Wednesday, March 26, 2008


(A side note: I normally detest titles where everything is capitalized, but "Genius burns" in lower case might as well be "Genius bums.")

Don't you hate those times when a story is bubbling and boiling up inside of your brain? It's slowly taking shape, similar to cookies baking in the oven. No amount of pleading, writing, or thinking will get it to come out any good before it's nice and ready.

Good story ideas usually float around in my head for a long, long while. I sometimes start to write them out, but then they end up half-written in some Jo-forsaken notebook until I look at it pityingly a year later and say, "Oh, you poor dear. Where was I going with you?"

For the past couple months, this Thing has been creeping at the edges of my conscious. And, like most ideas, it's changed forms a fair few times. It was indeed a joyous occasion today when I finally got the breakthrough I needed. Unfortunately, it was while I was at work. Fortunately, the day was really slow so I was able to grab a few sheets of paper and start scribbling.

Then I consulted my wing-man, Amy, because she really is the genius behind my stories. She asks me the hard questions that I normally wouldn't ask myself, and gives me mind-boggling ideas.

I haven't yet decided if I'm going to post my story. I'll probably have to finish it first. Which I should probably go do right now...

Monday, March 24, 2008

A smörgåsbord of randomity

I haven't got anything good to write. Really. Truly. It's one of those days when my brain is all fuzzy and foggy, but I want to write something. I could give an account of what I did all day; however, the majority of (all three of) you would be bored out of your ever-loving little gray cells. My day could be summed up in 10 words. Are you ready? Here they are:

Sleeping late; eating food; Mansfield Park; working; sinus infection; IdinaMenzel.

It's the first day of my Spring Break, and unlike all normal teenagers (sarcasm, sarcasm), I have naught to do but lounge around on my *ahem* behind all day. I've been toying with the idea of re-doing the basement bathroom, cleaning out our ghetto bus, taking a refreshing walk to the cemetery, and/or embarking on a huge artistic endeavor.

Such high, high ambitions. I'm sure I'll get around to some of them soon. Just not today.

Truth be told, I was feeling sick and lazy all day. There's this gross headache-thing hanging out behind my nose, which my nurse mother informs me is probably a sinus infection. I didn't feel like doing much of anything except reading.

I did accomplish something today! Aha! I finished Mansfield Park, which I have been chewing on for a few weeks now. It was a pretty good story by itself; the romantic side, for which I always so admire Jane Austen, was lacking, though. During all 409 pages I was waiting for Edmund to suddenly look at Fanny and say, "Why, Fanny! You're so loyal and smart and wonderful! Why the heck am I in love with the shallow Miss Crawford?"

Nope. No gushingingly romantic outbursts or anything. On page 408, he finally realizes that he loves Fanny. That's it. A whole 408 pages of prepping, and we don't even get so much as a Darcy-worthy proposal.

But other than that, it was a good book. I really like Fanny. She's a good, solid heroine with brains and compassion. I also admire that she's not cheeky or outspoken. Fanny's a good role model for the more quiet Austen fans. Not my favorite Jane Austen novel (Emma and Pride and Prejudice still hold my heart), but worth my time. It was definitely better than "The Homecoming Queen who Stole my Boyfriend" or "Bad Girls in Love" (yes, that is an actual title of an actual teen-trash book).

The day went out with a nice Idina bang. My family watched "Enchanted" for family night. Ahhh, quality entertainment. If you haven't seen it, you simply must. No ifs ands or buts. It's ingenious, I tell you, INGENIOUS! It makes fun of fairy tales, but unlike "Shrek" (which, side note, they're making into a Broadway musical and Sutton Foster is playing Fiona), the ending makes you go "Awww! That's so cute!" instead of "I heard more flatulence jokes in the past hour and a half than I have in my whole life."

Amy Adams plays the innocent princess role perfectly. James Marsden is so hot (albeit really, really clueless) that it hurts. Poor Timothy Spall (Peter Pettigrew, Mr. Poe) always seems to get the pitiful moron roles, but at least in this one he stands up for himself. Marmee (Susan Sarandon) plays the evil queen; I couldn't quite get past that. And it doesn't hurt that Idina Menzel plays what's-his-face's fiance, thus making me grin every time she was on screen. "Hey, girlfriend! Ready to kick it?" "Kick what?"

Hee hee hee. At the end when Marmee-as-the-dragon captures what's-his-toes and takes him to the top of the building, I always expect Idina to grab her broom and fly up after her. Now THAT would make it truly perfect.

Monday, March 17, 2008

When I take over the world

I know that I've shared this plan with just about everyone I come in contact with, but I'm posting it anyway. You know; in case some politician who has run out of ideas for bills and laws and the like is randomly reading my blog. I like to be prepared.

When I take over the world, I think that by age 14 most people have the ability to decide what they want to do for their career. Therefore, if you know what you want to do, you can pick the appropriate job field. That way if you want to do something mathy and sciencey, you can study math and science to your heart's content.

