Hand Hugs

Depending on where you're from, I have no idea whether or not you've heard of the hand hug. Ha ha.. that was lame-sounding. Basically, in my college class on Monday, my Prof. asked me what word I was writing my definition essay about. It's "Hi", which led Dave (without Dave's friend, he was sick or something) to turn around and say, "What?" with this crazy expression that he's given me more than once, not understanding what I meant, apparently. Actually, he uses the expression alot, and, come to think of it, he's confused.. alot. Anyway, the teacher was writing synonyms and negations (denials or opposites..) for this word on his gigantic blackboard, and he started to talk about how "the wave" also meant "Hi". I already knew this, it was already in my draft. He also stated the the high-five was the same, (with which I disagree) and told a story about how he didn't know how to give one.
This is where the hand hug comes in. The guy behind me, the one from Texas that told me I should go on the river walk again when I'm twenty-one (Um, he's in a freshman class, shouldn't he be 18?), said, "You could give a hand hug!" which sounded more like, "Yeh cud gev eh and ugg. " with lots of gibberish in between.
"A what?" my teacher asked.
"A hand hug!" he and the girl from Oklahoma said together. I guess she also was a fan . They then demonstrated together what it was. If I could find my camera, I'd show you a picture to help explain, but I'm afraid it's temporarily misplaced.
Find a friend, and put your right hands together, like you just froze a high-five on impact. Take your thumb, and wrap it around your friend's hand, and have him/her do the same. Awkward, am I right? But after the first ten times you do it, it becomes totally awesome. Well, to you and the few friends that get addicted to it, too. I showed my whole team Monday night, and one of the girls spread it to everyone else she knew. Down south I guess this is a trend, I'll have to ask my cousin, Chris, because he's from Oklahoma, too.
Go spread the love! Give a hand hug!
(I promise, no more parenthesis in the next post.)

Speaking of Scary Things That Shouldn't Exist..

like Dentists, I've decided to relate to you my scary clown story. I've already told this a thousand times, so this is going to be the really crappy version. This really happened, I want you to know. It starts way back...
A long, long time ago, -like, since I was born- in land far, far away from here, -Grant, Nebraska, actually- there was a farm..
And on this farm lived Grandma Dody and Grandpa Bobby. A loving couple with a taste for Japanese and Chinese decorations... including a Buddha cookie jar. Anyways, Grandma Dody had a handmade clown from a dear friend. I must describe it to you so that you can understand the horror of this... thing.
It was big. Bigger than I, for a time. Well, more like long. And thin, its arms and legs were about an inch in diameter. He was made of yarn, crocheted. His "outfit" consisted of a gray color, with white pom-pom balls sewn on for buttons down the front. His hands were the shape of those evil, fingerless mittens, and white. So where his tiny feet. But his face, oh his face, was the most heinous.
White. No neck. Long. His eyes were black "x"s, and his mouth a blood red "U". The nose? Just a little flap of white. His hat? White and yellow. This face has haunted many a nightmare in my family.
Alright, now that you can sort of picture him in your head, the dull, murderous clown, I'll shortly explain the room he was in: He sat in a child-size rocking chair, in a room with a red-orange carpet. One wall had a huge Grandfather clock, and the other had mirrored tile, arranged so that everywhere you look you could always see the clown. (I know, right?) The orange couch had pillows that looked like eyes.. I have no clue as to why that was, but they were almost as creepy as the clown. Except that they couldn't survive the fire.
That's right. The house burned down. The clown's room was in the basement, and the house burned from top to bottom. No way was anything coming back from down there.
We went to visit my grandparents at the new house. I went to bed in the room they had set up for me. I looked up at the dresser and almost screamed, because there he was, smiling at me.
Yeah, I know, right? Not even a single singed string of yarn! (try saying that three times fast.)
Disclaimer: this IS meant to offend any clowns out there, I know your true colors, and one day I will expose you ALL!
JUST KIDDING PLEASE DON'T EAT ME.

