To Whom It May Concern

I don't know how to say this. So I'll let Rise Against say it for me, eh?

Am I loud and clear or am I breaking up?
Am I still your charm or am I just bad luck?
Are we getting closer or are we just getting more lost?

I'll show you mine if you show me yours first
Let's compare scars I'll tell you whose is worse
Let's unwrite these pages and replace them with our own words

~Swing Life Away, Rise Against

Maybe it's low of me to do this. But, we said we were cool and now we just ignore each other. I feel neglected and all that crap, and obviously no one else thinks we're okay. Hell, I don't think we're okay, and I want to fix that. Everything feels fake, like we don't want to talk to each other anyways, and we just pretend the other doesn't exist. I think. And I swear I put it in the long, long rambly note: It's all or nothing. If we're just going to skirt around each other anyways, then we might as well just say we're not friends and we're not speaking to one another, and others will have to come to terms with it. But if you actually want/expect us to be actual friends again, then we actually have to speak to one another.

Responding to my PM four days after I send it when I know you've been online does not count as talking. Thought you should know that.

And maybe, since you tend to ignore my PMs anyways, you'll actually get the message. I really don't want to be pissed at you--did you happen to read Storm and Theia's Christmas story? Because it's right there, that they don't believe we're okay, and I don't either--but you don't make it simple. Because we said it was all okay, and it's really not. There's still some sort of problem.

An answer, the timely kind? It'd be lovely. And if there isn't one, I can make assumptions for myself.

--Ave, who patiently awaits the day when this whole mess is sorted out because the person to whom this is addressed will actually speak to her and seemingly mean it

PS--There's a reason that line is blue.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

SO.

It's Christmas.

That's good, right?

Anyways. Finally got my new laptop. Spent all day with my insane family and we had a load of fun. Did some stuff. Also got headphones that actually work, Daughtry CD (Leave This Town), some pajamas, socks, which I totally needed, Despicable Me, a stuffed minion plushie from Despicable Me (I love that movie, okay?), and a jump drive, 8 Gigs. And slippers, methinks. The like. Nothing very big going on. Don't feel like talking in complete sentences--I am tired and all the jazz and yeah. Hopefully friends and cousin and I are going to the movies on Tuesday, and maybe we're possibly going snow tubing. Might have a sleep over. Shall definitely actually finish presents by New Year's. That's all I have to do all week. And I can write whenever the hell I want. Because I have my own laptop.

So.

--Ave, going to sleep now, with twenty-two minutes of Christmas remaining

Place

You find comfort in the pointless things, because sometimes they make it all worth it. Then they make you happy, joyful, and console you. It's nice to have something there as a sort of buffer for the next time life throws you for a loop, an extra little something that has to be sawn through before you're vulnerable. You use these things to rebuild yourself.

Then the next time you break it makes it a bit easier, because you don't snap so easily. But it's not like they can make you invulnerable--they can't, and we all know that. You know that. You're always going to be torn apart again, driven to the edge where you find yourself staring at the meds for just a bit longer than could be considered a casual glance, and then it's a prolonged look. You deny that you're thinking about it, because the fact that you, indestructible you, who comes through everything unscathed, could be debating it is insane. Soon, however, you can't say that you aren't any longer, and admit it, just to yourself, and it disgusts you that you would ever think that, but you did and in the dark times you still do.

There's enough about yourself that disgusts you already and you don't need that on top of it. So you push it aside and move on with your life, to problems you need to solve to keep you away from those meds. You're a strong person and a weak person at the same time, stable but so close to collapsing. You love yourself and hate yourself at the same time, because you can't decide. Somehow you manage to hold yourself together, between smiling every time you think of "All you gotta do is cut off your shins and it's like BAM!--elf!" and knowing that re-reading that bio chapter seven times the night before got you the highest score out of the two hundred smartest kids in the school. Because you have moments and things worth living for, and those meds are quitting. If you give in all you do is admit that your weak half could overpower the strong half, that you can't survive adolescense like every person who's ever lived past the age of 20 could.

Some people have an excuse for that, a viable reason. You don't. You have all these reasons to weather the storm, and almost none to not--except that it's too hard. And that's no excuse, not one you'd ever accept.

Hide

It's easy to seek refuge in the corner, and that's why you do it.

You do the easy simple things, because you can't stand it being any harder than necessary. It's too much stress and pain and misery, so you avoid it. It's much easier to hide from the problem than face it.

And how can anyone expect you to face the problem when you don't even know what it is?

That's a main part of the conundrum--you don't know what you're dealing with. The problem is like an unseen predator, lying in wake, waiting for just the moment when it can strike you. You evade it, you flee, but you can only run for so long before you're consumed by exhaustion.

It's an odd problem, really, the exact opposite of the problem you had months ago.

But months ago you weren't the person you are now; you've changed so much in the past eight months it's not even funny.

Eight months. Eight months of your life are sunk into this--but now you're not so sure about it. It's constantly shifting, ever-changing, and you panic, because while it's been steady enough you're afraid it's going to capsize any minute now.

Back then you sought your refuge online, in a hidden away world you were sure, so absolutely sure, no one would ever notice. And you were convinced that it wouldn't matter and you could walk away at the end. Real life, actual life, was boring, monotonous, and you felt neglected by those you knew. So you became friends with people hundreds of miles away, oceans away, in different towns, states, cities, continents, even. You formed your niche with them and made yourself an irreplaceable part of a group, a group you were sure would never changed.

Only, then it did.

Everything was flipped over and spun around and completely morphed until it was something brand new, and only a few of you bothered to cling to the remains of that once-incredible group you loved so much, wished to spend every minute with. Now reality had sunk in and it'd become obvious that even these things were subject to change. Nothing settled down and seemed solid anymore, and everything was constantly changing. But you ignored this and clung to the past, but you changed. And there was no more believing that anything is forever. Because it isn't.

Now you're in the present and it's scary--it's scary because you find yourself pulling away, needing them less and less. You've become used to having to be separated, and it sucks, but you're used to it. And while you're apart everything fades. That's what frightens you the most, because you loved these mysterious people you've never met, and why do you think of loved in the past tense? Don't you still love them? When did you stop loving them? You love them, don't you?

Do you?

You're sure you love certain ones among them--haven't you said it so many times; aren't you sure of it?--but maybe that's not enough. Everything you know in real life just tears you from them and them from you. And you wonder--you do it sadly and with remorse and a lot of you is wishing it's not true, but you wonder--if maybe, just maybe, the world is prying you from them.

And you don't want that.

But at the same time you're bouncing between two extremes and need a middle ground. Because now you find yourself happy when you're at school, laughing with your friends--and God, you laugh so much more with them now than last year. You don't question your relationships with them anymore, because you love them, and you have a past with them. With some it's colorful and long and complicated, and with others it's short and simple, but you love them nonetheless and you've never questioned that. They're your friends, and they're some of the best things you have left in the world.

And yet, they can't be there for you all the time, and those strangers you know everything and nothing about are your friends too. Those you laugh and joke with just don't have the time for you, because they have places to be all the time and it's a twenty-minute drive to where they live, with no public transport. You love the others, but everything with them is so complicated. Around them you're this vulnerable person who brushes everything off and struggles just to hold yourself together, and you haven't felt like that around those you see every day in a long time.

You can't leave them--scratch that. You could leave them. Just not certain people. Because you love certain people, and you miss them when you don't see them for a while, and you know the depth of your relationship because they don't whine about not being close to you. The list of those you love has four people, four, just like it did earlier this year, even though so much has changed. You don't have the ability to care so much anymore, but you cling to the remnants, you cling to those four people, because you love them and they're straight with you. There's no lying and conniving and backwards messed up crap. It's normal, and it's comfortable, and it's natural. Because you belong.

But you don't know how to escape from it. You don't know how to arrange everything so you can see those people and talk to them but not waste time doing nothing. You have no solution to this problem, so you run away from it.

Into the corner.

And you don't expect to come out anytime soon.

The Difference

There's a difference between what people want and what they need.

It's not the difference a dictionary tells you--a need isn't just shelter and food and water. People don't all have the same uniform needs, because we're all different. No one is the same. Maybe they're similar, but they're not the same.

A prime example, the one I have in mind, leads straight to the source of it all: Death. They say you need things so as to avoid death and continue on living. Medically they say you can't die of heartbreak, yet people have. You lose the will to live, to bother just staying alive, and nothing is worth it anymore. You're just a bunch of fragments now, the broken soul of a once perfectly whole person. Because, despite what people may say or think, you needed that other person to survive. You didn't just want them to be there, they had to be there or you couldn't be.

