It was our second move, our first move was from a very small house and town to a tall building by the railroad tracks. The second move was from that tall building to a nice size house on the outskirts of town. When our family first looked at the house we knew this was our home. We sold the building, within days, which was a major shock since we didn't expect a four story building to sell. The new house was tons of work, we had to repaint the walls, carpet the bedrooms and put laminate in the kitchen and living room. The outside of the house looked nice except for the landscaping there were some trees which were circled by monster truck tires. Let's just say this summer the tires will be gone and hopefully by then our nice house will turn into the home our family wanted.
Hours spent creating morphing coloring blending time well spent to finish the class pics for Mrs. Messineo Excentric yet at peace Yin and Yang of many colors rustic and firey oranges vibrant blues Crimson blood Highlights to raise the colors
"Places people! My show is just about or begin!" The filthy man strutted across the dust-coated concrete over to a queue of horrifically-dressed models standing under a banner reading "Count Olaf's Marvelous Fashion Show". Count Olaf clapped his grungy hands together as he turned around to face a mirror, admiring his reflection. "Oh, hello there, handsome. I didn't even recognize you." Olaf was sporting a rotting, pinstripe suit, as well as his usual balding, gray mane, his grimy goatee, and of course, the tattoo on his ankle, depicting an eye. He whirled back around to face the crowd of hideous people. "Inspection!" He yelled in his best theatrical voice. The mass of models quickly shuffled into a pin straight line, aligning their outfits. Olaf strode past a short and pudgy man. "Ooh. I. Look. Dashing." Olaf commented. The man's torso was emblazoned with the words "Gor" and "Juss!" surrounding a large portrait of Count Olaf's filth-covered face. Olaf proceeded proudly. "Well, I'm not going to argue with that." Olaf smiled widely, revealing his slimy teeth as he passed a woman wearing fitted jeans with stitching that read "Count Olaf is Cute." down the leg. He then examined a suit coat wearing the simple word "Olaf" above the pocket with the Count's face on it. As he made his way to the end of the line, he inspected the last model who wore a plain white t-shirt that stated "Don'tcha Wish Ya Were Me?" and was adorned in repulsive depictions of Count Olaf. "They all do." He sighed in a pathetically sympathetic tone, placing his hand humbly over his heart.
It was the night my cousin and I have been waiting for, we were going to the movies to see some movie we wanted to see and we could not wait. I wore one of my favorite shirts, my pink and white stripe shirt and a nice pair of jeans. My cousin Madeline and I were very excited. Before we left for the movie we took a nice beautiful picture of us two.
Hours spent getting all dressed up with nowhere to go. Make-up waisted and outfits thrown on the floor, all for one perfect picture. Thousands of pictures plastered with fake smiles fill up phones. It's all one big contest; girls with the need to be better than the one before them. Obsessed with attention and perfection, craving the compliments from strangers and people pretending to care. Confidence boosted from a number of "likes" on a picture. Constantly being compared to every other girl. Is this society's idea of beauty?
She was nursing her swollen knee and black eye when her cell phone lit up in her passenger seat. "Baby I'm sorry, come back home. I love you." His words were so sweet, but tears filled her eyes. "I love you too. I'm sorry. It was my fault." And that was the truth. It was my fault. It was always my fault. I should know by now, It's not his fault that I'm Stupid Clumsy Ugly Obnoxious ... But this is just how it's always been. This is how it always went. Another fight. Another cry. Another packed bag. Another insincere text. "Baby I'm back! I'm so sorr-" Another hit. Another apology. Another makeup.
They sit hunched over, balancing nimbly on the balls of their feet, a thumb resting upon their lips and a lollipop dangling from their fingers. They are "L." Genius detective, protecting the world from a cocky genius with a God-complex. They imitate his every idiosyncrasy and utter ever quotable line from that scene in Season 1, Episode 12.
They do this because he is more interesting than they are. Why be yourself when you can be him? Her? Them?
They can save the world and watch it burn it in one episode, movie, or book. Their powers are limitless just like the ever expanding capabilities of their mind.
It's the life of a fangirl, perpetually wondering and waiting for their fantasy to come, but keeping their minds contended by filling their hearts with love and admiration for people who have, and never will, exist.
They sit atop that bench imitating him because its impossibly satisfying to find others who "get it." Who don't look scornfully your way when you talk about these people like they're real.
So for this afternoon, they are "L."
Because that's the life of a fangirl. Investing themselves in stories and people who undoubtedly changed their lives, but will never "live" as we understand it to be.
Because they are praying for their shot at something equally as magnificent.
But for now all they can do is wait, and dream, and pretend.
