"The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight"

I have this theory that there are __ different kinds of people in Love.
First, there's the "Labels". These are the people who walk around with these metaphorical labels sticky noted to their chest. "Dog Lover" "Christian" "Thespian" "Anime Lover" The list goes on and on. So these people walk around life sifting through potential mates till the find one with the most matching metaphoric labels. Nothing else matters to them, simply this collection of labels.
Next, is the "Princess". These are mainly but not limited to, females. They're the ones waiting around for someone to come sweep them off their feet. They won't do anything without a big romantic gesture, in fact it's mostly all they want.
Then it's the "Mirrors". Similar to Labels, Mirrors want someone just like them in as many aspects as possible.  When they look at their significant other they want to see as close to a reflection of themselves as possible. Few would ever admit to being a Mirror because either they don't realise it or they don't want to afraid of sounding narcissistic.
Oh the "Chemists". The only important thing is how they physically feel with the other person. Chemists don't care about looks, and they could have absolutely nothing in common-as long as there's chemistry. Even if all the couple does is fight all the time; as long as there's butterflies and sparks when they kiss.
Onto the "Pictures". The shallow mother fuckers. The only thing that matters is a pretty face. There's nothing wrong with being a Picture, just admit it. It's not like none of us put vanity into the equation, but these guys it's number one priority.
Which one are you?

Song of the week:
Mind-Willamette Stone

Our Shadow Selves

I wanna write a story but I don't know where to begin. It's like there's all these words in my head and the second I try to get them out they morph and change. They never come out quite the way I imagine.
Our voices are kind of similar. In our head we hear ourselves one way, but to the world we sound completely different. And it's not till we've recorded ourselves in some way that we even notice that. 
Our written word has the same effect on our voices. It's as if we suddenly become a whole new person. As if we're suddenly being introduced with our shadow selves. 
Our shadow selves. That part if us that we aren't quite quite familiar with, The part of us that we bully and ostracize. Embarrassed, we refuse to except it as part of the whole.
Until we begin writing, that is. That's when our shadow selves come out to play. Unknown to us that they're slowly seeping out for us and the world to see.
That's why, I theorize, it feels so foreign to to hear our own writing. Just like it's foreign to hear a recording of our voices. It's as though our Shadow Selves are quite literally coming up to introduce themselves to us. As though they're shaking our hand saying, "Hi, I'm the real you."

Song for today:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qHm9MG9xw1o&index=5&list=PL2BECB22082AB0E7B

The ridiculously pathetic irony that is my life

BEWARE OF GIRLY PATHETIC WHINY-NESS JUST THIS ONCE!!! SORRY!!
So there's this guy...
For the sake of this blog we shall call him, Sam.
Now the two of us have been sitting together on the bus. We talk. We laugh. There's the occasional me sitting on his lap.
Now he's not the most perceptive person ever, nor is he the most easy to read.
I don't know if he likes me, not to mention I'll be moving away in about five days. Meaning it's not like I want to date him necessarily. It's more so the burning curiosity of, "Oh my fucking god does he like me back or not?!"
Now you should know that I hate confrontations of any kind.
Because of that, this is what I did;
I wrote him a note saying something along the lines of;
"Hey I hate confrontations so here it is, I like you. A lot. In case you didn't already know. I want to know if you feel the same way. Here's my proposition; if you like  me sit by me on the bus. If you don't like me then don't sit by me. Simple. No awkwardness.
Don't worry about hurting my feelings. Really.
Okay?"
Not too shabby right?
Well first of all, the whole day I was stressing over the fact that I wouldn't know for sure if he'd actually read the note or not. Like he could just sit by me and I wouldn't know for sure weather he was sitting down because of the note or just because he usually does!
But worst of all;
HE DIDN'T EVEN RIDE THE BUS AT ALL!!
Oh the bitter irony!
Want to know the further irony?
Sam is a sporty, very religious, preppy, over-motha-fucking achiever!
And I'm just over her like, "Books, Greek mythology, grades don't matter let's just read!"
Not to mention that it's a three day weekend and I won't see him again till Wednesday. By then he will probably have forgotten about the note if he ever even read it at all.
*Sigh*
Sorry for that outburst of girlishness (<---did you know that's a real word?) guys.

Today's Song:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CvqyxgZMDXI

bubbles...

What am I do the night I should be studying for finals and the tests that could decide my future you may ask?

I’m blowing bubbles.

No joke. I’m lying on my back and blowing into a salmon colored wand. Watching the transparent, soapy orbs glide up to the ceiling where they promptly pop and send down a shower of soapy water onto myself.

Bubbles are such fascinating things. I feel as though it’s clinically impossible not to love them. The funny part is I can’t actually pinpoint what it is that’s so special about them. I mean they just look and feel so magical and special.

Even though it may be a slight pain in the ass to make them.

I feel like people could learn a lot from bubbles. They’re just so free. They just keep flying and flying till they pop. They’re clear too. As if they have nothing to hide. They’re so fragile, but, as I said earlier, you can’t resist them.

I genuinely think the world would be a better place if people were more like bubbles.

Today's song:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4yhUPl71m30&index=9&list=PLFwnfesfYZuwj4ZtVminpSDYSBvGCCtZo

What's your biggest fear?