Sometimes what you need is to get away from something or someone. You don't just want them to go away; it is entirely necessary for your survival that you get away from them, and when you can't, you break. You try to hide away from them, but you just can't escape, and it's scary, because there's no way to be alone. Try as you might, they're always there. It's like torture, never-ending torture, and nothing feels the same, nothing that made you happy can make you happy anymore. You're frightened, you're broken, and there's no way out.

And other times what you need is clarity, explanation. Because now you don't know what to do, and you've come to the crossroads but have no idea what to choose. That can be even more terrifying, because making the wrong choice can kill you. And the enormity of the decision makes you want to curl up and sob, and just get away from the world, but you can't. There's no respite until you make the choice. So you live in that limbo until you're forced to choose, live as a half-entity, just struggling to make it through the day. Or maybe you can't endure the wait. That's when you choose quickly to get it over with, and spend that time regretting. Nothing feels right anymore.

But lastly there's the need to impress, to satisfy. People always want something from you, and it seems like you can never do it right. On the rare occasion you can, it consumes you and the only thing you can do is focus on doing what they want. You don't matter anymore; you're a tool to them. You bend to their will and do what they want because disappointing them is unthinkable. It's never about you because it's always about them, and you know that's how it has to be, because you look up to them and they want it that way. So you fall to the wayside and remain there, dissolving away into nothingness until you're a shadow of what you could have been.

Only, no matter which one fits you, you tell no one. It's a personal secret, evidence of your weakness, your vulnerability, your humanity. And you feel you can't let it show. So you don't, and it becomes the burden you bear on your shoulder until one day you can finally get rid of it. To you, telling a person means giving them a chance to hurt you, and you're already broken enough, ground to dust. It eats away at you from the inside, but society classifies it as a want, maybe something you really want, but it's still a want. To them, you don't need it to survive.

To you it draws the line between life and death.

Illness and Aggravation

So yesterday the school sent me home for being sick.

Yay?

Kind of. See, it's nice because I get to sleep and all that, but I'm going to have to much to make up over the weekend and I should work on Christmas presents. On top of that, my short story is due tomorrow, and this won't get an extended deadline because the school doesn't run the contest. This is the only thing I must get done today.

Besides stupid Christmas presents.

Excuse me as I go vomit again. Literally. *stumbles off to the bathroom*

--Ave, diseased, tired, and sick of present making

Truth

I do not know what to get anyone for Christmas and all my presents suck and lately they've all been irritating me anyways so why would I even bother to get them anything? Maybe they don't deserve it. Maybe often enough I find myself thinking they don't deserve it, that they don't get me, that we don't really care about each other.

But I said I would and if I don't they'll know something is wrong and then panic over my well-being and then the fake caring comes in. Everyone fake cares and doesn't even know they're doing it half the time. When you pretend to be concerned or worried over something you're not--we all do it. I do it. You've all done it; admit it.

There are two sides to every story.

People are never sincere unless they really care, and in truth, not everyone can really care.

You can only be close to so many people before being close to them doesn't mean as much anymore.

Doesn't mean anything anymore.

And maybe it doesn't even take that to make two people separate. It doesn't, actually. It takes an argument, a trivial argument over a stupid thing. And it can have loads of reason behind it or nothing at all, because maybe your relationship was built on the trivial, that which doesn't matter, and you've just gotten a reality check. So the relationship melts, in its fragile state, like sugar doused with water, because there's nothing to hold you together--you never had anything in the first place.

Just pointless conversations and in jokes no one else understands, jokes you would look at later and see the stupidity of. But you never realized that when you were still friends, it was all part of the happy illusion you were just so willing to believe, above all else. Even if it was too good to be true. Because you were airtight, you adored each other, and the day you stopped being friends was the day of Armageddon.

Until that day truly arrived and the rest of the world was in one piece, but you were a million shards. Scattered in the dust. Left by the wayside. They didn't need you anymore--you never needed each other. Maybe you needed them, but certainly not vice versa. And you cry over it, you cry because even if they can just forget about those pointless, golden moments, you can't. They're ingrained in your heart; they're a part of you. And they always will be; you're sure of it.

The separation is scary, and unusual, and a totally surreal experience, but you don't let anyone know how much it terrifies you. You act fine, and you do what you always do, but you change. It's slow and it's gradual and no one notices it because it's so gradual, but it's happening. It's happening, and no force on earth, come hell or high water, can change that. The change teaches you not to trust, not to entertain yourself with the trivial, to only care about what can be, not what you wish could be. All you care about is protecting yourself from that hurt again, so you build up a sort of wall between you and the rest of the world. You resent them for putting you through that, and you don't want to be around them. People mention them and on the inside, you shudder. You want to cry, to bury yourself in a corner and never have to leave. And sometimes, more often that anyone ever should, you want to die to escape that feeling, because nothing feels safe anymore, no part of you can be preserved from that earthshaking hurt.

And you're a new person then. You crawl out of that hole and you rebuild yourself as that new, stoic person, the person who doesn't care about fantasies and illusions. You're the person who just cares and cares and cares, about everything, but loves nothing. You don't love anything or anyone anymore, only that which you loved before you became this new person, and you only hold those things closer, willing yourself not to lose them too. Losing them too would only tear you apart inside so fully, so completely, that you couldn't live anymore, and that shows you how weak you truly are, despite your wall. So you resent the initial person even more, because they made you change and even though you became a different person, you're still not safe and that pain can hit you again.

You know that you need them more because you're the one who takes the first step, the one who tentatively taps them on the shoulder and asks--but to you, it's begging, pleading, wishing with everything you have--if maybe, just maybe, you could talk. Because underneath it all, you yearn to have the old days back, the perfect, childlike days that you ruined. Only, there's no way to get them back and they're gone forever, and you just have to deal with it.

That doesn't mean you don't try, because you do try, with everything you have, and at the end you hug it out, and everything is okay, and the two of you go back to normal. But try as you might, the old days are gone. So the two of you tiptoe around each other, and eventually you learn to do more than care. You learn to love the little things--the seven am winter sunrise, the look of a dog that is learning that not everyone wants to beat the living hell out of it, and it finally trusting you, the way how frost dots the grass on fall mornings, the feel of that blanket you spent months sewing and how nice it looks now that you've finally finished, the way that even your family can laugh around a bonfire and spend four hours playing Apples to Apples. And everything isn't so dim and gloomy.

You're happy. But you can't love people--they seem to be only irritating creatures, worrying about stupid things.

But the happiness fluxes with despair, confused despair that doesn't know what to do or what aggravates it. It just wants to be done with.

Only you don't want to pick that fight again.

Sometimes, though, you do get to pick up all the pieces, and they help you. You've known each other for nearly as long as you can remember, you know everything about each other. Even through it all, you loved each other like the sisters you never had, even if you have one. And you go back to doing all those things you would do in first grade, back to spending most of every single Friday at her house, back to doing your math homework on her back deck even when it's freezing outside. Because the two of you are true friends, for lack of a better word. And maybe you will fall apart in college, when she stays to go to college more locally and you're on the other end of the country because you're determined to get in to an amazing school.

Because the two of you can never fall entirely out of touch, even if you don't stay best friends--you've been together so long, you fought over something so trivial--you'll be okay.

But in the case of not wanting to pick that fight, you don't know what to do. You're in a rut, stuck, and as to which way is up, you have no idea. And the two of you in this situation fought for real reasons, and you never had the chance to be so close, even if they knew more about you. And even if they seem happy they're different too, and maybe you don't like this new them. Maybe this new version of them reminds you of the part of them you hated, magnified and blown up and you don't want to be near it. Your conversations now feel like they lack a spark, the slightest inkling of anyone caring what you say or how you feel or even bothering to remember what you were talking about.

So you go back to feeling neglected, and resign yourself to everything being like that.

A Plan. (Actually, more of a list . .. )

I swear to God I am just bipolar.

I'm happy but sad and frustrated and confused yet content. All at once.

Today really sucked. Yesterday really sucked. And this week?

It really sucks.

I've only just realized how much I still have to do--and it's kind of eleven at night on a Wednesday, and I have to be up in roughly seven hours . . . And because I'm not going to bed now I'll have to wake up early to get things done.

