luminance

I was fourteen years old when I met him. He looked like the boy of my dreams, and he looked like the boy who would be made for me.
He was nothing, and everything, to me.
Now, I am on the cusp of my sixteenth year. We stare at each other in something that may be regret.
Regret, and reminisce. He takes her hand.
I turn away.

This is the story for today.

The Wonderful World of Debate Camp

This post will eventually be come to known as the immense, "FUCK YOU, DEBATE CAMP" post.

I regret nothing.

So, debate camp. It’s pretty stupid, in all honesty. I’m sitting, listening to this “world renowned” debate guy. We’ve been going to ridiculous lengths to chip the armor that encloses his case. Carlee is doing most of the work, only to be absolutely shut down, and insulted in the process. I decided that I absolutely detest the guy we're working with. His voice makes me want to fall asleep, and his presence is just so damn magnetic, you really can't fall asleep. He cusses, listens to awful music, and is just over-all, an annoying piece of work.

He also thinks that giving us homework is the best idea ever. Screw you, sir debate guy. Screw you. I have to write a debate case, by tomorrow morning. I don't understand how that's going to even happen. I want to play my 360, because I have Final Fantasy 13 in my possession. Might as well play it.

Obviously, that's not happening. I've been ignoring messages on my fanfiction account, I've been ignoring MSN chats, I've been ignoring just about everyone. All because of debate. I find this rather stupid, and completely unnecessary, and I absolutely envy the Speech geeks right now. I want to work on my OO sooooooo badly right now, I am willing to do anything to get out of debate camp right now.

/sigh.

It doesn't help when there are no attractive guys to befriend. All the currently attractive guys are taken, and the stupid guy I crushed on last year is an idiot.

The end.

MORAL OF THE STORY: DEBATE SUCKS, DON'T JOIN IT!

Meet Mackenzie de Lis

You know when you're procrastinating way too much when you decide to type down your favorite fictional character's biography on your blog.

ENJOY~

name: Mackenzie de Lis
age: Eighteen.
hometown: Neo-Los Angeles, California.

Talent: Telepathy & Mind Control.

Quote: "A short note on a subject people shouldn't be asking about, by me. That sounds like a lovely introduction, doesn't it?"

Known For: Her notebook that's been passed around the halls of Neo-Los Angeles's School For Rising Puppeteers, with information on just about everything, and anyone.

and now I will edit this later. Because that's fun.

You Would've Had the Ultimate Ginger.

What is one to do when your best friend leaves you?

I decided to answer this question through my various split-personalities, I mean, fictional characters.
Fictional characters, yeah. Sure, whatever. I'll keep telling myself that. Ugh.

From Inevitable:

Anabel: "What friends? I don't need such stupidity weighing me down."
Sabrina: "Stop being so melodramatic, Anabel."
Anabel: "Are you kidding me? You're the one who fucking tried to kill me."
Sabrina: "Details, details. Personally, I would be sad about it for a second, and then go absolutely wreck that person's life~"
Anabel: "That was so grammatically incorrect. It should be illegal."
Sabrina: "Like you haven't said something grammatically incorrect. Freaking grammar nazi."
Anabel: "I am not a grammar nazi. I'm simply trying to warn the world from your stupidity."

From After Wonderland:
Imogen: "Um, well, I'd be kind of mad...or sad? Um..."
Artemis: "You're so stupid, Imogen. Stupid, stupid, stupid."
Imogen: "Or I would deck Artemis. Yeah, I like that idea better."
Artemis: "Imogen is stupid, stupid, stupid. Disgusting, stupid, and stupid."
Imogen: "Shut up, Artemis. This is my answer, not yours."
Artemis: "Stupid, stupid-"
Imogen: "-as I was saying, I would be kind of disappointed in both of us. I would've probably had something to do with it, but it's also the other person's fault, you know? For not calling, or at least being courteous enough to tell you 'hey, the friendship is over, kthxbai.'"

From Catastrophe:
Harley: "I would probably punch them in the face."
Daniel: "Isn't that a bit violent over some petty girl-fight?"
Harley: "Of course not."
Kalina: "Um, Harley, I really think punching people in the face wouldn't fix anything."
Colton: "No shit."
Harley: "I think punching people in the face is absolutely necessary. There should be a holiday reserved for this sacred event."
Lucas: "You're psychotic."

I hope you enjoyed. Today's blog title comes from Doctor Who episode "Vincent and the Doctor." :3

Words with Angie: Stalker

Today, we'll unravel the urban legend that is the word "stalker".

Most people tend to peg this word to anyone who appears at the most random moments, or the like.

ACTUAL DEFINITION:

stalk·er

A person who stealthily hunts or pursues an animal or another person A person who harasses or persecutes someone with unwanted and obsessive attention

Now, before you go and accuse someone of stalking you, please keep this in mind.

I've noticed even I've been using the word in a wrongful way, and it kind of sucks.

Anyways, that's all for today!

So, I was like, "Screw you."

As I type this, I attempt to pull myself together from the following:

• Watching the movie From Prada To Nada, which was an okay flick, for having Camilla Belle and Alexa Vega in it.
• Sobbing uncontrollably.

I think that the reasons I get upset are pretty stupid. I get upset over things like sold-out concert tickets, or stupid whores, or boys. I think those are all pretty stupid reasons to cry about.

I mean, seriously.

Well, it's a shame I cry about them anyways. We'll start from the beginning, yes?

1) Sold Out Concert Tickets.

Son of a gun, I swear, I didn't know that 3K tickets would be gone in a week. Seriously, what the hell? I'm angry, at myself for not getting the money sooner, and just angry/disappointed at myself for letting Rach down. I feel awful, because this was seriously the highlight of my summer, and now, it's all gone.

I'm actually going to have to stay home and wait for the concert to come and go, so we can weep bitterly and watch concert footage on Youtube. It's not fair.

2) Stupid Whores.

Whores. Whores. Don't like the word? Too bad. Whore whore whore whore.

Okay, I'm done overemphasizing the word. Anyways, I despise the way people are so hypocritical, and act like they're incorruptible pureness and then go on to act like a complete slut. Really, now? You do not flirt with a boy that you know that your friend likes. That just doesn't work. You do not continue to flirt with said boy after said friend confronts you. You do not hug said boy in front of said friend, who wants to pummel you to the ground.

Baka.

3) Boys.

Is it stupid of me to want a fairytale? I want to find a boy that is/has...

• Respectful towards his own family, and mine.
• Respectful towards me, my body, and my regulations.
• Polite.
• Gentlemanly.
• Elegant.
• Well-dressed.
• Well-versed in literature.
• A writer of some sort.
• Blue eyes.
• Snarky comments.
• Witty banter.
• Intelligence.
• A second language.
• A desire to travel the world.
• Some sort of musician.
• Funny.
• Adorkable.
• Geeky.
• Wears glasses for fun.
• Has a good taste in music.
• Sensitive.
• Protective.
• Understanding.
• Humble.
• Tech-savvy.
• Honest.
• a God-loving human being.
• Respectful towards God.
• Believes in God, in general. Because that's important.
• Photogenic.
• Eloquent.

