The Manhattanville Monthly

October 21st, 2009

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There have been some exciting developments in the past weeks here at Manhattanville College. Let's turn to our lead report, C.M. Alodia Smalls for the full report.

"Last weekend, our correspondent, who wishes to remain anonymous, went through a terrifying ordeal while attempting to visit her better half at Hampshire College. After arriving at the bus station at three in the morning, the young woman discovered the ticket counter was closed, and would not open in time for her to buy her ticket to Amherst. For a few horrifying few minutes she was trapped, stranded in the large city of White Plains; the school provide bus had driven off without her. She was saved by a taxi, who agreed to take her back to the college despite the time. However, come to find out there was a discretion in the form of payment, causing the young woman to have to be ESCORTED by CAMPUS SECURITY to the local A.T.M. The young lady was thankfully able to return safely to her room at nearly four in the morning, after having a humiliating walk of shame down the halls of Spellman's third floor.

The following Monday, a rising starlet here at Manhattanville College handed in a story to her Creative Writing class. "I'm not usually proud of my work," the woman says, in a very private interview. "but this is something I think I excelled at. I was really aiming to capture the imagery, and putting the reader into the story." the story follows a young teenage boy living in the ghetto of Phoenix home, where he comes face to face with his deadbeat parents. He narrowly escapes the wrath of his abusive father, with little help from his mindless mother.

Tuesday, the Freshman Seminar 'To Be Human' class was cancelled, leaving several students on campus free all afternoon and evening. The same day, the course Theory of Knowledge took their midterm exam. The exam was simply this - to sign a piece of paper that was passed around, with your name and stating you had participated in class. One girl, a short, spunky brunette, stated, "I love college!" The students also learned that class was to be cancelled on Friday. They had previously been scheduled to take an actual test that day, but the teacher was called away to a meeting and was unable to find a proctor.

Late this afternoon, the students of the class Politics and Religion in Ireland learned that their class had been cancelled - for the third week in a row. Due to the 'Backpack to Briefcase' program being put on for the senior class, only three of the students had planned on attending class, and the Professor found it useless.

In the coming weeks:

a small group of students, including roommates Chelsea Linehan and N'Jeri Agyeman, and cousins Fabiannie and Alexandra Paulino have decided to head into White Plains Thursday night in the hopes of getting Halloween costumes.

Saturday is Manhattanville's 'Fall Fest' featuring food, prizes, face painting, henna tattoos, games and more. Many students are excited and plan on dressing for their theme: 'Dress in Flannel for Fall Fest'.

Sunday night, the college is holding a 'Haunted Castle Tour' from 7 p.m. - midnight for five dollars. This should be a popular event and many students plan on attending.

The coming week looks calm and uneventful, but most know here at Manhattanville any day is not uneventful. The next weekend is Halloween, and while it has not been decided on definitely, it is assumed that a party of some sort will take place in which the students will attend. Unfortunately for a few particular students, this means no trick-or-treating, and hence no candy. Cape Codders Blake Tower and Dylan Buotte have discussed their plans in coming to visit a fellow friend here at Manhattanville for the Halloween weekend, though this is could be considered a doubtful event.

Until next month, C.M. Alodia Smalls, signing off."

Thank you very much Alodia! We hope you have enjoyed this month's edition of Manhattanville Monthly.

Comments? Concerns? Questions? Please email wedontgiveahoot@nowhere.com

C.E.O: Anon E. Mouse

Editor In Chief: No Onep Articular

Staff Reporter: C.M. Alodia Smalls

Untitled!

Chelsea Linehan

October 18^th, 2009

Story With Silent Character

August was a particularly hot month, especially in Phoenix. It was 102° that day. The tar on the ground was almost melting it was so hot, and as Ashton Boufford came to a stop on his skateboard, he picked up a water bottle and dumped it over his head. Every drop that hit the ground sizzled and steamed around him. The water was as warm as bath water, after having sat in the sun all day while Ash practiced his tricks, spins and flips. He eyed the sun for a second, before shaking his shaggy black hair around his head. The rest of the water dropped from him to the earth below.

The teenager picked up his board and started out of the park and down the street. It was about four o’clock. He was hungry and tired, and had plans that night. Ash was going to a metal concert with his friends. Turning down Harley Avenue, he dropped his board to the ground and stepped on it, quickening his pace. As the skyscrapers and highways of the city became his backdrop, his surroundings became big brick apartment buildings, with iron rod decks for every unit, and luscious gardens at the steps. Children rode by him on their scooters going a million miles an hour, heading to the moon; parents sat on the steps watching, sipping homemade lemonade and gossiping about their fellow neighbors. A few greeted Ash and offered him a drink, tempting him to ‘come out of the sun and into the shade for a moment’, but he politely declined and took a rain check.

And then Harley Avenue became Scotch Street, and nice apartment buildings became broken down houses, condemned by the town or closed by the landlords. The kids disappeared and in their place were the ragged, strained homeless of Phoenix’s streets, or the hard-as-nails drug dealers. All outcasts of society, all condemned, like their home, to a life of obscurity. It was here that Ash slowed down, and somewhere in the middle of Scotch Street stopped, kicking his board into his hand, and heading up the stairs. The door was open, whether it had been left unlocked, or someone had broken in was irrelevant; there was almost nothing here worth stealing, not to the common thief.

Ash lived on the fourth floor. There were at least eight units on every floor. That meant at least eight families a floor, with five floors. The building itself was decently sized, but after having been split so many times to accommodate as many people as possible, the apartments were cramped and awkwardly arranged. Ash lived with his Mom, and sometimes his Dad, in one of the larger apartments. They had their own kitchen, and their own bathroom; this was a luxury, as both the first and third floors shared a bathroom and kitchen. As he headed up the stairs, he could hear the screaming babies who lived on the second floor, the Italian immigrants on the third floor, and the echoing rap music from the landlord son’s room on the first floor. The fourth floor was quiet, but Ash knew enough not to be fooled. Give it time, he thought, in a few hours this floor will be as loud as the others.

