9 o'clock update.

Damndamndamn.

Landed. It's fantastic here.

Brother's awesome, family is awesome, weather is awesome.

Wait, what was that? No, no.
Wrong.

A... small mishap happened between my aunt and sister, who are the same age, or two years apart, or whatever.
No details, that's family stuff. Let's just say they got into an argument and they aren't speaking.
You have no idea how much I would like for us all to hang out together.
But they can't suck it up and face eachother.
God, this sucks.
I just don't think they understand.
We grew up together, damn it.
Samantha and I are only here for five weeks.
We only have a month to be a family.
For two kids to have their family, whole again, if only for a moment.
I've always wanted everyone together, even for just one damn day.
Mom, grandma, grandpa, aunt, sisters, brother, everyone.

Whatever, I'm just being selfish. I should stay out of their personal lives.

Quickly.

I don't care about Lindsay Lohan going to jail.
Fantastic, I don't care.
Some of the other news stories, on the other hand.
All about planes and turbulance.
Awesome.

So, I have a flight in literally four hours.
How much have I slept, you ask?
Well, none.
But I've finished packing and weighing bags.
(Good news! I've lost eight pounds this week! How? Sure beats the heck out of me. But it happened. Chubbychubchub.)
My bag is full to the brim and weighs about 20 pounds.
Samantha's weighs thirty. I still can't figure out how she pulled that off.
But my carry on is packed, the taxi is booked, the tickets are ready.
Everything is all set.
Except, my MP3 is still not working.
Still not working, so no surprise.
Well. That stinks.

Let's get this all said out, mostly so I can plan myself and figure it all out.
3:00 am. Take a shower. (I'm late.)
5:00 am. Taxi. Awesome.
5:30 am. Give taxi driver the largest amount of money that has ever been in my wallet. Also, arrive at Manchester airport.
5:30-6:30 am. Check in, get tickets, check luggage, go through security, find gate, and wait to board.
7:00 am. Departure. (God I hate planes. Ground, I will miss you.)
7:00-9:50 am. Flight. Traveling back in time three hours.
9:50 am. Land. (My watch will actually say 12:50. So, six hour flight right off the bat. Awesome.)
10:00- 12:30 am. Vegas, baby. (1:00-3:30pm. Mhm. Three hours of absolutely nothing. Maybe food. Although, finding airport food without meat is tough.)
12:55 pm. Depart from Vegas. Finally. (4:00, East Coast.)
12:55-3:20 pm. Flight. Get me back on the ground.
3:20 pm. Land (oh land, how I love you) in Spokane, Washington. Find mama. Get baggage.
4:00 pm. Leave. The damn. Airport.
4:00-7:00pm. Give or take. Arrive in the beautiful Kennewick, Washigton, curl up in a ball, and sleep for four days.

Wake up at 6:00 am for crying adorable baby.


There will be pictures of the adventure later on.
But now, it's 3:30 am and I have not showered. Off scheduale. Yes. Shut up.

I miss you and love you.

Ha! I love hiding messages in random places for very special people. Even though this will probably never be read because it's so. damn. boring.
I do love you.
And I will miss you.
Already do, actually. You will be getting letters.

Let's hope I can get online by Monday so I can blog about how we're going camping with a baby and a puppy next week.
And yard-saling on Friday!
Man, I've missed yardsaling.

Night.

Wait.
Nevermind.
Shower.

Well that's not a good salutation.

Let's talk about family.

So, family sucks.
But family can also be awesome? I guess.
But, mostly, they suck.

First: Cousin.
So, my cousin who is about two years old than I am have had this running compitition.
Quite frankly, we can't stand eachother and like to brag about our lives and see who has it better.
It was more vocal when we were younger, but now it's mostly silent mocking and evil glares between the two of us.
We do still talk about it from time to time, but mostly just glances, knowing who has won.
Well, in Vermont we were at our Aunt's 51st birthday party.
It was hosted at his mom's place.
He keeps bragging about his girlfriend. My girlfriend this, my girlfriend that, blah blah blah.
So, we all had high expectations of this girl.
She shows up, drop dead gorgeous.
Well, stereotypically pretty. You know, make-up, skinny, short shorts, long legs, blah blah blah.
We sit down and start to eat (she doesn't) on the porch. I guess that isn't necessary, but I like eating on porches.
Well, we get to talking, and eventually get to the oil spill.
"Oil spill? Since when?" Hm, about 80-or-so days?
Then, awkwardly, we got off of that topic.
Being in a rural area, a lot of animals are always about.
I saw five bunnies, six deer, two foxes, and a moose.
So, a fox walks into the yard, off to the side, just walking along, probably looking for a mouse or other foods.
She looks over and says "When did you get a dog?"
Alright, sure, whatever. Mistake a fox for a dog. Whatever, excusable.
But she gets up, grabs a dog treat, and walks over to it.
We all kind of... gasp. Seeing as she's walking up to a fox. Yeah, sure, 99% chance it'll run away QUICKLY. But hey, you never know. There is still one percent.
She was just so... dumb. Oh my goodness. I just didn't know what to say to this girl.
Let's say, for sake of argument, we have a inteligence scale.
Einstein at 10, Spencer at 5. Just for the sake of argument.
She would be negative ten.
Seriously.
Winner? Spencer.


