Misadventures in the Kitchen, Week FOUR

The recipe: CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIE BARS

And get this: I made them to take to a PARTY. An actual, honest-to-goodness party! A social event! Me!!!! Your little Cheesy's all grown up. *sniff*

Pros:
Chocolate.
Chip.
Cookie.
Bars.
Plus, my arm muscles are all buff thanks to the manual stirring I had to do!

Cons:
It took forever to mix because my mom didn't feel like letting me use the KitchenAid power mixer. Grr.
....it had chocolate. That outweighs just about every con you could possibly imagine (except for the lack of an electronic mixer)!!!

They were a semi-moderate hit among the four people who ended up attending the party! (Just to clarify, 6 people in my French class all planned to get together to watch La Vie En Rose for our "culture credit." 2 of them didn't show. Sucks for them.) Considering my cookie bars' rivals were a bag of Lays Baked Potato Chips, 32 bags of movie-theater-style popcorn, and some Halloween cookies, I take this to be a significant triumph.

Happy Halloween to my not so cheesy blog-followers!

How'd We End Up This Way, See Me Nervously Pulling At My Clothes And Trying To Look Busy? And You're Doing Your Best To AVOID ME...

...I thought that no matter what happened, The Fray would always be right. You know, "He will do one of two things, he will admit to everything or he'll say he's just not the same and you'll begin to wonder why you came." How To Save A Life, anyone? (Loving that song right now. It is PERFECT. I think The Fray is really just a group of musically gifted psychics who had foreseen this exact same thing happening to me.)

They must have forgotten about the third option.

I'm talkin' absolute, blatantly obvious AVOIDANCE.

Wednesday:
"Hey BGF, will you meet me in the band room? I have to talk to you."
"Sure, okay."

He doesn't come. I think, "Oh, I asked him at like, 7 in the morning. He was probably 75% asleep and just forgot."

So.
Thursday:
"Hey BGF, will you meet me in the band room during our TA time?"
"Yeah, I think I can do that."

He doesn't come. I think, "WTF?!"

So.
Friday:
"HEY BGF, WHEN I SAY 'COME TO THE BAND ROOM DURING TA TIME,' I ACTUALLY MEAN 'COME TO THE BAND ROOM DURING TA TIME!!!!'"
"Why? I don't see the point. I never get around there anyway, and it's a lot of fun in the conference room with [all his friends], and I don't get why you can't just talk to me here!" (this is said in a tone of utter annoyance, BTW)

....

....

I am still trying to process this, just so you know.

Here's what I've managed to grasp so far:
- he is terrified of a confrontation
- I am determined to confront him
- I am so determined, I ended up crying at school. During TA time. When he was not there.
- I don't know what to do now. My plan was for the rest of my life to fall into place according to whichever one of the two options mentioned by The Fray he picked!

What do I do now?! I HAVE TO talk to him! Je dois parler à mon joueur de piano! I need this conversation to happen. And...I have no clue how to proceed.

Not.

A.

Clue.

Clock Keeps Ticking, Time Is Running Out. Where We're Headed, There Is No Heading Back...

ONE MORE DAY.

A matter of mere hours, in fact.

My friendship is hanging by a thread, and everything will be determined tomorrow. *gulp*

Assuming I can find a way to get him to talk to me. I think I can. Yup. Probably.

Cuss Count: I'm pretty sure it's 15 now, but I left my French binder in my locker, so I may be off by a number or two either way.

Too freaked to blog more. Goodnight everyone! WISH ME LUCK!

Lights Will Guide You Home And Ignite Your Bones, And I Will Try-y-y-y To Fix You.

Maybe? If I get my chance to do that. Right now I'm still at the stage of "OH MY GOSH SOONER OR LATER I'M GOING TO TALK TO HIM AND AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH THERE'S STILL TIME TO BACK OUT BUT AT THE SAME TIME THERE ISN'T."

I hate waiting. I'm not very patient. This is especially difficult to sit back and think about, because I JUST WANT TO KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN WITH US.

We've been together for four years. Friends for two. Fake "item" for about 6 months. Awkward ex-friends for...a while now. I can't take it anymore. Nothing happened today.

I told him I had to talk to him. He looked terrified, like he was thinking "OH LORD HAVE MERCY PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DON'T UNLEASH THE BIG CHEESE ON ME!"

