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Category Archives: My Life

Just stories from my life

Frakking guilt trips….

So, yes, I know we barely see/talk to each other. We go to school in different provinces, for god’s sake, and, well, I hate talking to people. Which is why I never do.

So, of course, if I never talk to people, then why should I keep MSN and Skype open? All they do is take up my precious RAM, anyway, and I need that for my torrents, and my TV, and my internet! Oh, and sometimes my homework…I guess…

I get that some people like talking to other people. I get that some people feel that, in order to stay friends, there must be consistent communication.

But I’m not like that.

Do you know why I avoid talking to people “back home” while I’m away?

It’s because I’m socially awkward and slow. When I talk to people one on one, there are usually many, and I mean many awkward silences. So, I avoid talking and sharing when I’m not face to face, so that when we are face to face, I have more stories to tell, less silences to deal with.

I mean, I get you…more or less. But I try to understand you, and why you tick. And, within my comfort zone, I try to accommodate that. After all, I accept your invites to go out whenever we’re in the same city, don’t I? If I had things my way, I might just stay home all the time…

So, in that view, could you please stop guilt tripping me? Every time I see you, every time we talk, you always, always put on your whining voice at least once, and complain that we never talk, that I’m never online, that you miss me, yada yada, and you look at me like a crying puppy.

Of course, you know that I don’t talk to anyone…at least, unless they start the convo. I’ve told you that. Many times. But you, with all your delusions of importance, don’t accept that like other people. Still, you whine and repeat that I never talk to you, emphasis on you; despite it all, you still act like I talk to everyone else in the world and ignore you on purpose.You force me to half-heartedly explain to you that I never have Skype open, I’m never signed into MSN…I don’t talk to anyone!

But nooo…isntead of giving me some leeway like normal people, you continue whining, and moping. Ugh.

You try to make me feel bad for being an introvert. You try to make me feel bad for for being a shut-in. Do you realize how…mean that is?! It’s like trying to make a Poodle feel bad for not being a Labrador Retriever. And you know the saddest part? You are slightly successful.

On the other hand, if I tell you all this, you will probably either get mad, or get even mopey-er…yeah, like I will ever let that happen. I shudder simply to think of it…

I’m stuck in this damn Catch-22, and it’s all your frakking fault.

I hate my friends sometimes…







Okay, so a minute ago, I was excited, I was ecstatic, I was…well, I wanted to laugh and shout with glee, but my roommate was sleeping, so…anyway, to sum up, a minute ago, I was happy. Now? Not so much…

The season finale of Fringe was amazing, to say the least. I mean, alternate universes, evil-genius Walternate, tough-gal Brunette-Bangsy McCoy (aka. alt-Olivia), Agent on Agent action (the violent kind, I mean…not…you know…)…it was all spectacular. It was all, in a word, awesome. Not many episodes of TV can excite me the point of wanting to yell at the TV. Really.

It was a superb episode; Olivia and Peter finally succumbed to the inevitable sexual tension in a way that didn’t make me gag too much; there was a lot more screentime for Olivia Dunham(s) with reddish-brown hair and bangs, who was, well, I don’t think anyone would argue that she isn’t simply gorgeous with that hairstyle; and, of course, we saw the final appearance of the astounding William Bell (as well as possibly the last on-screen appearance of Leonard Nimoy). But see, after what felt like three hours of silently screaming at the screen “you’ve got the wrong Olivia!!“, the realization finally set in:

See, no matter the quality of any ordinary episode, bad or amazing, at least it would get continued the next week, ya know? My cravings would get their fix in a timely manner. One week, several new episodes every day, I was fine and dandy.

But do you know what time it is? It is time for the dreaded…summer season. That empty vacuum of pointless filler shows; reruns, reality TV, crappy shows with funding that matches their poor quality. In short, during this time, I am horribly, horribly deprived.

