Sure, here’s a little about me.
- Please note that my band director was actually re-hired at last minute (literally hired one day before the start of school), but I can’t be bothered to find and remove my laments. He’s awesome anyway, so read my feels.
- Photos. I was going through a weird post-bunches-of-things-about-me-hey-here’s-some-photos phase. Deal with it.
- I love all of the Doctors, and besides their respective actors, one of my favorite stars is Marilyn Monroe (I actually prefer to call her Norma Jeane sometimes).
Short Version Here: http://whateverdose.tumblr.com/aboutme2
One thing I never tell anyone on Tumblr, or anywhere else on the ‘net, is my age. Why? Because I know people would think of me differently because of that. But I’ll say something. I haven’t graduated middle school yet (no, I haven’t been held back).
Confession (Tumblr Related): Most of the time one tab is on a blog, and what I’m doing is going all the way to the beginning of the blog (or until I get bored with it) and saving all of the photos I like to my laptop.
#I’ve got thousands of photos #its basically an archive
Yep, yep, and yep! Sometimes I have panic attacks when I don’t know what’s happening- especially when I’m a part of it.
I get easily frustrated/angry, probably because both of my parents have those traits. (Sometimes pictures are better than words! Even if the pictures are made up of words.)
I don’t mean to be heartless, but sometimes I’m not that compassionate about starving kids in Africa. I mean, I use freerice.com, but still. I refuse to say I have “a heart as soft as cotton, a deep love for humanity & are easily affected by the suffering of others”. Sometimes I really pity the corruption of humanity though..
I must admit I tend to help people with sob stories a lot, also related to rejection post a little farther below.
[Really ties in with the disillusion-ment post all the way down this page.] I am very imaginative, and come up with lots of wacky.. stories. For example, what if your crush/boyfriend/girlfriend called you one day and insisted on talking solely about Michael Meyers? (Okay, bad example.)
I couldn’t even bring myself to tell that girl I hated in 3rd grade that I hated her (she thought we were practically best friends)..
My favorite TV shows (and OTP), are listed right there on my page. I like the color red, lemonade, ice cream, stuffed animals, singing, and acting.
In real life I’m usually anti-social. As an author, I’m an introvert. I don’t like going outside, because my neighbors are always out there, and it’s slightly creepy. Before I moved to this new neighborhood, our closest neighbors were across the street.
I form emotional attachments to inanimate objects (nooooo my favorite shirt from when I was five!! noooooo); I like showing off. I like being in advanced classes. I like writing.
I have no friends. Seriously. But don’t feel bad. I do have anti-social tendencies, after all.
I wear glasses.
I play the flute. Tutti flutti! (That doesn’t mean anything- I don’t think. Tutti Flutti was just the name of one of the first “songs” we ever learned in Band class.) Speaking of Band, they’ve had to fire (*ahem* lay off) our teacher for budget reasons (people, AKA the more emotional girls of my Flute/Oboe class actually cried when Mr.Kuhn- band teacher/director- personally told us so). Next year, there shall be a fairly inexperienced person who they hired cheaply. In fact, that inexperienced person may even be rotated out my another inexperienced person. I feel sad for Mr.Kuhn, his family, and next year’s incoming band students; who still haven’t chosen instruments, because they never had an instrument fitting, due to CHAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOSS. Also, they would have an inept teacher during their first band year.
A tribute to Mr.Kuhn: He was funny, always making fun of Wesley (humorously) for asking uneducated questions. I especially remember the time when Wesley showed surprise that Ms.Siri (the student teacher) was graduating. He asked her if she was in college. I remember Mr.Kuhn’s response so well… No, Wesley, she’s some random, homeless, stranger that we found on the the streets, who knows nothing about music, and she lives in the practice room. [Small sound proof room where a piano and some drums are stored. There is also a shelf and a table.] She recently upgraded to the big girl room though. [The one where they store large orchestra instruments.]” Everyone laughed [even Wesley]. I remember laughing until I was crying in his class. I remember the times he would put Sponge Bob on for us, and give us free Oreos. Double-stuffed. I remember skipping to the band room after a bad day. I remember sitting there, listening to everyone’s weekend/Halloween/bullying/rant stories after he asked anyone if they wanted to share a weekend/Halloween/bullying/rant story. I remember that day where a lot of us were crying. I remember double checking my old concert program in sadness during the days following schools’ release, finding a note to all of us. It said that he enjoyed teaching us, and that he hoped we would keep playing music, developing a lifelong love, even if we do not pursue a musical career. He said giving us gift of music was something special he’d never forget, and it would honor him if we would round out our lives with music. The note ended saying that he was sure he’d meet us again somewhere; at a local college football game, a band contest, even at a mall. He proceeded to tell us his home email, and said: “Should [an] old acquaintance be forgot? Never! My best to all of you…” I remember crying then. I think I’ll keep my flute, and keep playing to honor this wonderful teacher, this wonderful man, who gifted us with music.
