Journalism Part 2: Growing Balls

Simon started a blog today:

But the reason for this post is because Elizabeth R. shook off her “socially awkward band kid” image when she approached a young man, that she was eying throughout the day, and had a two and a half minute conversation.
Congrats Elizabeth!! Angelica, Angelica, Vincent, and I were the witnesses of you growing “balls”.
We all have new found respect for you Liz! This post is to you.

We were too loud and rude when leaving the campus, people looked at us. But, we're always the group that's way too loud. Our journalism class consists of a bunch of loud cultures. We have a Filipino, an Italian, a Jew, a Mexican, and an El Salvadorian. It's in our blood to be too loud and to eat too much. There was a presentation on avoiding stereotypes in the paper and everyone wanted to go.

"Are you serious? Look at the kids in our class, if we stereotype one group, somebody pipes up and is like, 'hey, that's not true!'" Then Simon supported me by making a comment about me being white or Jewish or homely. I don't remember. It didn't support my idea, but we all laughed.

As we waited at the bus stop, I saw the staring boy sitting by himself. I told Angelica 1 to look, and she started freaking out. Everyone started freaking out. Angelica 1 said she wouldn't be my friend if I didn't go over and talk to him. Everyone started saying I don't have any "balls" and ... they peer-pressured me. I told Angelica 1 if she called the bus station to see when the bus was coming, and we had more than two minutes, I'd go talk to him. So, she whipped out her phone and said I had three minutes.

Initially, I took about three steps in his general direction, but abruptly stopped behind a bush. I just happened to stop in the most stalker-like place, but it was unintentional. They all thought I wasn't going to do it. Angelica 1 had already looked away when I walked over to him.

He was looking in the other direction. I sat down and he smiled at me. It was very nice.

I introduced myself. His name was Jeremy (which I later found out is spelled at Jérémie). He asked my school, I asked his. I told him my friends were loud instead of telling him I have no shame, which was my first instinct. I asked where his accent was from because he had an accent. He said he's from Belgium. I told him my favorite science teacher is from Belgium, which isn't entirely true since Mr. Brown only lived there six years. Then I saw my bus so I told him I saw my bus. Angelica yelled my name as I stood up, so I said bye and walked away.

Everyone was freaking out. They had me tell them everything that was said and everything that had happened. Angelica must have hugged me five times. They exclaimed I have "balls." I said this is what we should put in the paper for reasons why kids should join next year.

When we were coming home on BART, I realized I have never done anything here. This was my first time taking BART into the city with friends; it was my fist time taking BART with friends. It was the first time I bought my own BART ticket, and the first time I rode a bus.

I hate it here because I've never done anything. There are so many places a person can go, so many places to see, and so many things to do. I've done nothing. My life is so secluded to my school and my parents and my temple. Now I am leaving, the time approaching so rapidly, and the opportunities I have missed and experiences I have never had are just becoming apparent. I guess this is what happens when you leave a place. 

Today was so wonderful. It was an adventure, even if just a slight one. I like the person I am, and the things I can do. I hope for more days like this, days of small adventures and horizon expanding. I can't wait to leave.

Journalism Part 1: Shoes

I remember waking up and getting ready in the morning. I remember initially going inside Angelica's car. I remember being in front of Vincent's house. I remember being at BART. I remember buying my ticket and I remember squishing three people into one seat. I remember people telling us where to go for the bus. I remember being on the bus. I don't remember any of the times in between.
Once we got to the school, Vincent bought coffee ... with my money. I lent Vincent money for the bus, I remember. There was a journalism conference in the city today. I woke up at 5:30, Angelica picked me up at 6:30, and the conference started at 8: 30. When we got to the school we were so early they wouldn't let us sign in.

Angelica and I went to the bathroom to be girls. She wanted to put eyeliner on my lower lids, but I refused because it makes me look like a raccoon. When other journalism kids from other schools started to file in, I said that we had to find me a white boy. Looking around, everyone was white or Asian. There were so many white kids!

We, being the psychotic journalism kids we are, stood in the corner and started referring to both of the Angelicas as mom, and Vincent as papa. Oh! We got lost on campus, too. Angelica 2 and Simon were Daphne and Freddie. Vincent was Shaggy and Angelica 1 was Scooby. I was Velma.

Inside the welcoming presentation thing, this boy was sitting in front of Angelica 1 and he kept looking at me. Then Angelica 1 became a spastic queen and noticed, and started counting all the times he looked at me. He was a white boy. They asked me if I wanted that one, him, and I said I didn't know.

Angelica 1 and I went to the first conference session together. It was about radio journalism. There was a more professional sounding name, but I can't remember it. This boy who looked JUST LIKE KURT was there. I stared at him all day. It too all my self-control not to touch his hair. The staring boy was also there.

After that presentation, Vincent and I went to the photojournalism presentation. We both had to go to the bathroom, though, so we left. There was something yellow in or on all of the toilets in the bathroom, all but one. I used the one that wasn't visibly yellow. I somehow managed to get soap on my pants, too.

When we finished our bathroom trips we went back to the presentation room, but the door was shut and locked. Vincent knocked and I tried my best to duck behind him. The room was very crowded, staring boy was directly across the room from me. Vincent and I stood in the doorway, and we had to hold open to door. The presentation was really interesting, and I learnt a lot of new concepts about taking photos for newspapers. It was sort of upsetting Vincent and I couldn't see the slideshow with all the ... pictures in it. I could see the staring boy stare at me, every once in a while.