The door to his house was open. In plain view to any passerby was his living room, complete with broken coffee table covered in booze and assorted drugs, and ratty couch. His mother, thirty two year old Anna Sharbreck, was laying unconscious across there, long black brown hair spilled out around her, arm flung over the side, mouth open wide as though she had been mid-speech when sleep took her. “Ma.” Ash croaked out, walking over to her still form. He gave her a good shake. “Ma, wake up. Shit, Ma, not again.” He put a hand over her mouth, and the lines on his face relaxed as he felt her breathing – steady, and strong. She was alive, at least. “Can you wake up, Ma?” he asked again, shaking her again. Her lips moved and she shifted away from him. Satisfied, he backed away and turned to look at the coffee table. This wasn’t an unusual state for her, she’d wake up eventually, probably cranky and looking for a drink, or a hit.

Ash grabbed the empty bottles off the table and walked into his kitchen, dropping them in the garbage bag. It clanged with yesterday’s bottles. He turned, opening the fridge and bent to look at its contents. Ketchup, relish, butter. Not even a bottle of booze, or a water bottle. Ash had taken the last one with him this morning. As if it knew, Ash’s stomach grumbled. He stood in the dirty kitchen for a moment, unsure of what to do.

In a second he had crossed from the kitchen back to his mother’s side at the couch. He shook her roughly this time. “Ma, wake up. Listen to me, Ma. It’s Ash. Where did you hide the money?” Her eyes rolled around in her head as Ash shook her again, raising his voice. “Ma, where’s the money. Where’d you hide the money?” Anna finally opened one green eye, trying to focus on her sixteen-year-old son. She opened her mouth but instead of verbalizing, she pointed across the room. Ash darted to the shelves that stood against the wall and reached up, taking down the whiskey bottle that sat among the few books they had. Taking the bottle by it’s neck he turned around and smashed it against the table. His mother sat up quickly in alarm. “It’s just me, Ma. It’s ok.” They met eyes and he watched as she tried to recognize her son through her drug-induced haze. When it finally went through she flopped back down on the couch and stared at the ceiling.

Ashton leaned down and picked up the wad of money tangled among the shards of glass. “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?” Ash whipped around and met eyes with a man standing in the hall. He staggered forward and gripped the frame of the door, glaring at him. “Wha’re you doin’ with my money?” Ash’s hand tightened around the money in his hand, and he lifted the broken bottle in the other. He studied the reflection of his face in the man’s.

“Dad, I-I need this…we’re out of food…” his voice wavered as Thomas Luppen crossed the room quickly. He grabbed his son by his hair and yanked him in the downward direction. Ash let out a yelp like a dog and waved the bottle head above him like a weapon. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his mother sit up, witnessing the scene. Grabbing his dad’s wrist he reached over and dragged the broken glass across his skin. Thomas groaned in pain and let go, smacking Ash in the face.

“BASTARD CHILD!” he dropped to the floor and groaned, feeling blood drip from his nose to the ground. There was a shriek and Ash looked up to see Anna staggering against Thomas in defense of her son. The two drunks struggled with each other for a moment. Ash rolled over onto his hands and knees and started crawling away. After a few feet he rose to his feet and tripped to the door of his bedroom. He shut it, and locked it, wandering to the window on the other side of the room. His hand pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stop the steady drip of blood.

Ash was knocking his elbow and palm against the window to open it when the door banged once, then broke open and revealed Thomas in the doorway, Anna still grabbing at his shoulders. With a swift motion he knocked the woman into the wall, where she fell and crumbled into a withering ball on the floor. For a moment, Ash and Thomas met hazel eye to hazel eye, and in a split second the elder had crossed the room and knocked his son out the window onto the fire escape. On the ground again, Ash leaned back and kicked up into the face of the man. The heel of his foot made contact with his nose and there was a loud crack, signaling the breaking of his nose. Thomas swore loudly and sat back on the window ledge, hitting his head on the frame. A moment later he dropped to the floor.

Stumbling to his feet, Ash looked down at the drunk, unconscious and left in a pool of his own blood. He looked up and met eyes with his mother. She leaned against the wall for support, a black eye forming, blood dripping from a cut above her right eyebrow. His lips formed a tight line and he shook his head lightly, before pounding down the metal steps and running off into Phoenix’s setting sun.

The Sad Part.

The sad part is, we seem so much happier apart.

My Thoughts, Part Deux (Apparently)

http://hellinmyhead1991.blogspot.com.

Short Story

She sat at the base of the sink, her eyes trained on the mirrored closet doors in front of her. She met her own gaze and held it. The room around her was trashed, littered with papers and feathers and pillows, broken glass and cracked pictures and mirrors. There was an odd silence around the room; it was the kind of sound that that came after major destruction. It masked even her deep breathing.

The girl tore her gaze from the mirror to study the damage she had done. It was chaos, everywhere. She didn’t know where to go from here. The girl wasn’t even sure if she could function. Fights are a vacuum for passion and emotion, leaving the aftermath empty and desolate. But the longer she sat there, face to face with herself in the tail end of disaster, the more regret settled into her empty stomach. It wasn’t the regret left by their usual spats, but a deep, black monster that moved through her blood like acid.

In the background she became aware of a high-pitched ringing. It repeated itself, demanding her attention. “You’ve reached Cecily Cunningham and Samson Andrade, we’re not in right now, so please leave a message after the beep. BEEEEEP. Hahahaha, SAMSON!” “Cecily, pick up. Come on babe, you can’t hide out there forever, you know I’ll come in after you. Look just ca-” the message from Cecily’s sister cut out as she ripped the cord from the phone, tossing it across the room. The brunette lifted herself to her feet, looking around the room slowly. As she crossed into the living room, her eyes landed on a black heap in the middle of the floor. Cecily picked it up and brushed it off. Her fingers traced the seams of the fabric, and then the lettering across the front. ‘Burn Me Down’. She slipped on the sweatshirt and breathed in the memories and sweet smell of Axe body spray. It made her shiver straight down to her bones.

Cecily was making a sandwich when it started. “I need to tell you something I should have told you a long time ago.” She looked up, smiling at him. Samson stood in the doorway of the living room, looking at her carefully. He held something in his hands that he twisted, over and over.

“Want a sandwich? I got some ham from the deli.”

“No, Cecily. Will you just sit down for a second?” Cecily frowned, putting down the knife and crossing her arms.

“I’m fine standing. What’s going on?”