Friday is when my math test is, when the school spelling bee (which I sort of have to win) is, when my history essay is due, when my interview thing is due, when . . . when everything is due. When everything must be done by. So I'm sort of kind of panicking. I've been busy and thus had no time to study for bio, which I should do since . . . well, since it's basically the most important class I take, and the hardest, but lately it's been the easiest. Today I came home with homework in every subject, which didn't exactly help. Tomorrow I still have to do:

--Regular daily math homework, which I would do in my free period but can't because I have to make up today's homework
--Cumulative math review
--Organize hellish math binder/homework
--Work on English biography project (I'm doing Hitler. It's actually fun. O_O)
--Finish Social Studies essay (I'm so behind on this it's not even funny. I have to finish writing my paragraphs, edit, then write a rough draft. *sigh* Hand-written, too. No typed stuff. And I type much faster than I write.)
--Interview my mother on how horrid peer pressure was in her day. And sit there as she points out to me how pointless this is--which, I agree, it is. But I still have to do it.
--Draw some things for art. Then draw extra credit to make up for the crappiness of the things I drew that I had to draw. But this is due Tuesday, so.
--I'll definitely have bio homework, and even if I don't we have a project due on Monday that we have to finish basically in class Friday.
--Study for bio, for like an hour.
--And whatever Spanish homework I get stuck with.

Then, I have to study for the stupid spelling bee. Because they know me, I swear: They have Borders gift cards. Which is like free books.

I like free things. Especially books.

There is, of course, a more pleasant task I must complete--besides Christmas presents (just a note on that: Bianca's fic, at least, shall be epic. Kal's shall be pretty good, and so shall Storm's and Theia's--the latter of which I must start . . . --and I have no idea for Desy. Crit is getting Halt/Will, of course, and Juliet . . . not sure what she's getting yet. We'll get there.

Anyways. There's this writing contest which I'm entering. And I have hopes, at least, because even though my Spartacus idea killed itself via historical fact (Why, oh why, Spartacus, were you not crucified on the Appian Way like the others? It would have made an epic short story!) So instead I'm using Joan of Arc, and her waiting out the final moments before she's burned alive.

. . . We'll see how badly this fails later. *waves away*

And that is the synopsis of this week, which sucks.

So much for me getting in the Christmas spirit or being happy--which also sucks, because I adore December and snow and the cold and everything. After Friday, I'll be happy. Well, except I'll have to spend all my time on that short story. But after the seventeenth, I'm in the clear.

. . . That isn't actually giving me much time. Crap.

This month goes by so fast. *wistful sigh*

Nearly eleven-thirty now. Must finish homework and manage to print Joan of Arc research without being discovered . . .

--Ave, ever the spy . . .

Thinking

My mother has always warned me that one day my inability to shut up when I should or not have the last word or not know when to keep my mouth shut will end up getting me killed. Or maybe she didn't say it in those words, exactly, but that's the gist of it: One day I will talk back to the wrong person and end up maimed and/or dead. She's probably right about this, yet I still maintain that problem with not being able to be quiet.

So sue me.

How this connects to my current situation, I don't really know. See, Thorn and I keep trying to talk through issues and a lot of them have been resolved, but the fact remains that there were a lot of problems in the first place. So I keep coming back to a point where I'm thinking, "Should I say this? What I think?" And the answer usually ends up being yes.

I've been watching a lot of "Scrubs" lately. Scrubs is, of course, an epic TV show about a bunch of doctors that follows them as they rise through the ranks at a hospital. It also teaches you important life lessons about, well , everything. I think, at least. It's addicting.

Bottom line: I need to learn to shut up, I should also probably go respond to a PM now, and Scrubs teaches you everything.

Now, I'm going to go watch Ocean's. The second one--Ocean's Twelve--and then maybe the third one.

--Ave, feeling . . . optimistic, for once. And maybe actually happy

Amazement

Today I discovered how to check my Blogger stats, and realized something that amazes me: I ACTUALLY HAVE PEOPLE WHO READ THIS THING.

I know, I was shocked too.

So I think I'm gonna cut back on the rants. Seeing as my dear .8 readers might actually not want to read about my woes, and the post below this one was . . . bad. *nods*

ANYWAYS.

I am eating Frosted Mini Wheats. *nods* And I got a new puppy today. He looks something like the picture to the left. Isn't he adoraaaaaaaaaaaaaable?

Only, his ears are different. *frowns* And he has a skin condition . . .

Now he's eating my backpack and it's still cute. Damn him and his cuteness.

Anyways. Lately I've been trying to work on people's Christmas presents a lot, but it's not going so well. Mostly because I keep procrastinating writing whatever I'm giving them. So far the list consists of:

Storm--No idea.

Theia--Writing her a story with Kal. I'm actually quite happy with this one.

Des/Mia--I have no clue. And I still didn't give her a birthday gift. *sulks*

Kal--She's getting a happy!Finnick fic. How I shall write this, I know not, but I'll do it.

Kayla--She'd probably want a slash story. Unfortunately, Slash + Ave = No.

Peter--He's getting a propaganda pamplet for his fake political party (abbreviated as PMS). It's actually fun. 8D

Cez--Uhm. Uhm. Uhm.

. . . No idea. *sulks*

Bianca--I actually know this one and have started it! Bianca's getting a sad cheesy romance fic. *smiles*

Juliet--I don't really have any ideas for her either.

Critic--She's getting a story involving Halt and Will from Ranger's Apprentice. Even though I said I can't write slash.

Jed--I should get her something, since I "adopted" her. But I'm lazy.

That's the list of everyone getting a present from me--and even then I might cut some people from it. Honestly, I'm writing them all stories. And some people I just don't talk to often enough for that. For those who do get a present, it's for putting up with my crap all year round. :D

I should go now. Must work on Bianca's present, and math homework awaits.

--Ave, quite cheerful

PS--Getting my own laptop for Christmas. 21 days to go . . .

*headdesks and doesn't even bother to lift head again*

Here's a lesson to you, my dear .4 readers: If you plan on having a close friend whom you've never met and whom lives multiple states away and you both hang around in the same group of friends, do not estrange yourself from said best friend. Why?

Because said group of friends will never shut the fuck up about them.

Ever.

I'm staring at you, Kal, Theia, Juliet, even if I'm 99.99947% sure that none of you will never read this. But you know what? I don't give a damn if you'll never read this, because maybe someone else will and they'll pass the message along.

Honestly, I do not care if you want us to be friends again. I don't care if it's "hard for you to be friends with us both." I don't. If you have to choose between us because it's too damn hard, then choose, and I do not care if you pick her over me--you've essentially already done that with your seeming inability to shut up.

Those are the two things I've asked of you: Don't talk about her when I'm around, and don't try to make me be her friend anymore. But you couldn't even do that, because it was so damn hard for you to do. You failed miserably in both respects.

I'm sorry that it's "so hard" for you to have to deal with all this and you don't like us fighting--but think for one second, one goddamn second of how it is for me, not just for yourselves. I don't care how selfish it seems, I'm the one who lost a close friend, not you. And honestly, if all of you would just leave it alone I'd be fine, but you're not content that way. You're transfixed on us liking one another again and being friends again, when we can't be anyways.

I love you all like sisters--but you're not making it easy.

My Thanksgiving Gift to You (Yes, You) Part II

November 25th, 2010

12:30 pm, Eastern Standard Time.

Still Thanksgiving, so it's Thursday.

------

This isn't so much a post where I write about me; it's a post for my writing.

Invictus

They decided to execute me at sunset, which left me feeling slightly disappointed. Watching the chariot of Apollo emerge on the horizon each morning and disappear at night, leaving the world immersed in blackness, was among my favorite pastimes. But at the same time, the news caused my heart to leap with joy. My last sight was not to be the faces of the spectators, jubilant at my pain and misery; it could be the sky, streaked with bright reds and deep oranges and traces of purple. And in that, I knew, I could forget my pain and be able to go out of this world adamant in my resolve. I would bow to the Emperor no longer, not even on the verge of death, as he so hoped I would.

The world of Rome is a cruel one, strict in its regime of order. Already I can hear the jeers of the crowds in my mind, waiting for the moment when death leers over me, ready to rid me of all life. But now is not the time to back down in fear. Now is not the time to fail my father and the gods of Olympus. I had given all I had to carry out their wishes, but for the cause, the loss of my own life seemed necessary as well. For Rome, I would do anything. And if my countrymen needed my death to further the cause, to achieve the goal set to me by the gods, and to restore honor, glory, and greatness to Rome, who was I to deny them?

To the people I am either one thing or the opposite: their leader, soon to be their martyr, a man they would die for themselves, or a traitor, the bane of the empire's existence, a nuisance who brought only disorder, panic, and riots to Rome. To myself, though . . . to myself I am simply the man who has tried--the man who tried to fix Rome, to do what the gods wanted done, and, eventually, the man who failed.

------

Entirely unedited, but I adore it. It's my new baby. :D

--Ave, quite happy

My Thanksgiving Gift to You (Yes, You) Part I

November 25th, 2010

11:02 pm, Eastern Standard Time.

On a Thursday morning.

