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.

Of Soap Opera Confessions and Twinkling Eyes

Okay, I'm back (she said sheepishly). I've started up a new regime. Since friends seem hard to come by at this school (it's appallingly cliquish-- private school kids) and I only have a few, I've started to observe the people around me. It's surprisingly engaging, and I've decided that Raspberry Beret (and I now realize I will have to change the title or it will be plagiarism) will be about human dynamics, so I have to know everything about people. Most people are easy enough to figure out, but there are a few I just don't get. There's this boy in my English class who makes faces at me when he catches me staring at him, trying to figure him out. I wish I knew what was going through his mind just then. There's another one, though, that I wish I could figure out even more. Let's just call him Ba. He's extremely smart. Sometimes he doesn't even take notes, and I'm beginning to wonder if he has a photographic memory. Anyway, he actually doesn't speak until spoken to, or, occasionally to ask questions in class. He seems to really care about his education, but he doesn't always pay attention. I've seen him walking down the halls in a daze a few times, with a dreamy expression on his face. It's all very baffling. He's definitely not snobby or shy, though. When you talk to him, he's very friendly. He laughs just as much as any other person, and smiles quite a bit. It's infuriating: I just can't figure out what makes him tick. I've also been forming storylines, not just figuring people out. There's this punky junior couple. I've been watching them for ages. They used to be just good friends, but he liked her. You could tell by the way he looked at her. His eyes twinkled. Then, one day, they walked into school in front of me holding hands. I guess he drives her to school. I wished bitterly I could have known exactly how that had come about. I wished I could have witnessed that conversation, but, of course, I couldn't, so I just made it up. Easy enough to visualize. I bet they had been on the edge of romance for a few weeks. And then someone said something that set it off. Or there was a big, dramatic soap opera-confession scene! Or maybe just a kiss. I really hope it was the dramatic soap opera-confession scene. I think I'm enjoying this much too much, though. I walk down the halls, see something that I think is funny, or imagine what someone must be thinking, and start laughing like a madman all the way down the hall. They must all think I'm a freak now, but I don't much care. I'm having way too much fun. Unfortunately, though, it does come with a price. I'm beginning to think of these people as my characters, which is kind of a bad thing to think with real people.
The only bad thing right now is that I am definitely phase-twoing again. Of course, right when I'm phase-twoing, P and I become closer as friends. I know it's my fault and all, but it does kind of suck. I definitely don't mind being friends with him, though, of course. He said this thing last night, when we were IMing, about how he would be happy as long as I was alive and well. I was, frankly, shocked, and couldn't help blurting out (or as much as you can blurt on IM), "No! I'm not that important!" Because, I mean, I shouldn't be. Anyway, I won't bore you any longer with tales of my trivial trials, so this is me, signing off!

Watching all of you,
Rosie L.

Updates!

I believe that an updated friends list is in order.

L= bestie
Z= bestie guy friend
Ly= bestie
T= a friend
Ny= bestie
L-L= a friend
Au= a friend, I guess, although I kinda get the feeling she's not too fond of me.
N= my bestest bestie and former roommate
Na= bestie
M= bestie
Me= bestie
C= bestie
A= bestie
F= bestie
O= my cat
B= bestie guy friend
I= bestie guy friend
S= bestie guy friend
D= bestie guy friend
P= my ex
No= besite guy friend
Sh=Shayna

Of The Kingdom of Media and Zombies

I haven't written in almost a month. I have got a good excuse this time, though. I started school a few weeks ago, and they really do give you a lot of homework. I've been much to busy.
Speaking of school, in my history textbook, they say that the empire ruled by the Medes was called the Kingdom of Media. This made me laugh like a madman, because aren't we just the same?
The Kingdom of Media, that's 21st Century US, isn't it?

Well, all cinical thoughts aside, it was N's birthday last night, and we had quite a blast, let me tell you. We drank spiritless cocktails and watched all of our cult classics (The Breakfast Club, Breakfast at Tiffany's-- anyone see a recurring theme here?--, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, etc. We even watched the new Nancy Drew, only to be ever-so-disgusted by the prep school freak, and ever-so-infatuated with her boyfriend. We heard all about Na's adventures in Sandwich Country, and played Zombie Fluxx well into the wee hours of the morning.
I haven't had that much fun in weeks.