know, the theater crowd is pretty fun. So rehearsals aren't bad. But the rest of school... what drudgery! And you know what's funny? Despite the fact that last year, I was anticipating every aspect of my life here, now... now I really want to go back to last year. I want to live with N again. I want to not have to care about school. I want to giggle over Herman and mischievious hyjinks.
But here's the good news. Mostly due to the influence of Dy, I have become so much more of an otaku. Last year, my otaku roots had started slipping out from under my fingers, but now they're back. In fact, I think I am more the otaku than I ever have been. Which of course means more anime and less blogging. But I'm getting back into blogging again. I will.

Of New York City and The Way a Camera Smells

How many months was it this time?
Well, I finally have a free moment (which I really should have had much earlier, as it is Winterim.)
Winterim. That's what I want to talk about.
Winterim is joy. Winterim is where you don't take classes for a month. Instead, you take special interest classes.
Mine was photography, and we went all around everywhere and took photographs. I felt so professional walking around Suburbia, chunky black digital SLR (a Nikon D50, borrowed from the Swedish photographer who teaches our Winterime) in hand. I love the sound the camera makes when you press the shutter, and I love the way the camera smells. It's true! It smells like plastic, but like no plastic I have ever smelled before. Anyhow, we also went... to New York City!
It was my first time there, and it is my favorite place in the world (except perhaps Tokyo, but I've never been). The whole time I was there, I kept thinking of Rent, and (sad as it sounds) of The Princess Diaries. (If you've only seen the movies, you're missing out. The books are much better, although I wouldn't call them quality literature.) I WANT TO LIVE THERE.
We went to Central Park, and I could just see myself living there. Not in Central Park, of course, but it was so, so perfect. Just imagine.
It's the middle of my story. My story that hasn't started yet.
I am in my room, waiting for My Prince to come back. He has gone... somewhere important. Somewhere for something he wants to do. My Prince... wants to be a scientist. He's just come back from an expedition to the jungles of Guatemala.
Are there jungles in Guatemala?
My Prince wants to be an environmentalist. That's it. And he's just come back from an expedition in the fierce wild jungles of Guatemala. It's my first time seeing him in months, and I'm meeting him in Central Park. Central Park isn't his idea of nature. Central Park is manmade nature, compact, perfect nature. When we walked in Central Park before he left, he would complain teasingly about it. Now, I'm waiting for him on Central Park bridge. It is magical and amazing and THAT'S what New York City does.
I am most definitely applying to NYU and Columbia when I start thinking about college. If they have good English and Drama programs. I guess that IS something to think about, no?
But, ah, New York. Everything happens first there. I'm sure there are always anime cons in New York... it is NOT overrated.

Wistfully,
Rosie L.

Of Sailor Transformations and Every Kind of Nerdy

Uh-oh. It's happened. My fondness for geeky boys has finally reached the limits of reality.
He is the geekiest boy I have ever encountered. Of course I would fall for him.
He is every kind of nerdy, but I won't say about what because (and this is most likely one of the most ridiculous reasons on the web; at least in the top fifty) I'm worried that it may give away too much if anyone in my school actually read my blog. Which I'm sure they don't.
He is the pale, skinny type. I'm sure you know the type.
I don't think I could have fallen for anyone more thoroughly undesirable to the public at large than Dy (I think that's what we should call him). He's several years older than me, and I am elated that he even knows my name, frankly. In fact, he came to sit by me today in assembly, and we talked about Sailor Moon. Dy said that it used to be a hentai anime. Ew!! But they had to change it all when it came over to America. Apparently, that's what all the smoke and special effects are for when they make their Sailor transformations. To cover up, er, what used to be there.
I've been thinking about Dy all day, though. This is escalating. This is bad. This is going to last several months.
The bright side is, I have a really good feeling about it, which is rare.
But I'm blabbering. Sorry.

Besottedly,
Rosie L.

Of Sailor Transformations and Every Kind of Nerdy

Uh-oh. It's happened. My fondness for geeky boys has finally reached the limits of reality.
He is the geekiest boy I have ever encountered. Of course I would fall for him.
He is every kind of nerdy, but I won't say about what because (and this is most likely one of the most ridiculous reasons on the web; at least in the top fifty) I'm worried that it may give away too much if anyone in my school actually read my blog. Which I'm sure they don't.
He is the pale, skinny type. I'm sure you know the type.
I don't think I could have fallen for anyone more thoroughly undesirable to the public at large than Dy (I think that's what we should call him). He's several years older than me, and I am elated that he even knows my name, frankly. In fact, he came to sit by me today in assembly, and we talked about Sailor Moon. Dy said that it used to be a hentai anime. Ew!! But they had to change it all when it came over to America. Apparently, that's what all the smoke and special effects are for when they make their Sailor transformations. To cover up, er, what used to be there.
I've been thinking about Dy all day, though. This is escalating. This is bad. This is going to last several months.
The bright side is, I have a really good feeling about it, which is rare.
But I'm blabbering. Sorry.

Besottedly,
Rosie L.

Of Red Scarves and Time Moves Slowly

Back again, and feeling in quite the poetic mood. Phrases for poems have been entering my realm of consciousness for several days now. Since Saturday night, I believe, when I looked at the maraschino cherry in my Shirley Temple and thought about how red it was, and how most people don't actually ever eat them, but I like them.
What I want to know is: Does anyone actually agree with me?
In fact, here's the poem that stemmed from that thought. It doesn't have much to do with maraschino cherries, but that's to be expected.
A bright red scarf,
Wrapped boldly around her neck on even a
Not-so-cold winter day
A difference.
As red as...
Those maraschino cherries no one actually eats
But I like them
Stands out
A dove among pigeons
Pushing and scwabbling for scattered seeds
But the dove knows better
Flies
Waits
Like a boldly printed durag in an
Office Building (with a capital B)
Merits skeptical eyes from suit-wearing businesswomen
Chattering on silver phones
While the durag covers
Hamburger headphones
Silver cellphones
Hamburger headphones
The difference among them
"People fascinate me"
-(Andy) (Warhol)
People incapable of BEING fascinated
Strut down streets
They are baggy-jeaned teenagers
And
They are sweater-setted soccermoms
They
Don't
They don't stand out
It's you,
Red scarf, durag, dove
Who fascinates
And is fascinated
You are The Difference

There. I love these poetry-inspiring thoughts going through my head. I'd always been bad at coming up for the initial ideas for poetry. Once I had an idea, the words and phrases were easy, but I could never come up with an idea. Now it's just coming naturally.
I hope this lasts.
People say that a lot, though, don't they? They hope that lots of things last. They hope that their youth lasts. They hope that beauty lasts.
Less dramatically, they hope that this day with their long-distance boyfriend lasts. They hope that this last spoonful of chocolate pudding lasts. They hope that the last two minutes of sleep before their alarm goes off lasts.
It's all about the good things lasting and the bad things going away as fast as we can manage.
See! That's what I mean by poetic thoughts. I could write a poem on that.
I'm also having thoughts that are phrases I could use, such as the one I just had, "Eating ice cream in the moonlight was the only joy he had in moonlight." I could write a poem on this.
This is making me euphoric.