I'm pretty sure there are more qualities, but these are the ones that have been coming up in my head at random moments. I want love, I crave it desperately.

It's actually quite depressing how much I want it. I just keep looking for it in the wrong people. I need to learn how to love and accept my own flaws before demanding for someone else to love me.

Who is going to love you when you can't love yourself? No one.

I want to get past being a 2dimensional princess and start living the life I want to live. I've come to realize that I'm blessed to have friends, and that's time to get rid of the ones who aren't contributing to anything. I need to get rid of those stupid friends I have that flirt with the guys you like, and simply put you down when you try to talk to them about something important.

I need to start living for myself, because the world will continue spinning without me. It'll be fine.

So, for now, I'll get some sleep. I'm still going to work tomorrow. I'll probably save most of the money, and use a bit of it to buy myself something nice. Maybe a pair of socks.

Or, you know, something practical. I don't know.

a week in review~

Sunday

• Decided to go on a Facebook & Cookie Strike. I haven't been on Facebook, and I ate onecookie today. That means I cannot eat anymore for the rest of the week. Sadness ensues.
• Managed to convince my mother to say "yes" to my Hatsune Miku Concert Extravaganza.
• Did nothing important.
• Went to church.

Monday

• Boring Monday is boring Monday.
• I announce the concert details to my best friend, Rachel. She promptly freaks. It's awesome.
• Other crap ensues.
• Oh, hi Mock Trial. *waves* I join the team, and realize I'm going to be stuck with my sort of/on and off crush for the next year and a half.
• Joy.

Tuesday

• Nothing fun. I plan on what I'll be wearing for our concert. Cosplay is sadly out of the equation. *sobs*
• I do my homework.
• Mock Trial.
• So yeah.

Wednesday

• That's today, right? Um.
• I have double chemistry. I attempt to commit suicide.
• It fails.
• Rach and I attempt to create a list of potential love interests that aren't a) dating one someone, b) named Conor, or c) stupid.
• It fails.
• I have double French 2. I commit suicide.
• Only for a second, though.
• I have double English. It's boring/cool/interesting/and yeah.
• I finish 1984 by George Orwell. *sobs* It's my new favorite book ever.
• I check the prices for our concert. The grand total is...currently 95$. WINNING.
• I say currently, because I just sent an email to the registration people asking if I needed three registration badges. If I do, I'll start crying uncontrollably.
• I am writing this post.

I have a math final tomorrow. I'm getting off the computer so I can *gasp* study. I need to get a wonderful score, or I'll die, and my A- will perish along with me. Sadness ensues.

Besides all of that, you're probably (not) wondering how my love life is going.

It's nonexistent, stop laughing at my sheer patheticness. Instead, I will show you a picture of my perfect boyfriend, as drawn by Rachel.

It's flipped. I know.

And I will leave you with my top five favorite Vocaloid songs.

#5) Two Breaths Walking - KAITO & Hatsune Miku

Why? This song. This this this this. It's perfection, I swear. It's one of my favorites, because it's simple, but it tells such a complex story - a story of leaving your childhood behind, and coming to terms that you're allowed to enjoy things from your youth, and you don't have to burn every bridge. It's one of the only songs that actually can use KAITO wonderfully, considering his voice bank sucks. Miku also sounds great in this song. :)

#4) Double Lariat - Megurine Luka

Why? aldjflakf THIS SONG IS WONDERFUL. There are two versions, and I posted the one I like better, because it has a story, and it's just such a great pick you up song. It's one of the songs I listen to when I'm in a bad mood, or whatever, because it brings a smile to my face!

#3) Mozaik Role/Cowardly Mont Blanc - GUMI

Why?: These were the songs that first introduced me to my favorite Vocaloid, besides Luka and Miku. They're connected, in some sort of weird way, and they're both written by deco*27, who's absolutely brilliant and composing songs. I like the imagery in both videos, and they're both really catchy, in completely different ways.

#2) Delusion Sketch/Monochrome Blue Sky - Hatsune Miku

Why? Miku, Miku, Miku. Well, we have an interesting love/hate relationship. There's a couple of songs I absolutely detest by Miku, but those two mentioned are my favorites. They really show off her vocal range, and they're both really catchy and fun. Delusion Sketch actually beat out Monochrome Blue Sky for a while, and Monochrome Blue Sky isn't that good, but it's still a great song.

#1) Karakuri Blast - Kagamine Len & Rin.

Why? Holy crap. Where can I start? Not only is this song completely different from the rest, but it's like, wow. I can start by clarifying that Len is not a Nazi, before someone makes a smart comment like that. The swastika is inverted, so yeah. Anyways, Len vs Rin, in a show of epic epicness. Their voices are freaking life-like, and the lyrics are alkjdfklajfd awesomeness to the nth degree.

new story, whee.

The Chamber Singer's Boyfriend - A Novel.

Janine Elliot thought she had everything.

Bridgette Henrie knew her life was perfect.

Sebastian was unsatisfied with life in general.

In politics and music, romance has no place.

"I had no intention of falling in love with him."

coming soon.

when boredom strikes...video blogging answers.

So. Yeah. Video blogging. I like the idea a whole bunch. This is my first vlog, and it's the making of my TARDIS/David Cameron History Project.

...Anyways.

Post 200.

Hi.

Nothing magical happens around here. Honestly. I just wanted to say hi to everyone who chances upon this blog, and talk about myself for a bit.

I'm Angela, or Angie.

I'm also melodramatic, a debate kid, and have issues with commitments. I strive for perfection, and I want love more than anything.

Jesus is my Savior, but I think I haven't been doing a good job showing it.

One day, I think, I'll be able to look back on this entire blog and simply laugh.

At least, I hope.

counting stars wishing I was okay

I would like to apologize & send my sincerest thanks to begin with. I want to thank those I turned to during my time of short-lived crisis, because if it wasn't for my realization that there are people out there with issues worst than mine, I would probably still be in the midst of a depression so severe, Hannah Baker would have trouble challenging me on that.

Anyways, besides that, my apologies for the excessive cursing in the last post.

I'm better now, if you were still wondering.

I smoke to die.

EDIT: Hi, there. If you don't normally read my blog, or are simply browsing, please please please take this into consideration: I don't drop f-bombs on a daily basis. I wrote this when I was feeling so awful about what was going on, so please, don't judge me based on this post. I'm sorry for the vast amount of cursing found in this post, but I'm not going to edit it. That sounds arrogant, but I'm not going to edit it because it's the replica of how I felt, and what I need to do to get better.

Thank you.

-Angie.

I feel like an Eldritch Abomination. I'm sure twenty of you are going to say "Oh please, don't be so dramatic. Every girl deals with shit now and then, so calm the hell down."