------

I won NaNo. :D

Really, I won NaNo on Saturday, twenty days in, after writing over ten thousand in a single day. So, I am happy.

Today's Thanksgiving, and the thirteenth time I celebrate this strange, strange holiday. But of course, the focus of Thanksgiving is eating (seriously) and it's too early for that. Even apps don't start until at least one, then we have dinner at two-thirty or three, and pie at six, then everyone just scavenges until they go home. We switch off between my aunt's family and mine for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and this year it's their turn for Thanksgiving and ours for Christmas, which is how I like it best--in my mind, Thanksgiving and my aunt's house have a link that I shall never get rid of, for reasons unknown. So I'm at home with nothing to do for say, an hour.

So I thought I'd update this.

A BRIEF SYNOPSIS OF AVE'S LIFE OVER THE PAST MONTH OR SO THAT SHE'S BEEN NEGLECTING UPDATING HER BLOG, ENTIRELY UNCENSORED AND WITH NO REGARD TO WHOSE FEELINGS SHE MIGHT HURT OR EGOS SHE MAY BOOST BY WRITING THIS

Lately, I've been writing a lot of rants--deciding a lot of things and then immediately beginning to question those decisions. The focal point of all these rants turns out to be one thing, a thing I don't particularly want to talk about to the world but will because, for once, I'm going to get it all off my chest. That point is Thorn, my former best friend, and I feel that the best way to describe this is Rant VII, written in English class a few weeks back It's not nearly as bitchy as so many of the other rants are, and it gets it across. And it was originally addressed as if I was going to send it to my online friends as a whole.

Cue Rant VII

-----

I don't like this--any of it, there's this strange sense of foreboding about . . . everything. Nothing is sure, nothing is rock solid, and all is subject to change in a second, and that scares me. But what none of you seem to get is how much it all gets to me, and how much it bothers me, and how what you do or say or think or how you act could affect me and how I might end up feeling over all of this. God, couldn't you at least learn some tact? I don't care how selfish it sounds, or what you think of me, because the truth is that I honestly believe you should have thought about all of that before you went along skipping on your merry way and singing praises to the skies that she had returned. Dammit, it freaking hurts, okay? It hurts when you used to be best friends with someone and then you're not and everyone won't just shut the hell up about her. It hurts, dammit. You're just putting salt on the wound--no, you're pouring salt on it.

I know what you all want, and honestly, I don't see how it corresponds with what I want, what I need if I ever feel like remaining legally sane. You all want us to be best friends again, and you all think it's so damn easy to just do that--but it's not. I'm a prideful person, and I know that. I never said that I wasn't. I don't apologize unless I sure as hell know that I mean that apology, and that's why I haven't. I don't know if I'd mean it, I don't know if I want to be her best friend again. And even if I was, think about it, just think about it: How would it effect today's dynamic? Everything is different now, and that can't be denied.

I don't know a lot of things about this whole ordeal, so I'm just going to keep adding to that list until you can figure out how freaking indecisive I am over this and maybe you'll see all the grief behind it. I don't know if I even want to be her friend, and I don't know if I think any of this is good or bad, and I don't know what I want. What I do know is that change screws everything up, and I also know that talking to her also scares me. I also know one key thing:

I am not that girl who came on forums last April/May anymore. I'm a different sort of person, because I know more about the world now. I don't try to fool myself with fantasies like I used to: The only things I bother to dream of are things I know are achievable, if I work for it. And I don't entertain myself with things that are a waste of time, or at least I try not to. I've been out of sorts and I'll admit it--I'm sort of a different person, but I've maintained the fundamental bits that make up me. And new _____ is not the same as old _____. And, for reasons unknown, new ______ finds everything she does increasingly annoying to the point of wanting to roll her eyes and stab a pillow, but refrains from the latter. And dammit, I never saw her anyways. She was fine ignoring me, and frankly neither of us attempted to stay in contact.

It was over and done with before the day we fought, guys. I knew that, and I don't know if she did, but I did. And the first day, I was happy with it--the whole situation had been making me miserable since July. The first day, I was a bit shellshocked, but at the same time, it was over with, finally. But of course, none of you ever let it die, you insisted on talking about her and sobbing and going, "THORN'S GONE?!" and similar shit while I was right there, dammit. And no one bothered to think: Oh, Ave's just lost her best friend. Maybe talking about said best friend will not help the situation. Seemingly, that occured to no one.

I can't blame it all on you, and I know it. I know I was mad at you, and that I'm still kind of mad at you, but I can't stay mad at you--I do love you all like sisters. And so I don't care so much about everything that bothered me before; you know, how you always grouped me with her incessantly and never could realize that we're two separate, entirely different people who only seem similar at first. And that's a big factor too--we seemed so similar at first, but we're not. We really don't look that alike either. We're not the same person, nowhere near it, and it seemed like no one ever realized that.

But what you need to realize is that, until I know for sure that what I want is to be her friend and figure out what will happen from all of this and if this is what I truly and actually want, and then see how it's going to affect what I have now. Because, honestly, if being her friend gets in the way of something else that I already have, something that's currently not messed up, I'm not messing it up for her. I'm sorry, but it's not worth messing up something whole for something jaded, complicated, and subject to extreme change.

----

It ends there, as does this blog post.

--Ave

Update

Orite I have a blog.

Actually, I didn't really forget about this thing.

Instead, I have been overwhelmed by public enemy number one, or what should be (after Sidney Crosby) public enemy number one: NaNoWriMo.

It's not difficult so much as time consuming.

*an hour elapses*

Anyways. I spent forever writing NaNo and so don't get to finish this correctly.

But I hit 20K. *celebrates* And my overall goal is to get 75K, which may not happen, but I'll definitely get the 50K.

--Ave, thinking of nothing but NaNo

Overwhelmed

I have a lot to do.

I do not like having a lot to do.

NaNo's a bitch. And if I have to draw one more Freytag's Triangle, I swear I will hunt down whoever the hell Freytag is and kill him. Or her, but most likely him.

There's a lot of planning I should have done a long time ago.

Did this make any sense? I'll answer that. No. No it did not. But I have no time to rant. And this is just as jumbled as my thoughts right now, so it's fitting. Now I have to plan more.

--Ave

Worry

October 23, 2010

Six pm.

On a Saturday night. (Shall I sing the song again?)

---------

Lately, I keep pondering my future. See, everyone online keeps freaking out over what high school they're going to and applications and "OH THIS SCHOOL IS SO GOOD I HAVE TO HAVE TO HAVE TO GET IN." And I sit in my corner going, "STFU, will you?"

See, I am a perfectionist, plain and simple. Most of what I care about is being the best at everything I do, and a main part of that is academics. And so as everyone talks about how great these schools they're trying to get into are, all I can think of is: I don't even have that chance. I'm going to public school. I've always known that I'm going to public school. I can't even try to get in there. I can't even try.

See, to me, there were always those private schools I heard about and my neighbors went to, but it didn't matter--I had my school and they had theirs and they were basically the same. When I got older I realized there was a difference, though: they paid to go to that school instead of my school, only my school still did better on tests. And so my school was the better one, which made me content. Only now, I see that while my school is good and offers me all these opportunities in career exploration, it's not the best. My school is a public school, one you don't have to apply to--you live in the correct area, and you can go there. And so, we can't afford to have the most prestigious classes that are all uber-advanced, because we need to pay to teach the less-advanced classes to other kids.

Don't get me wrong; we have advanced classes, we do good on tests, it's a really good school. But it gets beaten out by all these other places. Even though I may be a year ahead in math and two years ahead in science, when I graduate I can still only have one college level math and one college level science course under my belt. And that's all I can achieve.

This all comes down to one thing: my dream to be a Rhodes Scholar.

See, Rhodes Scholars are postgraduate students selected via application to go study at Oxford for two years. They also have to be the best of the best, nothing less, and charismatic, and great leaders, et cetera.

Rhodes Scholars can also get basically any job they want.

Scholars were originally accepted from all current and previous British colonies and Germany. So, essentially, all English speaking countries and Germany. Nowadays, 32 Americans a year are accepted to go study at Oxford, the greatest number from any country.

And so, now my plans for the future are to graduate, get accepted into either 1) University of Toronto, 2) NYU, 3) Princeton, 4) Yale, or 5) Harvard. And if I get accepted into more than one (which I hopefully will . . .), then I pick whichever one best coincides with my plans to go into chemical engineering. Then, the plan says that I graduate from whichever university I pick, and apply to be a Rhodes Scholar. If all goes right enough, I'll get accepted, continue studying engineering at Oxford, and live happily ever after being able to get virtually whatever occupation I desire, which will once more include chemical enginnering. Probably.