“I’d really rather you sit – ”

“Sam, stop it you’re scaring me.” He ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair and sat down at the island. It was then that she saw what he was holding in his hand – a kid’s Red Sox sweatshirt. “Who’s sweatshirt is that, Sam?” Cecily asked in a low voice.

“His name is Devlin. He’s ten years old…he lives in Cambridge with my ex girlfriend Darcy. I was seventeen and a senior in high school. She was the older and more experienced woman. I was foolish. We both were.” She started at him, but his eyes never left the countertop.

“What are you talking about?”

“I have a son, Cecily. A son.” She laughed, but when he didn’t laugh with her it died off. She felt her breath catch in her throat and gripped the side of the counter for support.

“A son? You…you can’t have a son..”

“I have a son, Ces.” Samson’s tone was harsh and she ground her teeth together, her eyes drifting to him again.

“What do you mean you have a son, Samson. You can’t have a son, I would have known. We’ve been together for four years. You don’t have a son, Samson, you can’t!”

“Cecily, would you listen to yourself! Listen to what I’m saying to you! I have a son. He’s ten years old. He lives in Cambridge.”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME BEFORE! How could you keep this from me, Samson. For five years, I’ve known you FIVE YEARS!” Cecily screamed at him, stepping away from the counter.

“I was scared, Ces, I was scared! I didn’t want to lose you!” he stood, screaming back at her.

“That is bullshit, Samson, and you know it! How could you do this to me!”

“Oh yes, Cecily, because at the time I was thinking of you. NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT YOU! DO YOU REALIZE THAT?!” she whipped around to glare at him, dropping the porcelain plate in her hand, allowing it to drop to the floor and shatter. As she opened her mouth to respond, a familiar ringing echoed from his pocket and he pulled out a beaten up flip phone. “Andrade. Yeah. Yeah I’ll be outside in two.” He shut the phone and disappeared from the room, coming back a moment later with his uniform. “Forest fire at the base of the Berkshires. We’ll talk about this when I get back.”

“Get back? You think you’re coming back?” Cecily spat, glaring at him through thick tears. “Don’t bother. I’ll leave you a suitcase outside the door.” The only response she got was the sound of the door closing behind him.

They didn’t fight very often but when they did, the fights were always disastrous. This one had been worse than all the rest. Cecily collected the evidence in the form of the broken plate in her hand, opening the garbage. A broken plate was nothing now.

Cecily was used to his bizarre hours. She could stand the phone calls at all hours of the day and night, and could usually even handle the waiting. But forest fires were different. It meant even longer hours, and extra danger. In the first half hour Cecily’s anger had fueled her packing. His suits, t-shirts, jeans, toothbrush, all of it in a suitcase and a duffel bag outside the door. Then it was that picture, those sets of sheets, and more. It took her four hours to get rid of everything in the apartment that was his. Cecily had just picked up the last thing, his ‘Burn Me Down’ sweatshirt, when the phone rang. “I’m sorry Cecily,” the Sergeant said over the phone. “He went missing some time in the second hour. We have a search party out for him, but after another hour or so we’ll have to turn in. The fire’s spread and we can’t spare too many extra men.” The shock was like ice down the back of her shirt. She started to shake violently, her teeth chattering and hands trembling. Slipping on the sweatshirt, Cecily tried to warm the innate cold that had settled in her body. But what she really needed was Samson and his arms around her.

As the tears came, she started to rip at her pillow, and soon Cecily was throwing everything she could get her hands on. All she could hear was her last words.

And now she was left to clean up the mess.

Cecily bit back her tears as she headed to the hall closet for the vacuum. Such a mess. Everything was such a mess and it was all her fault. If only she had just kept her mouth shut and temper in check. If only she hadn’t freaked out, he’d still be here. The thought made tears burn her eyes again, but she was out of tears. Instead Cecily dragged the vacuum to the other side of the room, and was plugging it in when she heard it. The knock was soft at first, but then a bit harder. Cecily pulled the sweatshirt tighter around her and crossed the room slowly. She couldn’t handle the idea that it would be the Sergeant with Samson’s things. Once she had cleaned the apartment, Cecily would put his things back, and make as if he had never left. The child’s Red Sox’s sweatshirt sat on the counter and she grabbed it as she approached the door. Oh god, would she have to tell his kid?

Cecily swung open the door and followed the line of the boots, up the black pants with brightly colored stripes, to the matching jacket and finally met his blue eyes with hers.

“Cecily, I’m sorry.”

Dear You, Love Me.

Dear You,

I am so sorry for everything that happened. And I understand that you don't want to deal with me for a while, and I had every intention of leaving you alone, but things changed. I wouldn't be able to stand myself if you went in for surgery and we were still fighting. You know the old wives tale about tying up your lose ends...

If you really don't want anything to do with me anymore, then you can simply ignore this, and come Thursday when I haven't heard from you, I will know. But I wouldn't sleep right at night knowing that I hadn't at least made the effort to patch things over before.

I love you with all my heart. I know it's been hard the past six weeks, but I'm just scared and lonely. I'm 236 miles away from home - away from you, and Mama, and all the rest of my friends. And I'm terrified. Somehow, all that fear and whatnot boiled out onto you, because you were my safe place. You were where I could go, and I knew that it was all going to be ok, and that you would always be there for me. I shouldn't have placed so much responsibility on you, I'm so sorry.

I'm not going to lie, I'm hurt by this. But you're too important to me to let you just walk away from me. Today is Tuesday, the 29th. If you want to talk things over, and make up, please text me, call me, skype me, IM me, Facebook message me - anything. If not, then you'll never hear from me again, I promise. Please talk to me.

Love, always and forever,

Homegirl.

I'm so worried about him.

I prayed for him.

Hmmm.

I fucked up big time. I sent a retarded two A.M. text to someone. I fucked up big time. See, I don't need to drink or do drugs to do dumb shit in the middle of the night. I'm perfectly capable of doing them under the influence of nothing but my own stupidity.

I don't think I can fix this. And I hate myself for it. I don't know that everything's going to go back to the way it was, but I'm scared it wont. I think this has been self sabotage.

But this is the last of it. Never again will I do this to myself. I will never again put myself in the position that I hurt this much. I'm changing, and it's starting today. Never again will I be annoying, never again will I dwell in my insecurities, or rest on my laurels, or be shy, prude and quiet me. Because that me? Fucked up the best thing in my life. So I'll change.