And that time is now. *Sigh*

It didn’t really hit me at House’s season finale; that show never pull off a running story arc anyway. I watched 30 Rock’s season finale without batting an eyelash; it was just a sitcom after all. I watched episode 22 of Flashforward’s first and last season; but turns out, it wasn’t actually the finale. I’d been completely blind to the alarming rate at which the Lost series finale was creeping up. But…after that episode of Fringe, that perfect, gripping season finale that left me craving more, it sank in…there was no more. There is no more. There won’t be any more for *sob* another year!

Okay, too depressed. Going to bed now.

Poop. 😦

I mean, I don’t ask for much, really.

I understand that your other priorities are important; after all, they are pretty much all once-in-a-lifetime deals.

And I get that, I do.

But I’m just a simple human.

With simple thoughts.

Who doesn’t ask for much.


It’s really not too much to ask, is it?

I mean, a girl can only hold out for so long, you know?

I give you nothing but love, and if I’ve ever come off as flighty, or ungrateful, or cold, then I’m sorry, truly.

From the bottom of my heart, you must understand that from the moment I laid eyes on you, I’ve felt nothing but love.

Sure, I may have gotten at upset at the things you’ve shown me, or told me, or given me in the past.

But those were nothing, baby, I swear.

Just a fleeting moment, but at the end of it all, I still loved you, completely, totally.

I gave you love, I gave you faith, I memorized all your important numbers, I did it all.

So why do you disappoint me so?

Really, I mean, just because it’s the friggin’ Winter Olympics, doesn’t mean you can just stop releasing new episodes of all my favourite shows all of a sudden, right?

Mark my words, I’m pissed.

And trust me, I won’t be getting over this grudge until February 28th.


“Out of sight, out of mind” doesn’t really work, does it?

I mean, while it is out of mind, it seems nice, because you feel happier, and you start thinking to yourself: “hmm…I think I’m ready to face it now. I’ll be fine, absolutely fine!”.

But it don’t work out that way.

Because while you’ve been hiding, you’re brain’s been busy fooling yourself into thinking that nothing ever happened. It was all just a figment of your imagination, like some TV show you just watched. Then you think you’re dealing, and you’re all better now, but only because you’ve lost the ability to clearly think about reality, and what you “feel better” about is nothing but a fantasy.

And when you take that leap and bring it back, well, it all just goes to hell again, doesn’t it?

It’s 2:30 in the morning, and I can’t sleep.

What am I thinking?

“He’s the Edward Cullen to my puke”, that’s what I’m bloody well thinking.

My hair is giving me a headache. Not because I can’t decide on a style for it or whatever, but because it is so damn heavy.

My hair is, dare I say it, pretty thick, in that I have a lot of it. And it’s pretty long too, hanging down to about my armpits. I keep it in a low ponytail, and right now, it is so heavy that I can feel it pulling on my scalp.

Sometimes, the thought crosses my head that I should cut it; I probably should, seeing as it’s been a year minus about 2 months since it last saw a pair of scissors, but I’m just too lazy. No, not to go to a salon and spend who knows how long getting my head pampered (or so I imagine); no, I cut my own hair.

For a variety of reasons too, not just because it’s too expensive (even though it is), not just because I’m too lazy to find someone to whom I’d trust my long silky locks (not that my hair consists of “silky locks”), or any other reason. No, it’s because I’m lazy about my hair in general. You know how I mentioned that it’s in a low ponytail? Yeah, that’s pretty much my hair every single day, 24/7, except when I’m washing or brushing it. I’m like a cartoon character, you know, who never, ever changes his/her hairstyle, except in Wedding/Birthday Party/Picture Day episodes (and I’m even loathe to do it then).

Now why would I bother spending upwards of $15 (and that’s just at First Choice!) to get my hair all done up prettily when I would end up just throwing it into a ponytail, hmm?

See, these are the questions that keep me up at night.

Well, I just remembered that when I started this blog, I pre-created a tag called “dreams”, probably intending to write down some of my dreams. Well, I just woke up from a nap and a really freaky one. Kinda depressing, actually…so here it goes:

Well, it all start when when this sort of war breaks out in my school. Well, actually, I think it was more of a hostile takeover…actually, it may have actually be a sort of prejudice against a certain category of people throughout the world, bit for the first part of my dream, it’s all contained within my high school. Anyway, is end up with about half of the kids in charge – but they have guns (Yeah, and even though my dream takes place in a school, the teachers aren’t there for some reason).