Second: Sister.
So, my sister is, well, "pretty."
-Punctuation looks odd in Helvetica. But I like it.-
Anyway, my sister is pretty.
Yay.
I've kind of always been in her shadow.
I'm fine with that.
I've finally reached a point where I can accept myself.
Not necessarily be proud of who I am, but can say 'Hey, this is me. Take it or leave it.'
So, what does she do?
Comments completely on apperance only.
"What's up with your hair getting curly?"
"So, are we going to have to go get your eyebrows done again this summer?"

And that's just in the past five minutes.

Oh. We've had an update. No joke, live update.
When I said past five minutes, I wasn't kidding.
Quoting directly here, you can see Facebook.
"Hahahha okay chewy :)"
... Seriously?
I've had problems with my apperance for as long as I can remember.
Now she goes and pulls this shit?
Confidence shattered.
No, fine, whatever. I don't have the best body. I don't dress feminine.
I don't have the best face, or hair, or eyebrows.
Quite frankly, I could go on and on about all of the damn flaws I have.
And my sister would gladly point all of them out and how I could fix each and every one of them.

I have a lot more to say about this, but I'm sleepy.

Move, move, shake, shake, drop?

Can I get some Helvetica up in here, please?
Much better. Thanks.

I've been writing a lot lately.
No, I haven't finished anything, so don't ask.
Well, I've been listening to a lot of rap lately.
Because, you know. I'm so black.
Why, you ask? Well, I guess it makes me feel more intelligent.
And it makes my stuff look, well, better.
Let me tell you some of my favorites thus far.

These first few are from Plan B- Charmaine:
The best of both worlds, caramel complection/
And I swear when she smiled I almost got an erection.
Really? Really? ....Really?

When she gave me the wink, I could only think of my genitals.
All right, this is British, so genitals sounded a little more suave than the nerdy-sounding American accent. But still. Really? That's all you could think about?

Her arse is tight and her breasts are bloody enormous!
Unfortunately, you can't buy respect.

Hand in hand, we walk over to the doorman/ He's got a big shiny head yo he looks like George Foreman.
What an irrelivent line. Also, why the added 'yo'? Mh. It's tough being a rapper.

We get a cab back to my place where we get it on.
Poetry.

The next verse is all about having sex with this girl. Awesome. Let's pass on that, shall we?

So I was talking to one of my boys the very next day/
And I told him all about me and Charmaine/
He looks at me in a very strange way/
And asks me in De la Rosa is her surname/
If she's mixed race and her eyes are green/
I say, "yeah" he replies "blud.... that girls fourteen."
....
.....
WHAT.
WHY would you even THINK to write a song like this? Why would you even imagine having sex with a fourteen year old girl?


Needless to say, after listening to this song, just once, I feel a lot better.
Confidence boost. Awesome.

Positive blog!

That's right, I refuse to say a single negative thing in this blog!
Yay! Yay. Yay? Yay!

So, let's make a list of things I like:
1. I really like Helvetica. Yay. I like a font. In fact, I'd have to say it's my favorite. Lame, but, whatever.

2. When commas can make thing much, much more awesome. I'm going to have to go with Hank Green's example.
He has a 'Multi-Use Power Mister' and a sharpie. Now, he has 'Multi-Use Power, Mister!'.

3. Youtube. I really like Youtube.

4. Jokes. Just in general. Knock-knock, man-walks-into-a-bar, etc. All kinds of jokes. I wish I could have a group of people sit together in a cirle and just tell jokes for a while.

