Monday, December 23, 2013

How A Sassy Vice Principal and I Became Worst Enemies

Okay, while I was making this blogpost, I tried to draw a picture of Mr. McIntosh (our vice Principal) mad, and I accidentally drew him extremely sassy.

Let's just pretend this is what he's like when he's
mad, because I don't wanna re-draw him.

Anyways, this is a typical day in the halls of Treasure Mountain Junior High.

She must be killed...with FIRE!!

So yeah...that's totally what happens at Treasure Mountain Junior High on a daily basis.  Anyways, this instance happened for a while.  Sassy Mr. McIntosh would tell me to take my hat off almost every day in the halls.  I'd take it off, and as soon as he was out of sight, I'd put it back on  (believe me, it was for everyone's good.  I get extremely messy hair at the most inconvenient times).  

One day, I guess the vice principal got sick of my shenanigans...he walked up to me, and just STOLE my hat off my head.  

No one steals my hat.  NO ONE!!  If you steal my hat, you are officially my worst enemy (cough cough...I'm looking at you, Josh)

I ran after him, but he was too fast.  I caught a glimpse of him stuffing my hat inside his office.  Then, he just walked past me and said, "See me after school."

I happened to be with a couple friends at the time, and they were all laughing their heads off...except for me.  

Lunch came around, and Daniela, had a plan to get my hat back.  During lunch, she went up to Mr. McIntosh, and told him that the hat he took from me was actually HERS.  She told the vice principal that I had actually STOLE her hat from her and was wearing it around the school.

I know.

The plan didn't work.

School finally ended and Daniela and I went to the principal's office.  He didn't really say anything to us.  He just kinda grumbled.  Daniela asked for "her" hat back, and he tossed it to her.  And then we left.

Thanks, Daniela.  Now I can't wear my hat around school anymore, because now it's "yours!!"

Alright.  That was your blogpost for the week  :)  I don't know how to wrap it up, so... See you next year at school!

Monday, December 2, 2013

How I Got Hooked on a Random Korean Soap-Opera

It's 3:25 in the freaking morning!  What should I do?  Sleep, or internet?  Sleep, or internet?

. . .


But what should I do on the internet?  The possibilities are endless!  I could learn about the formation of the universe.  I could learn about physics! I could learn how to talk to a flipping giraffe!  I could go on Google Maps and go anywhere in the world!  The vastness of all of human-knowledge is at my fingertips!

. . .



. . .

25 episodes later. . .

"This was a mistake."

Can't. . . control. . . the hand!

*clicks next episode*

Long story short, I was stuck like this for the rest of the summer.

Wow, I don't even understand this language.  What is wrong with me?

Anyways, I got so freaking into this show that I actually started accidentally switching between English and Korean.

No joke.

Whenever someone would come up to me and start speaking in English, I'd stare at them for a moment because I couldn't flipping understand them.

So anyways, the moral of this story is don't be part of a fandom if you want to have a social life.  Don't learn this the hard way like I did.

And NO, I will NOT tell you the name of the show!!

Believe me.  I'm doing you a favor.

Friday, November 29, 2013

Thanksgiving at My House

(Going around the table saying what we're thankful for)

Mom:  I'm grateful for all the many things Kassidy (my little sister) does for us.  I'm grateful for this free country and that the communists haven't taken over yet.  I'm so grateful for the air we breathe, the trees that process Carbon Dioxide, good music, my amazing family, my parents, and that we live in beautiful Park City.

Jacob (my little brother):  I'm grateful for the moon and that the earth isn't too close to the sun.  I'm also grateful for Pluto, no matter how much scientists bully it.  The poor guy. . .  Oh!  And I'm also grateful for Minecraft.

Kassidy (my little sister):  I'm so very grateful for my loving mother, and that I have the opportunity to serve so many people.  I'm grateful for school, and that I have good grades (the jerk), and for my awesome teachers.

Me:  Umm. . .  I'm grateful for. . . umm. . .  music.  And the internet.

Dad:  I like motorcycles.

Friday, November 22, 2013


Yes, I actually managed to get kicked out of an extra-curricular activity.

No, I didn't run around the orchestra-pit with a trash can on my head.

No, I didn't blast crappy Justin Bieber music on my iPod.

I missed a practice.

I know, I know. . .   -_-

It's kinda funny how Mr. Taylor (the conductor) thinks my first priority in life is to go to Pit Orchestra practice EVERY DAY after school.

Well here's a message for him!