The Most Evil of Evils... The Dentist

If you're as fearful of the dentist as I am... this probably isn't a good post for you to read.
I went to the dentist today. If you don't know, I'm very fearful of dentistry, and I hate it, too.
What's worse is the last time I saw him he had been calling me "the troublemaker". Yes, my brothers, he told me, were "angels" but I was the troublemaker.
I was there to have a cavity fixed. I have had five cavities and seven shots in my mouth. Don't get me wrong, I brush my teeth after every meal, and I floss once a day. I just have bad teeth. It stinks. Anyway, the only reason I agreed to go is because I've been wanting to straighten my teeth with braces forever. Well, I'm on my way and I'm freaking out, but not too bad, because he told me this was a small cavity. I handled the shot in my cheek like a champ. No crying, no complaining, and no anything.
It wasn't numb enough after the first shot, so he gave me another. It wasn't supposed to hurt again, but it did. That scared me a little. He also said that to dry up my mouth, I had to take this pill. But he gave me three. They all said "hope" on them.. which kind of freaked me out, honestly. Hope for what? That I won't die during my appointment? That he won't drill through the side of my head? I didn't ask.
So my mouth is dry and numb, and it's gettin hard to breath. I already have a lot of anxiety when I'm at the dentist, and this was no different, obviously.
The drill. The worst instrument used by the dentist. The noise that's like forks on a plate, the smell, and the site of smoke while it is IN your mouth... I have a panic attack every time I think about it. And today I'm almost positive he hit my nerve. Having your nerve hit with a drill is way worse than the shot, let me tell you. Then I got in trouble for jerking away because "that's dangerous". What a troublemaker I am. Another time I was sure he was drilling my cheek. That wouldn't have been good. And I know for a fact that the drill hit my tongue three times. Good thing it's still numb...
I talk like a weirdo, now, too. "Hey gahs... whasthhhupth?"
He showed me the tooth after he drilled in the mirror. What did he consider small? He drilled the entire inside of my tooth out! I'd hate to see have a big cavity...
I ended up wearing myself out, because every tool he inserted in my mouth I would tense up everything, and hold onto the chair's arms for dear life. One time he told me, "I'm not going to hurt you!" Yeah, right. If you become a dentist you must have some morbid passion for causing people pain. Just kidding, no offense to the nice dentists out there. Or mine.. if you're a blog reader and happen to see this... I sure hope not. Just in case.. I'm never going back. Kicking and screaming... never.
It's like a told my friend a few months ago, the only thing worse than a dentist is a dentist whose also a part time clown. Because the you know he's a murderer.
Or like I told my mom afterwards, "There's a reason we changed my old "Dentist Barbie" to "Evil Doctor Barbie" and rubber banded a gun to her hand."

Speaking of Funny College Incidents...

Okay, bear with me, this is going to be really stupid. I'm very tired so this probably looks very awful.
Don't worry, it' nothing bad or leading to arrest.
And, no, I'm not in college. I'm in high school, I'm just taking a college class. English Composition 1, actually, and I enjoy it, also.


Anyway, to explain today I must explain what happened just a couple weeks into the class.

One normal day, during class, Professor Hurst decided to go into one of his "don't get arrested or waste your college years" speeches. Which, I don't mind, but they don't quite relate to me yet. But that time, he asked, "is anyone not at least 18?" to go into a talk about being able to do whatever you wanted, but choosing to be wise with your time. Regrettably, I raised my hand. I could feel my friend, Annie, staring bullets into the back of my head. Apparently, I was the only one, because then he asked me,
"Really? How old are you?"
Crap. The one thing I hoped he wouldn't ask. But I couldn't lie, now.
"Fifteen."
That started the "holy CRAP!"s and "How is that POSSIBLE?" and that "WHAT?"s, all over the room, most loudly was Dave and Dave's friend (two large kids on the front row that seem to be lacking much intellect.)
"Fifteen, WOW", Prof. Hurst was taken aback -LITERALLY, he stepped backwards. Scared of the young genius, I guess.
Annie raised her hand at that point, I guess, because she said,
"Yeah, fifteen."
The girls next to us spun around in amazement.
"So how do you get here?" Chelsea, the less bright of the two, asked.
I tried to explain that I lived in the area, first.
"You live on campus?"
No. Let me repeat myself..
"What about driving?"
They probably drive illegally." Soncerae laughed. Weird name, I know. She goes by 'Sonny', or something.
"So, are you like super smart?" Chelsea, again.
"We're still in high school. "
"How--??!!"
"I'm just taking one class!"
"We're dual-enrolled," Annie said, coolly.
The whole room was still exploding in awe. Hurst,
"Okay, we got that all cleared up?"
"yeah."
"Good," he started to move on, but found another question. "So, do you two go to school together?"
Crap. I wasn't prepared for that one.
"Uh......."
"Sorta." Annie said, and I repeated.
"Home schooled?"
Crap! I just couldn't catch a break!
"Uh... yeah."
"Okay, just wondering because have you done stuff like this before?"
Needless to say, we don't like being outed at college classes that we're under aged homeschoolers that are smarter than them. Afterwards, Chelsea asked us how to spell "Luau". Which, I knew, but she didn't believe.
The next day I answered a question no one knew, (they always answer when they know.)
and I was correct. Chelsea whispered something and pointed behind her at me with her thumb, to which Sonny replied with, "I know."
I'm guessing it was something along the lines of, "It was that home schooled girl!"
Anyway, this was really long, so I'll tell you what happened today tomorrow, understand?