You know what? I'm pretty damn sure that not just any average teenager deals with the shit I go through. I know that there are others who probably have it worse than I do, but since this is my blog, I get to whine and reflect and mull over what the hell I'm doing wrong.

I want to be perfect. I'm far from it, I'm an illogical being with so many fallacies, but that's what makes me human.

So, today, I really fucked up. Like, this isn't some of your stupid "oh, I talked back to my parents, but this only happens once a year, so it's like forgivable" shit, it's some hardcore, I really fucked up and my parents hate me kind of shit.

I acknowledge my failure. Whoop-ti-fucking-do. Now what? What am I supposed to do now? Do I go apologize to my father for being such a fucking failure when he's failed too, but refuse to admit it? This is what I fucking hate about the situation. The fact of the matter is that a) We both screwed up, and that b) everyone expects me to the be the only one to fix the damn thing. This is what pisses me off because it's not fair to me when I'm the one that gets blamed for every fucking thing that goes wrong, and I'm not even a part of it.

Sure, I maybe completely anti-social in family occasions, but that's because I immensely dislike the people in my extended family. Excuse me for having a negative opinion on my cousins, aunts, and uncles. Excuse me for being fucking traumatized by the sheer callousness that my extended family has shown towards my family. Excuse me for calling them out on their bullshit.

Sorry, I didn't mean to offend their plastic souls. My apologies.

And it's like, really, dude, really? You want me to get out of my shell, you want me to go and hang out with these people, just so I'm not labeled the fucking black sheep of the family? When have I cared about other's opinions on me? I'm my own person. I am not defined by other's stupidity.

I screwed up, I'm a mess, and I want to get better. But the thing is, I can't get better when I have about twenty million anchors trying to pull me back into the water. I'm trying so fucking hard to please everybody, if you asked me why the hell I'm taking three AP classes, Mock Trial, Debate, History Day, and Science Olympiad next year, I wouldn't answer the typical "because I want to be better", because we all know that's a bunch of bullshit. I'm doing it to give my parents something to be fucking proud of, because apparently, the fact that I'm on this earth isn't enough.

If you asked me how I was born, I would tell you that I was born at twenty-four weeks, about...I don't know, three months premature. This is the guilt card that gets played on me every fucking time I screw up.

"But Angela, you were born premature. If God didn't want you on this earth, then He wouldn't have let you live back then. You're a miracle, and you're messing up in ways A, B, and C, and you need to be better, blah, blah, blah, blah."

And I'm like, "Seikō kono to the ninth degree, and leave me the hell alone."

So, today, I acted like the biggest stuck-up bitch on the planet earth in front of my parents. It was great. We're looking for a place to live, you see? We got unceremoniously kicked out of our old house, and despite popular belief, we didn't leave because we wanted to. Now, we're looking for a new place, a new life, and blah blah blah. We went house hunting, and found this really nice condo. Three rooms, cool design, and overall, a nice place. It needed some work, sure, but besides that, I would give it the Angela seal of approval.

But no. Of course, I have to give a fucking speech about how much I like this house in order to please my father, who really didn't like the condo. And I'm pissed, because he shouldn't be using my sister and me as a mouth piece to voice his concerns over the condo to our mother because that's just plain stupid. I probably murdered about twenty-five 'ands' in that sentence. I could care less.

Then, he decides to make a big deal out of it when all I wanted was a peaceful night and ride back home. He started mocking me, my so called Valley Girl accent (shut up, Rach), and decided it would be nice to aggravate me while I had twenty fries in my mouth. I almost choked and died, people.

I try to keep my calm. This never works. I'm pissed and I'm like, "A) Don't mock me, and b) If you don't like the freaking house, then say something."

Then he gets pissed and retaliates with his own witty ABC list and I tune the world out because I really don't want to get into a drama fest. Bad choice, now my dad's even more mad and everyone else in the car has halted their consumption of carbohydrates and fatty acids. Wonderful.

We get into the house, my dad tells me that he's sick of it and that I should treat him with more respect. I want to say that once he's earned it, he'll receive it. I don't say that, though, because that would earn a slap to the face from somebody. Anybody. Instead, my voice decides to die out on me because it's a wimp. I nod and walk off, screaming internally about self control and contemplating the twenty five different ways I can commit suicide and wake up dead in the morning.

Which would probably ruin their wonderful plans for sending me to work tomorrow. Oh, what a fucking bummer.

Then, afte two hours of silence in my room, filled with angsty Vocaloid songs and recaps of Durarara!!, my mom walks in and tells me that the bitter people lose their road or some other piece of advice that was lost in translation. I nod, and she leaves me to wallow my misery. Fucking beautiful.

And I'm sitting here through this entire episode, wondering, what the hell did I do so fucking wrong to manage to piss off the world?

Oh, and never find love, but that's for a different post. I'm pulling a Neru Akita, and blowing this popsicle stand.

I'm obsessed with the mess that is America.

(Marina and the Diamonds - Hollywood)

Today, I decided that I would write a blog post in order to talk about what the hell I've been thinking for the past few days. If you have seen me IRL, you've probably noticed I haven't been as obnoxious as usual. (Except when poking my food, sorry about that, Jesse.) That's because of Sophie's World.

If you didn't know already, Sophie's World is an intricate, and informative story, on philosophy. Here's the wiki page if you would like to check it out. The novel's been making me think about things I would've never thought about. It's also made me revaluate my own thinking and my own personal philosophies.

What are these philosophies of mine, you might be wondering.

Guess what? I'm not telling you. Not yet least, because I have math homework that needs to be done.

...I fail so much.

looking for alaska

I love this book. That is all.

remember her?

Quietly, she approached the altar, head dipped in respectful silence. Her eyes were closed, her knees brushed against the alabaster carpet, as she mumbled her grievances, her sins.

When she arrived at the foot of the dais, she fell into mute numbness, quite unsure of what to say. She had already wasted breath on silly things, like -

falling in love

falling in hate

falling into nothingness.

You picked me.

I hate myself for loving you.
I hate knowing that nothing is going to happen between us.

Goodbye, Mr. Despair.

Dear X, Sincerely Me.

I don't like blaming you for everything, but I think I might start doing that.

So here it is: it's all your fault.

We haven't talked in months, I text, you ignore. What's the problem here? Are we too busy/important/bored/unattached/annoyed to write back a simple text saying "yeah, I'm alive, stop bugging me"?

It's fine, I understand - there must be an unfathomable reason you suddenly vanished off the face of the earth, but...I'm kind of tired of sitting and waiting. Sure, we'll see each other eventually, to exchange notebooks, but what then?

I don't know. I'll be willing to admit that sure, maybe I'm not trying hard enough, but how can you try harder when the person won't even speak to you?

Rachel, I'm sorry, but where are you?

someone like you

I want to talk on the subject of money.
Money is something I tend to spend. I don't save money because I have a hard time doing so.
Money is evil. When you have a lot of it, you are lifted up in social rank. When you have too little of it, it's hard to get by.
I'm no millionaire, but I know a couple. *CoughMr.PaleandSpookyCough*
So, I'm going to start saving my money. After I buy my Serah costume, of course. *shot* By then, I won't have any money to save! I fail so epically, there are no words!