5. Dinosaurs. The science of dinosaurs and just dinosaurs in general.

6. I like when I draw pictures that actually look... well... good. I mean, yeah, sure, sometimes I draw sometimes. Mostly it's just like 'Hey. I want a terrible picture of an elephant.' And I draw a terrible picture of an elephant. But I drew a pretty good picture of Obama a while back. Then a few days ago I drew a cute little picture of my cute little baby brother. And I am incredibly proud of it. Although, not proud enough of it to, well, show anyone. Bu my sister saw it, and she liked it.

7. Nerdfighteria.

8. Science. Sci-Fi novels, sci-fi moves and television, science itself. If it's got science in it, I will most likely like it.

9. Novels. Books in general, actually. My collection is building. I like it.

10. My room. I just like having room to myself where I can hang out and decorate with me and just puke everywhere if I doso please. Which I don't. But I couldn't if I wanted to. But I don't.

11. Being on the ground. Not in buildings and planes. Being on cold-hard earth. Not on cliff either. Staying possitive. I like being on land.

11.5. I also like being on land for the shear fact that I am not on water.

12. Ukelele's. SPEAKING OF WHICH. I got an goo estimate of around $60 for a uke. Oddly enough, the new ukes were cheaper than the used ones. That was weird.

13. Cover's of Lady Gaga and Kesha and pop people that are actually a lot better than the original.


14. Cuddling with the person you like. Heck, just being with the person who makes your world go round. That makes me happy beyond compare.

15. Walks through the woods. Mine Falls in a nice place in Nashua. Likes it.

16. Blogging, actually. Surprise? It helps get out all of the anxiety and scarey moody junk that wells up inside.

17. Nerds.

18. Grafitti. Positive and negative grafitti. I just like it, when in apropriate places. On a hospital, not so much, but on a bridge or wall that would just be plain and empty otherwise, I like it filled with creation.

19. Plants and planting. My Hankigold's are blooming. :D

20. Camping.

21. Getting up and being productive, which is what I have to do tomorrow morning.

Goodnight, blog.
It's was nice being positive.
One more for the road?

22. Being able to make myself happy, even if it is rare.

Ahha listen to the engine whine.

I don't have much to say, but I want to blog, so here goes nothing.
Literally.

I woke up around 6:30 this morning absolutely laughing.
I don't mean, just chuckling.
Full out laughter.
And man did I need it.
After a few seconds, I remembered my dream.
It was a long dram, I remember that much, but none of it really stood out.
Except for the very last part.
A whole bunch of YouTubers- including myself- were sitting in a circle.
You now, ChannelCassie, FizzyLimon, Vlogbrothers, Meekakitty, LiveLavaLive, MysteryGuitarMan, ShayCarl and the Tards, etc.
The whole gang.
John Green sneezes once.
About a minute later, he turns to me, and sneezes on my right arm.
He looks up, as if he just had epiphany.
"I have something for you," he says.
Then I woke up in hysterics.
I have no idea what he was going to tell me, or what he had for me.

Awesome dream, though.

Friday through Sunday morning I'm in Vermont.
Sunday afternoon, Monday, and Tuesday, I'm spending every possible second with Ryan.
Sappy sappy mush.
Imma miss him.
Leaving for Washington on Wednesday.
Have I mentioned I HATE FLYING?
Hate it.
Hate it hate it hate it.

Right before the tide comes.

All right, I lied.
Another terrible, complainy, whiny, dumb blog.

In all of my sixteen years of life, I have had giveorake 10 anxiety attacks.
Strike that, make it 11.
For the past week or so I've been having insane anxiety attacks, and they haven't really completely gone away.
They always happen in the summer time, around the time I go to and leave my mom's.
Hm. Wonder what kicks them?

Lately I've found myself silently apologizing for my body.

Hopefully I can find some kind of work this summer so I can buy a uke.
Or find someone to see theirs.
Damn damn damn.

Oh, please.

After having an absolutely fantastic day with Ryan, I walk in the door to mean words and yelling.
What was it about?
Dinner. My dad and sister were mad at me for not being home to make dinner.
So, I give in and ask what they want for dinner.
It was between Ravioli and broclli and chedder pasta. I chose pasta.
Samantha was sad.
While making dinner, I took one piece of pasta every so often to see if it was done or not.
Dad got mad at that.
Why? Beats me.
So, I finish dinner and leave it to sit for a few minutes.
Dad walks into the kitchen, tells me it's not done, proceeds to turn the stove back on, and add various spices to it.
I ask him to please not do that.
He ignores me and continues to mess with it.
He tells me it's not done and continues to cook it himself.
This angers me.
They freak out because they don't won't to cook dinner, as if they can't add ingrediants together and make food.
Then dad comes in and takes over.
if you want to make dinner, make dinner. Don't yell at me to make dinner, thell me what I'm doing is COMPLETELY wrong, and take over.
If you wanted to make dinner in the first place, make it your damn self.

