The Day the Music,(As Well as the Building that Housed it, and the Files and Personal Posessions of the Employees In that Building) Died

Today, all the public school kids in my city, as well as their families, teachers, principals, and other school officials/staff are freaking out a bit. Last night, a fire started in the head office of the city-wide public school system, and the building and all its contents were destroyed. Nobody got hurt, and the student files were all backed up in another location, but there are certain things that really can't be "backed up."

Things like musical instruments. The public school office stores rental instruments for kids in the orchestra or band at their school. And although there are other places to rent instruments from, it's still awful that they burned. And guess where the sheet music library was? All the sheet music for all the elementary, middle and high schools... Gone. The music program is currently dead, and I have little faith that it'll be fully revived in the three months between now and the start of school.

Music isn't the only thing destroyed of course. My friend Susan is an artist. There was a city-wide student art show in the building. Her piece was destroyed, and she's pretty beat up about it. I'm sure she isn't the only one. Kids of all ages from all over the city had their art destroyed. I know when one of my drawings got hurt in a freak Sharpie incident, I actually cried.

Being a dedicated student, artist and musician myself, I actually woke up this morning with the sense that something was off. It was an "I sense a disturbance in the force..." kind of deal, but I didn't think it was anything, because let's face it: I'm just weird sometimes. But thinking about it now, it was as if hundreds of little nerds, artists and musicians were suddenly punched in their collective face.

So yeah, after being cosmically punched in the face, as well as having the mailing of my final report card delayed, I'm pretty mad.

I have a serious problem needs solving. (P.S. THIS POST RATED PG-13 FOR MILD LANGUAGE)

Before I start, you need to read this post by the Cheeseface: READ OR BE CONFUSED. Okay, now that you've hopefully done that, I'm going to add to it. Mr. Krueger sends kids to detention for truly unjust reasons. He never uses a nice tone. Everything he says has a snarky, sarcastic, "I am above you gutter-brats" sort of air about it. If a kid says something remotely disagreeing with his opinions, he'll say something like,"Okay, nobody talk to so-and-so." Everyone chuckles slightly, assuming he's joking, but when you try to speak to that kid, he will outright yell at you and say, "HEY. I SAID NO TALKING TO HIM!" And he's deadly serious, too. One day he made me hold his hand for a prolonged period of time. No joke. "Thermal Energy Demonstration" my ass. The worst thing is, Mrs. Vase doesn't do a thing about it. Now, if you have a particularly good memory, you'll recall I did not have the highest respect for Mrs. Vase when the year began, but I wish to inform you I've gone and done a complete 18o in regards to that. Now though, I am disappointed. I want your advice. What do we do about Mr. Krueger? Now, Cheeseface there has a pretty good plan. But we need a plan "B" to ensure he quits picking on students like this. There are fairly few people in this world that I truly hate. I like to think I'm fairly tolerant of people. They annoy me, but I don't hate many of them. Mr. Krueger though, is one of the unlucky few to make the list. Help me put an end to the hate, it's not doing anything good for my moral compass.

Oh look, it's been four months. And I haven't died yet.

Yes, so I'm sure you've probably been reading my other blog, Impaled by Unicorns instead of this one. I understood that nobody was reading this particular blog, so I kind of gave up on it for a while. I thought I'd let you all know that no, I am not giving up on this blog completely, but I am going to simply reserve it for when I have something completely angry or frustrating to rant to you about. My other blog is for entertainment, this one is for teen angst. So if you only want to hear my amusing anecdotes about the greatness of teen-dom, I'd highly recommend the other one. If you have advice or something, and you would like to hear my sometimes petty-sounding, goth, teen issues, hey, you're in the right place. Life is fairly... pleasant at the moment, and I don't have too many complaints, but don't worry... I will. So stay tuned, readers. Or don't. I'm not going to force you to listen to my angsty teenaged rants.

Judged by family

Huh. So even blood relatives aren't impervious to snap judgements of my appearance. Yesterday I attempted a self-dye job to get my hair this great shade of red. On the box it looked bright red. Sort of a fuscia color. But it turned out very underwhelming. My hair was already brown. Now it's just brown and sort of red when the light hits it a certain way. So epic failure with that. But that's not the point of the story. The point of the story comes when today, I told my grandmother this over the phone. It went a little like this.