Let's start with the basics. No more unhealthy junk foods. Anything artificial is just bad for you. No more soda, candy, ice cream, and fried food. No more artificial colouring, no more artificial flavourings. More salad, more balanced meals, more water. More time in the pool and the gym and being active.

More time outside. More time in peace and quiet and less time around technology. No more hours upon hours of Facebook stalking everyone, no more excessive use of my iPods, no more constant texting. More yoga, horseback riding, swimming, dancing, meditating.

No more worrying about what every boy, girl, and their aunt thinks about me. More time embracing myself. More time appreciating the wonderful people in my life, the gifts I have, my talent, my health. Less time worrying about boys. More time keeping my grades up, building good relationships with my mom and my family and my friends.

No more psycho two in the morning text messages telling people you love the biggest lie you have ever told. No more worrying that you're not good enough for them. No more worrying I'm going to lose him, especially if its too late...more time...just, more time not worrying. More time in reality, less time in my imagination. More time voicing my thoughts, less time biting my lip.

I just want to fix myself...the part that does dumb things. The dumb part. The little kid that never grew up.

I think I'm going to talk to Villie's nurses about making an appointment with a shrink or someone. I think it's covered on my insurance....

To everyone out there that I hurt, or pushed away. Please forgive me. I'm going to change, I'll be a better person. I promise.

Rose.

Testing, One, Two, Three, Four.

236.04 miles from home.

Exactly.

Which means roughly 220.00 miles from all the people I love.

(That's four hours and twenty three minutes, for the record.)

As previously mentioned, I spent a good portion of my childhood itching to get off that god foresaken island. A good 8 out of 10 years, I'd say. Not consecutive, either. Scattered moments in time when I enjoyed living there.

And now...I'm 236.04 miles from home, which is a hell of a lost closer than I planned on being (when I was going to run away, you see)...and I wanna go home...

I realized this was a test. Is a test. It's not over yet. Still got a good three and seven eighths years here. Anyways, if this was supposed to test me....

Dumbest fucking test ever. Like I'd give up this kind of opportunity. Even if it is hard.

Game over, fate. You fucking lose.

The Truth.

I have not had one decent night of sleep since I got here.

I'm serious.

Not.

One.

Every night, I wake up looking for him.

Every single night.

I really don't understand whats wrong with me....

I understand missing someone, but...to the point where I can't sleep? Really? It doesn't make sense...

I am destined to not sleep well unless he's within walking distance of me? Will I ever sleep well here, or will the only good sleep I get be when I'm home on vacations?

I really don't get it....

Ignorance

Discovered Ignorance by Paramore, as well. Enjoying! Off to find more music.

I Ain't a Doll, this Ain't a Dollhouse.

Hmmmm.

Had Politics and Religion in Ireland today.

Wrote seven and a half pages of notes.

It was an interest class.

I'm pleased with it.

Hmmmm.

Laura's coming to lunch (possibly) on Sunday.

Actually excited about it.

Think I'm forgiving her.

Hmmmm.

then you're no good for me

so glad i kept my receipt.

Downloaded a new song today.

Called Dollhouse by Priscilla Renea.

Perfect timing, actually.

Good song.

Fits my mood.

Hmmmm.

I'm sick.

Got an upset stomach.

Its doing these weird rollarcoaster things.

Hmmmm.

I'm having problems processing my own emotions.

Somewhere between what I think and what I feel

they disagree.

Can't really think straight.

Can't really act straight.

Can't sleep.

Fuck.

My Thoughts.

Alright, so all the time without TV and little more to do than stalk people on Facebook has given me a lot of time to think. I started to tell Dev some of this a few days ago, but I couldn't bring myself to do because I didn't know how to just straight up bring it up. So I covered it with some BS about him visiting me in Ireland. (Sorry, Dev :( )

First thing I realized is that even if he or even we date other people, I'm still his favorite. He still loves me, and I love him and we're best friends! I know he's going to be in my life forever and I'll be in his and no girlfriend will change that. I mean even a wife! We're still best friends, and I still love him!

Second I realized that this time away from all the important people is a good chance to figure out who I am and who I want to be. Like, there are certain parts of myself I don't like and want to change. I want to be more self confident, because I recently realized that the most attractive guy in my life is confident and happy and strong. Confidence is attractive, and just...better. You attract more people to you when you're confident. Gotta work on that.

Third, my jealousy. I get jealous really easy, and I strive to make other people jealous, but that's really not a happy existence. It's not that I'm not happy and grateful with what I have, because I am, I just have to make sure I'd do covet thy neighbors gifts. (Or something like that...?)

I think that's all I really can focus on for now - I dont want to overload myself. But the thinking is getting deeeeper and deeeeeper, especially with all these TOK and To Be Human classes. o.0

...

hakuna matata.

Upon further consideration...

Upon further consideration of why exactly it is I'm having trouble making friends, I realize in full clarity that it's ME! Over the summer, a friend backstabbed me, and I don't trust anyone since. Ok, lets break this down.

October 18th(ish) 2008 - May 2009: Rose meets boy. Boy breaks heart. Not once, not twice, but a good three times.

May 2009 - July 2009: Rose finds new best friends!

August 2009: New best friend back stabs Rose.

So after all of this back stabbing, and heart breaking....I can honestly say I can list the people I trust on one hand. My mother, Dev, Hannah, and Erin Boat, just to list a few. Ok, maybe a hand and a half. There's always the rest of my family....

POINT IS THIS: I'm not into being betrayed again. Hmm.

If I remember correctly, I went through a similar phase when I was in middle school, I think when I was in eighth grade; I wanted to be a loner, because people couldn't be trusted! I honestly said that to my mother, and I think she almost broke down in the middle of the parking lot of our building. She did, however, calmly explain to me that loners did drugs, and since I didn't want to do drugs, I couldn't be a loner.

(I'm not kidding, that was her logic.....hey, it worked...)

Hmmm. I think it's time we play the game, W.W.M.A.S.

WHAT WOULD MR.A SAY?