F-f-f-fr-r-reeeeeeeeee-ee-eeezing-g.

It's so cold in my house. Sixty-five degrees, it says, but I don't believe it's that warm. I have long pants, socks, a jacket and sweater on. Plus I have a huge blanket wrapped around me twice. My mom is refusing to turn the furnace on while Dad's gone. I asked her if she was planning on never turning the heat on all Winter. "Of course not! We're just only going to let it get up to, maybe, sixty." My teeth are chattering. I can't sleep at night because it's so cold. It's sooo not funny. Why I am telling you this? Because I'm in misery and trying to keep the blood flow circulating through my fingertips.

So then, I'll tell you why my Dad is gone over the weekend. My grandma's chest cavity filled up withliquid but she's ok now. She just had heart surgery.
But the thing is, he took Chase with him. So it's quieter. And less violent. I haven't even injured myself since he left...yet.
So unless I'm frozen solid I'm sure I'll remember the funny things that have happened all week.

Story of My Life

Today I'm going to tell you about what happened to me last night, got it? Ok, well this sort of thing is a natural occurence, let me tell you.
First off, my mom came home. Yay, cheers, all that happy stuff. I am honestly happy. Too bad my dad left the next morning.

Anyhoo, I hear her in the other room yell, "CRAPOLA!" which is something I've never heard her say ;) I laugh. Quite hard. Well, I would have, if she wasn't so angry. She was yelling at the trash. Then she tells me and my brother to take it out. So I get my bag before Chase does and walk outside. It's night, so it's dark, and I dont' even bother with the porchlight.
I decide, "I'm not scared of whatever animals are out there, I'm just going to do it."

Well, I wasn't scared. Until the raccoon tail hit my leg and ran under the bush by the porch.
So I was stuck on the driveway with an over-filled trash bag. I can't get back inside, because the animal is growling at me from the bush I just passed. And I can't put the trash in the barrel, because that's blocked by another, much bigger bush-like thing.

So I drop the trash and wrap the blanket around me tighter, and I bring my feet close together because I'm barefoot. I debate over yelling for a minute, then realise that's all I can do. So I yell for Chase for at least two minutes, raccoon still gritting its teeth together. I can tell he's standing at the storm door because he's shining his huge flashlight out of it and he turned the porchlight on. Finally he comes out after I all but scream his name.. ok, I screamed his name.
He starts walking towards me while I shriek, "STOP! GO BACK! OPEN THE GARAGE DOOR! NOOOOOW! BECAUSE THERE'S AN ANIMAL IN THE BUSH! OPEN THE DOOR!"
Of course, he doesn't listen to me. And he lays down on his stomach with the flashlight to look under the bush. So I yell louder,
"THERE'S A FREAKIN' ANIMAL IN THE BUSH! GET BACK INSIDE AND OPEN THE GARAGE DOOR NOW! OPEN THE FREAKIN' DOOR! I mean it! NOW! "

FInally, he does. And he throws a HUGE ol stinkin fit about how I have no right to be mad. And at this point of course I am TICKED and for some reason I'm worried about losing my voice.
Back to the correct tense, now...
Maybe I didn't scream as loud as I thought, I was trying to be respectful of the neighbors, haha.

Payback Time

Day 5:

HAHAHAHA! This time I was prepared for when Dad woke me up.
But this time, he just came in and said gently, "Wake up, Princess."
Too bad I had already planned what I was about to do. I reached lazily under my pillow and pulled out the squirt gun I had received inconspicuously from Chase the night before.
Two shots to the chest.

I won. =D

I'm inconceivably happy with myself.
It was my aunt and mother's idea, when I called and complained about the "Jell-o" thing.

Though, he then yelled, "Last person ready for school gets to clean my bathroom!"
I reached again for the gun, but he was already gone.
Dad told me later that he thought the squirt gun was rather ingenious, and he wondered if I was going into law enforcement judging by how I shot him.