It was a hot summer day in Berwick, Pennsylvania. I was doing what I loved to do. I was on the field where I loved to play. I was playing with the team mates only a dream team would consist of. I stepped onto the pitchers mound, with Jolene behind the plate. No other person would I ever want catching me but her. We were inseparable. I still remember the day as if it had just happened. I threw a pitch as the count was 3 and 2. Thinking that if I put this over the plate the game could be over within seconds. I get the signal. It was a high fast ball. I threw the pitch. As I released it, I felt the seams roll of my nervous shaking hands. Flying threw the air was a pitch that could change the whole game. I threw it, the look in my eyes so determined. Suddenly, I hear the crack of the bat. She hit the ball. I see it passing over my head. Nothing was said as she hit it. But then, I hear Jackie in center, "I GOT IT, I GOT IT, MINE!" I turn around and look. She had the winning catch of the game. A day I'll never forget. The day we won States.
She prowled across the top of the couch as if she was irritated by some unseen force. Her curled tail faced me as she bent her head low in order to see out the window at the other end of the room. I raised my iPad, attempting to hold my hands steady, and called her name. Her floppy ears perked up visibly as she whipped her head around to face me. I captured her slightly startled expression, her unsteady stance on the couch, a moment before she leapt down to come to me with her tail flying and pink tongue hanging out.
The thirtieth picture on my phone was a picture of a sign that read "Fatz Cafe". This picture has a relatively interesting story. I had to go all the way down to South Carolina, specifically to Fort Jackson, for a week for extra training. We were doing weapon certifications and fire team drills along with many other training exercises. I was down there for the whole week and somehow we managed to get some free time. Me and some of my friends decided to go to a dinner theatre named Medieval Times. We went there and had a wonderful experience but by the time the show was over we had only enough time to go back to the base. The next day we were astonished to get some more free time so we went to the mall and shopped around. On the way back from the mall we saw the sign I mentioned earlier for the Fatz Cafe. From a distance we all read the sign wrong. We thought it read "Fatz Catz". This being said we were extremely curious and thought it would be neat to eat at a restaurant named Fatz Catz. Upon further examination from a closer distance the restaurant was not named Fatz Catz and in fact wasn't a restaurant at all it was a cafe named Fatz Cafe. We stopped and had some coffee and once again had to head back to base. That was the last of our free time.
It was our second move, our first move was from a very small house and town to a tall building by the railroad tracks. The second move was from that tall building to a nice size house on the outskirts of town. When our family first looked at the house we knew this was our home. We sold the building, within days, which was a major shock since we didn't expect a four story building to sell. The new house was tons of work, we had to repaint the walls, carpet the bedrooms and put laminate in the kitchen and living room. The outside of the house looked nice except for the landscaping there were some trees which were circled by monster truck tires. Let's just say this summer the tires will be gone and hopefully by then our nice house will turn into the home our family wanted.
ReplyDeleteHours spent creating
ReplyDeletemorphing
coloring
blending
time well spent
to finish the
class pics
for Mrs. Messineo
Excentric
yet at peace
Yin and Yang
of many colors
rustic and firey oranges
vibrant blues
Crimson blood
Highlights
to raise the colors
"Places people! My show is just about or begin!" The filthy man strutted across the dust-coated concrete over to a queue of horrifically-dressed models standing under a banner reading "Count Olaf's Marvelous Fashion Show". Count Olaf clapped his grungy hands together as he turned around to face a mirror, admiring his reflection. "Oh, hello there, handsome. I didn't even recognize you." Olaf was sporting a rotting, pinstripe suit, as well as his usual balding, gray mane, his grimy goatee, and of course, the tattoo on his ankle, depicting an eye. He whirled back around to face the crowd of hideous people. "Inspection!" He yelled in his best theatrical voice. The mass of models quickly shuffled into a pin straight line, aligning their outfits. Olaf strode past a short and pudgy man. "Ooh. I. Look. Dashing." Olaf commented. The man's torso was emblazoned with the words "Gor" and "Juss!" surrounding a large portrait of Count Olaf's filth-covered face. Olaf proceeded proudly. "Well, I'm not going to argue with that." Olaf smiled widely, revealing his slimy teeth as he passed a woman wearing fitted jeans with stitching that read "Count Olaf is Cute." down the leg. He then examined a suit coat wearing the simple word "Olaf" above the pocket with the Count's face on it. As he made his way to the end of the line, he inspected the last model who wore a plain white t-shirt that stated "Don'tcha Wish Ya Were Me?" and was adorned in repulsive depictions of Count Olaf. "They all do." He sighed in a pathetically sympathetic tone, placing his hand humbly over his heart.
ReplyDeleteThis made my day! I just adore your creativity and writing abilities Mary!
DeleteIt was the night my cousin and I have been waiting for, we were going to the movies to see some movie we wanted to see and we could not wait. I wore one of my favorite shirts, my pink and white stripe shirt and a nice pair of jeans. My cousin Madeline and I were very excited. Before we left for the movie we took a nice beautiful picture of us two.
ReplyDeleteHours spent getting all dressed up with nowhere to go. Make-up waisted and outfits thrown on the floor, all for one perfect picture. Thousands of pictures plastered with fake smiles fill up phones. It's all one big contest; girls with the need to be better than the one before them. Obsessed with attention and perfection, craving the compliments from strangers and people pretending to care. Confidence boosted from a number of "likes" on a picture. Constantly being compared to every other girl. Is this society's idea of beauty?