It scared me. He's never looked afraid in front of me before. This is not a good start. Or end.

But start or finish, either way would be better than this awkward rut.

Whether the road ends here, or if we're finally getting back on the freeway, we can't be stalled for much longer. (That was my first car metaphor! Ever!!!)

P.S. The Cuss Count is at 11. I imagine she swore FAR  more than 2 times today, but we spent most of the period walking around the classroom separately, asking people "J'aime ou je n'aime pas _______?" Bottom line, I only witnessed two.

I Pray Your Brakes Go Out Running Down A Hill, I Pray A Flowerpot Falls From A Window Sill And Knocks You In The Head Like I'd Like To

*rages*

*throws something*

*kicks something*

*screams*

HE IS SUCH A DUMBO HEAD! Even his feet subconciously hate me. (I'm serious. Really. I moved my foot - without even really thinking about it! - SLIGHTLY towards his feet, and he MOVES THEM.)

Feet. Weather. Everything is getting worse and worse. Is there a reason I can't just be happy?! Is there a reason that I can't have any successful long-term relationships? Or even a SHORT TERM RELATIONSHIP, FOR THAT MATTER! I blame my stupid genetics. And my big hair.

And my crankiness.

And my messed up family.

And my friends, who are suddenly not so friendly anymore.

And my soccer team, who can't pull it together enough to win ONE game.

But mostly just my personality. What about me is it that just yells "I'M A FRIEND, JUST A FRIEND, FOREVER A FRIEND, ONLY A SARCASTIC FRIEND, NOT GIRLFRIEND MATERIAL!!!"?

Because I swear, I am NOT aiming for that! Is it so wrong to want somebody to love me? I love having my friends, but sometimes I just feel like it isn't enough. I want someone to hug me for a long time! I want somebody to hold my perpetually cold hands in the hall and make me feel like I'm a good person. I want him to smile his big smile at me, walk me to class like he used to, and text me just to say I'm on his mind.

Maybe that's aiming too high for right now. So I'd just ask for him to look at me when I manage to force a sentence out of him, or for him to hold the door once or twice. Anything. Anything besides a cold stare and an icy demeanor.

I know it could be worse. I really do. Overall, I guess I'm lucky. But it doesn't feel like it right now. All I wanted was my friend back, and all I got was an even more broken heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

P.S. Cuss Count is STILL at 9. Seat Partner kept it remarkably G-rated today! Or maybe I just missed her language while I felt like crying my eyes out. :'(

You Got Me On My Knees, Piano PlayUH! I'm Begging Darling, Please Learn The Song For Me!

Er...that post title might not have gone the best parody-wise. The song is Eric Clapton's (via Derek and the Dominos) awesomesauce song Layla, and...well...just imagine "Piano player" sounding like "Layla." Okay? Okay! I think it's easier to imagine it if you're listening to the song.

I want him to play me the piano solo of that. It's soooo...him. When I hear it, it's just like, the whole world is...fine again. It's calming, and beautiful, and it's just one of the most amazingly perfect song sections I've ever heard. I wonder if he'd learn it for me if I told him it was what I wanted for my birthday...

Would that be creepy? Um...don't answer that.

I would like to take this opportunity to apologize for my cranky post a couple of days ago. I was in a SUPER bad mood, my whole life was spiralling kind of out of control, and I was soooo exhausted. I had no right to take my crabbiness out on you, and I'm really sorry for writing in such a nasty tone. I've told you before, and I'll say it again: I'm lucky to have you guys in my life. I always appreciate you, and you're so accepting and helpful to me when I need you to be there. Thanks guys :)

<3

Cheesy

P.S. After today, our Cuss Count is now at 9 (no French class on Wednesdays, or else we'd have hit double digits FO SHO). It'd probably be more, but today she made up a bunch of new words and I wasn't quite sure if they were intended to be profane or not. Stay tuned!

Rocket Man, I Think It's Gonna Be A Long, Long Time (Until I'm Happy Again)

Our Cuss Count is at 6.

I am tired. I am cranky. I do not want to touch another damn cardboard box in my whole entire life.

THE CUSS COUNT IS AT SIX, SO DEAL WITH IT, AND IF YOU'RE NICE AND I'M NOT TIRED (DON'T BET ON IT) I'LL WRITE YOU A NICE POST TOMORROW.