I had an interesting day today.

the moment

There's a time where you simply stop thinking and start...well, dying.

I am a hardcore self-depreciator, I will not lie about that. It's how I was programmed to function - if I keep myself at a lower level, people will underestimate me and I'll be able to rise from my self-induced handicap and beat the living shit out of everyone.

Or, at least, that's what I thought I would be able to do. I have kept myself at this lower standard for such a long time now that I'm doubting my own abilities - and I hate being another cliched teenager in this sea of puppets because it's now how I roll.

I make my own roads, I don't follow preset directions. I was never good with them, anyways.

But what does this have to do with Love? Everything.

Most of you already know that I am infatuated (noun :infatuation - a foolish and usually extravagant passion or love or admiration) with a boy. I refuse to admit it, but he's become integrated into my life in way I hate - constantly. plaguing. my thoughts.

And I hate it because I cannot control these emotions - they're pesky things. I feel like I'm not worth it, I feel like I'm not good enough for him. Which makes me feel even more pathetic considering he is just a boy, another nameless puppet in our society. I am a wallflower. He is too. We are a match made in Heaven - but for him to realize this is like for me to admit that he's just not that in to me. Not. Going. To. Happen.

I hate feeling inferior, but I hate feeling like I'm on top of the world.

Can feelings go away? Please?

Wait, no. No no no no no no. I like feelings. Wait, no I don't.

Ew, contradiction after contradiction - I need to sort my head out. I mean, honestly. adfasd;;;

Well, like, ugh.

(scientifically speaking, you have to be infatuated with a person for over a year and a half to be technically "in love". or something like that.)

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY

WARNING: If you have a dislike for nerdy-ness supreme, please run away screaming.

Okay, today is the day guys. I've been spazzing about it for the last year and a half - today, Pokemon Black and White come out to the US! Squee~

Now feel free to shoot me! :D

what will it take to make you fall in love with me?

Very much, I assume, due to the fact you haven't run into my arms yet.

It's okay, though. You will, eventually.

Oh my God I sound like a psycho-stalker someone please shoot me before it's too late.

EDIT: I fail at spelling. 0_0

what matters to me doesn't matter to them.

I don't care anymore.

No. No. No.

I'm not even going to bother with formalities.

Taylor Swift shouldn't date Adam Young. It just shouldn't happen. But of course, Karma and Life are out to get me and decided to present this:

Why? That's what I would like to know.

we make the hipsters fall in love

Ke$ha does bad things to you.

Your mind, that is.

I'm not going to make this a long post. No one reads my blog anymore, anyways. I've taken up blogging on other sites, which is fine.

I feel so lost.

In which I speak about the death of my writing skills.

I wrote this a while back...in January. I had the most horrible depression over my writing last month. This is what happened during that course of time. I decided to transcribe my posts on Joshyme's Hachiko, where I usually go when I have nothing better to do, and...I don't know. I felt like I needed to post my enlightenment on my blog - thankfully, I feel like I can accept my own writing now, once again.

So...enjoy the tale.

-Angie

---

"No matter how good you are at something, there will be at least 20 people younger, smarter, richer and prettier than you who can kick your ass in that." - Second Rule of the Universe, as said by Sarah Nortrup.

Your second rule of the universe is true. It's so pathetically tried and true that you would think most of us would learn our lesson by now, huh?


WRONG.

Want to know why? Because we as Americans, maybe it's different for you J because you're Canadian and stuff, are raised to think that we can be the best there ever was. We're not taught humility at a young age and this goes on to screw up the rest of our lives. A lot of artists either have Saro-chan's problem, or inferiority complexes (much like mine), or they just...loose themselves to their art, you know? You've heard of stories of artists dying for their art, or losing the ability to do whatever their talent was - it kills them. Artists have one of the shittiest life expectancies ever. AND WHAT?

Nothing. Most artists die unknown, anonymous at it's best.

My inferiority complex will be the death of me, I swear. I hate my own writing - I'll be happy with it for a while, but I grow unhappy with it, rage against it. I can't find my writing style anymore. When you read something, like maybe Angie-wolfe's* TWEWY stories, or Dani's* KH fics, or whoever's stories you read, there's something distinct about them. Two writers can write about the same thing but the outcome will be different.

I can't find anything special about my writing style anymore - it's uniqueness is gone, mostly. I mean, you can catch snippets of it sometimes, but when you read my fic and someone else's with the poetry!fic style going on, you won't be able to tell the difference.

I'm done whining; I have fanfics to write and screwing inferiority complexes to do.

*insert about ten million comments about my stupidity here*

*sniffles and wipes away stray tear* ...I got sand in my eye, I swear.

*starts bawling* I'm sorry guys! I feel live I've failed to realize that there's other people on here that go through the same crap I do. I forget that you guys are here, that I'm not alone in this hole I dug myself, and that I do have a writing style.

It's just not...there, you know?

Kip* - Po-Mo*. I don't know; I think I started writing Po-Mo-ish because I was just so caught up in getting popular. *hangs head in shame* I usually whine on Polyvore* (a fashion site - it's like...oh. It's like the po-mo versus yourself war on here. Here's po-mo, here's me.) about how everything's a popularity contest and how no one cared about original sets anymore. I didn't realize that what I was whining about was the exact same thing doing I was doing on FF. I wanted to be popular, desperately, so I traded in my style for someone else's. I think that happened...oh, yes. My transition into the Po-Mo!style came after I completely tanked a Pokemon story. I wanted to write a fantastic story. It didn't work out so well, and I was really discouraged from the reviews I got (two, or three, I think). I decided that I wasn't going to let myself get hurt like that again, so I did a deal with the FF!Devil. I changed my stories, my art, and I got what I wanted. Popularity.

All for nothing - I haven't been able to get what I really want. A TVTropes* rec. That was my main goal after the deal was done.

But thing this was...I wasn't happy with my writing style way before I even got into the Pokemon!fandom. I was already moping about my TWEWY failures, Nothing Special, being the prime offender. Sure, I was really young and all, but when I got older and read that piece of crap, I was in shock. I couldn't believe that I wrote it and thus, I fled from the TWEWY!fandom and kind of lost myself in the Pokemon!fandom. It was because of one little failure that I missed out on a lot - I could've gotten better and better in the TWEWY!fandom. Maybe not. Well, we'll never know because it's obvious that I came back now, but completely different as the little twelve year old who started.

And now, here I am. I'm trying to go back to the days where I didn't write Po-Mo-ish. You can probably tell that by the newer titles, that it's kind of working.

Or not.

I have seventy-seven stories on this site. If someone was to ask me which one was my favorite, it would either have to be Crossing or Alexandria. Want to know why? Because both of those stories were milestones of my failure and success as a writer.

Thank you for enlightening me, guys.

