Tuesday, 06 January 2009
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Well I Figured...
That I keep up with my blogspot blog (http://emmymillions.blogspot.com/) so well, that maybe I can do a xanga! So let me try...
Well what am I listening to? Lots of stuff...
Dance Dance Murder (Silent Envy)
Falling Down (Atreyu)
Mecy (Duffy)
Liar (Rains)
She's a Lady (Forever the Sickest Kids)
His Girl Friday (The Academy Is)
Radio (Alkaline Trio)
My Favorite Part of a Story I've written? Let me check...
“Well, you know what? I’ve HAD it with this family! My mother sent me here to be educated about ‘normal’, a.k.a not getting whatever I want without work. Well I WORK MORE THAN ANYONE ELSE AROUND HERE!!!” Kelsey Mitchell was pacing out on the front porch of her Aunt’s house. She had her backpack and was directing a soliloquy at her little cousin, Meryl. She was really getting going, arms flaling, amber hair flying, warm brown, almost red eyes flared up like a pair of tainted rubies.
“I get up at 5, get my hair all nice and ‘good girl like’, then make sure my face is clear, that I haven’t gained or lost a single pound, eat the best possible breakfast than go through a day of sucking up to teachers, leading volleyball during every free damn period, and yet manage to be president of the guitar club AND writers club! I play a game every Saturday during the season, play on nationals from November to June, volunteer at the humane society until 12 then I’m a secretary at a psychiatrist’s office, who then mentors me.”
“Kels…”
“After that,” She continues, ignoring Meryl’s plea. “I go to a youth focus group and help out troubled kids my age. ALL while balancing helping out the poor Mrs. Whitersfield balance the churches funds every Sunday, since I don’t have to work or volunteer.
“Kelsey…”
“I then go to a volleyball training seminar every evening. That leaves me with about 1 hour a day to hang out with my friends. On Sundays, 3 hours. I also have to get ahead for AP Calculus BC. So I have NO social life until school and I am so stressed…”
Kelsey ran a hand through her matted hair, and fingered the stress pimple on her chin. She them, to her younger cousin Meryl’s alarm, burst into tears and ran towards town.
“Kelse. All I asked was if you wanted bacon for breakfast,” she yells.
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