If You Want It, Here It Is. Come And Get It.

Unfortunately, Adi's advice didn't work. I found the cord thingy, then I plugged it into my computer, except it couldn't locate the software. Psh. So instead of a regular cell-phone-bad-quality picture, you are getting an ULTRA bad-quality pic, taken OF the picture on my phone BY my camera.

Sorry. It's supposed to look like a quesadilla, and not a mushy, raw hamburger.

Something's Telling Me To Leave It Alone, 'Cause I'm Damned If I Do Ya, Damned If I Don't!

First off, I've got to thank all of you for your support, and letting me vent to you about all my issues. You are all so amazing, and I know I'm super lucky to have you guys in my life. Y'all are the only ones keeping me from going crazy (er), since I have successfully managed to trick EVERYONE ELSE in my life into thinking I don't love him anymore. If I couldn't tell you guys what's happening, I think I might just explode with the conflicting emotions. So thanks. And now....

NO. NO. NO NO NO NO NO. Just....no. You know what he's doing?! He's doing that damn* boy thing! You know...when they break your heart, then trample it into a million tiny (sharp!) pieces, and you make every effort to not love them anymore. And THEN they go back to how they used to be. Even if it's just for a few minutes and you're too afraid to push it farther, you still lose every little bit of your willpower. Why do they do that?! Why did he do that?!

*headdesk*

I deserve better than the jerky loser he's been lately, that's true. But...(insert Smelly Belly moment) he didn't change. He just acted like he changed. But underneath....underneath....he's still the same. He's the same sweetheart he's always been. More bluntly, he's the same sweetheart I cannot get OVER. :P

NO! UGH!

We're lucky the ozone layer is tougher than me, otherwise we would've been fried eons ago.


*If any of you were wondering, my French class Cuss Count has been at 0 all week, since my dear old seat partner is on vacation in Nebraska. Thank goodness she took her f***ing language with her, right? :)

How Are You So Strong? What's It Like To Feel So Free? Your Love, A Complete Mystery To Me...

He didn't speak to me at all today. Not a single word.

Bracing Myself For The Goodbye, Because That's All I've Ever Expected

It obviously doesn't make a difference if I like him or not. He hates me. He doesn't tolerate being around me. He deliberately attempts to get away from me whenever possible. I am so sick of this.

I used to be the one he'd tell random stuff to. That's the only way I ever found out I wasn't the only person in the world who sometimes practices violin in their bathroom.

Now I have to practically pry words out of his mouth. All for a "Hello" or an awkward "So."
We used to be "THE NON-COUPLE." You know, the two people who are so close, everyone THINKS they're *together*, even when they're actually not. That was me and him. This time last year, that's what we were. And now, if you hadn't heard my heart break, you'd think we were total strangers.

I deserve better.

I deserve better than him.

I need to get over him and fall this hard for someone who won't break my heart (for a first).

I shouldn't have to go through this.

He was my friend, but now he's just some bastard who makes me miserable.

*sigh* How can a Taylor Swift song be so depressing?

She sings
"You are the best thing that's ever been mine"
I hear
"He is the best thing that's never been mine"

She sings
"Brace myself for the goodbye because that's all I've ever known
Then you took me by surprise, you said 'I'll never leave you alone.'"
I hear
"Gotta brace myself for the goodbye, because that's all I've ever expected.
He won't take me by surprise, because life is not a fairy tale unless you have curly hair and a recording contract."

Bracing....bracing....bracing....

Misadventures in the Kitchen, Week THREE

The recipe I made for lunch today is none other than the one, the ONLY.....

Quesadilla!

Sadly, I forgot to bring my camera with me while I made the food, so I compensated by taking several pictures with my phone. Due to....well, I don't actually know because I'm generally technologically inept, but...due to some weird thing I don't get, I can't import the photos from my phone to my computer. And you are all left disappointed, I'm sure. Sorry about that. Hopefully I'll figure it out sometime soon, and I can update the post with visual PROOF that I did indeed cook the quesadilla.

In lieu of a picture, I shall simply describe its appearance to you, so that you may imagine it however you please. It was brown. (I felt like being healthy, so in order to counteract the large amount of butter I stuck in the frying pan, I used a whole wheat tortilla.) Since it was brown, I couldn't really tell when it was all the way done cooking, so I pretty much kept uncovering the cheese to see if it was melted. Looking back on it, that was probably not the best move, and I imagine it interrupted the cooking process in several different ways.