---

Notes:

*Angie-wolfe is the nickname for Angel, a girl on Fanfiction.Net whose stories are pretty awesome. Her penname is Divine Wolfe.

*Dani-chan is the nickname for Dani, another writer on FF.Net. Her penname usually has something do with Dani-chan.

*Kip is short for Kipper Snack, a boy on FF.net whose writing can kill via awesome. Creepy, but true. His penname is obviously Kipper Snack.

*Polyvore is the fashion site I used to hang out in. I hate it now.

*TVTropes is the place to be for writing. Almost every writer's dream is to get on that site.

*Po-Mo is the portmanteau name for post-modernism, as coined by Kipper Snack.

the night of a thousand stars - the eighty-ninth role holder ceremony

DISCLAIMER: Cussing, drama, and crap ensues. Please read with caution.

A/N: This was my NaNoWriMo last year - the story of Inevitable. This poor story's been through Development Hell, like you wouldn't believe. At first it was going to be another run off the mill chick-lit...and it turned out to this madness.

I think it's pretty cool. But whatever. I'll continue posting these up if you guys want me to. Idk.

-Angie

-

Neo-Los Angeles, Ri

The Night of A Thousand Stars - The Eighty-Ninth Role Holder Ceremony

“Screw you, karma.”

.

.

.

“Tonight, we crown the newest crop of the face of the city; the chosen ones! Welcome, the new generation, the new Puppeteers of Neo-Los Angeles!” Jocelyn Grace’s high-pitched lilt echoed around the packed auditorium. An uneasy murmur stirred among the crowd with parents crossing their fingers, as their thirteen year old children stared in wait.

It was the eighty-ninth Role Holder Ceremony. The Head Role Holder descended from above, dressed in a black hooded cloak, holding an ancient looking scroll. The tattered parchment was held together by a loosely tied crimson ribbon. The Role Holder’s hair was tucked inside the cloak, giving no hint of whether or not the Role Holder was male or female.

The women chosen to be Role Holders were usually much more compassionate than the men. Men simply read the lists like they were grocery shopping and left the room before parents could launch a lightning bolt, or pelt him with silver bullets.

Jocelyn stood at the front of the stage, her pink eyes glowing like a cat’s, as she clapped giddily at the Role Holder’s painstakingly slow arrival. Jocelyn’s platinum blonde hair was let down for the occasion, in short, bouncy curls, that reached her uncovered, tattooed shoulders. Sparrows flew from one shoulder to the other, in a sea of brilliantly realistic color. She was wearing a tight, strapless, bright blue dress, offsetting her eyes, her hair, and her asymmetrical thigh-high stockings; the left sock was black and white striped, while the right one was solid black, paired up with black high heeled ankle boots. Her happy-go-lucky demeanor contrasted against the solemn parents and the fidgety teens, eyes focused on the Role Holder, whose feet finally touched the floor.

The Head Role Holder for the Eighty-Ninth Role Holder Ceremony was a woman. Her hood slipped off her head, revealing navy blue tresses, glittering under the fluorescent lights. The cloak had a v-neck cut, revealing blue veins that ran through her neck, throbbing faintly. Blue veins in Neo-Los Angeles were not common. It was a rare genetic gift; it showed that you were one of the few that held the lives of many.

“Wow, she’s really hot.” The lazy drawl of Tyler Myracle-Hayden broke the silence that had been kept for about…twenty minutes in the back of the auditorium. The girl next to him gave him a glare, her piercing green eyes flashing with annoyance. She was lithe, slender and tall, without a trace of acne on her perfect porcelain face. For a thirteen year old, she showed promise of becoming a model.

“Ugh, keep your sick fetishes to yourself, Tyler.” The blonde retorted, crossing her arms over her emerald silk covered chest. She was wearing a forest-green gown, shimmery and slinky, that went all the way to the floor. It made her eyes pop, and the girl knew that half of the teenage male population was focused on her, instead of the woman that would be deciding the fate of their lives.

Tyler flicked his long, blond bangs back, his hazel eyes twinkling with amusement. He wrapped an arm around the girl and gave her a squeeze. “Don’t worry, Sabrina, my heart belongs to you.”

Sabrina scoffed and unlatched Tyler’s arm from her shoulder, giving him a glare and a kick to the shin. Tyler yelped in pain, his black skinny jean-clad leg now showcasing a bruise under the fabric.

“Really, now, let’s all be friends, after all-” A pause in a girl’s sarcastic spiel caused Sabrina and Tyler to cease their pointless bickering to direct their attention to the newcomer. “-we might become enemies in a couple of hours.”

In her rebel-princess glory, Anabel Starr stood in her black tulle frock, arms crossed and cobalt blue eyes staring the two blondes down. Sabrina let out a short chuckle before summoning a staff made of thorns and branches, with a blood red rose at the end.

“I’m not here to fight, dah-ling.” Anabel quipped, before a slight breeze began to pick up.

Wait, what?

Tyler looked around in awe-struck amazement, as wind that had come out of nowhere whipped around the raven-haired girl, forming a staff that fell into Anabel’s right hand. Anabel flicked her blunt bangs back, before flashing a smirk.

“After all, wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of your potential suitors.”

Sabrina let out a scoff and recalled her weapon, which disappeared in a flurry of rose petals. Anabel’s wind staff disappeared into the atmosphere. Tyler shook his head and pouted.

“Not fair. You guys get the cool powers and I’m stuck with the lame power of manipulation over sound waves.”

“Oh, boo hoo for you.” Anabel and Sabrina both said, while simultaneously rolling their eyes.

Back in the front of the room, the Head Role Holder was making some important announcements.

“Hello, citizens of Neo-Los Angeles, and the rest of the…country of Ri.” Her voice was strained. She took a deep breath after every clause or so, as if she didn’t get enough air, she would faint and wither away.

Which was likely, considering her too pale skin.

“My name is Chrysanthemum La Roux.” Her golden eyes wavered from the parents to the thirteen year olds, as her lips turned up at the corners. It was a half-hearted attempt at a smile. “I will be announcing the one-hundred names that will be joining the Puppeteers this year. I…would like to thank you…all for coming…tonight. This…trip must be hard…considering…the fact that many of you…are from across the country…hee-hee…” Chrysanthemum’s golden eyes suddenly focused on the trio in the back.

There was a hiatus in her speech, as a Cheshire cat grin appeared on her once angelic face. “Ah. Well…this is interesting.”

Jocelyn Grace stopped her tittering and twirling, as a confused look flashed in her pink eyes. “Excuse me, Miss Chrysanthe?”

Chrysanthe tilted her head to the side, and shrugged ever so slightly. “Ah, never…mind. Moving on, with the ceremony.” The cat like leer disappeared and her angelic smile returned once more.

A chill ran through the collective spine of the audience. Parents began to murmur among themselves: who was Chrysanthemum La Roux and where did she come from?

No, that was the wrong question. The right question was: who the hell let her become the Head Role Holder? She was a golden eyed.

But no one was thinking about that. All they wanted to know was who would rise to riches and fame, and who would be forced to work in slavery.