More complaining.

This morning I got a message from a friend of mine.
Pretty much saying that my relationship is crap.
That Ryan is crap.
She can't believe I'm dating him.
Blah blah blah.
I mean, really?
I don't know who she thinks she is, but this is deffinately not her business.
If he was punching and hitting me, breaking my arm and whatnot, sure, she has every right to tell me he sucks, but I think I would get it by then.
He doesn't suck, to say the least.
Actually, he's quite fantastic.
So, yeah, I'm dating him.
Happily and fantasticly.
Wrap you're mind around it; I don't need your two cents.

Next blog will be happy, all right? Promise.

So, hey blog.

Let me tell you about my night.

I was lying in bed, reading Hoot, when I hear my dad call for me.
Now, mind you, it's 11:30 at night.
He tells me that the cat got out.
She's an indoor cat and likes to climb trees.
And not just ten foot trees that I can climb and carry her down.
No, I'm talking four-story trees with absolutely no bottom branches until, say, 2/3 of the way up.
I walk back upstairs and grab my dinosaur flashlight. Important detail? No, but I like my flashlight.
I end up walking around the block in boxers and a t-shirt with this flashlight that roars, looking for a cat.
I find her chasing around another cat. Awesome.
I pick her up, and begin walking back to my house.
Once I enter the door, my dad sees me holding the brat, he yells "GIVEHERABATH."
No breath. One, angry word.
So, reluctantly, I walk with her upstairs, and into the bathroom.
Of course, the cat begins to go crazy, because she's not a fan of baths.
Obviously. She's a cat.
I fill the tub and give her a bath.
Oddly enough, she begins to... like it.
And she swims around, like it's no big deal.
She's just purring and swimming around, and I am incredibly confused.
We finish the bath, I rap her up in a towel, and take her to my room.
So, I'm sitting on my bed with a wet cat wrapped in a towel, and she falls asleep.
She falls asleep.
Really?
So, I wake her up, and think, 'hey, Samanatha is asleep. I think it's time for some payback.'
I stand up with the cat in my arsms, open Samantha's door, and jump on top of her bed.
Stick the cat in her face, and laugh histerically when she wakes up screaming.
Eventually, the cat and I go back to my room so I can brush her. It's about 1 A.M now.
She likes being brushed, but after a few minutes, she absolutely freaks out and attacks the brush and my hand.
Needless to say, I get angry at her and open the door.
She leaves.
A few minutes later, she's meowing apologeticlly at my door.
This goes on for a few minutes, until somehow she opens the door.
She walks up to my bed, meows, hops up, and falls asleep on my chest.

Kitty, I can't stay mad at you when you're being adorable.


Did I really just blog about my cat? Really?
This is how pathetic my life has become.
What a weird night.

Oh, the memories.

Ryan and I were talking today, and we stumbled upon the topic of memories.
He asked what my favorite memory was, or something of the sort.
My mind raced.
I remember March 17th, 2003.
In our small little town, in the court room.
I remember grandma leading my sister and I out of the courtroom, where my parents were divorcing.
I remember sitting with her and my young sister.
I remember being held by mom as she cried.
I remember Grammie pulling me away from hugging Mom and Grandma, and even Great-Grandma.
I remember Gandpa's hand on the window as we drove away.
I remember the plane ride, crying.
I remember every summer since fifth grade.
I remember the pouring of the salt into the wounds.
I remember them fighting through me.
I remember feeling unloved, by both of my families. Not from the lack of love or lack of attention, but from the abundance of fighting and bickering.
I remember having to emotionally fend for both my sster and I.
I remember feeling unwanted.

I couldn't remember a single happy thing that has happened in my life.

It's easy to dwell on the bad, the poor, the ugly. But that isn't going to get you anywhere.
There is just so much suck, it looks like it towers over everything else.
But if we could dwell on the possitive as much as we do the negative, that would be fantasic.
Yeah, maybe there is a lot of suck in the world, there always will be.
But if we could just shrug off the suck and focus on the good, things would be better.
Of course, we all have the days when all we can do is dwell on the terrible things, but if you sit back and realize all of the possitives in our lifves, it becomes easier.
A checks and balances for the soul.

It's hard to sound possitive when you feel so negative.
But if one, lonely, 16-year-old girl who has yet to do anything for this world can do it, anyone can.

DFTBA.