Its a very simple game, really. It got me through my senior year in the I.B. program, because every time I would want to quit, his BOOMING voice would pop into my head and go..... "SMALLS." and as SOON as I heard that, I KNEW I was thinking a bad idea.

Mr.A says I need to put myself out there and make some friends. What's the worst that could happen, he asks. And I answer I might get back stabbed. And he answers, So, move on. Grow up. I'm a bright, intelligent, engaging young woman. As Erin Boat said to me last night, "people gravitate to you". (I honestly thought she was kidding but...I don't think she was.) Mr.A says...something about taking risks and tells me to grow up and that if I get back stabbed it's not the end of the world. And in the end, he convinces me that I will make friends and it will all work out in the end.

Man I love playing this game. I always win. :)

Now, for those of you that think I didn't really just honestly have a conversation with my Latin teacher in my head, I assure you, I did. I can even hear him saying that to me, or see him typing it to me. And there's one thing you should know about W.W.M.A.S.; Mr.A is always right in the end.

It's because he's awesome. ♥

Things I Miss.

I miss the days that I couldn't WAIT to get away from home. The days that I was SOO miserable at home, that I would contemplate running away to get away and make a new life for myself. I miss not having a reason to want to be home.

The issue here is, I'm homesick, and I don't fucking like it. I don't even know so much if it's that I'm homesick, as much as it is the fact that I miss my friends. I have truly the most spectacular group of friends. ...and they're all there..and I'm here...

Ever since I was wee I had this problem about not 'being invited to the party'. My best friend Diana would have a friend over, and she'd call me and we'd talk for a bit, but more than anything I wanted to be there, with her and whoever her friend was. Instead, I was at home. By myself. The last true time I remember feeling that way was I think a few years ago at Emily's 16th birthday party, where there was a moon bounce and they were all on the beach and I was, once again, at home.

By that time I could basically go to anything I wanted, I had internet in my room, and if I wasn't allowed to go to something it was because I was working; and I had friends at work. So I wasn't so much missing a party because I was having my own.

However, here at college....I feel like a little kid again. Which is not even a true statement, because when I was little I had no problem wandering up to other kids and becoming friends with them! It was middle school that really caged me into this quiet little girl....and then in high school I was so anxious to NOT be that person anymore, I became down right obnoxious. I was probably the most obnoxious freshman ever, and I apologize to all previous Sturgis upperclassmen who had to deal with me.

So back to college. ...the party's at home...and I'm at college...

Back in those days of me being really obnoxious for attention, all I wanted was off the dumb island I lived on, away from the people who vexed me most in the world, so that I could live on my own and become this fabulous, vibrant and bubbly young woman who everyone would envy because I was so nice, and so fun, and funny....

(Keep in mind, I'm a writer. I have an extremely vivid imagination.)

...

This past summer, I really connected with friends. And I found people I can't imagine living without - all those years I was miserable and wanted away? It was because I didn't have people like them in my life. And of course, with all my luck, I found this person, these people, the summer before I leave for college. For a college five hours away, where I know almost no one, where I have to completely start over. And after all those years of wanting exactly this...I just wanna go home. Hahah.

Be careful what you wish for.

OK SO.

OHMYGODDRUGUSEANDABUSEISGONNABEREALLYHARDICANFEELITANDIWANNADIE.

See if you can decode that one! That is pretty much what's running through my head right now, on repeat, about ten times louder and a lot faster. At this very moment, 10:50 P.M. I really want to fucking go home. Oh god.

:(

Some Thoughts For My First Day.

Boys are yucky. Stupid and yucky. Boyfast back on.

Top floor means ten fans, not one.

Bring extension cords.

There is no good place to put the fridge. End of story.

There will never be enough plugs.

Did I mention boys are stupid?

Best friends are the best. ♥

THERE IS NO FREON IN FRIDGES ANYMORE.

The beds become monstrously large. Do not fear underbed storage.

My first day at school has left me with an odd feeling. You know the saying alone in a crowded room? It's probably from a song, or a poem or something. Well, let me tell you, whoever wrote it was DEFINITELY talking about their first day at college. Its weird because you know people, yet at the same time it's only one or two people who aren't attached at your hip. So they come and go as they please.

I almost ate dinner by almost, but was joined at the last moment by a very nice O.A. (Orientation Advisor) by the name of Shawn.

Did I mention boys are yucky? Hmmm. (BF'09!)

I'm pretty much burned out of my skull. My room mate is wicked nice and wicked funny, and wicked chill so I don't think that's going to be a problem. HOWEVER after lugging half my life up 4 flights of stairs, I tried to go to their dance and almost fell asleep while dancing. (Once again, boys = bad, BF'09.)

At any rate, I'm all moved in; well, for the most part. Classes start Monday - my first class is Math. Shoot me, right? The orientation festivities continue tomorrow, but I assume all the upperclassmen are moving in. Oh god - scary upperclassmen! I best head to bed :)

So it goes

- Rosie

As Promised: Rose's College Survival Guide.

1. Awesome stuff. - If you love the stuff you got for college, it's so much easier to look forward to setting it all up on moving day than to sit around and anticipate leaving family and friends.

2. Friend's stuff. - I have a pair of Dev's pants, his shirt, and his sweatshirt. Lils made me two origami wheels. I have pictures of me and Hannah and Mr. A, and Erika. It helps keep them there with you, when they're not.

3. A webcam. - I understand that these can be hard to come by, but boy is it so much easier when you have friends and parents who are far away. It's not the same as them being there in person, but just to see their faces can be a relief.

4. A cell phone. - For daily 'good morning' or 'good night' or just 'thinking of you' texts and phone calls on the way home from work, keeping in touch is important.

5. Addresses. - To write and send packages! Don't forget to give them yours, so they can do the same!

6. An awesome playlist. - No good experience is complete without a rockin' playlist to pick you up when you're down, or lift you up when you're already hyped! It helps if you have songs that will remind you of good experiences with friends. For my personal playlist, check out below!

Thanks for reading!

ROSE'S 'COLLEGE MUSIC ONE' PLAYLIST.