And if, like me, you think that science is detestable and utterly irrelevant to what you want to do (psychology/acting), you don't have to take it! Huzzah!

(This is only one of the things that I would change. Another is making it a law that being stupid is a federal offense.)

The reasons I'm posting this now is that I'm trying to figure out redox reaction stuff. Chemistry is hard. I probably should have started it sooner... >.< Oh well.

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

The magic of a shake, a friend, and a handicap parking spot

I have and have had some amazing friends in my life. You know the sort; they'll drop absolutely everything to listen to you whine, gripe, and cry. They come in the form of friends, siblings, and, in my case, YW leaders. Melissa Allred is this amazing soul who would talk with me for half an hour after our activity was done. (She got released, which broke my heart.)

Honestly, it took me a while to understand why they do it. Did my parents pay them extra to make sure I stayed emotionally healthy? Or did they think of me as some service?

I got it all figured it out yesterday. Let me tell you a little story:

So, I have this amazingly wonderful friend named Korinne Ivory. Korinne is fantastic. She's sweet and she's smart and all the guys are in love with her (much to her chagrin; most of them are scary). Yesterday, I was talking to Korinne and she was having a baaaad day. She has this gianormous essay due and life was just stressful stressful stressful.

My thoughts whizzed at top speed. What do I like most when I am stressed? Ice cream! "Okay, I'll take her a shake," I said to myself. But then I realized the other thing I want most when I'm stressed; someone to vent to. Thus I invited Korinne to come get a shake with me, and then we'd just talk for a long while.

I picked her up in my little green car, and we got shakes from Riley's. Then we drove to WJ City Park and I parked in a handicap parking lot because I've never done that before and no one was there.

And we just talked. We talked about taco tape, boys, school, everything and ate our shakes with delicious enjoyment. And you know what? I figured out why all those amazing people in my life would take the time to talk to me and occasionally buy me shakes and things:

They love me. What I felt last night was pure, unadulterated affection and love for my friend. I genuinely wanted to make her life less hard, so I did it in my own special way.

It's a good feeling to love and be loved.

Saturday, March 8, 2008

I could cry

I just got home from seeing "Little Women" for the second night in a row. (Yes, the one I auditioned for.) I want to cry. It was really good! Beth made me cry my eyeballs out; Amy was hysterical: Meg was good good good; Laurie was perfect; Marmee was believable; and Professor Bhaer was...sweaty. And old. Oh well. "The Weekly Volcano Press" cracked me up.

And Jo? Well... Uh... She... had a really amazing voice! It was really really pitch perfect. She just didn't... belt where she was supposed to. And she would miss her pick-up notes and rush the stanzas. And... there was no passion.

Oh, she tried. I could feel her trying. But it never translated properly. A Jo without passion is like a baby without its cuteness. It's M&Ms without chocolate. It's a Mormon gathering event sans the funeral potatoes. It just doesn't feel right.It was really funny, though; (not "ha-ha" funny, but "whoa, that's ironic" funny) I normally never cry when Beth dies. This time, though, it was like the floodgates were busted open. I couldn't stop myself.

I do, however, usually bawl my eyes out when Jo is in the throes of depression and Marmee is singing to her and Jo puts up this wall and won't let anyone in... It's terribly tragic. This time, though, I didn't feel it. It was all kinda forced.

Altogether, not a bad way to spend two nights and $10. And it left me aching to be in a show. I want it so bad! Unfortunately, the only auditions coming up that I know of are for "State Fair." Whoopee. Rodgers and Hammerstein's forgotten musical that no one has heard about, not even me, despite being a musical addict. We'll see how that one goes.

Tuesday, March 4, 2008

The Why Museum

I'm a nerd for museums. If it's full of stuffed junk, old junk, or interesting junk, I'm all over it. Today, I was thinking of all the times as a child I asked my parents or an adult a question like, "Why should I eat my vegetables?" and they would answer, "Because I said so" or give some non-applicable answer. (Little kids have a hard time believing anything that they can't see or remember directly, unless it's urban legends. Children have a genius for remembering blatant lies.)

So when I grow up, I'm going to found "The Why Museum." It'll be full of pictures and other hands-on things that explain the "why" to every rule, like seatbelts and vegetables. Sure, it might be scarring for a little kid to see the mangled body of someone who didn't wear their seatbelt, but it'll be more effective in persuading them to buckle up than a vague story a parent whipped out to stop the arguing.

It wouldn't just be for teeny tiny kids, either. Teenagers would be definitely welcome to see what happens to the morons who text and drive, the morons who drink and drive, and the unfortunate souls who mess around with their significant other and get in trouble.

I'm hoping it'll be like the Holocaust Museum; people will come out shell-shocked, but at the same time they'll want to change the future based on what they've seen.