On to other funny things.....
Dad came upstairs and said, "Let's see where we have to go today--nowhere? That's great! I can go see people now." He went back down to his office and came back up a little bit later, saying, "But I don't want to go anywhere, I want to stay home with my family."
Then he added, wistfully, "I want to sit on the deck eating ice cream while I watch Rachel mow..." Chase laughed. I wished I had the squirt gun with me.

Worst Wake Up Yet!

Day 4:

If you've read my other post I've been journaling the different ways my dad has been waking me up since my mom went out of town. This lost one drove me crazy.

He came into my room, grabbed hold of my foot and started shaking me back and forth with it, saying "Jell-oooo! She's like Jell-oooooo!" over and over. I got nauseous and started saying "Stop, stop, stop it" but made no effort to shake his hold off of my foot.

I'm this close to getting drenched with water, I'm sure.

Emo Appreciation and Awareness Month

Yes, I have declared it so, to go along with my background I've been wanting to use. Because who doesn't love an Emo? Emo, for you who don't know, is short for Emotional. But really, it's mostly a style. Skinny jeans, black clothing, the cute hair cut -- but it's not to be confused with Goth.
We love Emo kids, because they're so darn beautiful and they give us someone to try and cheer up and make happy. We also adore the fashion statement. Emo is my favorite way to dress, I must say. Except, the skinny jeans remind me an awful lot of the horribly awful and disgusting tapered jeans.. and yet, people still wear them. Your kids will laugh when they see you in pictures, I promise.
So celebrate the Emo style with me by wearing your hoods up, acting depressed and hiding your face with your oh-so-gorgeous hair.
Or, it might be more of a three-month thing, because I don't know when I'll create the new background.
It's also Vegetarian Month, I don't know why, and it's Breast Cancer Awareness Month, in case you haven't been watching TV. But who cares about vegetarians? I mean, I don't mind them at all, my best friend is a veg-head! But Emos are way awesome-er.

Wake up, now!

Hmph. I hate getting up in the mornings. I hate it with a passion.
Instead of setting my alarm clock, my mom just comes in and wakes me up. I let her do this because sometimes she lets me sleep in and start school later than normal. But my mom's out of town taking care of her aunt, so my dad's taking care of us.
Today, I'm just going to tell you what my dad has done for the past few days to wake me up, instead of turning on my light.

Day 1:
Opened my door real fast and yelled "Get up!" then sang "Get up sweet pea, hear the morning sing ♪♫" Scared the nightlights out of me. He left, I fell asleep, and he did it again, scaring me twice as much.
Day 2:
After scaring me, he called the house phone from his cell, which happened to be in my room. He called until I answered.
Day 3:
I had just had a very amazing dream, when he cut into the middle of it with "Wake up!"
I decided it was an important dream, but I needed to process it half unconsciously for me to remember it, so I gave much effort into giving him a thumbs up. Too bad he ignored it and kept telling me to get up. "Give me five more minutes" "Two" he answered. By then I had forgotten, so he yelled a minute later "GET UP" from the kitchen so loudly I about peed my pants.

So we'll see how the rest of the week goes, haha. I love my dad. I just hate getting up in the mornings.

This is my newest blog.

Why? Because the old one is =P
And why is that? One, the layout. I prefer to design my own layouts, but I soon discovered that how I design it and what computer readers are viewing it from will mess it up from a regular sized screen to a laptop's widescreen. To fix this problem when I redesign this later, I'll either figure it out or make one blog for regular and another for wide, or I shall make a freewebs, or pay for my own website. The paying I think I'll hold off for now.

Two, the background wasn't very rainbow-y, and trying to get the layout I designed to line up with the code was annoying, so I decided I'd start fresh.

...and the thricely, I've come up with a new aproach for my blog. Instead of being all about the design and html, I'm going to be writing. For seriously, writing. It shall be comedic, tragic, romantic and hectic.

This layout is now permanent. I'm hoping to use one I've already designed, but I don't have the time or patience for it now.


So anyway...
I'm Rachel, a fifteen year old aspiring musician, author and actress.
I have a very easygoing yet dramatic personality, I love gianormous words, and elephants.
I'm an extremely busy homeschooler- don't let that throw you off, believe it or not, I'm social -in her sophomore year. I have huge dreams to follow God's will for me.

I'm also, as you can tell, not very good with spontaneous intros. This is my first and only draft, haha, I just felt suddenly compelled to let my writing journal be posted for all to judge. If you feel anythign at all to anything that I write, whether it be anger, fear or the random urge to go parasailing, please tell me!