See, I'm still not sure why exactly I want to go into chemical engineering; I just know that I do. This obsession came about recently, when I remembered how my mom said she always thought I'd go into engineering, because she thought I was cut out for it. Which I could very well be; I'm good in math and science. And there's a future in engineering. So I decided that's what I'm going to be. I'll probably change it. Either way, I'm going into a career in science. Why?

Because science and business are where all the successful people are. And I want to be successful. Because if I' successful, then I can have more time to work on what I really want to work on. My writing.

You may ask, Well, then, why don't you just go straight into a career in writing? Unfortunately, the life of the writer is one full of hardships until you actually become successful, and I'd rather not have to go through that. Thus, the alternate road. *points down road*

I think we're done with this now.

Magically, I managed to write this entire thing while cooking dinner.

Watch my dinner taste like crap, and then me eat it anyways because I don't feel like cooking anymore.

--Ave, off to eat dinner and work on NaNo and write

The Effects of Sleep Deprivation

October 17th, 2010

6 pm on a Sunday night.

-----------------

Seeing the words "Sunday night" makes me think of "Someday I'll Be Saturday Night" which makes me start singing in my head "HEY, MAN, I'M ALIVE, I'M TAKING EACH DAY AND NIGHT AT A TIME, FEELING LIKE A MONDAY BUT SOMEDAY I'LL BE SATURDAY NIGHT."

I like that song. Moving on now.

Currently, I am reading three books:

1) Ranger's Apprentice Book Eight: The Kings of Clonmel, by John Flanagan
2) Innocent Traitor, by Alison Weir,
3) The Heroes of Olympus Book One: The Lost Hero, by Rick Riordan

and I just keep flipping between them all. Everyone is talking about number three, and I want to finish it so I know what's going on, but it's not nearly as compelling as some people keep making it seem. Number two I keep abandoning to read the series number one is in, and number one is now being pushed aside for number three. I like them all, nonetheless. Continuing on . . .

See, I should be working on NaNo right now. Fifteen days are left. And, really, when I think about it, I have the basics down; I'm just ironing out details and making sure I get everything down. Character Profiles are basically done. The past events that happen before the book are covered, the whole middle part is covered, and I think I'll just go with Des's strategy: I'll think of an ending when I get there. My ideas always run away from me anyways. I'll end up doing something different, at least a bit, no matter what, so I think it's better this way. I still need to keep moving on that, though.

Yesterday, three of the five people I adore most in the world (the other two were sadly unable to make it *sob*) and I had my birthday party. Overall, we spent three-quarters of an hour laughing (it was timed) and then went back to my house and did stuff, and then went bowling, where they said we were too old for bumpers. Stupid people. *kicks stupid people*

They also decided that they were going to frost my cake. And so they told me I had to go to the bathroom and locked me in. I sang some show tunes for a while, actually used the bathroom, then got bored and read The Lost Hero while I waited.

And let's just say that many sprinkles do not belong on one cake. It crunched. *snickers* Also, they purposely misspelled my name. *despairs* Then crossed it out and re-wrote it. It was a lot more fun than I can properly describe . . .

BUT THEN--we did more stuff. And eventually went to sleep.

You know that was enthralling and captivating and emotionally moving. Or not. But still . . .

--Ave, who is just a bit loopy . . .

And Then...

October eleventh, 2010.

Just after nine pm.

On a Monday night, Columbus Day, actually.

----------

Oh my god.

The past two days had been, in a single word: Epic.

Productive? Not at all. But enjoyable and awesome and nothing bad had happened at all, which made it seem so great even though it was average.

Yesterday I was hanging around with all my cousins and we did stupid idiotic things that cousins do, including a two-hour long game of Life in which everyone kept having to pay my brother (the doctor) loads of cash, even when they stole his 100,000 dollar payday. It was hilarious. And then we created the Sword in the Stone with The Sword in the Ice Cream Cake, seeing as no one could cut the thing. Insane and awesome nonetheless.

Today, we went to Barnes and Noble, where I spent forever and a day picking out three books. Books are expensive. *sobs* Anyways.

Storm wrote a story about what happened with Zoe. She published it. And then the stupid LU started freaking out over it breaking the rules. Honestly, I don't care if a story is against the rules or an author is underage: It's about quality, and, even more, effort. Storm's been through more than enough over this, and they couldn't ignore it. Idiots. So then there was a minor fight...

I should go now. And it's not my place to tell.

--Ave, who is going to read The Sorcerer in the North, since she finished The Battle for Skandia, which is so much better than The Icebound Land and The Sorcerer in the North so far

PS--Yes, I did feel like confusing all of you who have not read Ranger's Apprentice :P

10-10-10

Gasp.

It's October tenth, 2010.

Ten-Ten-Ten/10-10-10.

Just felt like saying that, because I probably won't update later. I'm actually going to go to bed now.

--Ave

The Feeling That is Neglect and What Really Matters in the End

Oh, my dear, dear blog. How very neglected you have been. *pats blog*

I've been meaning to do this for two weeks or so and haven't. And now that I am, I don't want to give a recap of everything that's happened. I feel like getting something off my chest.

Have you ever had this feeling of just not caring about anything? Because I do. All I want to do lately is sleep, eat, and read. In fact, that seems like quite a nice life. If only there was money in it.

The point is, I don't care about forums. I don't care about NaNo. I don't care about most of the people who I thought were my friends.

This has been going on for the past week or so, my not caring. It's not like I'm depressed or anything lately. I just don't want to do anything, or pry myself out of my bed to go and be productive. Of course, this would be fine. Only currently, there are two main things I must care about: homework/studying/school, as always, and NaNo. And there's no true source of motivation. I'm just tired. Really tired. And can't spare the time to sleep.

Lately my entire family has been sharing my laptop. Our other computer is broken. So I get less time online. Only, I haven't cared so much about being separated from the computer. I don't want to talk to people as much. Tonight, after I logged off, I went to go take a shower, where it struck me:

I feel neglected.

Back in May and June, on forums, everyone who was there was a friend. Everyone there was a person whom I liked, admired, respected. Same went for on Skype. Slowly, that group of friends has been whittled down to four. Four people whom I like, love like sisters, and know care about me. I'm not saying I don't care about anyone else; I do. But between mostly everyone else and me, the feelings don't run so deep. I don't know them as well. Some I care about more than others and are close to being among those I love; others might be there if I knew them a bit better. But when it comes down to it, the four I love the most are Storm, Theia, Desy, and Kal.

Those were the first four names that came to mind. Literally, they jumped right into my head. And when I thought about it, if I cared nearly as much about other people, they would have jumped to the front of my brain. But they didn't. My subconscious knows it: I love them more.

What I hate about that is that, had I made a list in July, that list would have been Storm, Theia, Thorn, Cez, Des. I didn't talk to Kal as much then, and I talked to Cez nearly every day for hours. Back then, Thorn was my best friend. And that's how quickly it all passes by.

So I have now made a list. A list of everyone whom I used to see every day in the beginning, and where they are now. And why we aren't close, except in the case of those four.

Reese--Left. Comes on occasionally. Never talk to.
Jess--Left, most likely for good, due to Zoe.
Kay--I think she hates me, or resents me. Somehow . . .
Sheva--We've never really talked too much, but she's cool. I have nothing against Sheva, and I wish we talked more.
Zoe--Screwed a lot of things up. Long story.
Storm--Still around, and more awesome by the day, even though we haven't talked properly in forever.
Theia--Still hanging around. Seriously awesome. As in, the best person ever to talk to and be taken seriously. Even if that seems contradictory to how you see her, that's how I see her.
Bianca--Still hangs around, but is mostly lurking. I wish we talked more. Bianca tends to keep to herself more, sadly.
Luna--Has never left, and still comes on. We were just never really friends.
Cara--She left, then came back. No real friendship ever developed there.
Thorn--Gone, for the most part. We were best friends. We're not anymore. Quite obviously, we never talk.
Des--Has stuck around even through a whole load of shit. The bestest little sister hell ever spawned and everyone's friend. *snickers* *luffles Des*
Kal--Never left, but was not online for around a month due to computer troubles. Luffle her to death nonetheless.
Kayla--Never online for no real reason, it seems. Never talk to.
Cez--Has disappeared because she's taking gigantic tests until the end of the month. Never talk to.
Draco--Still around, kind of. We are kind of close yet kind of not, as if both of us just kind of keep our distance.
Lola--Still around, but always busy. I have nothing against her.
Juliet--On usually, but for some reason everything is awkward-ish. *shrugs*

And that's how it's all turned out.