Freeze - Chris Brown

Hakuna Matata - the Lion King Soundtrack

Waking Up in Vegas - Katy Perry

We Fly High (Ballin') - Jim Jones

Here Comes Goodbye - Rascal Flatts

Catch Me - Demi Lovato

Beautiful Dirty Rich - Lady Gaga

Candy Shop - 50 Cent

I'd Lie - Taylor Swift

Which to Bury, Us or the Hatchet? - Relient K

Here We Go Again - Demi Lovato

Heroes Get Remembered, Legends Never Die - Four Year Strong

Crazier - Taylor Swift

If You Seek Amy - Britney Spears

Oops, I Did It Again - Britney Spears

Just to Be Together - M.T. & S.S.

Day N' Nite - Kid Cudi

Just A Lil' Bit - 50 Cent

Her Diamonds - Rob Thomas

Beatdown In the Key to Happiness - Four Year Strong

Jai Ho (You Are My Destiny) - Nicole Scherzinger

Life is a Highway - Rascal Flatts

Caribou Lou - Tech N9ne

Starstruck - Lady Gaga

Watcha Say - Jason DeRulo

Bada Bing Wit' A Pipe - Four Year Strong

Love and Sex and Magic - Ciara and Justin Timberlake

Wrecked 'Em, Damn Near Killed 'Em - Four Year Strong

Undying - S.S.

Party in the USA - Miley Cyrus

Obsessed - Mariah Carey feat. Gucci Mane

Abandon Ship or Abandon All Hope - Four Year Strong

Hey There Delilah - Plain White Tees

Blame It - Jamie Foxx

Shove It (feat Spank Rock) - Santogold

Catastrophe - Four Year Strong

I'm On A Boat - the Lonely Island

Grains of Sand - S.S.

BOLD - My personal favorites!

It's Time.

Listening to: Life is a Highway - Rascal Flatts

It's time I blogged about the issue I have been tiptoeing around since.....April. May, maybe.

I AM LEAVING. FOR COLLEGE.

*breath* This is a whole new chapter in my life. And when I say new I mean...brand fucking new. New friends, classes, environment...holy shit.

You know, this reminds me of going to Girl Scout camp when I was little. I would pack a bag and leave home for a month to go somewhere where I knew no one. The only big difference is, less bugs. (Thank god, I HATE bugs.) At this very moment, I am more than happy to get up and leave, separate myself from my Mama and crazy family. But I'm sure if you ask me in about a week or two, I will feel very differently. I love my mother and my family, but they've been overwhelming me a lot recently - most specifically Mama. When Mama gets anxious she gets bossy and a bit bitchy...

I don't know how I'm supposed to do this; to be perfectly honest, how am I able to just pack up and leave? I'll tell you how, I got a pretty little financial aid package is how. OK: short story time.

Listening to: Hey There Delilah - Plain White Tees

I applied to what we will call 'the Ghetto School' for the sake of pleasing Mama - she LOVED the school and we had relatives that worked there, and yada yada yada. Well let me tell you something - I HATED THE SCHOOL. I DIDN'T LIKE IT ONE BIT. I got in, I got a scholarship, but Villie's scholarship beat theirs, so I ended up going to my top choice, despite my mother's insisting that I would NEVER find a way to go there. ( Look up the poem: Listen to the Musn'ts by Shel Silverstein. It was my driving force for months. )

Listening to: Wrecked 'Em, Damn Near Killed 'Em - Four Year Strong

But the point to that story WAS - IF I hadn't gotten my scholarship, and IF I was going to the Ghetto School, I wouldn't! I honestly would have probably dropped and gone to my local community college after the first semester. Because I couldn't stand it!

So, following this post I will post 'Rose's College Survival Guide'. Just to sum up how I have managed this far - 7 days - without my friends, and why I feel like I will survive.

Move in day is tomorrow! Wish me luck <3

So it goes

- Rosie.

Hakuna Matata.

Listening to: Hakuna Matata (the Lion King Soundtrack).

Hakuna matata.

What a wonderful phrase.

Hakuna matata.

Ain't no passin' craze.

it means no worries, for the rest of your days.

It's our problem free, philosophy.

Hakuna matata.

...

I feel like hakuna matata is my new driving force. Because every time I get upset or off or blue, I just think, fuck this, hakuna matata. No worries, because nothing matters. Best friend hurts you? Fuck it, hakuna matata. Mama yells? Fuck it, hakuna matata. I don't think I'm using it in the context Simone and Pumba really intended it to be used for, but hey! Fuck it. Hakuna matata.

Back to boyfasting. I really think I need to work on myself. I don't see the value in myself enough sometimes, and I need to be comfortable with who I am before I can starting dating someone and have to worry about stroking their ego all the time, right? Isn't it that old AA saying that says you can't help anyone else if you can't help yourself?

That, and admitting you have a problem is the first step...accepting there is a power greater than yourself in the world, yada yada yada. Whatever, fuck it! HAKUNA MATATA!

Today I was watching the motorcade of Senator Kennedy. I was struck at first by how seriously moved I was. Although I never pay too much attention to politics, it was almost as though I could feel the passing of an era. He was a good man. But as I was sitting there, getting chills as I watched, I realized that he wouldn't have left this Earth if he hadn't done his piece. Everything happens for a reason.

Then I realized how hypocritical that thought was.

When my father passed away, I was eleven years old. And all I have been able to think since, is that there is no justifiable reason for him to have died. None at all. I needed him. He wasn't done here. And hence, everything does NOT happen for a reason.

But really, in all honesty. What reason could there possibly be for him to leave? Do you know what him dying has done to me? I don't trust guys. At all. And even when I do trust guys, ... I still don't trust guys! Dev knows better than anyone, because I will occasionally drive myself to tears - all because I keep waiting for him to leave, to walk out and not come back. Because according to what I know, what I've experienced, thats what happens. And I've put too much of my heart and my trust on the line for me to not completely break if he follows pattern.

I trust him not to. When he tells me he's not going to, I believe him. It just the dirty little voice in the back of my head that will get to me every once and a while...

At any rate, it made me think a lot. I don't like labeling myself as a hypocrite. But maybe everyone is in some way, shape or form?

Ah, whatever. Fuck it! Hakuna matata.

BOYFAST '09 UPDATE.