“…ahaha.” Chrysanthe let out a chuckle, as a girl with cherry-red hair screamed bloody murder, her pupils dilating as she fell to the floor, writhing in pain.

Screams erupted from the crowd as frantic citizens fought each other for the exit. Sabrina Rose and Anabel Starr stayed put, summoning their weapons as Tyler Myracle-Hayden ushered the older people to safety. Groups began to form, the higher class of the nation joining Sabrina, while the…not so classy stood next to Anabel. Both girls acknowledged the shift of power, with a nod to the opposite side, as they ran towards their Head Role Holder.

What had happened, that was the question that Hayley Munoz, a girl from Manhattan, New York, was asking. Her lollipop-orange hair was a break from conformity, cut in the pixie-style; the rough layers framed her fox-like face. She wore a wolfish grin as she skipped through the screaming people, laughing at their misfortune.

“So, Miss Head Role Holder girl?” Hayley arrived to where Chrysanthe stood, hands in her neon yellow skinny jean pockets.

“…Hayley Munoz.” Chrysanthe smirked as she dusted off her black cloak, waiting for Hayley’s continued question.

“You just caused Janelle Isop of Alabama to keel over, right? That is a pretty interesting power, if you ask me.” Hayley put the words out like she was dishing out sandwiches, instead of stealth insults. Chrysanthe merely smiled and turned towards the rest of the teens.

“Well, Miss Munoz, I am not a fan of bragging. Now that your parents are out of the picture, I will begin to call names.”

Chrysanthe unrolled the faded parchment, where perfectly scribed ink penmanship listed the one hundred names that would become Puppeteers, rulers of the society they lived in. Two from each state where chosen, to be exact one boy and one girl.

But before her pink glossed lips uttered a sound, a golden light bathed the Role Holder, burning her skin and robe away, revealing her true form; her Guardian Form.

Even arrogant Anabel and sophisticated Sabrina flinched at the sight of the heavenly creature. Now towering over them by a good three feet, Chrysanthemum was no longer a mortal, but a celestial being with white skeletal wings, and shocking blue hair, the color of the ocean, constantly changing its hue. The only constant were the golden irises, peeking under from her blue bangs. Instead of her drab and depressing black hooded cloak, she wore a white robe, fashioned like a toga, one shoulder covered while the other showcased a golden glittering tattooed wing. Her veins were even brighter than her hair, popping out from her pale skin, screaming for attention from the crowd.

The attention was granted. The eyes of the thirteen year old crowd stared and let out a flurry of ‘ooh’ and ‘ahs’ at the sight of their Role Holder’s true form.

“Now that that is settled. I will start from Alabama…the Puppeteers would like to welcome Henry McIntosh and…”

The list of names seemed endless for Anabel, who clenched her fists and prayed that California would come soon. She snuck a glance at her friend and rival: Sabrina Rose.

Sabrina stared right back, and the two girls slowly made their way towards each other.

Only to be intercepted by Tyler Myracle-Hayden, whose hands found each of the girl’s. His right held Anabel’s left hand and his left held Sabrina’s right hand.

Sabrina felt disgusted by being in the blond rocker’s presence, deeming herself too ‘good’ to be holding hands with him.

Anabel felt like she could die happy. Her cobalt gaze flickered towards Tyler, as she hoped that he looked at her, even for a second.

But no. He was being distracted by Sabrina Rose. As usual.

Anabel looked away, her lips twitching into a grimace. She could live without Tyler Myracle-Hayden ignoring her, sure.

That was a lie. Even though the other half of the male population that wasn’t attracted to Sabrina Rose begged to differ, Anabel thought she was ugly. That she was a horrible monster when she stood next to Sabrina. Sabrina was beautiful, perfect in every way…while Anabel was the opposite of perfection. She was far too broken to be repaired.

And they were only thirteen. That hurt the most.

“California would like to welcome…”

This was it. The hour of reckoning. Anabel squeezed Tyler’s hand as Sabrina closed her eyes.

“Mister Tyler Myracle-Hayden and…”

Tyler let out a sigh of relief as he let go of the girls’ hands and ran up to the Head Role Holder, taking his place as a new Puppeteer. As an official member of society. Sabrina let out a twisted chuckle, almost ready to step on the stage next to Tyler, almost ready to get her fast-pass into the modeling world. She would become a Puppeteer of California, move to New York, and start there. It was so obvious that she, Sabrina Rose, out of hundreds of other girls would become the next Puppeteer.

So she smirked, as Anabel shook her head.

“Miss…”

Chrysanthe took another breath. Anabel’s manicured nails dug into her palm, blood oozing out of the punctured skin. It was time to find out that Anabel’s perfect fairytale was not coming true. She was going to lose to Sabrina Rose, yet again, and be forced to work as a slave for some random Puppeteer that she did not care about.

Oh, screw you karma.

“Anabel Starr.”

Sabrina Rose felt her world end as soon as the last syllable escaped Chrysanthemum La Roux’s mouth. What, what?! There must have been some kind of mistake! Anabel STARR? How COULD SHE be the next Puppeteer, the chosen?! She was not fit to become a member of high-class society, not even close! Sabrina’s mind was working in overdrive, her skin crawling with goosebumps that came out of pure fury. There was no way in HELL she was going to let this one slip by.

“What the hell?” Sabrina spat, her green eyes furious, as a pair of briars made their way inside the auditorium, currently outside the building, nearing the windows.

Anabel Starr felt like she was on top of the world. She had won the war that she had waged with her dear friend, Sabrina Rose. Anabel was going to win Tyler Myracle-Hayden, too.

This day just got better and better. Anabel let a smirk grace her lips as she skipped away, her black heels click-clacking against the tile flooring.

“Excuse me?” Sabrina hissed as she turned on her heel, facing the leaving brunette. Anabel’s eyes widened in alarm, as she quickly stepped away from the shaking blonde. The raven-haired teen was so close to taking her place in society, next to Tyler Myracle-Hayden, but was being held up by…her best friend.

No, screw that. Anabel shook her head and held it high, as she turned away from Sabrina and click-clacked away towards Chrysanthe. Her black strapless dress swished as she walked, and a sarcastic smile replaced her smirk. Anabel stood next to Tyler, her blue eyes flickering lazily across the crowd, already creating her image. She was Anabel Starr, future queen bitch of the generation.

Sabrina Rose stared in rage and snapped. The blonde summoned her staff so quickly that even Hayley Munoz was surprised when a thorny briar that had come out of nowhere attacked Anabel. The brunette screamed as the plant wrapped itself around the girl, while other teens screamed at the show of massive power.

Chrysanthe yelled some words that were not of Sabrina’s concern. The blonde wanted blood and she was going to get it. She clenched her fists, as Anabel felt her breathing get shallower and shallower…

“That is enough.”