Me:I don't know why I just thought of this, but I tried dying my hair red the other day.
Grandma:(with an over accentuated tone of disappointment) Oh... Why'd you do that?
Me: 'Cause it looked like such a cool color-
Grandma:(cutting me off) It's ugly
Me: (Stunned silence) I- What?
Grandma: You're ruining your hair
Me: My hair's fine-
Grandma:(cutting me off again) You're hair is going to be so damaged if you just keep dying it
Me: It didn't even turn out. My hair's still brown from my last coloring at the salon.
Grandma: Good.
Me: (Thinking) Make up your mind, are you mad about the color or the damage to my hair?
(Saying) And I have special shampoo and conditioner for color-treated hair.
Grandma: Well, I'd hope so. You need to...

And then she goes on to tell me all the things I need to do to take care of colored hair, because she says she's been dying her hair since she was seventeen. If you're so worried about me damaging my hair with newer, more modern hair coloring, then why do you make a point of telling me you've been dying your hair since way back when when the products were total crap? Seriously, this is how you ruin relationships. Maybe I would understand if I'd gotten a tattoo of some sort of satanic symbol or if I'd decided to get real gauges instead of the fake ones I have, but it's just hair dye. And she didn't say anything about my getting all my hair chopped off and dying it brown. She even said how "gorgeous" it was. And so now I'm pissed off. My dad has a theory though, and I must say, I agree fully. When I dyed my hair brown I looked like one of her kids. But my mom's side of the family has red hair, so saying, "I dyed my hair red" made her think I was trying to look like my mom, and she can't have me turning into one of them. It's not even a naturally occurring red. But I guess "Red" wasn't descriptive enough. Either way I'm still PO'd. Big time. A friend of mine said that her grandma ruined her relationship with my friend's cousin when she got a tattoo (She's an adult) and her grandma just insulted her. I'm not even repeating the insult but seriously. Does it matter? It's the principle I'm trying to explain, and the principle is that you shouldn't judge family. In fact, if it's solely appearance based, you shouldn't judge anyone. But ESPECIALLY not family. It just goes to show that people suck. Everyone sucks at one point or another. Even sweet old Grandmas. Especially those of goth kids. *sigh of anger and disgust at the stupidity of humans today*

And just as a disclaimer: I love my grandma, I just wish she wasn't so judgemental.

Blogging for 2 consecutive days... Wow. A New Record.

Well kiddies, it's that time of year again. Yes, I am talking about the bane of our collective existence. In less than a month, It's back to school. Back to all the torture you've wasted your life with. Don't get me wrong, it'll be a somewhat pleasant change to just sitting at home, doing absolutely nothing. I mean, now I can go back to whatever remnants of a social life that I have. Joy. No, I actually meant that. Sure the people who suck way outnumber the people who actually have brains, but hey. The people who have brains actually matter. I honestly don't care at all about the sucky people. Let them say what they say. I actually find it hilarious when I get an insult. I have an amusing anecdote about this. Would you like to hear it? I'm sure you probably don't, but I'm a mean person, and this is a blog, so I'm telling you despite all that.

I was at the mall with a friend just this weekend. We had decided to go out and bother the public. We did a good job, apparently. Even the very small children were bothered, because we were simply walking around outside the shops, trying to decide where to find our next victims, when a small child who couldn't have even been in kindergarten, pointed a finger directly at us, and shouted something unintelligible about the, "ugly girls." I found it quite funny. Especially when his dad tried to pull him away, and act like nothing had happened. Great parenting, sir. You should win a medal.

We both laughed and continued upon our way. We ended up Embarrassing ourselves and making others feel uncomfortable in roughly eight shops, bothering others directly in 2 shops, and in one specific shop, we made one sock salesman feel very special by asking for his autograph. We bought some socks and asked him to sign something, so he signed our receipt. We were so pleased in fact, that we took pictures with said socks and receipt in the photo booth.

See? Sad little gothic children still have social lives. We still smile. And laugh. At the expense of others. Just not when most people are around. Because they don't give us any reason to smile, or laugh. Only our friends give us that. I don't think that being goth is about depressing people. It's more about being brutally honest with them. And sometimes the truth just sucks. So they think we're just depressed. On the contrary, we have only just accepted the truth, and they're so busy denying it that to them we only seem depressed. But tell me, could a depressed child and her friend make a sock salesman so happy? No.

So we win in this battle of logic. Again. As we usually do. Logical thinkers, we goths are. But if you let me, I'll rant for hours on the subject. So I'd better just end it now.

