You Can.


You can throw a party without me and talk about it every day at lunch.

You can plan another one while I’m siting right there, and

You can deliberately avoid inviting me.

You can tell me I’m a part of the group and then meet up together without telling me.

You can post the pictures online.

You can promise that I can go but never tell me when.

You can do this for a few weeks, until I give up.

You can tell jokes that everyone else gets but me,

You can create jokes about me while I’m away, and

You can act like I am a walking, talking joke.

You can make me feel unwanted.

You can remind me of the times when I sat by myself every day at recess, and

You can let me know that now is not so different from then.

You can.

And you have.

Where Did the Time Go?!


Holy crud. Since when is it December twentieth? No one asked me if this was okay!

That means there are four more not-Christmas days until Christmas, today not included. You know how many presents I’ve bought? ZERO! I have bought zero presents! Zero is THIS many:

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This is unbelievable! Unacceptable! Completely and utterly not okay! I haven’t gotten around to writing any super cool Christmas-themed stories. Heck, I haven’t even put up a tree yet. I’ve been doing some serious slacking. We need some Christmas up in here!

After finals today, a friend of mine (who happens to be agnostic Jewish) wished me a Merry Christmas. And I was like, “SHOOT! CHRISTMAS! I ALMOST FORGOT!”

I have been so caught up stressing out and going on the internet to avoid studying that Christmas has barely crossed my mind. Everyone’s asking me, “So what do you want for Christmas?”

And I just want to say, “How am I supposed to know?”

Maybe I’ll just ask for some Christmas for Christmas. Seriously. Just a deep breath, a cup of hot chocolate, and a nap. That would be great, thanks. And how about some mistletoe, when you’re at it?

Just when I thought my stress was going to be over for the next two-ish weeks, the holiday season has to start blinking its warning signs at me. Not cool. SO not cool. I just hope there’s enough time left to deal with it.

Feliz Navidad,

Mikki

What Happened to October?


27662343It seems like just yesterday that the entire internet was making “Wake Me Up When September Ends” jokes, and now Halloween is just 28 hours away. It feels like an entire month has come out from under my feet.

October is one of the best months of the year, right up there with May, June, and December. In October, the days start to turn darker, and every morning I wake up to a deep blue sky, still littered with stars and punctuated with a rosy moon. Before long, Daylight Savings Time is coming to an end and all that will be taken away from me.

I haven’t carved a pumpkin this year, and yet there are already Christmas decorations and Thanksgiving sales rushing in from all sides. I don’t want October to end. I’m not ready. I––I––

Okay, I need to calm down before I start hyperventilating. But, for me, the real annual end of innocence comes at the turn of winter. It symbolizes the end. At that point, you’re already in your 2014 mindset. The year has died.

My favorite holiday is Halloween. It’s when I can dress up, like I’m five again, and now it’s coming at me so quickly that I’m not sure I can grab it before it’s gone. This whole “October is almost over” thing isn’t working out too well for me.

Enjoy what you have left of autumn. It becomes winter before you even know it.

Ciao for now,

Mikki

Busy


Busy, busy, busy. That’s me all the time now that summer’s over. I don’t have time to do all kinds of things I got used to doing every day, including (but not limited to) posting on mikkiaaron, jamming out, and working on my writing. Being constantly busy is emotionally and psychologically draining, filling me to the brim with complete and utter apathy when I do have time to do those things. Usually, I’ll just go to bed early instead.

Ironically, on the weekends, there is absolutely zero to do. Those are the days when my friends are busy, busy, busy. Either I need some new, less-busy friends or some better plan-making skills, or maybe both. Those are the days that I could be doing something productive, including (but not limited to) adding the next installment to my epic up-and-coming novel that’s turning out marvelously thus far (yeah right, Mikki, how many times have you said that before?).

But, seriously. I’m turning into a lump that occasionally grunts. My general workload has incapacitated me from any real activity, such as physical activity or social activity. Overall, it’s taking every ounce of me to cope with the lack of summer/free time, and it’s not pretty.