That's also most likely where this feeling of neglect came from. None of the people still around whom I talk to are my absolute friends. Sure, we're friends, but it doesn't run as deep as with Theia, Storm, Des, and Kal. But maybe I can cope nevertheless. I should. When you think about it, it's not horrible at all. I just wish I got to talk to those select people more. Lately I've also been getting this feeling Des is pissed at me. I don't know. My brain is severely messed up.

And the above, dear .4 readers, is all the summarization of how I've been feeling the past two weeks. So now I cram in a quick synopsis.

My birthday came and went. I am now older. My actual age is none of your concern, but not hard to find . . . Either way. Been reading a lot lately, especially John Flanagan's Ranger's Apprentice series. It's addicting, and I have discovered the one thing that I dislike in it is that Flanagan doesn't take time to show you how the relationships between the characters developed; he just tells you, "And Will and Halt were so close and cared about each other so much.", or something similar to that, instead of displaying it through their actions. This is how I feel about it, at least. I think I'll ask Storm if I can review it for D23.

Now it's bedtime. Tomorrow is my birthday party and I also have to do homework and finish my NaNo arc and three or four character profiles, all by this time (hopefully earlier) on Monday night, since it's Columbus Day and there's no school.

And that's all you need to know about yours truly.

G'Night and farewell . . .
--Ave, who is tired, has finally updated and is going back to reading The Battle for Skandia now

Scholastic, Listen to Me, or You DIE *puts on menacing face*

September 27th, 2010

Nearing eleven pm

On a Monday night.

--------------

We'll make this quick, eh?

'Cause Blogger is glitching and it hates me.

Some more stuff happened. Not very much, though. To summarize, briefly:

Firstly, I've been reading a lot. *throws streamers* YAY! Last week I finally got to read Into the Gauntlet, the last 39 Clues book. I loved it. And they're making a sequel series, in which Ian/Amy had better happen. *glares at Scholastic* IT'D BETTER! *shakes fist angrily* See, Ian and Amy are two characters in the series, and I'm kind of obsessed with them. Just a little bit . . . But they're worth being obsessed with, and have inspired me to try writing . . . *pause for dramatic effect* romance.

Mhm. So that's the new plan. Also, I have fixed my NaNo ending. For real. With two magical words that make every story make sense: SERIAL KILLER.

Now, this may sound strange. In fact, I know it sounds strange. But truthfully, the whole thing now makes sense, and so I've been taking a bit of time off from NaNo, and shall resume my obsessive planning in a few days. Of course, looking at the date, I have been panicking about how little time I now have, but I'll make it work. I shall. Or else.

Haven't had nearly as many bad days lately; just a few where I am very, very negative. Very. Did I say very enough times? I don't think I did. VERY. M'kay, that's good now. And things are doing quite well. I aced my first math test, and was one of only four in eighty to do so. Studying pays off.

And now I'd better go to bed, because it's late and I must study and brush my teeth and do some other stuff.

--Ave, who should study and sleep and read, but doesn't feel like it

A Random Post

September 19th, 2010

Afternoon-ish.

On a Sunday

-------

So.

Nothing new has happened, quite obviously, seeing as it hasn't even been eleven hours since I last posted and I spent almost all of that time sleeping. Sleeping is the only task on the schedule schedule that I have actually gotten done. The sad thing is, even though I've spent nearly twenty-four hours sleeping this weekend, I'm still tired. And after waking up at twelve-thirty yesterday, I went back to sleep at just past one and very easily dozed off. Back to the point, however. And the point this time is: I have no point. This is just going to be one of those posts where I worry a lot.

And sadly, there's a lot to worry about.

About a week ago I found out that my dog, whom I've had for years, is sick. Turns out he managed to get himself a skin rash and an ear infection, although the rash seemed to be the worst part. A rash he got, possibly, because after I gave him a bath, I didn't take his collar off, and so it may have irritated him and caused him to scratch at his neck, where he got the rash, in the first place. Thankfully he's getting better now and the spot on his neck they had to shave is healing quite nicely, and his fur is already starting to grow back.

School started less than two weeks ago. And already I am swamped, although most of my problems come back to nightly math and science, which I can't do anything about, and this project I have to do. See, the one friend I thought I had no classes with turned out to be in my lunch and this sort of class we have to take that's kind of like home economics. The whole point of the class is the big project you do in groups. But you didn't get to pick the group you were in, because . . . well, I don't really know why. We just weren't allowed to. All we got to do was pick partners, and then she put groups of partners together.

So, my friend and I were partners, obviously. And we got paired with another group of partners who are among the better people we could have gotten stuck with, only neither of them wants to do any work outside of class. I've had this happen to me before when working in groups, and so I knew that at least these two would do something in class, even if they wouldn't do any outside school, and so catching up on things at home would come down to me and my friend. It could have been worse; they could have done nothing or I could have been stuck without my friend in the first place.

Only, we have to catch up on this part of the project, and my friend is busy all weekend. So who does it fall to? Me. Of course. And I don't have the time for this.

Of course, no one at my school considers writing to be any sort of extracurricular activity unless it's done in one of their writing clubs, which are a) the school newspaper, which is a joke and no one ever reads, or b) their thing where you stay after school and basically write and receive instruction from one of the English teachers, who has published two books. The only thing is? I don't mean to sound mean, but if he had truly been successful, he would not be teaching English to kids in my not-so-fantastic town. And so . . . well, I don't want to make it sound like I scorn this, because it's an accomplishment to be published at all and even if he wasn't published he still knows a lot about writing. But . . . I don't know. I don't know anyone who's actually in this club thing, and so I don't know if they aspire to actually be honest to goodness published writers when they grow up and think this is going to help them. And so maybe being in that club would help me, but the truth is I would rather keep my writing mine, and anonymous.

And so everyone thinks I am one of those people who does nothing with her life, when in truth I do a ton of stuff. It just all comes back to writing. I don't know anyone in real life who wants to be an author one day. I know those people who say, "Oh, I'm going to write a story!" and then their story is a half page long and after getting out their new notebook to write it in and carrying it around with them for a few days, they forget about it. Weeks, months, years later, they'll find it, and read it, and laugh at it. But never continue it. They all think writing is so easy, something simple. But it's not, and they never appreciate exactly how much work goes into forcing out those words and making them good and making sure that this scene doesn't bore the living crap out of people, and that this scene has enough action, and that this fact is plausible and this isn't pointless entirely, but just pointless enough to make it enjoyable. And plot holes.

In fact, I'm pretty sure that my mind believes that no one I know can write, really. I know that, most likely, this isn't true. They probably can write. Someone among them. And someone among them is probably also infinitely better than me. This I know. But in the end, it comes down to me being obsessed with being the best, and being better than all of them at writing because I started young and never really truly gave up. But most of all, being successful in my writing, being published, is really something that I want so much simply to prove that I haven't wasted my time writing. Because if I didn't write, I would have a life. I would do things. So I have simply devoted my entire life as a minor to writing in hopes that it'll lead to something.

I know Mia (that's right, I called her Mia for once, you may all now be amazed) always talks about her plans for the future, plans she says most likely won't happen. I, too, have a convoluted plan for the future that, while it may be a lot of wishful thinking, also has a chance.

This plan has undergone massive changes over the past few weeks, after the original plan was shot straight to hell. And so now it entails the following: going to *insert college name here*, double majoring in history and English. Then, in my second year of college, I shall study abroad in England/Scotland so that I have primary sources for the book I want to write on Mary and Elizabeth Tudor and the other book I want to write on Mary Queen of Scots. Although this makes more sense if I study in England after I publish a book so that people take me seriously, and so this may fail . . . Either way. Then I eventually go back to the other college and finish studying there, and graduate. And then find a random job doing something with history, preferably the European kind, in New York or Toronto, since they're the two publishing capitals of North America. Or maybe D.C., simply because it'd be more likely for me to find a job having to do with history there. And then I live happily ever after and get published and get a dog named Laika and become the next J.K. Rowling.

Yup. That's my plan fail, all of which stemmed off of me explaining the stupid project I procrastinated working on by writing this post. Mhm . . .

--Ave, who really should work on her stupid project

P.S.--I also have a new obsession. Heard about the movie The Social Network, that comes out on October first? I am obsessed with it. This is stupid, since I don't even have a Facebook. I just really really really like the story. A lot. And so, I shall drag my cousin and her friend to see it with me a few weeks after it comes out. *nods some* *skips off to finish project*

Split

September 19th, 2010

Twelve am.

On a Sunday morning.

-----------

Remember how I said that I was leaving for a while? Well, thanks to a thing that happened, I came back early. But that doesn't mean I'm not still pissed at them.

And I'm only pissed at them because of Thorn.