Y'know what? I'm done dealing with people.

Most females of my age group to be exact. They are just terrible people. Their brains work like this when they see someone like me:

"Hm. She says she doesn't like vampire romance novels. She doesn't like my Uggs. Wait... SHE DOESN'T LIKE UGGS AT ALL!! She doesn't even like aeropostale... Or any other brands that print their brand name really big all over their clothes. And look at what she is wearing. Uck! That's way too much eyeliner. What did she do to her hair?! She's so pale... And not in the hot vampire way. Her outfit is so depressing. You know what that means... She cuts herself."

And their mouths work like this: "Emo Freak!!"

And there it is. Look into the mind of anybody with Uggs on their feet, Clips in their hair, and Idiocy in their hearts, and this is what you'll find. You see, I don't like any of the listed "fads." And so this is what I deal with every time I go to school. This is what the popular girls think when they see eyeliner and purple-striped hair. It's what they think when they see fishnets and black and red arm things. It's what they think when they see the fake gauges and lip piercings. It's what they think when they see me or anyone like me. They judge us purely on appearances and they don't bother to get to know us because to them, our appearance says, "depressing." "A real downer." "Emo." "Too Different." And that's why I'm just done dealing with them. That's why I do not talk to them. It doesn't help them get to know me like I'd want, but they wouldn't be willing to anyway. Idiots. I don't care if they have the best grades in the whole world, they're still idiots because they don't have the intelligence to realize that they're missing out on meeting some insanely awesome people, who they could be good friends with if they didn't have so many superficial hangups about appearances. There could be a kid who has absolutely the WORST grades on the planet, and if he understands that appearances don't matter, he is a genius in my book.

But at the beginning of this post, I did say most females. There are some like my friends who just dress the way they want and don't worry what other people think. I'm not saying we don't care about our appearances. We actually care very much about them. We just don't care what other people think about them. We don't even care what the other people in our circle of friends think about them, including each other. It just happens to be that we usually agree with each other on what looks good, although I did say usually.

But before you get on me about being a hypocrite, let me just say we all have different styles. Like I for instance am a very tomboy goth or a "crunchy" goth, whereas one of my friends is a very feminine, sort of "drapey" goth. One of my very best friends isn't even goth in the slightest, but she gets the whole "appearances don't matter" thing, and she's one of the kindest people I've ever met! Another friend of mine loves twilight, aeropostale, and even Uggs. And even though I don't always agree with her fashion choices, she was the first or second friend I made when my entire circle of old friends deserted me, even though I'd never known her before that school year. Plus she introduced me to one of my other best friends whose style is... Not describable, but it has a certain charm to it. Sorta 80's, sorta emo, I don't know. And many of my friends are just nerdy beyond belief, but that's why I love them. Because in addition to being a goth, I also fit in well with the band geeks, and the math nerds. I play the cello and went to math camp at an out of town college for a week. Best. Week. Of my life.

So I don't hate all people. Just most of you. Bye.

It's been about 2 months. Probably time to blog again.

I lost the password to my blog, but I've just now rediscovered it, and decided to blog again.

School's out, and I have a summer job. But it's a volunteer thing, so I don't get paid. It's at the local children's zoo. Why on earth would I take this job if it didn't pay? It's because I need to work on my "people skills," apparently. So I passed the interview, and now I'm giving pony rides and teaching small children about even smaller animals. Like birds and rodents and stuff. It's in the hot sun, I have to work with insane goats that crap everywhere, the pony I got last week kept stopping to eat in the middle of the ride, and I have to go to class every work day morning at 8:00 just like during the school year to learn about my job. Did I mention the dress code requires khaki pants and a tucked in t-shirt? Because it does. But I guess it isn't as bad as it could be. I've been told I'm the most well behaved on my team, (I don't complain.) And I only have to come in once a week, except for about three weeks this summer, this week being one of them. I have to come in on Tuesday for my normal work day, and Wednesday for "Wacky Wednesday," or something. But that's only for about three hours as opposed to my usual eight. Yes, eight hours a day, out in the summer heat. But it's not really as bad as I'm making it sound so far. It's actually pretty nice. Sure, it smells like crap and leaves me sore for a couple of days, but it's okay. The kids there aren't nearly as stupid as the ones at school. And even though I'm still ignored a lot of the time, my bosses are nice enough. And they apparently think I'm a good worker. Plus, people suck. I strongly prefer animals to human beings.