Boyfasting is not nearly as easy as it seemed it was going to be. Since my last post, I refused to go to the corner store with my mother because I didn't have any makeup on and there is a hot boy that works there, became friends on Facebook with some old crushes who made me want to delete all my ugly photos, and best of all, answered a phone call to hear "Hello beautiful". That TOTALLY made my day. :)

Boyfast may be more like fasting from boys who haven't already found a place in my heart.

when he smiles, i smile.

BOYFAST '09.

So after some careful consideration I realized a few things.

1. The piece I had been writing was now useless, because the context of the plot has changed drastically.

2. He doesn't like me. He's physically attracted to me, and I'm his best friend, but he doesn't like me.

3. I am wayyyy too tired of getting hurt.

I can't honestly blame him in any way at all. At the very least he told me this was going to happen, yet he gave me what I wanted anyways (my kiss) and then stepped back and closed his eyes, waiting for the fallout.

Enter fallout here.

Guy gets action like normal people breath air, which is what really started all my thinking. Honestly, I know I'm important to him as a friend but I still feel like I just added another notch to his bedpost. Not because he put me there, but because I have in fact done the things which would cause another notch to be placed. Kinda hate myself for that, actually. Especially since I don't have a bedpost for notches to be made.

Long story short, he kissed someone else and its someone that he could very plausibly make a relationship with. I'd comment 'talk about moving on quickly' except I'm not someone he'd have to move on from....see! I get it now. I didn't get it before.

So all of this thinking has only led me to realize that I in fact am tired of trying to find someone, only to find the wrong someone and ending up completely broken. This being said, a few months ago when I was in the similar position of getting over someone, my driving thought was to find some gorgeous, talented, smart guy that I could make him absolutely drop dead jealous with. Now, I don't think I'll be looking for love any time soon. Hence, Boyfast '09. I think I'm in a better mindset.

All in all, I just wanted to update and get this all off my chest.

So it goes, <3

- Rosie

Day Three.

Listening to: Undying by S.S.

It's day three of being away from home... and I'm seriously going out of my mind. I know I'm acting a little ridiculous, but it's so hard being away from Dev, and Lo and James. Honestly right now it's hard because everyone I know and love is back home, while I'm stuck here basically hanging around the house doing nothing all day. Next year, I am going to put off leaving till the last second. There is no way I'm going to do this again - a week is too long, because all I can think is, 'I could have left today and been perfectly fine.' Anything for just one more day.

I took a really long walk yesterday, because I was struggling. Dev didn't have anything to do, and neither did I, and all I wanted to do was hang out with him, but I couldn't because I'm a state away. It was so frustrating and it made me antsy and homesick. I finally decided to go for a walk and was able to take a little stroll through the neighborhood. It was then that I got to thinking.

Where I am right now is my childhood home; this is where I grew up and is probably one of my favorite places in the entire world. The houses around here are these really nice two level houses with big backyards and playsets and dogs and porches where the family can eat dinner during a nice summer night, or read a book in the afternoon, or just sit and talk. It's a middle class neighborhood, and I have never been more comfortable.

Then I look at Villie, which is surrounded by these gigantic mansions, with gates and more land than anyone knows what to do with; big brick houses with gorgeous gardens and probably a maid or a butler or two, where everyone is rich and well off (and probably republican) and proper and has an image to upload to their equal as rich and well of neighbors.

...

Thats the lifestyle I always thought I wanted, but it occurred to me on my walk home that maybe, in fact, it isn't. Just the general peace I felt from wandering my neighborhood and the feeling of home it brought made me question that. I'm not rich - why am I trying and pretending to be?

The hard part about this whole 'waiting' thing, is knowing that they're home, and I'm in this gross in between. I'm at a home, thats for sure. But it's not the school that's going to be my new home for the next nine months, and it's not the home I've kept for the last nine years. Until August 29th, I'm stuck here, in the in between, too far from my friends; I spend my days literally praying for contact from them, while not having the nerve to text, IM, or video chat them myself, feeling as though if I do I'll interrupt their lives and become an annoyance.

I should have left a week later.

So it goes,

- Rose.

My I.O.U., and Some Big "What If"'s.

Technically I owe the blog another post because I slacked on Sunday and went to see a movie after work, instead of blogging. ><>

Things I Hate.

Do you have a song that makes you think of that one person? The song you could play over and over and over again and all you can think about is one person for one reason or another?

I hate those songs.

You ever have a gut feeling that something big is happening? Ever just watch a situation go down from afar and just feel in the pit of your stomach that change is coming? And you're right?

I hate those feelings.

Ever get sick in the middle of the summer? Like, allergies? And of course you can't make them go away, because they'll do that on their own. And yet you sit there sniffling like a coke addict, essentially just wanting to cut your nose off and hope, that like Spongebob, you'll grow a new one right back?

I hate sniffling!

I'm not really going to use my daily blog update to rant and rave about all the stuff I hate in life. Tell me that wouldn't get boring. It is repeatedly occuring to me that I leave soon. Now it's officially five - count them, five - days. FIVE. As in, a work week. A school week. A week sans weekend. Five days. Five short days.

I have to stop thinking about it or I will make myself physically ill.

I had the privilege of doing some charity work today with Dev and Lils; it's always a good feeling to help others, especially when you yourself feel utterly helpless. It can really put things in prospective for you. Two of the other kids volunteering told me they thought I was beautiful - me, beautiful. I don't get that a lot, but it was a good feeling. Beautiful. Huh.

I've begun to realize that I really don't take a look at outer beauty too much. I don't know if this is a bad thing, because I'd like to think it means I judge people by their personality. I myself however, take my looks very seriously. One of my ex boyfriend used to argue with me all the time that looks don't matter, and as nice as the idea is, I genuinely think looks matter. I mean, just because I don't judge other people by the way they look, doesn't mean other people don't judge me like that.

It makes me feel shallow to say it, but my looks matter to me for that reason; I know other people are judging me, and there is a certain...aura..feeling..personification I'd like to live up to. A nice, put together young lady. Is looking presentable really all that hard?

I hate that the world judges on looks.

I also hate that health care is so freakin' expensive.

But that, my friends, is another story.

I'M FREAKING OUT.

Eight days. I leave in eight days.