Me and my best friend, Gil, have this game we play. It's called questions. It's where one person asks a question and then everybody playing, including the question asker, has to answer.
Once we were playing and he asked, "What's your biggest fear?" I asked him to let me think about it whilst he answered.
His answer was that losing everyone he loves would be his biggest fear.
How noble of him, I'd thought. To think of them above himself. To value their lives more than his own. I would come to learn later how scary that could be. Suicidal.
Then it came time for me to answer. I thought about it.
I counted up all my smaller phobias, and tried to string together the similarity amongst them. Fear of heights, fear of death, and Agateophobia; the fear of going insane.
I finally realized was that what I feared was a lack of control. I feared not being able to think my way out of something. I feared being put in a situation where I couldn't come up with a plan to get out or away. I was terrified of that feeling.... defeat I suppose.
Of course when I announced this to Gil he just thought I was simply a weird control freak...But it was more than that.
I felt like I was crazy, till the day I read Divergent.
For those of you who haven't read the book;
The main character, Tris, has to go through a "fear landscape". It's a simulation that shows you your worst fears. At one point she's trapped in a glass box that's filling with water. She comes to realize that her fear isn't of drowning. It's of being utterly hopeless and out of options. Out of control.
And that's what I fear. That tragic and helpless feeling of being completely out of control.
I feel like that's one of many reasons why relationships tend to not work out for me. I get so awkward and standoffish. I suddenly feel like I can't even be their friend anymore. I just constantly have this aching feeling of; "God, this is gonna end eventually. What's the point anyway? It's inevitable."
It goes back to the idea of losing control. I just can't seem to allow myself to let go and loose myself into another person.
I try and try to stop, but the morbid thought is always at the back of mind. Just sitting there. Refusing to allow my happiness.
But someday. Someday. Someday I can just feel it. It'll work out. Even just once. Even just for a temporary amount of time.
Someone once said, "maybe he doesn't regret having his heart broken, because having so beautifully whole for even a temporary amount of time was worth it."

Today's song:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dzZQJZdcCU4&index=12&list=PLgYlI0M1tXcmatlc0y6UyPbqNROOylL9U

My Faulted Stars

I've just read The Fault in Our Stars. Now I'm not here to review it our spoil it so don't worry.

I was just thinking about Augustus' views on death. I began to realize how they were similar to my own. He fears that a life not remembered is a life unlived. I feel the same way.

It’s like the age old question; “If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it; does it make a sound?”

If a life is lived and no one is there to remember it, was it really lived at all?

It reminds me of when my mother tells me I’ve tried a food that I think I haven’t.

‘You tried it when you were younger,” she’d say, “You just don’t remember.”
But that’s just it. If I don’t remember eating something, then it may as well have not happened. Because I still don’t know what it tastes like. Ergo the experience is still fresh and new to me.

That’s how I feel about death. It’s this inevitable and scary thing. It makes you feel completely out of control. The only way to feel back in control is to want to be remembered. Death makes goals feel meaningless. But the goal of being remembered literally goes beyond death. Continues past it. 

Today's song:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Wa7dFR09vU&index=6&list=PLgYlI0M1tXcmatlc0y6UyPbqNROOylL9U

Like reading a new book.

I've never had a blog before, so I'm a little unsure of how this all works.
I guess I'll just start with the basics, and tell you a little about me.
My name's Sunny. I'm sixteen and about a month away from being a junior in high school. Damn is that scary. Junior year is the year you start really planning for your future and being sure of yourself. It's when you have to know exactly what you want to do with your life. It's nerve racking to say the least. I'm not even sure what I want for breakfast.
Besides as if just becoming a Junior isn't bad enough, I'll be moving. New school. New people. New everything.
In many ways I'm scared and nervous. I'm worried. Anxiety washes over me and won't let me sleep.
But in some ways I'm almost...excited. It feels like a fresh start. Like I can be whoever or whatever I want. No baggage. People won't have a pre-judgement of me. I have to say it's almost refreshing.
You have to understand that I've been going to the same school since kindergarten. Same kids. Same opinion. Same perception of me. Changing into a better person was never an option.
I guess moving feels to me almost the same as when I start reading a new book. Lame connection I know. But think about it. When you finish a fantastic book you want to hold onto it. Reread it, continue living with these characters. Then the time comes to start a new book. You have this excitement to start a new adventure. Though at the same time you fear that you'll start to forget the old characters. That the memories will soon stop being as fresh.
Perhaps I'm being a bit dramatic but hey I have paranoia, what can I say?
I hate packing too. In fact that's probably the worst part of moving. I've moved more times than I can count. Before you ask; no I haven't moved schools before. Actually strike that, I moved schools once for seventh grade but then came back.
Packing is terrible, though. I hate displacing things that I've finally found the perfect place for. Most of all I hate how my things get increasingly more damaged with each move.
As with everything, there are a couple positives to packing. You always seem to come across those odd ball items that seemed to have magically disappeared without warning. That part's always nice. It feels like discovering tiny little treasures. Or like life is giving you birthday presents.
Every now and then life does nice things. God might as well be saying, "Eh, I'd better throw some good and easy things her way once in a while. If I don't she'll just give up and I won't be entertained anymore."
I don't think I could give up though.
Someone could ask me, "Have you ever contemplated suicide?"
"Well, yeah but then I thought, 'But what about all the books I'll never get to read!"
As pathetic as it sounds I'm serious.
I feel like people take book nerds and fangirls for granted. They think, "Oh she just reads for fun because she's smart."
No you don't understand.
Books are literally parallel to drugs. I'm not just referring to them being addictive. I'm talking about using them as an escape. When I'm reading... I'm not me anymore. I'm not a pathetic tiny girl who's afraid of moving fifty miles away. I'm not the abrasive girl who pushes people away and doesn't feel very loved.
No. I'm Tris. I'm different and an uncontrollable flame.
No. I'm Katniss. I'm a bird flying high and free.
No. I'm not me.
And for even just a little while I get to be someone else. Someone infinity better. I get to experience a life I would otherwise forever be ignorant to.
As George R.R. Martin once said, "A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads lives only one."
I suppose that's why starting something new, It's like reading a new book.

Today's song:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sENM2wA_FTg&index=2&list=PLgYlI0M1tXcmatlc0y6UyPbqNROOylL9U