Angelica 1 and I went to a presentation about ... something. I can't really remember. We were all just really hungry. Angelica 1 and I met up with Vincent to go to lunch. We couldn't find Angelica 2 and Simon, so we just assumed they would find their ways. Angelica 1, Vincent, and I followed the directions to get out of the building, but then everyone was just standing there.

I said, "Let's be investigative journalists!" After Vincent said he felt like we were supposed to go in a certain direction. We went in his direction to be investigative, and then everyone started to follow us. The people in charge assumed we were journalists and could figure it out on our own. Thank the journalism gods we were there, otherwise all the other kids would have starved.

Angelica 2 and Simon were already in the cafeteria; they saved a tale for all of us. When I sat down at the table, I saw staring boy at the table directly across from us. We all stood in line for lunch, Angelica 1 and I were together since vegetarians had to stick together. It was fun to sit around with my journalism kids. Angelica 1 and I have the same taste in white boys. We all talked about shoes and I don't remember what else. The keynote speaker talked for too long, though her presentation was interesting. Angelica 1, Angelica 2, and Simon all got seconds on the sandwiches. It was so funny. They just kept laughing. During the speech, I kept putting on lip-gloss. Vincent texted. Everyone else ate.

When we were finally released from lunch and the speech, we got to hang around campus for a while. I was very unladylike and wandered around while Angelica 1 and 2 were girls in the bathroom. When we were outside, Angelica 1 sat on a railing. I used a rock to help myself up, but scraped my hand in the process of trying to sit on the other railing.

"Elizabeth, why did you do that?"
"I wanted to be like you..."
"Aww!"

Then Angelica 1 and I went to a presentation on taking over the internet. It was very inspiring, and I think it was my favorite presentation because the speaker was really cute. We finally had our last presentation, and it was short. The conference ended at 3: 30. We were all just so tired.

Forget spring fever.

Many of my school friends are just beginning to feel the senior fever. It is finally clicking that this is our last year in high school, most of the plans we can make for our future have been planned, and everything we know is going to change. It took them so long.

I am itching, itching to leave home. I know I shouldn't. I know I should treasure this time left in school, but I simply cannot. I know I am going to regret rushing through the end of high school when there are so many opportunities to make now better. I feel like I can't do this anymore.

High School Experience:
Freshman year made me a victim of abuse and hormonal changes.
Sophomore year put me into a pit of depression and confusion.
Junior year was coming back to humanity.
Senior year is my first real attempt at being who I can be, who I should be.

Middle school was such a long time ago. It's weird to remember there was life before puberty. Before birth control came along to halt my menstruation-induced sickness, heartless people, and my run-in with Harry Potter fanfiction. There was a time when I was filled with school spirit, and I was popular.

Now I'm not so popular, but it also isn't so bad. I have friends. I have a personality. I have plans. Oh, the places we'll go. In middle school, we called ourselves the class of '06. Now we have sweatshirt and various other apparel to prove we're the first graduating class of the decade.

The rest of life is just in sight, but that shouldn't trivialize where I sit now.  Whilst I stare at my prospects and try to still face reality, I pray for  no surgery. Please, please no surgery.

When I need giggles, I read this post. 

Blog Whored: Katja/ paperstarfruit

I want to go to New York. Yesterday, it was a fact. I never thought I'd want to go to New York. It sort of feels like my family's evolution. We went from the old country (which was a bunch of countries, in actuality), to New York. Then my parents went from New York to Texas. From Texas, my parents wound up in California. It is my ultimate goal to find my way back to the old country (like I said, are actually a bunch of countries), but for now I want to go to New York. I feel like I'm regressing in my family's ideals, but that's not actually a bad thing.

Since I'm not in New York, or the old country, I settle for here. I have friends here. I have my imagination. So, sometimes the weather is nice enough to let me forget I hate the weather here. I go on adventures with friends, usually Jeanie or Katja. This adventure was with Katja. We went to this wildlife preserve/ housing area/ beach walking path to take pictures. Well, we went there so Katja could take pictures of me.

In her blog, Katja raved about me. My favorite line of the entire post dedicated entirely to me was, "Astrid is the person who got me interested in fashion. She introduced me to this whole new world, this subculture, to this whole fashion blogosphere." Some people may know, but my favorite thing to do is introduce people to the internet. I am quickly finding out that another joyful experience is teaching people to be as excited about fashion as I am. Katja started blogging and became interested in fashion because of me. It's in writing!

Yesterday I didn't feel too lively. It translated into my outfit, which consisted of black Clarks' heels, dark blue tights from TJ Maxx, a dark green and blue striped skirt from Gap, and a dark purple sweater from Gap. Katja was one of the people who tried to turn my day around, and succeeded for a time. During lunch she bought me a cookie, and then after school we had this adventure. My heels were covered in mud by the time we finished. We are hardcore art, fashion, and nature enthusiasts. Well, she is.

I love Katja. I love days when I can enjoy my home. I love the prospect of leaving, even if I am scared.

Your horoscope for February 3, 2010

You might find that things are coming to a climax in your life at this time, Elizabeth. Emotionally speaking, things may be getting intense as people become more and more critical of you and your actions. When it comes to matters regarding love and romance, avoid over-analyzing every single movement and spoken word to death. Stop taking the romance out of everything, and just enjoy the experience for what it is.

Astrid of Sweden

http://www.goldinuniverse.com/showprofile.asp?id=3/6/4/0/5/1/2/7/&name=Astrid