Those of you who have orchestra with me know that I will NEVER get far in that area of music.

So why am I spending so much time playing the violin?

. . .

I have no idea.

What am I doing with my life?  I feel like I just wasted tons of years pursuing an instrument that isn't gonna do me any good!!!

I came to this realization yesterday.  The only thing I could do, was. . .

. . . have a breakdown.

I put my violin as far away from me as possible and curled up in a ball. . . all night.

Anyways. . . I'm still kind of upset that I'm not in Pit Orchestra anymore, but it's not all bad :)

I talked to Mr. Taylor, and he said he'd let me perform in the play tonight because my stand-partner will be gone!!!  WOOHOO!!!


*takes a breath*



Time to show the teacher who's boss  :P

Wednesday, November 20, 2013


So, a while ago my little brother, Jacob, was going through some of my dad's old stuff.  He apparently  found this chucky-doll-looking-thing.

I don't know which disturbed me more; the doll itself, or the fact that my dad grew up with it, and held onto it for all these years.

If it were up to me, I would have thrown it away the first chance I got.

Anyways, because Jacob has a sinister mind, he decided not to tell anyone that he had found this doll.

I know.  Evil.


But before he did this, he made sure that we had seen the "Weeping Angels" episodes of Doctor Who.

It was the most evil thing he had ever done.

So anyways, I woke up before the flipping crack of dawn to catch the school bus, and as I was passing my dad's closet IN THE PITCH BLACK, I saw this demon peeking out at me from on top of a shelf!!!!!

It took me approximately two seconds to register what I had just seen, but when I did, I sprinted away, trying not to scream.

. . .

The next day, I also woke up in pitch darkness to get ready for school.  I was looking for a shoe or something, and somehow thought it would be in my dad's closet.

Bad idea.

This is what I saw. . .

(the flash was on when I took this picture.  It was a lot darker
when this happened for real. . .)

I was done.  I screamed bloody murder and ran away.

And just so you guys know, my scream is NOT attractive.  It sounds like a constipated mountain man!  So when I woke up my entire family, they all asked me if there was a 40 year old grunge singer hiding in the bathroom.

Nope.  It wasn't Kurt Cobain.

Just a chucky doll.

After these two occurances, I became completely and utterly paranoid.  I had to completely re-adjust my life to avoid this doll!  And it sucked.

I no longer wanted to walk to the bus stop by myself, in fear of Slender Man.

I no longer opened doors, in fear of what I'd find in back of them.

I no longer looked at mirrors in the dark, in fear of Bloody Mary (don't judge me).


Despite my extreme efforts to get away from this doll, I ended up running into it again!!!!

This is where I discovered it. . .

I know it's not a good photograph, but I found it behind a flipping door!!!

Enough.  Was.  Enough.

I decided to face my fear head-on.  I picked up the doll, and tried to convince myself it wasn't terrifying.

I said to myself, Two can play at this game, Jacob!!!  *followed by an evil laugh*

I officially decided to scare the living daylights out of my brother by going into his room in the middle of the night, putting the doll in the darkest part of the room (probably his closet), and wait for the fun to happen.

Just you wait, Jacob.  You're in for an interesting week.

Friday, November 15, 2013

The Sleeping With Sirens Concert

Last night, my friends Amanda, Abi, Lucy and I went to a Sleeping with Sirens concert.  IT WAS ONE OF THE BEST NIGHTS EVER!

Like... ever.

I can't really express my happiness and mind-boggledness, so I'm just gonna tell you the story of what happened at the concert!

Amanda, Abi and I waited in the line outside The Great Saltair Theater, for a while, and soon the doors were opened!  When we got inside, we met up with Lucy and pushed our way up to the front :)

(From left to right)  Justin Hills, Jesse Lawson,
Kellin Quinn, Gabe Barham, and Jack Fowler.

 When Sleeping With Sirens finally came onstage, everyone in the theater went absolutely berserk.  Amanda and I were in the band-merch-area in the very back of the theater, and we just heard an electric guitar strum and a bunch of girls start screaming like it was the apocalypse.  The second Kellin got on the stage, it was every man for themselves.  Amanda and I held onto each other like our lives depended on it (which they did), and ran towards the stage.  We knew we weren't going to get to the very front like we were before, so we picked a spot on the side that was about 15 feet(?) from the stage.  It was a good spot because it was less crowded and we could jump up and down without having to worry about killing someone's foot.

That's Kellin, the lead singer!

