Sins of My Youth

This picture is my desktop.

I am desperately in love with Monty Python. Desperately. I legitimately wish I lived in England in the early 70s just so I could see John Cleese walk down to the Ministry of Silly Walks or watch Graham Chapman climb a sidewalk as if it were a mountain. I’ve been filling up the DVR because IFC only ever airs the shows at two o’clock in the morning. Michael Palin is so attractive. Why is it that everyone I like is so much older than me? This generation is seriously lacking in the talent department. I think that’s the reason that movies from the 50s and 60s are so appealing to me. Charlton Heston. Marlon Brando. Both my idols. Both six feet under.

On the other hand, British humor is so much funnier. They don’t have to resort to ronchy sex jokes that have the audience cringing more than they are laughing. I know Monty Python is a little along the lines of slap-happy and abstract, but that’s what makes it funny. Who else would think to have a seminar on how to defend yourself against fresh fruit or have a clan of vikings start singing about Spam? Although, to give America a little bit of credit, Terry Gilliam is actually American and he is a brilliant director. I like Tim Burton too. However, a lot of my favorite (living) actors are foreign as well, i.e. Alan Rickman.

On another note, I’ve finished up with volunteering at Floral and I’m having withdrawal from it. This year was actually a really good year. Granted, at the end of each day I couldn’t wait to go (to Alissa’s) home, but as I’ve already acknowledged, it seems a lot better after it’s over. I was in this one class with thirty children under the age of five. It was called Imagination Creation. We made art projects out of recyclable material, which I thought was pretty cool. Some of the kids were so cute. One named Aidan (3) would scream out, “Hello! I’m playing on the blue slide!” to absolutely no one in particular while we were on the playground. Then there was this girl named Peyton. Oh my god, she looked exactly like Rizzo from Grease except she had lighter hair. I was reading this book called Pinkalicious to a few of them and there was the picture in it of a little girl in only her underwear. It’s not that big of a deal, there’s nothing to see, but Peyton whispers to me, “We shouldn’t be reading this in front of the boys. It’s inappropriate.” It took every fiber of my being not to start laughing. What was nice was that I got to do a couple classes with Alissa. One was a Harry Potter class which was really awesome. The other was a class I had done with Brittany two years ago. We were in a full day class with my eighth grade science teacher who I had always thought was rather good looking. What was so great about it was that we were doing all of the greastest things I had done back in eighth grade (which has to be my favorite year of school). He encouraged us to call him by his first name, which I couldn’t quite get used to. He doesn’t really look like a Jeremy. Some of the kids were little snots. Meredith. Ugh. The best part of the whole camp was the last 10 minutes of the last day of the last week. The camp director walked in to our room and started talking to Jeremy about his dating life. I felt so bad but I couldn’t keep from laughing.

I know it’s kind of morbid and early to start thinking about it, but I might start compiling a “bucket list.” Knowing me, I’ll likely manage to put three things on there before I get bored with myself and then spend ten minutes on my next obsession.

It’s weird, but I miss school in some ways. Not really the procrastination aspect of it which has already kicked in. Three weeks left and I still need to read two books (plus a choice book) and teach myself six chapters of AP Bio. On top of that, I have to learn 19 verses of Hebrew Haftarah for Yom Kippur (kill me.) and I’m still being pressured to get a job. I’ve already applied to a few places. I sucked up my fear of foods and coworkers and applied to Moe’s and The Bean Counter, both of which I think I would like working at. If thouse fall through, Claytime’s hiring in the fall and I picked up an application for Newbury Comics, both of which would also be pretty cool.

As I correctly assumed, I wouldn’t exactly be faithful with this blog, but here goes (once again).

School is over. Thank sweet Jesus.

I assumed that because I no longer have academic stress, that I would have a well deserved break. Not at all the case. Now that my mother can’t nag me about homework (which she still tries to do, mind you), I’ve been harassed to get a job. Now, I have every intention of getting one, however, school has barely been over for a week and I’ve been given a deadline of three days. How in the hell is anyone supposed to find a job in three days in this economy? Besides, I’m not even really sure where I want to work. I know at this point I should take what I can get, but how obnoxious would it be to work at CVS, standing at the counter and ringing up some guy’s condoms? Oringinally, I thought I’d work at Moe’s, but I’m not sure I’d really like to work around food. If I see how the food is made, I may not want to eat there again and I love Moe’s. Recently, I thought of working to Claytime. It looks like fun and it’s within a decent walking distance from my house. I mean, one of the girls there literally just sat and painted her own shit the whole time and only ever got up to do anything when someone asked her where the sponges were. I suppose I’ll just apply to a bunch of places and just choose from there. It’ll be one less thing for my mother to scream at me for, although, no doubt, she’ll find something else.

