A work in progress.

"Only as high as I reach can I grow, only as far as I seek can I go, only as deep as I look can I see, only as much as I dream can I be. "

-Winston Churchill

It's not quite finished (or edited properly), but it'll do. Reflection on this year:

I met a lot of really great people this year, people who I admire and am comfortable around, people who are genuinely funny, people who I always have fun with, and people who I can talk to about anything. Consequently, I became more comfortable with myself and I took another step in the direction of not caring about what other people think. Let's call it...maturity, for kicks. Lots of things have happened this year and if nothing else, it is at least interesting. But it is something else, it's a lot else.

There is a defining line between the people who will always be there for me and the people who laugh at my jokes. I am so grateful. I am extremely lucky. I am surrounded by wonderful people. And I love you all.

I learned that sometimes trying to protect yourself and keeping a safe distance can sometimes mean lying. The best way to combat this, is to just try and feel. For example. The truth is I'm not a die-hard cynic and neither are you. I'm a romantic trying to hide. But I'm starting not to mind so much. Because after all, what is wrong with believing in love? In others? In humanity? My biggest regrets are always the same. Not being brave enough, lying, not saying anything, not trying to say anything.

Things I would love to change about myself/improve upon:

1. Gain composure.
2. Do not be afraid of rejection.
3. Do not stop trying.
4. No more empty promises
5. Work on my relationship with my parents

My Reachable goals for this coming year/summer:

1. Get into college. Ha.
2. Fight senioritis.
3. Don't procrastinate on college/scholarship essays.
4. Make relationships with your teachers. Not just for the recommendation letter
5. Maintain/better organize Picnic Club
6. Do something worthwhile with my summer
7. Meet some underclassmen
8. Get my license
9. Get a better job
10. This is obviously in no particular order

2010-2011. It is our year. Let's make the most of it.

What does success mean to me?

Happiness.

Senior Moment

I'm not even graduating and I'm tearing up? Tonight was the last choir concert for seniors and I really cried. Does this foreshadow our senior year at all?
Holy cow. I'm going to miss them so much.
I wish all of them read my blog so I can talk about how much I lubbbb them and how they are wonderful, beautiful, amazing people, and how I can't even imagine what highschool will be like without them.
The day after tomorrow the school will feel... empty.

LBH.

I'm making the next abbreviation.
LBH= let's be honest.
lbh. I'm the shit.
Ps. One never really realizes how embarrassing she is until she shows a group of people a video of herself on a Friday night because she thought it was "funny."
Falso.
That's not honest.
That is a lie.
I am embarrassing.
Back to being honest.

Dublin is Hip-Hopppin'

What a healthy stache.
I have lots o things in common with these two people.
I will also cutabitch, Carol Seaver.
And I also have a healthy mustache, Rollie Fingers (what a sweet name for a baseball player, yes? Yes.)
Ps. Henna smells like minty lavender.

Curry and Naan

I get to eat Indian food once a year and it's one of my fave days eva. Right up there with Christmas, and that's when Jesus was born. Today was that day. Yummy yum yums.

Today was also the day I ment Denton. Driver's ed. Nine days until I'm a senior and today was my very first class.

It's a battle-- kind of like cancer or drug addiction. I'm winning.

Hello, my name's Megan and I'm going to get my license.

^^^This is my new favorite blog. Look how cute they are! And everyone else she photographs is equally syle-oriented. Because after all, style trumps everything.

Schoobly Doop.

If this video doesn't work, I will cut you.

The unbearable lightness of being.

AP exams are over. Does that mean it's time for my facebook back? I don't know if I want it back.
Eh. I'll probably get it back.

You know what I hate? Calling in favors. Asking for stuff. Making speeches about why I'm the best candidate ever and everyone is great but they're really, actually, shitty in comparison and if you were a bright young thing like they say you are, you all are, bright young beautiful things, then you would very clearly be able to see that. So cast your vote. If you don't vote for me, then you're a miserable fuck with no valuable sense of fore-, in- or hind-sight.
That was not explicitly mentioned in My Speech.
But you can bet considerable amounts of money that it was implied. Carefully hidden within clammy palms and impromptu messages about Picnic Club. Didn't you know Picnic Club is synonymous to vote for me because I'm quirky and I deserve it? Oh and I love organizing. (laugh) I mean I really love organizing. (light chuckle) I would fuck it before I would fuck Michael Phelps. And who the fuck wouldn't fuck Michael Phelps? That's why I should be president. (smile, broadly, that is.)


Dear Daddy,
If I ask for something, you should just give it to me.
Dear Daddy,
Please don't make me beg. I know you know I won't. But apparently this time I will. Because desperate times calls for doing stupid shit and compromising everything.
Dear Daddy,
Fuck you. You make me feel ridiculously small.
Dear Daddy,
Please stop. I'm right here. Linda's not here, but she's here. Or at least, she's certainly not there. Don't go. Please stop. We're all right here. We're all waiting.

In other news.

I love nice people. But I hate them too. Can you just shut the fuck up and make me feel like shit? Tell me what I'm doing is not okay and then immediately after go back to being wonderful. No not you, mom. You've already told me that whatever I'm doing to you was not okay, is not okay, will never be okay. But everyone else. Tell me I'm shitty and mean it. And keep saying it until I get it. But as soon as I believe it, you better treat me like I'm fucking wonderful. That would make me feel better. Can you do that for me? You said anything, right? Wait. Don't tell me I'm shitty. Tell me I'm wonderful because then I look for reasons why I'm shitty. If you told me I was shitty, I would look for reasons why I'm wonderful.
Wait. Don't tell me anything. Tell me a joke.

Long post tonight. I always have more to say when I'm alone. Which makes sense. Because the only person I can talk to is myself. Excluding God. But nobody was thinking about You anyway. Be careful, dear reader. My soliloquoy is starting to turn into a dialogue.

Chris McCandless Goes Vogue.

Rentable-micro-compact-vacation-homes-in-the-middle-of-any-forest-of-your-dreams.
Aka. "Tree Houses"
Are you for real?
Click the link. I dare you.
Found while trying to find a cheap copy of Manhatten Unfurled by Matteo Pericoli, which is also noteworthy of its aesthetic appeal.

Aren't we all.

The absolute value of the first derivative. (Speed.)

Calculus is over.
I'm bored.
I don't care about my other classes.
What else do I have to do?
There's a ton I should do.
I wouldn't mind getting a four on the national exam.
In lang and world.
I'm working really hard.
Working hard is synonymous to jack shit right?
No?
Just normal shit?
I wouldn't mind getting an A in chemistry.
Since when was this hard?
I think I've been sleeping too much.
Blogging deprived.
It's insane how much free time I have without facebook.
Wait. It's 8:30.
I just did math homework that I don't even have anymore.
I have a ton of stuff to do.