Once upon a time

Day 1- Your Best Friend

Alright, i caved.

  I’ll be honest, i’ve never been the girl that had a best friend.  when i was younger, i referred to everyone i talked to as my best friend, because i don’t think i realized how serious of a “title” that is. (note:i’m feeling kinda lazy & i dont really feel like capitalizing my i’s, sorry.) i think i’ve always been the kind of person to be friends with a lot of different groups of people, i never had a clique; i’m not complaining, i like it that way.  even though i’m sure some people might disagree, i’m a nice person.  and i’m not trying to sound conceited or anything, but i’ve never gone out of my way to make someone feel bad.  that’s just not my thing. never has been, never will.  i do probably alienate people sometimes because i’m brutally honest.  brutally. sometimes i don’t think before i speak; i hate knowing i made someone upset.  it’s a shame, though, that a lot of people don’t feel the same way.

there is always one person, though, that kind of sticks out in my mind when i think about who i would call my best friend.  i’m not sure if she realizes how much she means to me, or if she even feels the same way back, but that doesn’t bother me.  weird? maybe.  she was pretty much the only person i trusted to talk to about some pretty heavy stuff that was going on in my life, because i knew she wouldn’t turn around to the nearest person and tell them, and because i knew she wouldn’t look at me any differently.  she would just let me IM her 50 times a minute, ranting and complaining and freaking out, and i didn’t worry what she was thinking. 

we used to talk on the phone almost every day, but things happen.  i can only hope that if she reads this, she doesn’t think i’m a complete freak because of how sappy this probably sounds.  hahah. i dont know what college she’s going to, or what she’s doing this summer, but i’m serious: for the simple fact that she was there when i really needed her, i could never thank her enough. 

so, here’s to you, “best friend,” i love you.

i kind of want to do the 30 challenge.

I know i’m no where near Beethoven, Bach, Stevie Wonder, Vanessa Carlton, whoever.  But when i sit down at my piano keyboard, none of that matters to me.  i’ll search youtube for hours to find a piano cover of a song, and i’ll pause it every five seconds and scribble down the notes on a piece of loose leaf before i try to play the song exactly  as the person on the video does.  i get so frustrated if my fingers hit a key next to the intended one, or when i was convinced the guy’s finger hit an f sharp, but when i played it, it wasn’t anywhere near right. 

I almost always get half way through a song, and once the tempo accelerates, i get intimidated and stop trying to learn it.

Secret? i dont know how to read piano notes.  being a band nerd in 4-7th grade really paid off.  i sat there with  my clarinet and decided to see how similar the notes were.  so whenever theres something i want to learn, i have to sit there and listen to it over and over again, piece by piece, so i can figure out which notes come when. 

i cheat sometimes, and write notes to myself on the keys so i know which ones i should play together, but i’ve never played to impress, or for anyone for that matter.  the keyboard in the corner of my living room, almost never gets played when my parents are home, and if it does i lug it into my room to play. 

i can’t really explain it, and none of this probably makes ANY sense, but that’s okay. 

learned bad romance today, in case anyone cares(:

i really, really, really.

REALLY want to start writing again.  I’ve tried about ten times today, but that trusty little backspace key has become my companion, yet again.  Even this stupid little tumblr post is making my brain hurt.  This summer is supposed to be filled with writing.  I can’t show up to my first writing class with a glazed look on my face.

when my professor asks what we accomplished over the summer-

What can I reply?

Oh, well…I’m really tan.  That won’t even be true, considering I haven’t had a chance to even go to the beach. 

Oh, well…I was working a lot.  Nope, can’t find a job anywhere.

Oh, well…I guess I didn’t do much. Yup. That’s exactly what the professor is going to want to hear. 

High five, self criticism. 

Forget regrets

I really hate when things are easier said than done. And I also hate- dislike, that I always seem to be able to give other people advice (I think it’s good advice, anyway) but when I’m stuck, I can’t help myself? What kind of crap is that.