ReplyDeleteThis is so good and true! I love the way you described everything
DeleteShe was nursing her swollen knee and black eye when her cell phone lit up in her passenger seat.
ReplyDelete"Baby I'm sorry, come back home. I love you."
His words were so sweet, but tears filled her eyes.
"I love you too. I'm sorry. It was my fault."
And that was the truth.
It was my fault.
It was always my fault.
I should know by now,
It's not his fault that I'm
Stupid
Clumsy
Ugly
Obnoxious
...
But this is just how it's always been.
This is how it always went.
Another fight.
Another cry.
Another packed bag.
Another insincere text.
"Baby I'm back! I'm so sorr-"
Another hit.
Another apology.
Another makeup.
Just another day.
This is beautiful
DeleteThis gave me chills
DeleteMy hair whips my face
ReplyDeleteStinging my eyes
Causing them to tear up
I watch the sand and the water
How they mix
The ocean drags the land to its mouth
Then spits it back out
Almost as if it was repulsive
The sand is pulled from beneath my feet
I sink farther and deeper
As more sand disappears
And my feet reach quicksand
I don't panic
I stare out into the sea of nothingness
The tide rises
And my hair is whipped around my neck
They sit hunched over, balancing nimbly on the balls of their feet, a thumb resting upon their lips and a lollipop dangling from their fingers. They are "L." Genius detective, protecting the world from a cocky genius with a God-complex. They imitate his every idiosyncrasy and utter ever quotable line from that scene in Season 1, Episode 12.
ReplyDeleteThey do this because he is more interesting than they are. Why be yourself when you can be him? Her? Them?
They can save the world and watch it burn it in one episode, movie, or book. Their powers are limitless just like the ever expanding capabilities of their mind.
It's the life of a fangirl, perpetually wondering and waiting for their fantasy to come, but keeping their minds contended by filling their hearts with love and admiration for people who have, and never will, exist.
They sit atop that bench imitating him because its impossibly satisfying to find others who "get it." Who don't look scornfully your way when you talk about these people like they're real.
So for this afternoon, they are "L."
Because that's the life of a fangirl. Investing themselves in stories and people who undoubtedly changed their lives, but will never "live" as we understand it to be.
Because they are praying for their shot at something equally as magnificent.
But for now all they can do is wait, and dream, and pretend.
I officially title this The Life of a Fan Girl, every fan girl should have to read this!!
DeleteI thought you might appreciate this :)
DeleteIt was a hot summer day in Berwick, Pennsylvania. I was doing what I loved to do. I was on the field where I loved to play. I was playing with the team mates only a dream team would consist of. I stepped onto the pitchers mound, with Jolene behind the plate. No other person would I ever want catching me but her. We were inseparable. I still remember the day as if it had just happened. I threw a pitch as the count was 3 and 2. Thinking that if I put this over the plate the game could be over within seconds. I get the signal. It was a high fast ball. I threw the pitch. As I released it, I felt the seams roll of my nervous shaking hands. Flying threw the air was a pitch that could change the whole game. I threw it, the look in my eyes so determined. Suddenly, I hear the crack of the bat. She hit the ball. I see it passing over my head. Nothing was said as she hit it. But then, I hear Jackie in center, "I GOT IT, I GOT IT, MINE!" I turn around and look. She had the winning catch of the game. A day I'll never forget. The day we won States.
ReplyDeleteShe prowled across the top of the couch as if she was irritated by some unseen force. Her curled tail faced me as she bent her head low in order to see out the window at the other end of the room. I raised my iPad, attempting to hold my hands steady, and called her name. Her floppy ears perked up visibly as she whipped her head around to face me. I captured her slightly startled expression, her unsteady stance on the couch, a moment before she leapt down to come to me with her tail flying and pink tongue hanging out.
ReplyDeleteThe thirtieth picture on my phone was a picture of a sign that read "Fatz Cafe". This picture has a relatively interesting story. I had to go all the way down to South Carolina, specifically to Fort Jackson, for a week for extra training. We were doing weapon certifications and fire team drills along with many other training exercises. I was down there for the whole week and somehow we managed to get some free time. Me and some of my friends decided to go to a dinner theatre named Medieval Times. We went there and had a wonderful experience but by the time the show was over we had only enough time to go back to the base. The next day we were astonished to get some more free time so we went to the mall and shopped around. On the way back from the mall we saw the sign I mentioned earlier for the Fatz Cafe. From a distance we all read the sign wrong. We thought it read "Fatz Catz". This being said we were extremely curious and thought it would be neat to eat at a restaurant named Fatz Catz. Upon further examination from a closer distance the restaurant was not named Fatz Catz and in fact wasn't a restaurant at all it was a cafe named Fatz Cafe. We stopped and had some coffee and once again had to head back to base. That was the last of our free time.
ReplyDelete