Pros:
Fast and pretty easy, so the hungry teenager didn't have to sit around and starve
I learned something new! Today, I learned that some tortillas are made with lard, but not the kind I used today!

Cons:
My hands were all greasy after I ate it, because I used an awful lot of butter, and I guess it didn't even get all the way saturated.
I have to wash the stupid pan now.

Again, I'm really sorry I don't have a picture for you guys, but I'll consult my Asian BFFs and have them explain how the cell phone ---> computer importing relationship works. And with any luck, y'all will get a picture pretty soon.

I Just Wanna Sleep, I Just Wanna Dream (But That Stupid Alarm Keeps Going Off And Driving Me Nuts)

I haven't slept through the night for a long time. And when a teenager only gets about 7.5 hours of sleep, they can't AFFORD to spend any minute of it awake! Regrettably, that's what's been going on.

You see, our stupid alarm system keeps beeping. Not going off or anything, just beeping for no particular reason. In the middle of the night. It's loud enough to wake me, but not too loud for me to go back to sleep...for about an hour. Then the process starts over. And you might say, "Come on, Cheese, all you have to do is just get up and turn it off!" Maybe that's true. But when it's ONE A.M. and I'm exhausted, I don't want to get up out of my nice warm bed to go shut off the dumb alarm! It doesn't bug anyone else in my house because they can't hear it, so I am on my own.

I fell asleep in science. I never sleep in class. Ever. Especially in science, where I don't trust the classmates that could potentially have sharpies. But today, I fell asleep. I know because all of a sudden my teacher's voice got super loud. You know how when you jolt awake, everything suddenly gets really clear and...loud? Well, that happened. So I'm pretty sure I was asleep. Thankfully, it was only for a few seconds, and nobody seemed to notice. What if this happens again, and it actually matters?! What if they notice, and get out their sharpies?! I LIKE MY FACE ABOUT AS MUCH AS A TEENAGE GIRL POSSIBLY CAN, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

And how am I supposed to have energy for my *counts* un, deux, trois, quatre, CINQ after-school activities if I don't sleep through the night?! This is all really overwhelming right now, and I'm just going to go have a breakdown from the exhaustion. BYE. *sobs*

You're So Vain, You Probably Think This Post Is About Your Word Choice

My French class switched seats. And starting Thursday (there is no French class on Wednesdays), I will be keeping an ongoing tally of the times my seat partner swears. REALLY. Every. Other. Sentence. Is "FU, B****! Daaaaaamn!"

When you are given beautiful, beautiful words in the English language such as obliterate, serendipitous, affection, contemplate, and chocolate, why the **** would anyone want to use profanity with such abundance? And when you're taking FRENCH, you get just as many wonderful words, only with l'accent aigus and other weird...annotations of letters. I don't know how to say it. L'accent this, l'accent that. There are a lot of different markings for letters. Ugh, go take a French class. I suck at explaining.

Except for math, apparently. (Hi Hannah!)

Er, the point is that she is an uneducated moron who should go back and take English 101 before trying to learn ANOTHER language.

*in Sixth-Sense voice*

I SEE DUMB PEOPLE. o_O

Blogging The Golden Compass, Part 3

Aaaaaand, we're back. Thanks for your patience!

The beginning of this chapter is mostly background info.
Yeah, yeah, yeah...we get it. Lyra lives at Jordan College, the biggest, best, most awesomesauce college in the history of their wacko world. *sarcasm hand* But like everybody else with a schweet crib, Lyra spends her time dashing across the roof and otherwise not appreciating her nice home. She likes spitting stuff with her homie, Roger, making alliances with other college kids, and being enemies with the less-fortunate town children.

This petty battlefield is Lyra's playground, and she happily goes around acting superior to all the other kids. Sometimes her forever-buddy Lord Asriel comes to visit, and he stares at her while she recites everything she's learned since he last came.