The calmly said phrase caused a stand-still in the teenage crowd. At the auditorium doors stood a tall, about a good six feet, woman, dressed in the finest cloak, made out of precious silks. Her violet eyes were narrowed, and her beautiful ash-blonde hair was pulled back in a severe bun. There was a crown on her head, emblazoned with rubies and diamonds that glittered like the sun.

“It’s her!”

“What is she doing here?”

“Oh my goodness.”

“I thought she was a myth!”

“…oh, goodie gosh dolly, another royal.”

“Like, eh mah gawd, I will have to call you like, back, like Stacy? A royal is like, here!”

“Dear Jesus Christ, why today? Why do we have to deal with her today?”

“Well, this is an interesting development. I should record this and upload it on my Tumblr. That’ll show ‘em!”

“Whoever just said something about Tumblr needs to go home and die.”

“Oh shut up, whoever you are.”

“Holy fuck.”

The last cluster of words was emitted by the one and only, Tyler Myracle-Hayden. The blond rocker fell to his knees, bowing in respect for the woman that had arrived. Sabrina halted her assault on Anabel, who had fallen into unconsciousness while everyone was not looking. Only Hayley Munoz paid attention to her surroundings, and was currently making her way towards the briar patch that had ingrained itself in their auditorium. She took out a small dagger, hot to the touch. The orange-haired girl began burning away the excess plants with a flick of her knife, as Sabrina Rose was pushed towards their newcomer.

“Queen Amethyst…” Sabrina was at a loss for words, as she bit her perfect glossed lower lip. The Queen of Ri directed her purple irises towards the blonde plant-controller and gave her a tight-lipped smile.

“Sabrina Rose. I’ve heard much about you.”

That was all she said before directing her gaze towards Chrysanthe, who sneered at the Queen. Amethyst’s lips twitched in distaste.

“Chrysanthemum La Roux, interesting seeing you here. Are you done with the calling of names? I need to speak with you.” Then, the elderly woman’s nose caught on to the smell of something burning.

“Who is the pyromaniac? There is something burning in here.”

All eyes turned towards Hayley Munoz and her burning dagger. The combat-boot wearing girl simply grinned as she held the fainted body of Anabel Starr in her arms.

“She kind of needs medical help. After all,” a smirk adorned her features now, as Sabrina bit back the urge to sic her plants after Hayley and Anabel, “Anabel’s a Puppeteer.”

At the mention of the word ‘puppeteer’ the crowd went into frenzy. They wanted to know who was left, who would move on in society. Chrysanthe huffed as she unrolled her scroll once more, her skeletal wings shuddering slightly. “…someone get that girl to a hospital. You.”

A gum bubble popped before the owner answered. “Yeah?” He had curly brown hair and dark brown eyes, that changed to blue in a second’s notice. He was from the state of Montana, and was skimming through his email account via his eyescreen, a computer integrated into your eye, before jolting to attention. “What’s up?”

“You are a healer. Get her healed, stat. I do not want any more distractions. And you,” Chrysanthe snapped as a faceless Guardian appeared at Sabrina’s side. The blonde girl protested as the Guardian took the girl’s arms and began to escort her away from the group.

“You are going with the Guardians. They will decide your fate for attacking a Puppeteer.”

Sabrina screamed obscenities, as Anabel stirred back into reality, after a quick healing spell muttered by the Montana boy. The girl blinked, as she looked up, and stared into monochrome blue eyes, and felt her cheeks flush. The Montana boy was carrying her in his arms, and slowly set her down, his brown curls briefly covering those beautiful blue eyes.

“…uh, I’m Anabel.”

“…” The boy looked down at his feet before answering. “…I’m Ryan, but…everyone calls me Red.”

“…they are your eyes.” Anabel said, suddenly, as Red’s eyes changed into a warm burgundy. “They turn…red.”

“Oh, that? Well…yeah.” Red trailed on as he got up and away from the raven-haired girl, nodded, and turned back towards his peers. Anabel nodded and then turned towards the screaming blonde.

“Fuck you, fuck the system, I hate you all!” Sabrina’s angry tirade was beginning to get farther and farther away. “I hate you, Anabel Starr! I hope you rot in Hell!” Sabrina’s words crash landed in Anabel’s mind, and the brunette tilted her head groggily, as the phrase constantly repeated itself, like a broken record.

“I hate you, Anabel Starr!” Did a simple reaping destroy their ten years of friendship, just like that?

Apparently so.

Hayley Munoz approached Anabel warily, and poked the brunette’s shoulder.

“You all right, Miss Puppeteer gal?”

Anabel rolled her eyes and scoffed, the gentleness she showed with Red now long gone. “I am perfectly fine. I was not dying or anything.”

“Little Miss Snarker. Lovely. What is next, do tell me, Little Miss Badass?”

Sabrina Rose continued screaming, even when she was deposited her on her butt in front of the Guardian Security Office, where the tall creatures met up and dealt with…rebellious behavior.

Oh, was Sabrina Rose in for a treat!

Tyler Myracle-Hayden was now backstage, hanging out with the rest of the Puppets turned Puppeteers. He played with his Menger’s sponge, always hanging on a chain from his skinny jean pocket. His fingers expertly moved the tiles and blocks, already forming a wall of uniform colors. Janelle Isop, of Alabama who had ironically become a Puppeteer minutes after hitting the floor, was sipping bubbly apple cider, grinning like the idiot we all know she was.

“Like, ohmigod, this is so cool! They never had this stuff back home.” She giggled, while waving her hand.

“This is California. We know style.” Tyler commented off-handedly, too focused on his puzzle to actually pay attention. Janelle perked at the comment from the cute blond boy so she scooted closer to him, their shoulders touching.

“I’m Janelle~”

“I know.”

Janelle pouted, her plum-lipstick highlighting her own hazel eyes, her red blunt bangs grazing her eyebrows. It was a clash of color, plum, hazel, and red…working into some kind of harmony.

It was odd, to say the least.

“So, what is your power, Tyler?”

“Sound wave manipulation.” Tyler finished up his puzzle, with a satisfactory grin. The blond twirled his Menger’s sponge on his fingers, his eyes focused on the glittering gold cube. Janelle twirled a strand of cherry-red hair, annoyed that the rocker had not asked for her power. So she told him anyways.

“I can control lightning. It is really fun~!” Janelle said cheerfully, snapping her index and thumb fingers. A crack of lightning fell from the sky, frying the nearest lamp, causing a snarky comment to come out of an Arkansas’ teen’s mouth.

“Hey, bolt bitch, cut the thunder out before I kill you.” The boy from Arkansas narrowed his eyes. He had been reading up until his light source fried thanks to Janelle. His eyes were the darkest green, like a forest at night. His hair was dark brown, in a mix of waves and straight hair. He looked like a tree, in all honesty.

“Oh shut up, Hyacinth.” Janelle snapped and returned her gaze to the blond boy.

“That’s nice.” Tyler checked his cuticles and then flexed his fingers. He was getting awfully bored and Janelle’s babbling was getting awfully annoying.

