7A/N: This piece is based on me ranting about situations that are pissing me off currently. It's all very spontaneous... kinda like love, except a little bit less intense...
A/N #2: I may just suddenly start singing show tunes or lines from musicals. Please, do not be alarmed. They are entirely random, and are just there for your amusement (and my sanity...).
One mere fact of life that every teenager needs to understand in order to make it through these years... is that life is NOT FAIR (and if one wants fully live, one must memorize least 5 songs from RENT). There is no fairness in ones crush reciprocating such feelings, though directed at your worst enemy. There is no fairness in ones menstrual cycle deciding to promptly arrive the week of the prom. There is no fairness in acne, or bad haircuts, or insolent parents. I must digress on the insolent parents bit. Personally, my parents aren't that bad. GASP! Yes, I know, it seems logically implausible, and yet, it's not like EVERY single teenager out there is a shroom consuming wackjob with a mohawk. Although, it seems that I have only had a small portion of my adolescence to rebel, and I cannot truly speak for all you hopelessly dark and suicidal teenagers out there (or is it thurr? I'm trying to decide whether to embrace my pseudo southern roots, or live the rest of my life as the pathetic, yet magnetizing RENT/Newsies/George Michael obsessed prodigy child). All I can hope to do is believe in karma and tough it out for a while longer.
I've found in my years in such a condition, that there is enough drama in one teenager's life to supply every soap opera with plots for a few millennia. I have a specific friend whom everyone calls the Drama Queen. There's one in every high school. Unfortunately, when such a DQ reaches her/his full potential, not only is she the biggest gossip in the Valley, but she also can be heard from the athletic fields (which happen to be about a half mile+ from the high school a nursing home. Yes, our school is intensely small, and yes, we do mock and terrorize the old ladies). The grapevine rules in high school (have I mentioned how yummy grapes are? And how incredibly easy it is to be sick of them when you eat an entire bowl while sitting staring a computer screen trying to think of something that will get a response from the rest of the grape-eating, blinded fp-ers?). "Secrets, secrets are no fun, unless they're shared with everyone!" Sure there are some that vow not to tell that dirty little secret about Harry and Barbara, but then they tell the secret to another that has vowed not to squeal, who then tells an entire slumber party of completely pink, fluffy, honest persons. Before Harry and Barbara know it, the entire school, though consisting of entirely honest people, knows that dirty little secret. It is inevitable. Unless, somewhere, in a remote school in Canada, there's some little 8th grader w/ an IQ of 260 and a GPA of 5.0 whom will never tell a secret. Ever. Doubtful, yes, but I try to have faith.
One single thing that I find to be the most annoying of all dramatic occurrences is having a crush. I sometimes wonder if my system will overload and explode (or implode, all three could be possible, simultaneously even, considering my condition when I am "crushing"). All the anxiety of wondering if my crush likes me back, or if when he made that comment about Miss Popular having wonderful "assets" he was serious, or whether his best friend was joking or not when he said that my crush has liked me since the 3rd grade, has cost me hours of sleep. Possibilities are endless when it comes to how a crush could turn out. It could wilt into a broken heart, or blossom into a wonderful relationship (I'm sure that all of us wish vehemently for the later of the two). I'm not sure how guys feel when they have a crush. Anything about how guys feel has been a mystery to me. A/N: if any guy out there would like to explain it to me... my email is cramer_dawg ...thanks. Anyway, all I know about teenage love is that it's wild and unruly. A lot of babies were made based on crushes. They can be very dangerous things. It's all a world of uncertainty to me. I'm sure all of this could be explained using probability and the Pythagorean theorem. Unfortunately, those sort of real life situations aren't mentioned in the textbook. It's all on ladders, and apartment complexes and frankly, I don't see how that's going to help me make it through high school alive.
I was walking through the mall today, and I came upon one of my favorite stores... Victoria's Secret. I of course was sucked into the shopping vortex, and I bought 5 new articles of undergarments ( 3 of which were pink). But as I was waiting for my purchase to be processed, and couldn't help but glance the 6ft x 4ft posters behind the register. These sensual art forms depicted several well-endowed women modeling the latest fashions in the underwear industry. The Victoria's Secret marketing scheme is simple and can be applied to other forms of merchandise. They show gorgeous women modeling the underwear, so you think. "Hey! Tyra Banks looks good in that bra! I bet I could pull that off too." $3000 of surgery and another $2500 of bra's later, one could come close to looking like Tyra Banks. It's what all teenage girls strive for... perfection, especially in the upperbody. I know plenty of guys who would date a girl with a cup size F and a unibrow. As is the same that many of us will date a guy with a Corvette. Don't worry guys. If you're still driving an old Toyota, be happy that you actually have a car. The visions of the perfect high school experience w/ a convertible are made for TV.
"Look me! I'm the king of New York! Suddenly, I'm respectable, staring right atcha, lousy with stature" - Newsies
Speaking of the perfect high school experience... there will be some people who will live the perfect life, but don't let those people get to you. Most of them are only on display for looks. Move on to the exhibits with out the "Do Not Touch" signs.
Sometimes you find yourself in love with being a teenager. You're happy and flying free (and occasionally doing such flying topless, but that's beside the point). Other times, you're convinced that hell is upon you, and there is no hope for anything and the world will self-detonate by way of masochism. No worries tho. We're all bipolar heart.
Aaaah. I love shopping.
A/N: I'm actually not obsessed with George Michael, just his ass.
TO BE CONTINUED...
A/N: This is basically written when I feel like it. It just gets added on to as I go. Damn its late.