So it all comes back to Thorn. Because whenever someone mentions her I want to punch something. What I hate more, though, is that they're all like, "Oh yeah Ave's here don't talk about it! She's gonna get pissed!" I hate that. So much. So freaking much.

This really does make me sound bitchy. But it's the truth and I have no reason to lie and pretend I'm fine on my own blog.

Because I have only a few things truly keeping me miserable, and the main thing is that I can't get the hell away from her. I'm sick of it, really. Sick of it. There's no escaping it; no matter what the hell I do the only way to get away is to leave all of the other friends I've made on fanfiction. And there's no way I'm letting this ruin my entire online life. It's not worth it. So I have to put up with it or--or--there is no or. I have to put up with it, period. Unless I want to leave, but I've already said leaving isn't an option.

It is solidified in my mind that no one leaves forever. This was truly proven when Cara came back on Thursday. I think it was Thursday. All of the days are just melting together in my mind. But I'm pretty sure it was Thursday. Cara had been gone for months, but she's come back (this was a very happy occasion *smiles*). And that really proves that no one ever leaves for real. I mean, I still expect Rachel to come back one day, even to just pop in and visit. Gabi is gone for real, but that's mostly because she was just never so close with lots of us in the first place, I think. And so I know that even if I did leave, I, too, would be back. It might be a few days or a week or a month or even months before I did, but I would come back. I know it. I love them all too much. They are my second family.

Another thing messing it all up: Homework. Too much of it. And I know I should spend more time on it and actually study, but I don't. I should. And I will. Soon. I swear.

I'm really worried about Des. She's not doing so great lately. Today we spent an hour on Skype call and talked about pointless things and it was awesome, but now she's kind of worrying, really, about everything. And I feel so bad for her. More than anything I wish that I could actually hug her, instead of just typing the word. But I can't. This, I hate. I'd elaborate but this is really not something I have any right to announce to the Internet.

I am failing at completing any of the tasks on the Schedule Schedule. The Schedule Schedule is the schedule I compiled so that I may complete my first schedule in time, although I know I won't. So tomorrow I am chained to that, and I can't go online tomorrow.

And something that I really have issues with keeps pestering me too. According to my doctor, I need to drink more fluids and go to the bathroom more often. This is actually more challenging than it would seem. Moving on . . .

NaNo has turned into my own personal prison. Every free minute is NaNo planning now, it seems, and I've hit a major plot hole. Because it needs more action and is going to fail, and at this point I want to work on another original plot bunny I have. But I can't, and I have to turn the one I have into something good. So I guess I will, then. Let's see how that goes . . .

I honestly don't know what keeps me going lately. No clue at all. My bestie and I aren't talking so much, and so it's . . . strange, really. She's more of an outdoors person who loves the summer and being outside. I am a fall/winter person who would rather be curled up inside reading or writing or on the computer. Don't ask me how we get along. We just . . . do. We've grown apart yet stuck together somehow, and we just have to find a bit of common ground first. The only problem? We're opposites.

School is in no way encouraging me, since everything is simply demanding and I can't slack off there; and at home I can't slack off since I have so much to do. So I'm busy. Yet not doing anything. It sucks.

Often enough I feel like two separate people. There's the me I am around my friends, and the one I am online, and the one I am around strangers, the one I am when I'm at home, the one I am when I'm by myself; the list goes on and on. It'll make sense if I ever get around to explaining what I call The Ave Complex. That's long and complicated, though, and I'm tired. And I've only been up for twelve hours or so. It's nearly one now, since I keep switching between this and other things, so I should go to bed. G'Night, and hopefully I'll update on Monday. We'll see, eh?

--Ave, off to sleep and feeling much better

Abandonment

I'm out.

For a while.

A few days, a week, two, who knows. Either way, I'm sick of this.

And so, for once, I shall blatantly state it for all the world with internet access to see.

I'm sick of Thorn. I'm sick of hearing about her. I'm sick of her showing up and everyone fawning over her. But I have no right to make them STFU. So I'm gone.

Because I'm not dealing with this shit anymore.

Back whenever.

NaNo Takes Over

September 15th, 2010

9:30 pm.

On a Wednesday night.

------------------

Nothing much has happened in the past few days.

That is bad, by the way.

And so why am I updating now? I shouldn't be. I have to do math homework and study and then catch up on NaNo character profiles--that's right, not planning itself. That I am actually caught up on (but tomorrow's Thursday, and so I have to do two more hours then). So, basically, I am really hating NaNo right now. It's taking over. Although, really, there's no space for it to take over. It's not allowed.

Yes, I know this makes no sense. Oh well.

Either way, once we get to Saturday this current schedule is through with. That is bad because I have to do three and a half character profiles and then tomorrow's NaNo planning for two hours and then Friday's OTP (multi-chapter fic) plotting, which is for one hour, but I have another hour of OTP work from Saturday to do.

So of course I have also decided that I have to take Saturday off.

The reason? I haven't been reading enough. This may sound weird. Oh well. Either way, I've realized that I spend so much time on the computer or plotting or, god forbid, writing, that I never really read properly anymore. So I am taking Saturday off. Kinda. See, I can't take the whole day off; I told Desy I would attempt to Skype call her on Saturday night. But I shall take the morning off and simply read and reacquaint myself with my DVR. It misses me.

Anyways, news of the good sort: Kayla and Reese and Jess have been online a lot lately. This is good news, for those of you who are ignorant.

And also, people have been asking me about Thorn a lot. Why do I find the need to say this? Because I, being me, have decided to rant. Of course. What else would I do?

People keep asking about it. Honestly, I have no idea how to truly answer them on it. When you get down to it, I instigated the final fight. But all that happened between fights was us just not talking; there was no regularity where we actually talked. And honestly, there was something in me that was just sick of it all. And just hated it. Most of all, that something wanted it to be over. It got its wish. In the beginning, though (I've been thinking a lot about this), we only became friends because people decided we were so similar and lumped us together. I liked this in the beginning. I felt like I belonged. And now, nearly five months after I made my first appearance on Theia's forum, and then later on Have you give up yet? on Honest's forum, I realized that I don't need to cling to someone to feel like I belong. I belong in my own right now, as presumptuous as that may sound. At least, I feel as though I belong in my own right. And that's good enough.

I know that that makes it sound as though I used Thorn as a security blanket, and never really cared. But what people won't realize is that I cared about her, a lot, no matter what. It just feels like she back stabbed me, kind of, and hung me out to dry. Her leaving was not abrupt. She hadn't truly been online since June. And so her not being around was normal. Me not talking to her was normal. I've heard her own opinions on this, but this is honestly how I've been thinking of it for two months, more: she hasn't been acting like the same person. She wasn't, to me, anything like that person I met in April. I don't know how other people think of this, but this is how I see it. And I don't think I could ever really go back to that.

For two months I pretended it was fine when it wasn't. I pretended to be normal when I was having breakdowns every other day and wrote god knows how many rants that I wanted to say to her, to everyone. Rants I wanted to shout from the rooftops so that it would finally be over with and the pieces could be picked up and reassembled and this time, we'd be fine, we'd be normal again.

Only at this point, we could never be normal again. Ever.

And on September the second--I pretend not to know the date, but I have it memorized--I finally snapped. At this point I had been thinking that I could just kind of not talk to her for a while until I sorted it all out and knew with every fiber of my being that I wanted to make this work and be her "twin" again. But then I just snapped. I didn't want to deal with it anymore. I was sick of it. I wanted it through. Done and over with. I was going to tell her exactly what I thought, and if we parted ways in the end and never spoke again, or if we talked it out and were best friends, I didn't care at that point. I just wanted it over with. Truthfully, I never thought it wouldn't work out.

But it didn't. And so we exchanged our harsh words and then she decided she was leaving. So, like that, she left. I stayed. I know that I could never really leave. That's a fact; I just care about everyone too much. The day she decided she was leaving, I was fine. Friday, the day after that? That day sucked.

So I had a breakdown. At that point, as I said, I was having breakdowns three, four times a week. This one was bad. In said breakdown, I basically blamed myself for everything and was confused and cried a bunch. I felt bad about it.

And I don't feel so bad about it now. She left to "get her life back", or something of the sort. And she can do that. Honestly, it's better to not have to worry about that. But I don't feel like it's over. This seems like, to me, a sort of downtime, and something else is going to happen. Something explosive. Because I believe that no one leaves the Veritas forever. No one. It doesn't happen. And so I have a feeling she'll be back, and we'll both learn to cross that bridge when we get to it.