Ciao for now,

Mikki

Pens


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I HATE BLOGGERS BECAUSE THEY ARE EVIL AND ARE OUT TO DESTROY MY DREAMS AND THAT’S WHY I AM GOING TO DESTROY THEIR DREAMS FIRST BY CRUSHING THEM IN MY HAND LIKE TOMATOES UNTIL THEY BLEED AND THEY’RE NOTHING MORE THAN A SQUISHED OUTER LAYER COVERED IN THEIR OWN GUTS. I HOPE THAT WHEN THEY SEE THEIR DREAMS IN THEIR NEWLY MUTILATED STATE THEY WILL WEEP LIKE AN INFANT WHO CAN’T UNDERSTAND WHY SOMEONE WOULD TAKE AWAY HIS TEDDY BEAR AND I WILL LAUGH IN THEIR FACES LIKE A MANIACAL GENIUS AND WATCH THEM WEEP AND ENJOY MYSELF THOROUGHLY.
I USED TO HAVE A DREAM WHEN I WAS MUCH YOUNGER AND NOT QUITE SO OLD AS I AM NOW THAT SOME DAY I WOULD WRITE THE MOST AMAZING NOVEL THAT WOULD STRETCH FROM COVER TO COVER AND CHANGE THE WORLD FOREVER. BUT THE KEYS KEEP CLICKING AND THE MICE KEEP SCROLLING AND THE BLOGGERS KEEP BLOGGING AND NOW MY DREAM IS AS DEAD AS SOMEONE WHO’S BEEN SIX FOOT UNDER FOR A HUNDRED YEARS AND I FEEL LIKE I WILL FOLLOW IT QUICKLY INTO THE GRAVE AS I BECOME JUST AS IRRELEVANT AS IT IS.
THE LIGHTS ARE GETTING DIM AND IT’S PROBABLY NOT BECAUSE SOMEONE IS SLOWLY TURNING THEM DOWN OR THE CANDLE IS FADING OUT. IT’S BECAUSE OF BLOGGING AND BLOGGERS AND STUPIDITY AND KEYBOARDS WITH LETTERS AND RODENTS WITH LIGHTS ON THE BOTTOM AND UNFATHOMABLY LONG TAILS AND EVEN THOUGH NOVELS ARE BEING WRITTEN IT’S NOT BY ME OR THROUGH ME OR WITH ME AND I WILL NEVER CHANGE THE WORLD AGAIN MY TIME IS UP IT’S TIME FOR ME TO GO QUIETLY INTO THAT GOODNIGHT WHERE MAYBE THERE IS AN INK WELL AND FRESH SHEETS OF PARCHMENT AND AN ASPIRING NOVELIST WHO WILL BE EAGER TO WRAP HIS FINGERS AROUND ME AND HELP ME ACHIEVE MY DREAM.

5 Things That are Awkward


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1. Having to ask an attractive person how to get to the porta-potties

This actually happened to me yesterday. I wanted to wait for a more sanitary option, but when you gotta go…you gotta go. The restrooms were not openly apparent, and the best bet for finding my way were a pair of blonde guys only slightly older than me. Needless to say, not a happy situation.

2. Saying something really dumb around an attractive person

We’ve all been there. You can see the man/woman of your dreams out of the corner of your eye, trying to keep cool and look hot when something falls out of your mouth that you never meant to let slip. Something like “I don’t care about my grades,” or “Ugly people don’t have souls,” just to be purely hypothetical. There goes every chance you had, you permanently single freak you.

3.Thinking someone is talking to you when they’re not

A little while back someone was making wild hand gestures at me which I couldn’t comprehend. I kept mouthing, “What?” She kept pointing towards me over and over again for reasons beyond my comprehension until she stood up, walked past me, and started talking to the person behind me. Face palm.

4. Not knowing your relatives

I grew up in a situation where my first cousins lived across the country in two directions, and I still can’t tell some of them apart. There’s a good chance that if I saw one of them person, we would be complete strangers and could pass each other without either of us realizing it. If asked to point them out in photographs, I usually fail. It’s not good.

5. Complaining about something when the person you’re complaining to has the same problem only worse

In this situation you’re usually stuck between feeling like a selfish heel or feeling like your companion is trying to one-up you. But, since we’re human, you usually lean towards the selfish heel bit, making life one big bowl full of awkward when you realize your self-pitying is over nothing and you’re probably a terrible person.

This doesn’t complete the list of things that are awkward. Just remember, no matter how embarrassing things get, they will keep coming back and it will only get worse. Your life will always stink, and so will everyone else’s.

Awkwardness? I say bring it on.

Ciao for now,

Mikki

The Most Depressing Movie I’ve Ever Seen


eragon_ver4I am a huge fan of the Inheritance Cycle. And, I’ll be very straightforawrd here, there simply is no accurate description of how disappointed I was in this movie.Joss-angela

Christopher Paolini wrote Eragon when he was still a teenager, and for this he is my personal hero. I have read the series twice (except for the Inheritance, which I have yet to reread) and they are not light. Reading the book, I imagined myself playing Angela, my favorite character, who is essentially a ninja in a dress, with the same hair type as me (dark and curly!) At your right you will find an image of how she is depicted in the film.

I wish to directly address the director, Stefen Fangmeier, and the screenplay writer, Peter Buchman. Clearly, when you read this book, you weren’t considering any of the fans and what they might want from the movie. You didn’t think about the major characters you decied to downgrade or eliminate entirely, i.e. Angela the herbalist (not to mention Solembum). You neglected the Ra’zac, who were not the offspring of the bogeyman and the mummy, but were ghastly beaked assassins. You forgot that Saphira is snarky and fun-loving, that Arya doesn’t have romantic feelings for Eragon (and also would never wear a skirt), and that there is potentially some reason that half of the dialogue spoken by Brom in the movie is spoken by someone else later on in the series. It’s obvious you never considered why fans of the Harry Potter books actually like the movies too. Your movie was corny and cliché, not to mention unsuccessful, everything that should never have come from an excellent book.

I wonder if Christopher Paolini cried in any way when he saw the butchered version of his masterpiece. I know I did.

Ciao for now,

Mikki

P.S.