Philip Pullman makes an abrupt plot-o-matic U-turn, and starts talking about how children have been disappearing. He begins to describe an example of a kidnapping, and this story features a boy named Tony, and a woman who is even more of a creepy pedophile than our hero Lord Asriel. This woman is part of a group called "The Gobblers," (who wants to bet Lord Asriel is president of the organization?!) and her daemon (I am STILL waiting to hear what that word even means!) is a golden monkey. And with that, we return to Lyra's easy-peasy life.

"Let's play kids and Gobblers!" Lyra shouts enthusiastically to her one and only friend, Roger. He is apparently her slave by now, and would do anything for her. I see... Roger: Lyra = Lyra: Lord Schmexypants Asriel. Poor, poor Roger. Maybe if he were 40 years older, a few bajillion bucks richer, and RELATED TO HER, Lyra would notice him.

Later on, Lyra and her kitchen friends go to the horse fair together, and things get interesting when one of her gyptian frenemies, Billy Costa, gets kidnapped by the Gobblers. Suddenly, Lyra's little game isn't so fun anymore. She searches all over for the gyptian kid, then realizes OHMIGOD NOOOO ROGER'S GONE TOO!

She throws a temper tantrum that probably resembles something Smelly Belly would do if she had half a brain and/or was able to show an ounce of emotion. Lyra darts up to the roof, where she and *snicker* Pantalaimon have a nice chat. She decides she wants to save Roger *insert eye roll here* and, in a typical Pantalaimon fashion, he discourages her by saying it'll be dangerous.

Lyra must temporarily stop her plotting while the housekeeper, Mrs. Lonsdale, screams at her for getting all her clothes dirty and just generally being a slob. She has been summoned (summoned, I say!) by THE MASTER to dine with him and his BFFs. Lyra attempts to be polite while she shakes hands, and the final guest she meets is a gorgeous woman named Mrs. Coulter, whose daemon (get this!) is nothing other than....a golden monkey.

Prediction:
The gyptians storm the college in search of Billy Costa, Mrs. Lonsdale throws all of Lyra's filthy shoes off of the sacred roof, and Lord Asriel and Mrs. Coulter meet up to officiate the next meeting of Pedophiles Anonymous.

Lord Asriel: We'd like to welcome our newest member to Pedophiles Anonymous. What's your name, dearie?
Mrs. Coulter: I'm Mrs. Coulter, and I'm a pedophile.
General assembly: Hi, Mrs. Coulter.
Lord Asriel: Let's begin. Who would like to share the progress they made this week?
Pedophile #17: Well, I was walking into the mall, and I saw this kid with the hottest pair of gloves, and then I just had to go closer, and one thing led to another and-
Quil: *barges in* Uh....
General assembly: Hi, Quil. About time you showed up.

CRAP I SUDDENLY HAVE TO VACATE THE COMPUTER AND YOU AREN'T GETTING AN AWESOME TITLE. SORRY.

My apologies, everyone...but there will be no Blogging The Golden Compass tonight. I have a MASSIVELY IMPORTANT (that's caps-lock important, people!) seating audition tomorrow, and I have like, 2 hours to learn the (really high and squeaky) music. This week has been kind of hectic, and earlier today I had a different super duperly important audition, of which I will not know the results until the 15th. Of (wait for it...) November. This is going to drive me banaaaaaanaaaaas.

On top of all that violinist nerdiness, I can't really stay up to work on my book blogging because my creative flow will be stifled probably around 10, when the parental units attempt to force me to go to bed. :P

And Adi...which stage of grief have I not hit yet? Are you talking this time around, or my all-time on-again/off-again crush? Because I'm pretty sure I've hit every single stage in the long run. Oh wait...I don't remember if I've ever bargained anything if I could maybe just NOT OBSESS ABOUT HIS TONED CALF MUSCLES OR HIS NICE TAN FOREARMS. No time like the present, though...right?

Hey, whoever I'm bargaining with!

I will give you a goose who lays golden eggs if you will let me not want to hug him every minute he's in my sight.

I will not use the phrase "you know" (which I have noticed I do obsessively while I'm speaking) for a whole gosh-darn week if you find a way for me to listen to a love song and not start daydreaming about him.

I will love somebody else instead if you give me a reason to get over him, because quite honestly, I can't find one on my own. That boy has NO SIGNIFICANT FLAWS.

Sure, his lips are chapped...but they're still kissable.

He's said he never wants to go to the homecoming dance....but I'm silly enough to think I can somehow change his mind about that...

...If he'd just love me.