There’s an us-against-them mentality created, and they take to, well, killing the ones who aren’t on their side – we’re talking what could constitute as genocide, because as I remember, the kids with guns quickly become the majority running around (Probably because everyone has either left, joined them, or gotten caught). Of course, given that it’s my dream, I’m on the side that’s getting gunned down.

At one point, I seemed to be alone, darting around the school, trying to stay alive. Actually, I remember one part where I get into the schhool’s kitchen, and I decided to hide inside an oven (it was some sort of coffin=sized drawer-type oven, stay with me!) overnight to avoid getting found.

Oh, and there’s one point where I overhear one of their meetings, where they discuss their almost propaganda-like ideals (oddly enough, I think Hannah Montana is involved).

Then, after some time, and some pretty surreal stuff that I can’t remember (I think balloons were involved…), I wound up reunited with a small group of people like me. This group included a guy that I didn’t know, a girl that I’ve known since kindergarten and been friends with since grade 6 (let’s call her Caroline), and a girl that I’ve known since grade 1 and pretty much been friends with the whole time (minus a few years when we were in different classes) (Let’s call her Chiara).

So we eventually decide that the best course of action would be to leave the school for somewhere else, and to make a run for it through one of the back doors, since there would probably be less to no people from the other side there, and apparently make arrangements for once we’re outside.

Well, me, Caroline and the guy make it out the door first and run for it across the field. There are kids on the roof with guns, but by the time they notice, we’re outside of their firing range. But what happens is that Chiara gets out of the school way after the rest of us, so by the time she’s heading out the door, the ones on the roof with guns have noticed… from my POV, I only hear gunfire, and notice that Chiara never catches up with us…

So back to us, we make it to some ruins of a plaza, where there’s an envelope waiting for us with some papers, telling us to follow this staircase (which turns out to be this big-ass one that’s painted green and white (don’t ask me how I remember that but not the rest of this messed up crap). We follow it, and eventually wind up at this little uncovered greenhouse run by a dad and his son who agree to take us in and hide us from the scary people with guns (cuz apparently they don’t just exist inside my school).

That’s where I woke up, feeling pretty depressed because, well, I feel like I’ve just watched Red Dawn (I’ve never actually seen it, but I know enough about what happens to know I would get depressed watching it), and also because, well, one of my oldest friends got shot and killed in my dream!

I think I could probably figure out where this came from – one of my teachers was telling us about the crapola going down in Congo right now, which probably got me thinking about genocide and kids with guns. Then I was talking with my friends about Twilight, which got me going about propaganda (well, you gotta admit, its popularity is frighting…). Given my last sentence, you could probably figure out where Hannah Montana comes in… Oh, but after the rest of my dream, I have no idea (though I did read a bit of Margaret Peterson Haddix when I was younger…

Okay, so after much meditation (okay, maybe not that much), I finally decided on a title for my blog, as opposed to staying with the oh-so-original “lolathecoconut’s blog”.

So, I decided to analyze who I am, what I do, how I feel, and what I intend to do with this blog.

To start, I thought of who I am…I am a teenage girl who wishes she could become a little child once again, and utterly despises the idea of getting older. So out came the title of a book: Peter Pan, or The Boy Who Wouldn’t Grow Up.

Then I thought of my friends…to keep this short, they’re weird. In fact, as with everyone else, I’m sure, my whole world is sort of wierd, so from there came another book title: Alice in Wonderland

So, put them together, and what do you get? Well, at first, I thought of Alice in Neverland. Cool, right? Yeah, I thought so too…

I thought I was being oh so original, so hip, so…whatever. But the I did some Google-ing, and I discovered not just an album with the same have but another blog by some guy named Alistair called “Alice in Never Never Land” (And it looks like his blog’s been up and running since around 2007, so, you know, no contest…). Yeah. Bummer, eh?