So that's it. Kind of. And the truth is, I honestly am angry at her right now. Can I really blame her for what happened? No. The final fight was my fault. But I was angry at her about something, and that's what led up to it. I still don't regret it. Nevertheless, I still wonder what would have happened if it turned out just a bit differently. Because right now, when someone mentions her or Vengeance I get that sick feeling again. I'm just sick of it. Because as much as I want it to be the past, I can't let go. Not just yet. In the end this is going to lead to something, because I know for a fact she's not gone forever. The real reason I think I'm mad at her is basically that she left. That she didn't care about us enough to stay. That apparently we're not worth it.

It's bullshit. Because you can make time for us. Reese does it, damn it. And she does everything (every activity, that is). And so if you leave us, it's because, once more, you didn't care enough to make it work so that you could stay, even if it was just popping in once every three days or so.

And this leads me to a final conclusion of:

1) She doesn't care

2) Ranting feels good

3) I have way too much crap to get done to stay here ranting. Math homework, here I come...*sighs*

--Ave, ever adamant, yet confuzzled, and with math homework to do

PS--That rant was most likely repetitive and made no sense. Too bad.

Ave Has Been Forced to Update. Yay?

September 10th, 2010

10:10 pm.

On a Friday night.

------------------------

ANYWAYS.

Now that that is done.

I am tired and I want to sleep and I really shouldn't be updating this because I have to do NaNo stuff and I need to sleep and stuffs, but I also need to update this. Ignore the following run-on sentences like the one above, along with the excessive use of caps and many typos. My x key fails...And I haven't gotten to update in forever, so I should.

MOVING ON NOW.

Tomorrow I must finish a oneshot. I may or may not; fifty-fifty chance right now. Flipping back to Wednesday now.

Honestly, I don't remember so much of Wednesday. That means it was good, I guess. So we continue the wonderful story of my life on to Thursday.

Thursday was average, but I got a load of homework. So as soon as I got home, I dawdled for nearly an hour and then started working on homework. I was still doing this at a bit past five. When I fell asleep.

And when I woke up, it was ten-thirty pm. So I was tired. As tired as I am right now. Worse, even, if that's possible, which I guess it must be. Then I woke up and had to actually finish all my work, so I lugged my binders and textbooks and folders downstairs and settled myself on the couch. The only downside to this all was that I had to use the computer for English homework, and so I had to start it up and log on and so Skype started up, and so I got in a conversation with Des, which was nice but not good for me going to sleep and getting homework done. Which I did in the end. Then Desy fell asleep on me. *glares, then stops*

OH WAIT I REMEMBER WEDNESDAY NOW.

Okay, so the main part of Wednesday was one big problem. The problem goes by the name of contact lenses. My eyes were too dry when I put them in, and the lenses were too dry. They did not properly stick to my eye, and everything was blurry and stuffs. By the middle of the school day, me sitting next to a window or fan in nearly every class had resulted in uber dry lenses and my near blindness. Whenever I blinked, everything was blurry. So then I got to lunch. I figured I would eat and then run to my locker and put in eye drops I had in my bag. But of course, this wonderful plan didn't work, with my luck.

Because as I was eating, I blinked the freaking lens out. *fumes*

So then I got permission and left lunch and went to my locker and got the case and my contact solution, and went to the bathroom. Multiple times I tried to poke it in and couldn't make it stay. Then, next thing I know, the other one falls out. Onto the filthy public restroom floor. So then I just put them in the case and put on my glasses for the rest of the day. And that was my Wednesday.

And my Thursday is up there.

My Friday? It was...normal. Good. Nice. Fun, even. I liked it.

EXCEPT NOW I AM PANICKING.

Due to yesterday's sleeping, the schedule is failing. Tomorrow I must finish Hence, My Domain. MUST. Or else bad things happen. Bad things. And I have to catch up on an hour and a half of NaNo planning. And now a character profile I was supposed to do today. And an extra half hour for NaNo from Monday.

I FAIL.

And you know what else I need to do? Watch Miracle. I need to. NEED. Don't ask why. *shrugs*

Also, tomorrow I am supposed to do an hour of OTP planning. Homework due Monday as well, though not as much. And sleep. Must sleep. Lots.

Basically:

1) Two hours of NaNo planning
2) Hence, My Domain
3) One hour of OTP planning
4) Character Profiles
5) Homework
6) Studying
7) Watch Miracle

In that order.

So now my to-do list has a to-do list to getting it done. *shrugs*

--Ave, tired and having oh-so-much to do

An Actual Update

September 7th, 2010

9:08 pm.

On a Tuesday night.

---------

Today was the first day of school. Not all my classes were the greatest. I expected this. But only one is truly horrendous.

Spanish, which last year sucked, this year promises to be semi-good. I know barely anyone in my ELA class, but I do have one friend in there who I can work with on stuff, so I'm good. My math class . . . on this topic I have many opinions. The class is jam packed full of people. There are a ton of us, and honestly, I can't remember most of them. Some I don't like. One is one of my best friends in the entire world. Some are nice, some are cool, some I could take or leave. They're a wild card, but with the course we're taking this year, I expect us to really be working on a lot and for me to not have time to be concerned who's actually in the class.

Science is the only class I am truly sorta dreading. I don't know a lot of people, and even though aforementioned close best friend is in that class, there are also a lot of people I don't like that are also in that class. Science also promises to be tough, though, so I would think we could just really focus on that and the people wouldn't matter. Except this teacher is kind of a goof and I have the feeling it may matter. *worries* But I always have my bestie of sorts . . .

Gym and lunch are awesome. Yes, me liking gym! It's amazing! But it's more of me liking the people there *coughBESTIEcough*. And my lunch involves all four of my besties, although since one is of the male gender he doesn't like sitting with us in front of his idiotic friends. *rolls eyes* But I don't blame him. At my school, if a boy and a girl are seen together it is assumed that this is because they are dating. So he gets let off the hook.

After lunch I have some sort of home ec class with the fourth of my besties (the only class we've ever been in together besides lunch) and that seems okay. Then the horror known as science. And so forth. Any classes I didn't cover?

HISTORY. That's what. *smacks self* My history class is . . . truth be told, I also know next to none of them. And the two I have been put in a group with I do not like, and they do not seem to want to put any effort into anything. *prays for seat change soon* I mean, there are select people in the class I even know (although most of those I would sit with), let alone that I consider friends. So this year shall be interesting, although the teacher (who is also very strict, so we may spend more time focusing on the work then other stuff with my annoying peers *prays*) already likes me because I am the only one in the class, and apparently all day, who knew that Fort Sumter was the first battle of the American Civil War. *has party*

So, moving on from school.

The schedule is doing good. I have to catch up on half an hour of NaNo planning, though. Working on the plot, that is. The to-do list I made earlier is complete, and after this all I have to do is make a character profile. This may sound like something I can not achieve in an hour, but I think I can, considering that I mostly have to make up the character's history and bits of personality and maybe a few things he did often and liked, since I kill him off right in the beginning. And if I have to I'm staying up until eleven. I just need to stay on track with this schedule and sleep later. Not now. If I have to stay up until two am tonight to get this thing done, I swear I will. But I know it won't take that long. *happiness*

Either way, the schedule is on track, as long as I finish HMD tomorrow, which I think I will. Hopefully. So tomorrow I can not be lazy when I get home like I was today. And make up that half hour or so of NaNo planning, which I can do. Easily. See, I can get the schedule done on time. I know I am capable of it. I just can't procrastinate. This is something I must learn. Well.

And that is it for now, I think. Just as soon as a make yet another list.

Things Ave Has to Get Done on Wednesday

1) Homework, if any
2) Get school supplies that are still needed
3) Finish HMD
4) One half hour of NaNoWriMo planning
5) Another character profile

See, this can easily be done. If I apply myself. Which I will.

--Ave, who is making herself conform to the schedule for once

Procrastinaton, You're Dead. Deal with It.

I really want to find the person and stab them through their neck with a fork.

But I can't. For three main reasons:

1) I don't know exactly where they live.

2) Murder is bad, and gets me arrested.

3) I have to much other shit to get done and no time to spare to kill them

Sadly enough, three is the main reason. In fact, I have so much to get done that I'm just updating this quickly while MS Word starts up, and then once I work on H,MD, I'll write another post. So in an hour or so.

Before I go to bed tonight I have to:

Update this, and actually update, not just this.
Shower.
Work on HMD.
Do a character profile for NaNo.
Get everything ready for school tomorrow.
Do history homework, which is brief.
And if I'm lucky, I get to do some other planning for NaNo, for the plot.

I will get all of this done. If I do not, I will not sleep. And I still have two more hours on the computer. But no more BS. And I have to stick to that damn schedule I made. Otherwise, I'm screwed.

No more procrastination. Until Sunday after next, I will not procrastinate. I swear it.

--Ave, who shall be back later