one, nine, six, nine...

I'm exhausted, I went back to working on Saturdays and yesterday we had an open house so we had to work all day. I truly do not appreciate standing up in normal shoes for 7+ hours, let alone standing up in high heels. Also I seriously do not like getting hit on by creepy 19 year old students and by creepy parents pretending to ask about prices for the summer course.

But aside from that I actually enjoyed it, it has been a while since we have done one of these ridiculous things to get more students. I ate waaaay too much and at the end I won a plushie from our school's "mascot" and by won I mean I exchanged it with someone else for what I had actually won. :)

I got home to find mom had gotten back with my cousins, we fight 90% of the time but I still love and missed these little monkeys. Also they came with my SIGNED copy of Megan McCafferty's Perfect Fifths, the one I won in the twitter competition:

lovelovelovelovelove!

They also brought me 21 Proms and WILL GRAYSON, WILL GRAYSON!<333 (finally) I started reading it last night and I'm already on page 138 of 300 or so... I love it, I love BOTH Wills AND I adore Tiny.




Today is Father's Day and as a present I gave my dad some money and I'm taking him to see a baseball, family sunday, right?
I adore my father more than I can say, I've punched guys on the face for him, I've broken up with boyfriends based on his advice, I've followed my dreams and done my own thing since I can remember simply because he has always showed me his undying support.

When I went through one of the biggest (and very few) major life crisis I've had, (I was hundreds of miles away from home, not talking to anybody else in my family apart from him and my cousins, broke and after actually getting broken up with) the first person I called was my father, I had to call him at work because I was afraid my mother would pick up the phone if I called home, I was a blubbering mess and crying my eyes out. He simply listened to me and patiently gave me one of the best advices I've ever had, managed to calm me down and made me feel safe even when I really wasn't. I really do not know what I would do without him.




Sexy: Tiny Cooper. XD
Unsexy: Sore feet.
Song of the day: A Song for the Metalheads by Butch Walker.

"If there's one thing my father said when he was younger
To a kid with a mullet that looked like his son
To want and to try is the difference why
Some people will walk and some run . . .thank you dad"

ETA: My younger cousin, and almost brother, Willie is getting married, I don't think I've never been this happy for the news about a marriage in like ever. :D

Don't panic and bring a towel.

19 days to go til my birthday and after my last post I've changed my mind, I want THIS for my birthday. And nothing more... Well, maybe you can throw a Haruki Murakami book in there too.

Speaking of books, earlier today somebody asked me what my favorite book was. That's so difficult for me, it's like if somebody asked a mother who her favorite child was... probably not exactly like that, but pretty close.

So I had to divide them into categories.

My favorite writer is John Green, so...

My favorite John Green book: Paper Towns.

My favorite book that makes me cry: Looking for Alaska by John Green.

My favorite Christmas book: Let it Snow by John Green, Maureen Johnson and Lauren Myracle.

My favorite John Green love story: An Abundance of Katherines.

Onto the others...

My favorite "children" series: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.

My favorite HP book: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.

My favorite YA series: The Jessica Darling series by Megan McCafferty.

My favorite fantasy novels: His Dark Materials by Phillip Pullman.

My favorite angsty book: The Catcher in the Rye, (do I even need to say it?) by JD Salinger.

I could keep going on and on, but this are the ones who are usually next to my bed, along with a giant encyclopedia that I use to have there since I was a kid because I've always been a geek.

So there you have it, if you want to keep me happy, you should give me a book. Maybe I'll do movies and music next, haha.


Sexy: Writers. No, forget about writers, I'd settle for guys who actually read.

"On the nightstand: No nightstand, just a pile of books!"
From an interview to John Green, *Swoon* a man after my own heart.

Unsexy: My immune system. After teaching 5 year olds for months it seems like it just gave up on me and I'm usually always sick.
Song of the day: Peeing in a Bottle (Genie in a Bottle parody) by Armoured Bearcub. Their name making reference to His Dark Materials, and with a song from one of my FAVORITE scenes in Paper Towns = <333 I must get their CD.

My thoughts create my world

A couple of months ago, miss hayleyghoover made a video about how grilled cheese is romantic and she mentioned that her favorite love story is the Jessica Darling series, written by Megan McCafferty. As obsessesive as I am, I HAD to read it. I found some really cheap copies on ebay and started reading them over winter break.

The novels are written as a journal, so it felt too familiar for me to be reading them. Jessica Darling is a teenager in New Jersey, her parents don't get her at all, her best friend moves away, fake friends, and a crush on a certain myserious dreg bring all the drama and humor and angst that made me fall in love with the series.

Jessica is so original, and yet I could totally relate to her relationship with her parents or the problems you face when everything around you seems to go just totally opposite from what you want it to go. Her sarcasm and intelligent type of humor is just priceless.