Oh!  And I forgot to mention something important!  One of the members of Sleeping With Sirens wasn't at the concert!  :(   If you check the Sleeping With Sirens Wikipedia page, it says that Jesse Lawson quit the band to spend more time with his family.  I'm happy for him, but at the same time, I was sad I didn't get to see him in real-life  :(

Hope this was fun to read, and useful for you!  If you're planning on going to a concert at the Great Saltair Theater, you will definetly have fun, if you go with awesome friends and stick to the sides of the theater!!!

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Why You Shouldn't Want to be Tall

So, today my friend Amanda and I were walking from our school (the junior high school), to the actual High-School for pit-orchestra.  There we were, walking down the sidewalk while the school buses passed us every two seconds.  As one of the buses pulled to a stop I looked over and saw this kid that was sticking his head out of a window.  He stared at me for a second, and then said the words of doom; "You're really tall!" he exclaimed.  I wanted to rip my hair out and throw a sarcastic remark back at him.

Amanda so kindly volunteered to swear colorfully at him :)


That experience INSPIRED me to make this blog post.

So, for your entertainment purposes, I present to you...

5 Reasons You Don't Want to be Tall!

1.  You get all sorts of people staring at you and stating the obvious.
Them:  "You're really tall!"
Me:  "No really? (Dripping with sarcasm)  I never noticed!"

2.  People expect your career choice to be one of the following:
A model.
A professional basketball player.
Well you know what people?  What if I don't wanna be a model?  (I'm the least photogenic person in the world anyways. . .)  Also, I'm extremely un-athletic.

3.  Hugs.  Nuff said.

Image courtesy of:
4.  You get angry looks when you miss a shot in basketball.  Their eyes just bare into you and you can just imagine them saying; "You had all this potential and you freaking MISSED THE SHOT?  You're a failure in life."
Nothing wrecks your self esteem like a pair of eyes telling you you're useless.

5.  "How's the weather up there?"

Whew. . .

I feel like a big weight just got lifted off my shoulders. . .



I'm gonna have to calm down for a while.


Saturday, November 2, 2013

The Most Stressful Movie Ever

Image courtesy of:

A couple weeks ago, Amanda and I went to see a new movie we had heard about called Gravity.  Truthfully, I didn't really know what to expect.  When I first heard of Gravity, it was my dad that had told me about it.  He said that it was "pretty good," and "showed you exactly what would happen to your head if you took your helmet off in space."  It sounded legit to Amanda and I, so we went.

I will never again watch that movie.

Don't get me wrong, it was an amazing movie, and was extremely well done (like the entire first half was done in a single take).  There was something wrong though.

Normal movie plots:

Image courtesy of:

Gravity movie plot:

Image courtesy of:  Me

No joke.  That movie had me at the edge of my seat the entire time.

Also, one other thing!  Thanks Gravity (dripping with sarcasm)!!  When I was little, I really wanted to be an astronaut.  That dream has pretty much stayed with me up until I saw that DREAM-DESTROYER of a movie!  One thing's for sure; I am going to live a safe life INSIDE Earth's atmosphere with my feet safely on the ground.

My Thought Process While Watching Gravity:

(The Beginning)
Oh, okay. . . they're in space.  

(15 minutes later. . .)
They're still doing the same thing.  When's this gonna get exciting?

(A while later)
I thought this was going to be more like Star Trek.

(The thing happens)

(Numerous instances)
Why didn't she die just then?

(The rest of the movie)

(The end of the movie)
I am NEVER becoming an astronaut!  EVER

I firmly believe everyone should see Gravity, so I can have multiple shoulders to cry on, and your dreams can be crushed too :)

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Atticus's Association for Mentally-Disturbed People

I know for a fact that I am crazy. Why else would I be in a mental hospital? Everyone
around me calls me obsessive, dangerous, and a monster, but in my mind, I strive to be perfectly normal. 

I make my cot every morning at precisely 9:00. Then, I comb my hair symmetrically at 9:10. At exactly 9:20, I dress in all white. At 9:31 I walk to the cafeteria down the hall and eat exactly 300 calories. Then, I return to my room and stare at the ceiling for exactly 42 minutes. It’s a ritual of mine that I have kept for as long as I can remember.

I do everything perfectly.

Isn’t that how normal people are?

As I stare at the ceiling, I contemplate what life is like outside a mental hospital. How do
normal people live? How do they die?

Here in AAMP (Atticus’s Association for Mentally-Disturbed People), people die when they become too insane for their own good. They are put down peacefully. A slow, tranquil shot.