So, I decided to let it go, and try “Peter Pan in Wonderland”. And you know what I found? Nothing! (Well, except for some confused people who thought the place with the pirates, indians and Lost Boys was actually called “Wonderland”)

And that is the thrilling story of how my blog got its name. Taa daa!

Right, so after an afternoon in a “mood”, I decided…maybe Meg Cabot’s Princess Diaries has a point; writing out all of my inner ranting and such may be therapeutic, so..yeah!

However, when I made my account, I was shocked to find that I had already made a post, considering that I just made the darn thing about a second ago… turns out it was a post entitled “Hello world!” and said this: Welcome to This is your first post. Edit or delete it and start blogging!

Therefore, I am editing it! Shocking, isn’t it?

Okay, so I suppose this is my little introduction to the world. Lessee…

I am female. I am…human? (well, to a certain extent…(and by that, I don’t meant to say that I have a pig’s tail or anything…)) I think, a lot.

Well, actually, not as much as I used to. See, I’m an only child, and my childhood home was very isolated in terms of children my age to run around the neighbourhood with. That’s why by the time I was old enough to register that I was alone, I had developed a very…loud inner dialogue. In fact, when I was a youngling, I used to narrate (out loud) my little “make-believe” adventures. I did this until I was about 11. I suppose my parents thought I was quite mad, listening to me babble about arctic expeditions to my teddy bears…

But then, there came a point when I stopped saying everything out loud, and started internally vocalizing. That continued until I was about 14. That…is the time I regard as when my brain started dying. Not because I got into hardcore drugs or anything of the sort. No, my brain died because I got an iPod.

You (if anyone’s bothering to read this…) know what I mean, right? Well, for me, when I’m listening to music, my brain stops thinking, and focuses on stuff like “this song is kewl-beans! I shall now command the shoulders to bop.” And, thus, I became, well, sort of a pod-person, really. While I wasn’t listening to a teacher drone on about how to calculate the period of a cos wave or listening to my friends gush about how so-and-so was sooo hot, I was listening to music, and not doing that much thinking.

However, the revolution came a couple of weeks ago. Quite suddenly, I forgot my iPod at home one day! Oh dear lord, what shall I do on an hour-long bus ride alone? Well, that is when the gears clicked into place; I thought! Now, this isn’t exactly deep, complex revelations that will save the world from social collapse, but at the very least, it was thoughts that I felt that I should keep track of. Hence, blog.

Oh, and basically, if you haven’t figured it out by now, this may very well become one of those “pretentious ranting” blogs, or one of those ones where this is the only entry that ever will exist! Yay~

Oh! I just realized that I haven’t really elaborated on “who I think I am”. Well, I like using quotation marks, and “…”s (whatever they’re called…), oh, and brackets. I have been told that I am random, and I like to think of myself that way too. I also like to think that I have a rather large vocabulary for someone my age (I am, however, not sure if that is entirely fact). I also am in the midst of having conflicting feelings about this very blog; I mean, on one hand, I don’t want to expect too much, and I really do need an outlet to rant, but on the other hand…wouldn’t it be awesome if this became, like, an international sensation?!

I have this fantasy, see, sort of like a superhero or Hannah Montana (God, please strike down the writers of that show and Miley Cyrus as soon as it is most convenient for you. Amen); the whole “double life” thing. At school, I am just an ordinary girl, but online, I type out amazingly insightful entries on my blogs that philosophy and psychology teachers are using in their lessons, and have reached widespread international acclaim. Meanwhile, back in my life as an ordinary student, nobody has a clue that this amazing blogger is me…

Sad, isn’t it? But as much as I would like that, I seriously doubt its fruition. Also, seeing as the url I picked for this blog is exactly the same as..lessee…my email address, my deviantart account, and many more around the internet, anonymity amongst my closer friends is to be a pretty big improbability (unless they are really that clueless about my life…)

Well, that’s about all I can think of to say now, so ’til it pops into my head to write again, I bid thee (whoever thee is…) adieu!

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