And then there is the boy. Krispy Kreme, Marcus Flutie, he didn't just make Jessica fall for him, he made ME fall for him. Despite his mental games, his coming and going all the time, I loved him from the start. Maybe it was the bad boy turned good appeal, but I want a Marcus just for me. yes. me.

The books are also so great because Jessica grows up in them, yes she makes mistakes like all of us, but you can tell she is growing up. Making big decisions in her life, decisions I have faced before and decisions I will have to make soon, and there is something just so comforting in reading someone else's thoughts about them and realizing that freaking out is like, somewhat normal.

I only got Sloppy Firsts, Second Helpings, Charming Thirds, and Fourth Comings. I haven't read the final book, Perfect Fifths, I bought it but had it delivered to my aunt's house, and my mom went to visit her last week, so it's very likely I'll get it sometime this weekend. :)


I'm gonna post some of my favorite quotes so beware, nothing too spoilery, just thought I should let you know.

"I can't remember the last time my mom was so right about something. Marcus Flutie had zero chance at being my boyfriend and had even less of a shot at being a real friend to me. But that conversation in the Caddie guaranteed that Marcus Flutie would never be nobody. At least, not to me." - Jessica Darling in Sloppy Firsts.

---------------

"Are you quiet because you're surprised or because you're repulsed?"
"Neither," I replied. "I'm quiet because we've done enough talking." - Marcus Flutie and Jessica Darling in Second Helpings


----------------

furious flutter
awakened hummingbird heart
hello hello love - poetry spam # 21 - Marcus Flutie in Charmed Thirds

---------------

"Your kisses scrambled my brain. They manipulated the solar system. They returned Marcus Flutie to the center of my universe. I was defenseless against your pe-Copernican pull." -Jessica Darling in Fourth Comings

---------------


I love those, but I promise the books are SO much better than that. If you get a chance do read them, please.

One last thing, remember the book I mentioned a while ago? Well, it's John Green and David Levithan's new book, Will Grayson, Will Grayson. It's coming out in April and Steph's Bowe is giving away an ARC of the book, so if you'd like one clic here: http://heyteenager.blogspot.com/2010/02/win-arc-of-will-grayson-will-grayson-by.html :)


Much love,

about being broke and the 100% perfect girl

First, as promised -- puppies!

He got the award for best costume.

I love going shopping with my mom, I think it's the only time we really have fun together. Also, trying on clothes when they're playing the Little Mermaid soundtrack in the dressing room = perfection.

I bought a new coat, and dresses and lately I've been ordering books online, I need to stop soon. But I don't think I will since I keep finding jewels like this one:

Haruki Murakami: On seeing the 100% perfect girl one beautiful April morning
One beautiful April morning, on a narrow side street in Tokyo's fashionable Harujuku neighborhood, I walked past the 100% perfect girl.

Tell you the truth, she's not that good-looking. She doesn't stand out in any way. Her clothes are nothing special. The back of her hair is still bent out of shape from sleep. She isn't young, either - must be near thirty, not even close to a "girl," properly speaking. But still, I know from fifty yards away: She's the 100% perfect girl for me. The moment I see her, there's a rumbling in my chest, and my mouth is as dry as a desert.

Maybe you have your own particular favorite type of girl - one with slim ankles, say, or big eyes, or graceful fingers, or you're drawn for no good reason to girls who take their time with every meal. I have my own preferences, of course. Sometimes in a restaurant I'll catch myself staring at the girl at the next able to mine because I like the shape of her nose.

But no one can insist that his 100% perfect girl correspond to some preconceived type. Much as I like noses, I can't recall the shape of hers - or even if she had one. All I can remember for sure is that she was no great beauty. It's weird. "Yesterday on the street I passed the 100% girl," I tell someone.

"Yeah?" he says.
"Good-looking?"
"Not really."
"Your favorite type, then?"
"I don't know. I can't seem to remember anything about her - the shape of her eyes or the size of her breasts."
"Strange."
"Yeah. Strange."
"So anyhow," he says, already bored, "what did you do? Talk to her? Follow her?"
"Nah. Just passed her on the street."

She's walking east to west, and I west to east. It's a really nice April morning.

Wish I could talk to her. Half an hour would be plenty: just ask her about herself, tell her about myself, and - what I'd really like to do - explain to her the complexities of fate that have led to our passing each other on a side street in Harajuku on a beautiful April morning in 1981. This was something sure to be crammed full of warm secrets, like an antique clock build when peace filled the world.

After talking, we'd have lunch somewhere, maybe see a Woody Allen movie, stop by a hotel bar for
cocktails. With any kind of luck, we might end up in bed.