Knowing that you're leaving your home, everything that is good and comfortable and normal in the world for something so strange and different is a little like....it's like being awake when the doctor shuts off your life support. Will I live? Keep breathing? In a sense, you know that the world will go on without you, that the people you love will continue with their lives as if nothing has changed after a brief period of sadness, and yet you stand by so completely and utterly effected that you're afraid you'll just simply die. And the closer the doctor gets to the off switch the more you forget how to breath completely, and end up lying there like a fish out of water.

The closer the days come, the more fish-like I get.

It's easier to push people away and hate people for unexplainable reasons than to deal with having to say goodbye and know that you will miss people SO MUCH MORE than they could ever miss you.

I get really attached to people really easily. The more I go through the past year and few months in my head, the more I realize I walk around with my heart on my sleeve and wave it around for all to see. And then it just gets trampled on and I end up hurt and wonder why... I guess I'm just one of those people that has always believed people are naturally good. I never had any reason to believe otherwise, until this past year when I made the mistake of putting my heart on the line not once, but twice now. Only to watch some guy stomp all over it and then walk away for his next conquest.

I've watched best friends walk in and out of my life, and I don't understand...are people naturally good? Or are they good at only one thing, and thats hurting others? If that's the case, then that makes us hypocrites as people; we complain and moan about how we get hurt by others, only to turn around and do the same to someone else.

This is the period I hate. The period of watching the doctor head toward the off switch, knowing this gigantic change is about to occur...I just want it over with, so I can adjust to life without the people I love the most, than sit here and watch it happen in slow motion.

I spent a good hour gushing over him tonight at a bonfire, only to realize... ...he's not permanent. Only to sink deeper into my fear that he'll leave. I want him to be permanent in my life. I want them all to be.

But no one is permanent.

Everyone leaves.

I think I'm going to be sick.

Let's Talk About Love (Baby)

I've been hoarding my first everything for the right guy...you know, that guy that you're comfortable enough with, the one you WANT to share things with. I've been waiting. And I've finally found him. And he won't take them. For the reason I want to give them. They're my firsts.

So. Effing. Annoying.

He has valid reasons for it though, so on one hand I don't blame him. But it's frustrating to me. And I swear, the longer I think about this, the crazier I get and the more desperate I act.

I hate feeling like I'm acting desperate.

So currently I am practicing a different tactic, of not talking to him, and waiting for HIM to talk to me. He is SO important to me, not just as a boy I'm interested in but as a best friend; but I hate feeling like I make people so important to me in my life when I'm not half as important in theres. (I assure you, I'm probably overreacting. We're best friends. I'm sure I'm important.)

I've always been the girl that believed in people - I'm the person who finds the goodness in everyone, who trusts and loves and wears her heart on her sleeve. One of the only things I've learned over the past couple months is that there is no one you can count on in life except yourself. The more this lesson dawns on me...the more I realize that I'm starting to think that way, the more upset I become. When my friends say that, I feel my heart break. Because I would always be there for them in a milla-second. But if that's how they feel...

Then I truly am on my own.

Post One: The Introduction, Explanation, and Information.

First of, I'd like to welcome you the reader to my blog, My Life at Villie. The idea of this came to me one day when I realized I needed some kind of release into the world; clearly, my friends can not read my mind (as much as I would often like them to be able), so instead I needed a way to speak my mind without using my words - well, my spoken words.

Personally, I don't know if I have the commitment and dedication to keep a blog of my life, so I instantly scratched the idea in hopes that I would save myself from starting yet another unending problem. But the next day, my best friend Lily mentioned in passing that she was thinking of writing a blog, and when I mentioned I had had a similar idea, she encouraged me. So I thought, eh, what the hey.

Lets get some basics out of the way right now. My name is Rose, but you can call me Smalls. (no, not a real name. A nickname.) I'm heading off to be a freshman in college in nine - count 'em, nine - days. And I don't think I have ever been more scared about something in my entire life. I'm leaving the state to go to college (I won't mention where), which I don't know would be such a problem if all of my close friends were leaving for college as well. However, I made the GRAVE mistake of becoming friends with underclassmen, who are now staying while I'm leaving. And when I say grave, I mean it was probably the best mistake of my life.

This has, without a doubt, been the best summer of my life. As the only child of a single mother, I have always had to work in the summer, and it always limited my activities, especially since I don't have a license or a car. (Working on it, I swear!) But this summer I've become best friends with people who not only want to spend time with me, but have the means to do so. Well, most anyways.

I've already mentioned Lily. Lily is my cousin, and one of my best friends. We became close when we both took chemistry class in our junior year of high school. Seeing as the class had a total of three kids in it, including us, we all became really close. Lily is a one of a kind friend - loyal in the most difficult situations, she has a bubbly and often sexual personality that can draw many people in. A terrifying enemy, I've seen many of my other friends witness her wrath and will never knowing and willingly do anything to experience that. She can make me laugh in so many ways, and I will always cherish the memory of riding around in her big truck blasting music and laughing hysterically. Lils is staying behind to complete her senior year of high school, and I'm not quite sure how I'm going to survive without her.

Lily and I have another cousin by the name of James. James is also now a senior in high school. We've been friends since he was a freshman, but have been getting closer and closer since my junior year. James is a bit like Lily - less so bubbly, but equally sexual and so very very devious. Lily and James have been friends for longer than I think I can remember, and when they are together there is nothing more sexual, exhilarating and mischievous. James can be downright catty and I would shudder to think of what it's like to be on his bad side - I've seen it happen and it's never pretty.

My best friend Devlin is a story in and of himself. Only a sophomore in high school, spend five minutes with him and its easy to forget he's not at least eighteen. I think the only time I truly think about how young he is, is when I'm watching him on stage. He is the single most amazing guitarist I know - and he's only fifteen. And I know some pretty good guitarists. I went to middle school with him, he taught me how to ice skate when I was in eighth grade and he was in fifth. After that I left for high school, and we didn't talk again until one of my crushes was ranting about how he was going to beat the crap out of him. I friended him on Facebook that night, and we got to talking. After a while we started hanging out, and now I have literally spent all but probably ten days with him this summer. I don't know how I'm supposed to survive college without seeing him daily. Sometimes he feels like my other half.

I thought I wasn't going to start this until I at least LEFT for Villie, (thats what Lils and I call my college) but it seems like now is the perfect time; James is grounded, Lily is at home, and Dev is off playing a show in the city.

So it goes

- Smalls