Speaking of her, I also assumed that she wouldn’t go so low as to check my Facebook daily and find that I had posted the link to this blog, click on it, read it, and then harass me some more. As previously admitted, I can be a bitch sometimes. But, hey, that doesn’t exactly invite my mother to call me one. She uses the blog as justification. Disgusting. I guess that’s what I get though, for allowing my mother to be Facebook friends with me. I tried un-friending her once but she found out in about an hour or so. Not because I told her, but because she couldn’t get onto my page. Needless to say, the link has been removed so she can’t read this anymore.

I also assumed that there would be spots open if I decided to volunteer at Floral this year without having submitted my application two or three months ago. I was wrong. Apparently they don’t need my help. Great, now I have to sit and monitor Scott, who has gotten quite rebellious recently.

Mr. Alemida’s right. When you assume, you make an ass out of u and me. Corny, I know, but it speaks truth.

I think I’m going to make myself a list of things to do this summer. Maybe that’ll help to keep myself occupied.

I’m having a hard time trying to decide how to start this rather than the usual awkward “About Me:” segue. I suppose, to just jump right into it, my name is Erica Nader. I’m at the all-important age of 16. I don’t understand why it’s so important. Sure, there’s the permit thing, but otherwise, it’s not that great.

I’ve never been the best at describing myself, because I often find that I’m not even sure who I am or who I should be. I see myself as a chameleon of sorts. I act differently around different groups of people. I’m mostly myself around no one at all, and least myself around people I barely know. This annoys me, but I’m not sure how to change it.

This blogging thing is going to be really awkward. If you’re friends with me, you’d think you know a shitload about me because that’s all I can ever talk about. It’s disgusting. I even say the same thing multiple times to the same people. Maybe it’s because my mother does that. Maybe I’m turning into her. Shudder. In reality there’s a lot more I think about that I don’t share. Maybe I do and I’m just not aware of it. Nevertheless, I’ll try.

I love my friends. But there’s always things I find in them I strongly dislike. I do this with most people and it’s not a quality I’m proud of. I probably like my friends mostly because they tolerate me. I’m not good at making friends. That could be due to several things. However, I feel like I’m drifting from a lot of my older, closer friends and that we don’t seem to be as chummy anymore. Maybe it’s because they’ve been making new friends and I’ve just been drifting in the same place for too long. Maybe it’s just in my head.

I could probably gripe about my family for decades, but I’ll spare the details. Let’s just say we’re not the best of friends.

Music seems to be the only thing that makes sense anymore, even when it doesn’t. I’ll listen to anything except country. I know a lot of people like it, and that’s fine, but it’s just not for me. I’ve been really into this band I just discovered. It’s called Neon Trees. Don’t know if anyone’s really heard of them, but they’re pretty cool. I always fall back on oldies, whether it be heavy metal, jazz, or anything in between. My dad used to listen to them a lot when I was growing up, and they’ve kind of stuck ever since. I think the only thing I don’t like about music anymore is people who put down other people’s preferences. Everyone likes something different. I have this one friend who used to be really into the type of bands I liked i.e. Fall Out Boy, Metro Station, she was the one to introduce me to All Time Low. We went to a concert together roughly a year ago, and now all of a sudden she’s into the complete opposite. I’m completely fine with that, to each his own, but what I can’t handle is that she puts down people that like the bands she once used to, claiming that it’s not “real alternative”. Personally, I don’t really like the stuff she listens to, but I don’t give her shit about it. Don’t get me wrong, I love her to death, but seriously. I don’t know if she’ll ever read this, but if she does, someone had to say something. And for the record, I like Nevershoutnever. I may not agree with his principles, but I actually like him. Yeah, I read that post. Get over it. And sorry if this sounds really mean.

Speaking of which, I am a BITCH. I hate myself for it, but it’s become so second-nature to respond with a bitchy comment to anything anyone ever says. People probably hate me for it. I know they do, they just won’t tell me face-to-face.

This has turned into the single most ranty blog ever. Probably not, but whatever. I do that a lot.

I probably won’t keep up with this thing. I rarely can commit to anything. Which scares me. I’ll try to. One step forward.