It’s almost as peaceful as not finishing your sentence.

I hear my iron door unlock and the guard enters. “You have a test.” I sat up.

“You are requested to meet in the cafeteria in five minutes.”

“No.” Change didn’t sit well with me. I wasn’t about to let a ‘test’ interrupt my ritual. “It’s required.”

My eyes dart around the room suspiciously. There’s a metal cart sitting behind the guard,
glaring menacingly at me. On top of it, there are cardboard boxes full of tools.

The guard exits the room and the iron door closes behind him, but not before he plants a screen on my wall. I jump out of bed and try to pull it off, but it won’t budge. I take a step back
and stare it down as if a menacing look would make it fall down.

The screen was small and black. In the dead center was a number. Three.

What could three mean?


A day passes and I continue my schedule. I make my bed, I comb my hair symmetrically, I dress myself in all white, and I walk to the cafeteria. As I reach the front of the lunch line, the cafeteria worker punches my code into a computer and hands me a plastic tray of food.


Since when did I eat french toast and bacon for breakfast? My meal choices were always simple conservative. I had never even tasted syrup in my life. I turn around and place my tray on the counter.

“What’s this?” I ask as if my breakfast was some kind of parasite. The lady continued with her work, typing into her thin laptop.

“I can’t eat this,” I said. “It says in my profile I must eat the same things every day.” My voice grows more strained and my hands start shaking.

The lady looks at me like she almost expected this to happen. A smile creeps across her face. “You know the only way you can overcome your mental illness is if you get used to change. Don’t you want to-”

“I AM NOT MENTALLY ILL!” I scream as I hurl my breakfast across the cafeteria.

What am I saying?

Before I can do any more, two guards walk swiftly up to me and twist my arms back. “LET ME GO!” 

I cry as they pin me to the ground.


I wake up the next day later than usual. The screen across the room now has a blaring red two on it. I frantically look at my wrist.

Where’s my watch?

Where is my only connection to sanity?

After approximately 30 minutes of rocking back and forth on my bed, I walk to my iron
door. I assume it is well past breakfast time.

The doors could have unlocked without me hearing them, I reason as I try the doorknob. Locked.

I feel my head start to pound. A couple minutes pass and I’m still plastered to the door. I
shout through the cracks, weakly trying to get someone- anyone’s attention.


After about four hours of uncertainty, I crawl over to my mirror. My hand grabs the comb and starts furiously working through my mangled hair. I look at my reflection. My hair is now perfectly symmetrical.

Everything is perfect.

I crawl into my messed up sheets and bury my face in the pillow. What was happening to me?

That night I had a nightmare about change.


When my eyes shoot open, I immediately look at the screen. A one.

When I try the door, it’s open.

I leave.

When I get my tray, I’m satisfied. 300 calories.

I start to wonder. Was this the test that the guard was referring to? Was all of this change just happening to throw me off?

Laying on my bed, I stare at the ceiling. It’s perfectly square; three tiles horizontally, and three tiles vertically.

Three. . .

A red three. . .

But now there’s a one.

The guard enters my room. Seated behind him is the metal cart. “AAMP requests your
presence in the lobby.”

The lobby?

Was I leaving this prison? Did I pass the test?

“Why?” I ask.

“It’s time for the final stage of your test.”

A fly landed on the ceiling and started crawling across the tiles.

I didn’t move.

“We have been testing your adaptability to change. We think you may qualify as a
potential candidate for leaving into the real world. We have a nice family that would be willing to take you in. The father’s a therapist.”

I didn’t answer, mainly because I didn’t know what to say. The screen. . . The breakfast. . . All of that was for a test? It was all so hard to believe.

“The only way you can get out of AAMP is if you follow our instructions, and demonstrate superior skill in adapting to change.”


I lose it.

I jump out of my bed and clutch the sides of my mirror. My hair is matted and tangled. No symmetry.

I grab the comb and dig into my hair. When I draw it back, there’s fresh blood.

The guard pulls out a cell phone and mutters something. “. . .Lost all sanity. . . This one’s a long shot…”

He glances at me darkly and nods.

I continue to comb furiously.

The guard fumbles through the tools on the metal cart and pulls out a long needle. My comb is woven with hair and encased with blood.

He walks towards me.

I hold my comb in front of me like a weapon but my vision starts to blur.

I feel something sharp against skin.

I sink to the floor.

My eyes close.

Is this how normal people die? I wonder.

As peacefully as not finishing your-