Then, Anabel Starr entered the scene, disgust in her eyes, but a smirk on her lips. She strode towards the middle of the oval-shaped room, took a glass of cider, and sipped it with an air of reserve. Her black manicured nails contrasted against the golden liquid that was getting smaller by the second. Anabel knew how to down a drink, and fast. It was one of her many…quirks, you could say.

“Yo, Ana!”

“If you call me Ana again, Myracle-Hayden, I am going to punch your pretty face.”

Tyler let out an ‘hmph’ and a laugh, before getting up-leaving Janelle all by her lonesome- and walking towards Anabel. The brunette’s gaze was directed away from Tyler, who kept trying to direct it to him. He knew that she knew that he knew that she liked him.

Okay, not really. That would be much too complicated for our favorite blond rocker. The only thing he knew was music and art.

“Aw, come on Ana. You wouldn’t do such a thing.” Tyler grinned, but the grin was soon wiped off his face when Anabel’s fist landed in his face. Tyler fell back, and the teens wrestled on the ground, Anabel taking every opportunity to relish in the contact of their skin. These moments in which Anabel was simply Anabel and Tyler was not such a complete jerk ass, were the moments Anabel lived for.

The fact of the matter was that these moments rarely ever came. They were handed on a silver platter to Sabrina Rose, however, who had tried to freaking kill her, only minutes before. Anabel was pissed off about that and was planning to get her revenge. She had been on the brink of death because of that homicidal maniac blonde. It was as if they were not best friends and had not spent the last thirteen years together, joined at the hip.

You see, Anabel, Tyler, and Sabrina had grown up together, all part of the same little loser Californian town, with dreams of seeing the bright lights of Neo-Los Angeles. They yearned for a loft on one of the sky-high skyscrapers, the true definition of rich and famous. They wanted to be able to walk to the nearest frozen yogurt stand and download the latest gossip on their eyescreens over gulps of the frosty dairy. Anabel and Sabrina wanted to go to the same art school, Anabel for poetry and literature, Sabrina for modeling and photography. Tyler would be with them too, of course. He would break the hearts of other teenage girls with his stunning good looks and fantastic vocal chords.

Obviously, some of those dreams would have to be edited.

Most of those dreams came true for Anabel tonight. She was finally part of the higher crust of society, part of the glitz and glamour. She would attend a different school next week, a school for new Puppeteers where they taught you how to further control your powers and how to make an impact that would actually matter in society later on. They taught you the ins and outs of Puppeteer culture. She would live in one of those fancy, sky-high apartments and share a dorm with another Puppeteer, from which state, who knew? Most new Puppeteers ended up transferring into California’s school system, or New York’s, depending on your choice of study. The other Puppeteers chosen tonight would return to their home state and live life like Anabel: privileged.

Oh, and the best part of being a Puppeteer was the fact that you controlled five to six Puppets. They were your servants and you could tell them to do whatever the hell you wanted them to do.

Anabel Starr was ready for the big leagues.

Hayley Munoz was chosen for New York’s girl Puppeteer as Anabel rose from the ground. The orange haired wanna be pixie princess skipped in her combat boots down the hall that led backstage. With a devilish grin, she stormed through the doors, and crashed into Janelle Isop.

“Hey, ‘tis be valley girl. Not really, move it. Ahaha.” Hayley shoved the brunette out of her way and took a seat on a one of the unoccupied sofas. Hayley swung her legs up and reclined back, her long bangs covering her eyes.

Hayley Munoz’s eyes were an interesting…case, to say the least. They flashed from gray to burgundy, and then gray again. Rumor had it they changed color based on mood, but that would mean that Hayley was in constant state of two moods: sarcastic and pissed off. So the public decided that Hayley simply invested in some costly surgery that changed her eyes into…kaleidoscope eyes.

No one really knows what her true eye color is, anyways. Most people don’t care.

“Hey, Miss Puppeteer Gal?”

Anabel scoffed as she picked off imaginary lint off her black dress. Hayley ignored the clear disdain radiating of the black-haired girl.

“So, how does it feel almost dying?”

“That’s none of your concern.” Anabel snapped, before flopping on the coach opposite of Hayley.

Hayley simply grinned her Cheshire cat grin, and closed her silver eyes.

-

a/n: SOUND OFF, YO.

what can I say? I'm blessed.

I just realized how freaking blessed I am. I'm just stupid for not realizing it sooner, because dammit, I have the Most Amazing Friends in the World.

I'm not exaggerating one bit - I do have Amazing Friends. They've taught be a handful of life lessons, humility, appreciation, and other crap that's taught to you at school but don't care about because you think you'll never need it AND BAM. YOU NEED IT.

*coughs* Anyways, it's tried and true, so let me tell you something. There are Some People in your life that you will be with for a long, long, long time. No exceptions. These are the People that you need to keep close to you, because they can leave whenever they want, and you can't stop them.

Thus, you must appreciate everything they do for you. You must listen to their conversations, question them, make sure that they know they're appreciated.

It's like this ring I saw earlier at Target - it was a Karma ring! I spazzed and Rachel just looked at me like the spazz we all know I am. I shrugged and whatever, but I was thinking about how that ring was so cool because of what was engraved on it. It was a spiral, and spirals never end, you know?

Well, my life is an ever-conflicting spiral. It's ridiculous, but true. *nods*

You know what, I've eaten less than a thousand calories today, but I feel perfectly fine. But I'm tired and rambling and nursing a sugar crash. I'm off.

-Angie

um, yeah. -_-

It seems like our Tom from 500 Days of Summer doesn't know what 'literally' means. Hee-hee.

Anyways, I have cases to do, kthxbai.

please come back to me

Listening to Mr. Sun again. It's such a pretty song.

The cover, that is.

Um, I owe this blog a post, huh? It's been a while since my last post and I used to post on this blog almost religiously. ;A; Ick. Oh well, I guess. It's a new day and a new post and a new year.

You know what that means? It means I'm changing the name of the blog, as well as the design. I got bored with the red and black ordeal, I like my cyan.

I have school tomorrow. I'm not so happy about that because I have nine chemistry problems that I haven't finished and can't finish because I'm completely lost. I did all my other homework, though, so I guess that's a plus.

A small positive, nether less.

I'm typing this from my MacBook, which I like dearly. My Mac is fantastic and has some beautiful speakers. I can hear everything clearly which is ten kinds of awesome.

What did I do over Christmas break, you ask?

Absolutely nothing. I procrastinated and other things, but in seriousness, I did nothing productive. I did learn, however, that I will never procrastinate during a break again.

Which brings me to the next point of my post for today: I have finals in two weeks and I'm promptly spazzing because I need to do a crapload of community service before the 13th for my National Honor Society application.

Did I mention that the 2011 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Awards start in a month? Yeah...I'm entering Inevitable. It's going to be a longshot, due to the fact that Inevitable is a genre and base breaker. I stepped out of the usual romance genre and dived into apocalyptic future mixed with about twenty different point of views.

I'm so screwed it's not even funny anymore.

-Angie