I’ve never dated.
My best friend so far is my (former) language arts teacher, Mrs. Mindy Holmes.
I want to become a doctor, and a writer.
Fave movies: W.E., Forrest Gump, Corpse Bride,
Fave Music: All genres. Indie, pop, rock (not hardcore rock, more of that pop-like rock), etc. I don’t listen to much jazz though.
I approve of transsexuals, bisexuals, homosexuals, heterosexuals, people who are bi-curious, people who just identify themselves as ‘queer’, and much more. Something that should now be obvious is my opinion on “gay marriage”.
Pro-choice. Democrat. Buddhist. Female. Asian-American. (Does anybody think this is starting to get ridiculous?) Brunette. (It is.) Fluent English speaker. (I can also speak a phrase or two in German, and at my camp near the end of June, I’ll hopefully learn Russian. Because I applied for that class, and I better get it.)
Occasionally, I go through the ‘suicide’ tag and send the users there messages offering support. So far though, only two (or was is three) people took me up on that offer. One person I helped is named Cheyenne, and now we’re kind of buds. We talk occasionally, and we’re friends on Facebook.
I recently took a (fairly good, which meant it had at least enough credentials to be recommended by someone who apparently has a PhD) personality test and I am an INTP. Go search it up if need be.
I probably do not have any actual disorders, but sometimes I have a lot of anxiety (there’s an anxiety disorder). As in: sent message on Tumblr, requesting something that they were giving away for free anyway (also, asking for reviews on something like a blog post), and when the little red 1 shows up, not reading it for a few hours, instead having a mini panic attack whenever looking at it. Sometimes, I can fidget a lot, probably due to some paranoia. I will not sing out loud in my home because everyone is listening. Everyone will judge me. EVERYONE. The fidgeting, though, only happens in school, when I sit in the front row. Everyone can see your every movement. Don’t scratch your butt! Or fart, read a slightly risque book, etc. Instead, you must sit on your hands to prevent that endless fidgeting that you do for no apparent reason. I’m trying not to call it OCD, because OCD can be very serious, and I probably don’t have OCD anyway. Sometimes I think I have AD(H)D. That’s probably paranoia again, because my dad has it. Everyone has a short attention span anyway (the average being 5 minutes since I last checked).
I can be very eccentric, spontaneous, and hyper. Praise me, or even have a conversation with me on Tumblr, and I will literally run around my room/ spin endlessly in my chair, squealing in hushed voice and hurting my vocal chords by raspily(?) whispering outbursts of excitement (so as not to annoy/wake other members of the house). Hushed squealing also occurs when I run around, and sometimes I “scream” out loud. (By scream I mean say it in a raised voice excitedly.) Also, something happens to fave characters in TV show (that I really want to happen/agree with), same effect. Teacher gives praise, reduced to beaming and internal squealing, but almost same effect. Heightened effect if in front of whole class.
Sometimes, I walk around my house very strangely. I tap dance around the house, moon walk around my house, do the chicken dance around my house, and other things. I also do the “shake your hips and stick hands in the air, waving them around” dance. Sometimes I strike poses, like pointing one finger up into the air, crouching, with the left hand on my hip, and right pointing regionally (coincidentally also the one pointing a finger into the air). Sometimes I do the stairs effect (keep bending your knees while moving forward; looks like you’re going down stairs.
Cracked.Com says: “The Curtin Institute of Technology discovered that the more education you have, the more you’re at risk of becoming disillusioned with life.” Whether this is credible, I don’t know. But sometimes I feel disillusioned a lot.. especially if subjected to a lot of conflicting articles/opinions on any one topic.
I am scared of the dark.
I also have a night light, but it’s actually just a really small bulb, on a plugged-in lamp, on my floor. (Did I mention it’s by my bed?)
I can get really… nit-picky. (If I don’t want two colors together, I’ll reorganize the objects. Sometimes if I don’t want two words/punctuations together, I’ll find a synonym/ignore the proper rule of punctuation. That poster looks physically unattractive next to that one. It should be by this one instead. That object is off center. Staring at it bothers me greatly. That object is hanging off of the shelf slightly.. and no other book is. My eyes!!) Sometimes I wonder if I’m a perfectionist, but no. If I mess up and project, sometimes I’ll throw it away, but more often than not, I’ll make it more messed up so it looks like it was on purpose, or just accept the fact that it’s messed up and move on.
Sometimes I’m very dramatic. I like to fake sob a lot, because, for one, it’s fun, and two, it’s dramatic. Sometimes I’ll be like one of those people.. for example, Ozzie the opossum from Over the Hedge: “Mother, is that you? Beckoning me into the light? Must… move… toward… the light!” <-I’m like that a lot. Especially when I feel energetic, AKA hyper.
I get sharp pains in my side whenever I even speedwalk for a few minutes. e______________e
That’s my story, I’ll add more when I remember. Actually, if you’ve read this, I basically just confessed my soul. <_< >_> O_____O