Potentiality knocks on the door of my heart. Now the distance between us has narrowed to fifteen yards.

How can I approach her? What should I say?
"Good morning, miss. Do you think you could spare half an hour for a little conversation?"
Ridiculous. I'd sound like an insurance salesman.

"Pardon me, but would you happen to know if there is an all-night cleaners in the neighborhood?"
No, this is just as ridiculous. I'm not carrying any laundry, for one thing. Who's going to buy a line like that? Maybe the simple truth would do.

"Good morning. You are the 100% perfect girl for me." No, she wouldn't believe it. Or even if she did, she might not want to talk to me. Sorry, she could say, I might be the 100% perfect girl for you, but you're not the 100% boy for me. It could happen. And if I found myself in that situation, I'd probably go to pieces. I'd never recover from the shock. I'm thirty-two, and that's what growing older is all about.

We pass in front of a flower shop. A small, warm air mass touches my skin. The asphalt is damp, and I catch the scent of roses. I can't bring myself to speak to her. She wears a white sweater, and in her right hand she holds a crisp white envelope lacking only a stamp. So: She's written somebody a letter, maybe spent the whole night writing, to judge from the sleepy ook in her eyes. The envelope could contain every secret she's ever had.

I take a few more strides and turn: She's lost in the crowd.

Now, of course, I know exactly what I should have said to her. It would have been a long speech, though, far too long for me to have delivered it properly. The ideas I come up with are never very practical.

Oh, well. It would have started "Once upon a time" and ended "A sad story, don't you think?"

Once upon a time, there lived a boy and a girl. The boy was eighteen and the girl sixteen. He was not unusually handsome, and she was not especially beautiful. They were just an ordinary lonely boy and an ordinary lonely girl, like all the others. But they believed with their whole hearts that somewhere in the world there lived the 100% perfect boy and the 100% perfect girl for them. Yes, they believed in a miracle. And that miracle actually happened.

One day the two came upon each other on the corner of a street.

"This is amazing," he said.
"I've been looking for you all my life. You may not believe this, but you're the
100% perfect girl for me."
"And you," she said to him, "are the 100% perfect boy for me, exactly as I'd pictured you in every detail. It's like a dream."

They sat on a park bench, held hands, and told each other their stories hour after hour. They were not lonely anymore. They had found and been found by their 100% perfect other. What a wonderful thing it is to find and be found by your 100% perfect other. It's a miracle, a cosmic miracle.

As they sat and talked, however, a tiny, tiny sliver of doubt took root in their hearts: Was it really all right for one's dreams to come true so easily?

And so, when there came a momentary lull in their conversation, the boy said to the girl, "Let's test ourselves - just once. If we really are each other's 100% perfect lovers, then sometime, somewhere, we will meet again without fail. And when that happens, and we know that we are the 100% perfect ones, we'll marry then and there. What do you think?"

"Yes," she said, "that is exactly what we should do."

And so they parted, she to the east, and he to the west.

The test they had agreed upon, however, was utterly unnecessary. They should never have undertaken it, because they really and truly were each other's 100% perfect lovers, and it was a miracle that they had ever met. But it was impossible for them to know this, young as they were. The cold, indifferent waves of fate proceeded to toss them unmercifully.

One winter, both the boy and the girl came down with the season's terrible inluenza, and after drifting for weeks between life and death they lost all memory of their earlier years. When they awoke, their heads were as empty as the young D. H. Lawrence's piggy bank.

They were two bright, determined young people, however, and through their unremitting efforts they were able to acquire once again the knowledge and feeling that qualified them to return as full-fledged members of society. Heaven be praised, they became truly upstanding citizens who knew how to transfer from one subway line to another, who were fully capable of sending a special-delivery
letter at the post office. Indeed, they even experienced love again, sometimes as much as 75% or even 85% love.

Time passed with shocking swiftness, and soon the boy was thirty-two, the girl thirty.

One beautiful April morning, in search of a cup of coffee to start the day, the boy was walking from west to east, while the girl, intending to send a special-delivery letter, was walking from east to west,but along the same narrow street in the Harajuku neighborhood of Tokyo. They passed each other in the very center of the street. The faintest gleam of their lost memories glimmered for the briefest moment in their hearts. Each felt a rumbling in their chest. And they knew:

She is the 100% perfect girl for me.
He is the 100% perfect boy for me.

But the glow of their memories was far too weak, and their thoughts no longer had the clarity of fouteen years earlier. Without a word, they passed each other, disappearing into the crowd. Forever.

A sad story, don't you think?

Yes, that's it, that is what I should have said to her.
http://www.mat.upm.es/~jcm/murakami-perfect.html

Totally not my style but now I feel like I need to read one of his books. :)

Last but not least, song of the week: