“You’re not gonna make it to 18,” she said.

Tomorrow, well in about ten and a half hours, I will be 18 years old. I will be considered legally an adult, no longer a child. Not that it matters much because I feel that I will always embrace the child in me; it’s how I am and always will be. I was scared, yesterday, last week, last month, because of all the things I thought I hadn’t got to experience. I’ve been feeling like my senior year is slowly slipping away from me as I’m trapped under all this work and all my (extremely time-consuming) commitments. I tell myself every week that I’ll get to spend some time with my friends, especially those I haven’t seen in months. It never happens and yes, it’s a mood-dampener… one could say my mood has been sopping wet for the last few months. (The new boyfriend might have something to do with this, but I definitely don’t blame him because he’s the best thing that’s happened to me this year.) All this moisture is from missing my friends, but what happens when I begin to miss my childhood? Will my mood just drown in a deep puddle of depression like most, if not all, of the adults I know who, it seems, are constantly mourning the loss? No. Not I.

I am proud of the things I have accomplished; this year, the last 17 of them, it has all been great fun. I’ve done 50% of the things people are not legally allowed to do until they turn 17.
 1. Go to a rated-R movie without an adult over 21 present.
 2. Be tried as an adult in court.

Thankfully, the 50% of things I can say I’ve done legally as a 17-year-old does not include the second item on the aforementioned list. I probably wouldn’t have made it to 18, as my mom predicted, because she would have killed me.

I think 18 brings about another list of new things to do. I won’t do all of them right away, but I want to make sure I do all of them by the time I’m 19. Wow, 19. I don’t even want to think about that number yet. Here are the things I can (not necessarily will) do before that happens.

  • Vote
  • Open a checking account
  • Stay out after 11 p.m.
  • Get a tattoo/piercing
  • Be drafted/enlist into the military
  • Serve on a jury (It sounds so fun, I don’t know why grown-ups dread it so much.)
  • File a lawsuit/be sued
  • Change your name
  • Buy spray paint
  • Work more hours
  • Go clubbing
  • Pawn something
  • Get married/divorced
  • Be on Jerry Springer
  • Buy a lottery ticket
  • Get a hotel room
  • Get a Costco membership (Gee Whilakers… I don’t even know how to spell that.)
  • Skydive or go bungee jumping
  • Sign legal documents/contracts
  • Gamble
  • Secure a loan
  • Finance a car
  • Buy insurance
  • Earn credit
  • Buy porn
  • Buy cigarettes
  • Go to a hookah bar
  • Work in an alcohol-serving establishment
  • Apply for a business license
  • Apply for a credit card
  • Go to/work in a strip club (Remember, I said I wouldn’t be doing all of these.)
  • Enter a contest
  • Write a check
  • Get utilities in your name
  • Lease/buy an apartment or house
  • Cash a savings bond
  • Buy nitrous oxide (Umm… I don’t even know for what I would use this.)
  • Rent a post office box

That may be all of them, but it probably isn’t. (Thanks to

I like to think that I feel at least somewhat differently after a birthday, when in reality I’ll be the same person tomorrow that I am right now, writing this. After I’ve considered all the cool things I’ll get to do, as well as all the cool things I will appreciate being able to do without actually doing them, the only sad thing I can come up with about 18 is that it’s the beginning of the years that start to matter less and less individually. There will only be a “major” birthday every 10 years, except 21, and instead of being happy that I’m turning 28, I’ll be sad and tell people I’m turning 22… Hopefully I’ll still look like I’m six years younger than my actual age, like my friends say I look now. Thanks, friends; I’m 12.

I haven’t even considered how my parents might be feeling right now. I wonder if they’re as anxious as I am. Or are they nervous? Terrified? When I brought it up last week he told me to “cut that s*** out,” probably referring to my growing older. All I can say to them at this moment, especially to my mother, is:

Mom, I WILL, in fact, make it to 18! Thank you very much…

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The beginning of the end.

I know these extra, irrelevant, random posts are just a form of procrastination from catching up on my ToDo List Posts, but I feel this one is necessary.It just occurred to me that tomorrow is my last first day of school. Well, that is, until college when I will have more important things to worry about: getting to know my roommate, getting used to the food, figuring out where my classes are, meeting new people, living in a new home away from my parents. I will never feel the same, simultaneous nervousness/excitement waking up at 6 a.m. after a three-month vacation with a new tan and a new wardrobe and new expectations. I already know most everyone I will see tomorrow, because they’re mostly the same people I’ve seen for the past four years, whereas in college, I will know little to no one and have to make all new friends. To be honest, I don’t know what gets everyone so riled up about the first day of school. Now that I’ve seen 12 first days, I know that there really isn’t anything to be excited about anymore. I already know all my teachers, where my classes are, and probably who I’ll sit with.

I guess it’s the fact that my mom won’t be watching me walk to the bus stop this year, or dropping me off at school. I’ll be driving myself to school in my own car and parking in the forbidden Senior Parking Lot. That might be what’s giving me the hebegebies. Maybe I’m just worried about starting this school year off on the right foot. Last year I actually made a mental note to step into the building with my right foot (for good juju, karma, etc.) but after exploring the possibilities of switching feet mid-step and falling flat on my face and then getting nervous about that, I ended up forgetting to do it all together. I suppose this year I could try again, because seniors are much more poised and confident and mature… yea right. I might feel a little different with each passing year, but whatever is changing it’s definitely not my maturity. I know I will eternally be a kid: heart, mind, and soul.

It used to worry me that my friends and I seem to be growing up so quickly, but I think it’s just our time. I don’t have regrets, I don’t wish I would have done anything differently (except maybe studying for a few tests to avoid some Cs in Earth Science, Chemistry, and Pre-Calculus), but I do wish I could have had more time. I suppose it never seems fair when it’s over. Otherwise Jim Croce wouldn’t have written a song that goes, “There never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do once you find them.” I am a little scared that with all my activities (being an SCA officer, school newspaper, volleyball, French Honor Society, a middle school leadership workshop, PLUS being in IB) my senior year will fly by and I’ll be graduating before I know it. I just hope that this year will be one to remember. I’ve found what I want to do and I hope that one year is enough time to do it.

Well, I don’t want to get into the deep sentimentality pertaining to my big day tomorrow because it will make me even more anxious. So goodnight to all of you school-bound or not tomorrow morning.

To those of you who are starting a new school year tomorrow, no matter what grade, start it off on the right foot.

Fave Month Evar in Lyfe?

Okay, so I know I should be doing my Extended Essay because I only have 2,437 words and it was due yesterday, BUT Sparknotes.com (which I wasn’t using to write my essay of course…. angelic face*) had a super tempting advertisement that I just had to click on. It led me to this article called August Is the Best Month so I used my incredibly valuable time to read it. You can probably guess, I loved it! It might be because it’s TWO something A.M. in the morning (Cool. Tautologies. I learned that word from the Department of Redundancy Department) and I’m super bored from Extended Essay nonsense, but I thought it was the most creative, fun, wonderful, witty, spirited, superb opinion article I’ve ever read in my whole life. Did I really admit that? I think I might be overly tired. Anyways. At least my grammar is correct- I hope. Because grammar is kinda important when writing an essay. The graders in Istanbul won’t be merciful to a “Hermann Hesse totally rocked that ending, like forreals” or “Siddhartha is a major babe!” Okay there’s no hope. I’m delirious. GAH, Back to the point!!

Dear Future Me,
Here is an awesome Idea! Post Something JUST like this, except BETTER. Pick a BETTER month and come up with ten.. no.. ELEVEN even BETTER reasons why that month is BETTER than August and then write about it during…no, BEFORE that month! You can definitely do it. Past You was counting on Me… You… I don’t think anything I say is going to make sense to Future Me.
Love, Past You.. Me?

P.S. Holy Cow. Delirious Past You.. Me just realized how much she uses Caps Lock when she’s tired/bored/months younger than You, I, Me, We are now, will be soon. GO CAPS LOCK. If you didn’t know already… It’s cruise control for cool. Thumbsupskies*

P.P.S. PLEASE. No more brainstorming until after You Me finishes her my Extended Essay.

P.P.P.S. Also, before the results of the Fave Month Evar in Lyfe competition there needs to be more updates on this superlong ToDo List. I have to fill in all my tens of thousands of daily readers who care. Well, tens… okay no, but there are at least 3 pretty much every day, sometimes I get like 12 on really random days for no reason and I don’t notice until a month later and I’m thinking to myself “I don’t know why because I only update this thing like 6 posts/month.” Okay, this is dumb. Back to work..

I think I forgot a citation!

Hi, this post is hot off the desk of a stressed-out student tonight as I am in the process of what seems to be a never-ending battle with IB. Yes, my Extended Essay, possibly the most time-consuming requirement of the IB Diploma, is due in approximately 55 hours. With my deadline approaching quickly, I’m sad to say that I, similar to my counterpart, Harry Haller of Steppenwolf, have progressed “disappointingly little in proportion to [my] great effort” (Casebeer 246). First, let me explain the nature of the Extended Essay and it’s significance to the IB student through Urban Dictionary, which has proven to be useful and accurate in the past.

The Extended Essay. You’re welcome to follow this link to the Urban Dictionary definition; however, I’ll also provide you with my own interpretation of the Extended Essay. Some necessary background information on my current circumstances include: It is midnight. I started working on this thing at 10 this morning. I only just now broke 1000 words.

The assignment from Hell, commonly known as the Extended Essay, is a mini-dissertation/research paper on any subject of a student’s choice ranging from Psychology to Math to History. The maximum word count is 4000, which means the minimum at roughly 10% less is 3600. It’s kind of a big deal. Like a Doctorate candidate prepares his/her dissertation with mentors who also grade it, the IB Diploma candidate has a mentor who grades his/her Extended Essay before sending it off to some scholar in Mauritius, an island West of Madagascar and just above the Tropic of Capricorn, who then ruthlessly tears the aforementioned essay paragraph from paragraph in effort to give the student the most objective (debatable) grade possible, which decides the outcome of that student’s entire life. If the literary works of Hermann Hesse happen to be the only pet peeve of the scholar in Mauritius and you receive a D, your only hope is that your combined grade on the TOK Essay and Presentation is an A so that you receive a measly 2 points toward your Diploma. (I’d also like to point out that no one would even know about Mauritius if not for the fact that it is home to some, most-likely bitter, person who decides the fate of some incredibly unlucky IB student.) I realize talk of the grading system and points and such is very confusing to the un-IB student, so I’ll put it into simpler terms. The Extended Essay determines my entire life hereto forward. Basically if I get a low-grade on my Extended Essay I can kiss all hopes of having a college education and, thus, a career goodbye. In the future, without financial stability I’ll have to resort to collecting Social Security at 25, but because Social Security is about to run out I might as well kill myself now before I have to stab my husband and only child so that I can eat the last package of Ramen Noodles.

I mean… the Extended Essay is a pretty big deal, but I think I might have exaggerated a little. Even if, by some chance, I don’t do well on my Extended Essay, or any of my IB exams for that matter, and don’t get the IB diploma, I’ll still be able to go to Virginia Tech because they’ll have already accepted me by the time I find out I didn’t even come close to getting the extra diploma. Realistically, the IB Program is only useful in the first three years of highschool. It shows colleges that I’m taking the most rigorous courses offered to a highschool student and that I’m serious about my education. They don’t have to know that I’m a failure until I’m making my bed in my new dorm room. At that point, what can they do? Nothing.

Honestly, I lied. I’m not stressed-out. Come Wednesday when I turn in this essay-on-steroids, I won’t be worried.

So, to all you IB kids working on your Extended Essay tonight. And to those of you who, like me, will be using every means necessary to stay awake Tuesday night (although I don’t endorse the use of caffeine). Let me remind you that the paper due Wednesday is only a rough draft. PLEASE chill out. You don’t want gray hair by the time your 19 or have a heart attack at 20.

Put things into perspective. It’s really not that big of a deal at all.

#78

The end of highschool is an exciting, yet sad, time in anyone’s life. It’s especially sad when, like me, you’ve reached the end of highschool, but you’re not quite finished yet so you watch your older friends leave you behind. That’s right, I have one more year and I am dreading the goodbyes and tears next summer when all my friends go away to different colleges. The goodbyes, unfortunately, are starting this year for me as some of my friends are a year older and, therefore, already leaving. On a happier note, I got to go to some awesome graduation parties. One of which was especially fun because, not only was there marshmallow-roasting and smore-making, there were water balloons! If you know anything about me, I would hope it’s that I love water balloons. I like filling them, I like throwing them, I like getting hit with them, I like breaking them over my own head. They’re just oodles of fun! A water balloon war is the only type of war I approve of or will ever take part in.

This war at my friend’s grad party was particularly intense as my competitors were much taller, much faster, and much stronger than me. Yes, they were boys. But not just any boys, they were Asians- dark Asians. They sort of blended into the night, making it much easier to use the sneak-attack strategy. It was also intense because the weapons ranged from water balloons to water guns; we even resorted to full buckets of ice-cold water at times (I really recommend this strategy as long as it’s used on someone else. The cold water doesn’t feel very nice, especially at night).

This is how it all went down…

The water balloons were gone. Low on ammo and morale, it was difficult to stay motivated. At times I wondered if I should call a truce, but no, I had too much pride for that. With my opponents looking thirsty for more, I guessed who would be first to break the stalemate. I scrambled for another weapon; any source of water I could get my tired hands on. The colder, the better. I found a stray water gun lying on the wooden deck, waiting for another chance in battle. I picked it up and prepared myself for attack. As I had guessed, here they came! Both of them running toward me, guns forward. Realizing I am not nearly fast enough to outrun the enemy, I thought I might buy myself a few seconds by slowing them down. I turned to shoot, but “OH NO! IT’S EMPTY!” Yes, my weapon was out of ammunition mid-battle. What could I do? There were no balloons and no other guns around. As I made my way to the safe-zone (inside where it’s dry), I came up with a plan so devious and so unexpected that I would surely be declared champion. I grabbed the bowl which had housed the water balloons from early in the battle. I filled it with water from inside (the coldest around) and even put in a few ice cubes from the cooler outside. This plan was sure to win the war because I would attack them first. They wouldn’t expect this. Victory would be mine! I saw my moment. Walking to the trampoline in a state of utter vulnerability, the enemy was off-guard and unexpecting. I leapt out and poured the icy water on them and ran. I had done it! I’d won the war! So I thought…

DUN DUN DUN!

To be continued…

Not really.

So this concludes the dramatic, story-telling portion. Anyways, I crossed off #78. I’ve had a water balloon fight at night this year. Wahoo.

Warning: The events described, while based on a true story, are a dramatization. (Translation: It’s not exactly how it all went down.)

No Questions Asked (#45)

Last night I walked in 20 minutes after curfew soaking wet. I was literally dripping on the floor. After leaving the house with plans to meet my two friends at Skinny Dip (a frozen yogurt place), you would think coming home wet was unexpected and might be cause for alarm. This entrance, however, warranted no response from my parents. I got an “Oh, she’s home. We can go to bed now.” I even made a point to stay in the living room for a few minutes, walking in front of my dad watching TV. Nothing. Not one question as to why I was wet.

About to go into a “my parents don’t love me enough to notice something so blatantly obvious as walking in late and wet” panic, I texted the friends I had been with and one, who wasn’t there but knows me pretty well, to shock them with the fact I hadn’t gotten in trouble. In fact, it seemed to me they didn’t care at all. The text read, “Wow my mom had no idea. Wtf. My dad didn’t notice either. Great Parents. Really. I applaud them.” This was, of course, sarcasm. I could only imagine what kind of inattentive parents don’t notice when a perfectly dry child leaves for frozen yogurt and comes home wet. Surely, not my parents. Had I overestimated their ability to parent with absurd overprotectiveness all these years? I’m still in that stage when “My parents are the smartest people in the world!” turns into “I’m so much smarter than these clowns.”Could I be sure my parents weren’t unobservant potatoes for all my life and I just never realized? Maybe I got that from them.

The friend of mine who hadn’t been there when I got wet, but knew what happened replied, “Oh, well maybe you don’t look as wet as you should,” which was not likely, considering the trail of water from the front door to my room. He then went on to suggest, “or they’ve just come to expect there are certain… aspects of you…” EUREKA. I almost forgot, I’m a freak. It’s a known fact, weird things happen to me more often than most people; my parents can’t keep up with all the strange things I do. How could I expect them to ask me “What happened?” every time I come home? They would die from exhaustion. My mom even says, “It’s best I don’t know everything.” I understand that. Who can possibly put up with all my shenanigans? Then he justified my parents’ lack of curiosity further by saying, “I mean… as long as there is no blood or anything broken, they’re just happy you’ve made it through another day.” I had to admit, my friend was right to some extent. Still, this time the story wasn’t even that weird.

Let me assure you, the wetness wasn’t anything to be worried about. I didn’t get my head flushed in a toilet by a bully and no crazed killer attempted to drown me in the Chesapeake bay, but is it too much to ask for a little concern? After Skinny Dip we went back to my friend’s house because there was still a some time ;eft before we had to go home. We were outside with just our feet in her pool, talking, when I remembered something from my ToDo List, which it would be the perfect time to do. I think  you can guess now. We went swimming… with our clothes on. It was so fun! I loved it! We made air pockets with our shirts pretending we were fat and tried to laugh underwater. You know, the usual. Now I can cross #45 off the list!

I should probably just be happy my parents never get mad when I miss curfew. Thanks parents.

It's a little hard to see, but we're in a pool... with clothes on.

#52

So you thought Parkour was the weirdest thing bored people could come up with? You were wrong.

Introducing Planking- awarded the #1 Most Pointless Pastime Ever

One Urban Dictionary definition describes it as…

“Proof that humanity has sunk to its lowest point in history thus far. It is the act of lying completely flat across pretty much anything in an urban setting. A friend will take pictures of the act and, of course, post them on Facebook or Twitter. Much favored by hipsters, douchebags, and the like. This trend is currently sweeping the internet, reason: unknown.
Proof that literally ANYTHING can catch on if enough idiots think it is “cool”.

Hipster 1: “Hey guy, I just took some awesome planking photos at the Starbucks downtown!”
Hipster 2: “DUDE! I was planking on some benches at the quad yesterday!”
Normal person: “You guys are [really] stupid.”

I heard about this fad earlier this year. I thought it was so dumb, I had to add it to the list. #52- Planking was crossed off after I planked on a bench, a railing, and in the middle of the Governor’s quad. Not only did I get some confused looks, I got a few what’s-wrong-with-hers and what’s-she-doings. It was quite empowering. I now know what the experienced planker feels. Just in case you weren’t sure of it before, the ability worry the general public is truly rewarding.

planking fiveplanking fourplanking threeplanking two

I guess it’s a slow news day.

There are days when the 6:00 hour of the news is overloaded with one after another fluff pieces about a woman and her dog delivering hand-made blankets to homeless people followed by a segment on how to properly wash our hands and “Coming up next: Who your mailman really is- Exposing the secret life of the city’s letter deliverers.” As I watch I can’t help but wonder, “Is it a slow news day?”

Every once in a while something alarming or unusual happens, giving the news lady a chance to “interrupt your regularly scheduled program” with “Breaking News!” Unlike some people,  who want to know what Raymond was about to say to his mother Marie to get her off Debra’s back, I actually enjoy this rare instance when something happens so newsworthy they can’t wait until 6:00 or 11:00 to tell us.

Today’s interruption was the result of a gunman reported on the Virginia Tech campus. WOAH BABY! If this is true, I feel terribly sad for that poor school; they’ve suffered enough. As you may recall, a shooting spree at VT left 33 dead in 2007. This, my friends, is real news; something everyone needs and should hear about. Therefore, I condone the interruption, seeing as I’ve seen this episode 800 times (Spoiler Alert: Raymond chickens out because he’s a mamma’s boy and Debra gets mad).

TO READ THE FULL STORY…

On this rare day when something worthwhile is being reported, you’d think Facebook would erupt with “OH NO HE DIDN’T” statuses about the event. If any change in weather can make it into everyone’s status every day, this should definitely have triggered a few couch potatoes to alert the networking masses. To my dismay, I found nothing but Jersey Shore on my News Feed. There was even a “Happy Birthday Mr. Obama!” Nothing about the unfolding tragedy at Virginia Teach! Is this what our world has come to? I even gave the couch potatoes at least 20 minutes to make clever statuses, still nothing. I had to take on the role of Jerk Who Brings Morality into the Situation. Yes, I made my own status : “There’s a gunman in VT and everyone’s statuses are about Jersey Shore tonight. WHAD DAF UCKIS WRONG WITH YOU? smh.” (Notice, I would never say an actual bad word on Facebook)

However, I realize the season premier is tonight, which means the couch potatoes were too angry about the interruption of their Jersey Shore marathon to realize the emergency of circumstances at VT. In that case, I forgive you. NOT.

#54, 58, 60, & 64

The week before Governor’s School was jam-packed with funtivities, including a birthday party for one of my really good friends, Kelsey. She’s one of those typical highschool girls; she likes Harry Potter, going to concerts, putting feathers in her hair, going to the beach, and (most importantly) tie dying things. At her party, after having a water balloon/hose fight and soaking in the hot tub, we piled inside to play Just Dance and tie dye t-shirts in the garage. I’d never actually tie dyed successfully before and I have to say it was quite the experience. I got a professional “Tie dying for dummies” lesson with Kelsey and then I just went at it. The die didn’t always make it to the t-shirts, as evident by the colorful splash and drip marks all over the floor and table the next day. The next day I washed my t-shirt and it turned out beautifully, so I crossed #54 off the list. However, here is the confusing part. I followed all the directions I found on the internet for the crucial “first wash,” but still I was afraid to put it in the washing machine with other clothes (and for good reason it seems). I’ve hand-washed it an additional two times after the initial wash and still dye runs off the shirt. Am I missing something? Suggestions would be greatly appreciated!

 

The successful first wearing of my tie dye shirt. I'm so proud!

I have a lot of friends in theater at my school amd others so I’ve been dubbed “honorary theater kid.” For the past two summers I’ve been in a camp called Spotlight Productions where, after two weeks of rehearsal, we put on a full broadway musical at Virginia Wesleyan College. Last year it was Bye Bye Birdie. Clearly, although it’s not my forte, I love the theater, whether I’m a part of it or just an audience member. The first play I saw this year was back in March at First Colonial High School where a few of my friends were in a production of Seussical the Musical. Based off the real Dr. Seuss story Horton Hears a Who, it was most likely the cutest musical I’ve ever had the pleasure of attending. I smiled throughout the entire show (except during the sad parts of course). I knew #58 would be easy because I never miss any of my friends’ shows. I love to see them perform because it’s obvious they are so passionate for what they do.

#60 has by far been my favorite item on the whole listand I am proud to say that I have done it. A group of my friends love Cheeseburger in Paradise, the Jimmy Buffett themed restaurant, and we’ve made a habit out of going there whenever we have dinner together. One day we decided it was time to try something crazy, so we ordered a meal backward. Thank goodness our waitress was kind and understanding; she actually thought it was hilarious. I explained to her when she came to take our drink orders that we would be ordering a little differently and she smiled. We ordered a huge plate of chocolate nachos, huge triangular tortilla chips with powdered sugar, chocolate syrup, and sprinkles on top served with vanilla icecream on the side, for desert (the first course). It was probably the worst thing we could have done because we saved barely any room for dinner and appetizers after that. After forcing ourselves to stop, we all ordered the main course (which was difficult to force down after the chocolate nachos). Then, if I’m remembering it correctly, we got creesefries or onion strings for an appetized. By this time we were all full to the point of nausea. I ate hardly any of the appetizer, which was good because I probably would have had to loose all that lovely food the same way it had been condumed (if you know what I mean). I don’t reccommend this reverse of order. It benefits neither the customer’s stomach nor wallet and it causes all sorts of confusion for the poor waitress. Believe me, after all she had to put up with, I tipped that waitress incredibly well.

Mother’s Day weekend came along and still I had no idea what to get my lovely mom. I suggested that Friday her and I drive to Williamsburg (about an our outside town) and spend the day there having mother-daughter time. I don’t know why she said yes, but she did and so we went. Neither I nor my mother had been shopping at the outlet mall, but everyone seems to make a big deal of the low prices so it was nice to check that out; however, I didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. There were only two/three real outlet stores, only one of which we actually went into. It wasn’t worth it money wise, but at least it was a beautiful day and I got to spend time with my mom, which we never really get to do. I really enjoyed Williamsburg and so did my mom. We saw stables with horses for riding, which brought up some neat stories from my mother’s childhood. Wahile we were there we also visited the the College of William and Mary, which was beautiful and provoled some conversations about my upcoming college years and where I want to go, how my parents will survive without me, etc. It was fun and it lasted the entire day from 10am to 6pm; thus, #64 was crossed off the list.

I Saw the Sign

Friday was probably the best day of my life or, at least, the happiest. Literally, I don’t think my wedding day could make me that happy. Maybe I’m exaggerating a little, but wait until you read about all the fun things that happened Friday. It was definitely one of those day I never wanted to end.

First, I got to see an actual scary movie with my friend for my Cinema of Horror class and I thought it was really good. If you’ve ever seen A Haunting, especially if you’re of an older generation, please let me know what you thought of it when you saw it. I thought the scary parts were actually scary and the plot was actually very interesting. Aside from the slow parts in the middle when I couldn’t help but to dose a little, I thought it was, overall, an excellent scary movie. As always, open mic night was fun, but it was even better because some of my friends were in it and they did so well. I love the atmosphere at open mic nights here because everyone in the audience it extremely supportive of their fellow students. It takes a lot of courage to stand on stage and display your talent, leaving yourself vulnerable to criticism. It’s very reassuring to know people can appreciate that bravery and encourage it. After open mic night a counselor had gotten on stage to make a few announcements. He built up so much suspense before the one announcement we’d been waiting to hear for two weeks. We couldn’t tell if it would be bad news or good news because he made it sound like both. Finally he told us that we’re going with Governor’s School to see the last Harry Potter movie on Tuesday! Everyone screamed and cried and hugged each other! I hugged someone I didn’t even know, while my friend cried tears of happiness. It was clearly a really exciting time!  In addition to all of the awesomeness I’ve already mentioned, we also had a 90s dance. I realize you must be very confused as to how such a theme could be successfully pulled off; however, it was by far the best dance I’ve ever been to. I’ll admit, I was even skeptical at first. I didn’t know what a 90s outfit would entail. How could I put an outfit together for a decade so indistinct from the decades surrounding it. Boy was I wrong. My friends and I put together the best 90s grunge, Spice Girls, MC Hammer, Fresh Prince, Full House, warm-up, jean jacket, flannel outfits. Check it out!

The reason this dance was the best dance I’ve ever been to was, by far, the music. I’m a 90s kid so I can appreciate those songs; they remind me of my childhood, listening to Christina Aguilera, the Backstreet Boys, the Baha Men, etc. In honor of the greatest idea ever (a 90s themed dance), I’ve created a playlist of all essential songs of that decade. I hope I haven’t left any out. I strongly encourage you, if you’re ever in the need for a theme, to use the 90s, it’s a very misunderstood and underappreciated decade.

Ultimate 90s music playlist:

No Rain- Blind Melon
All the Small Things- Blink 182 
Mr. Jones- Counting Crows 
I want Candy- Aaron Carter 
Under the Bridge- Red Hot Chili Peppers 
Wannabe- Spice Girls 
Smells Like Teen Spirit- Nirvana 
All I Wanna Do- Sheryl Crow 
Baby One More Time- Brittany Spears 
Allstar- Smash Mouth 
Jump Around- House of Pain 
Dirty Pop- 'N SYNC 
Linger- Cranberries 
1979- Smashing Pumpkins 
Macarena- Los Del Rio 
No Scrubs- TLC 
Can't Touch This- MC Hammer 
Baby Got Back- Sir Mix-a-lot
Milkshake- Kelis
Waterfalls- TLC 
Everybody- Backstreet Boys 
C'mon N Ride It (The Train) - Quad City DJs 
This Is How We Do It - Montell Jordan 
Killing Me Softly- Fugees 
Counting Blue Cars- Dishwalla 
Gettin' Jiggy Wit It - Will Smith 
Every Morning- Sugar Ray 
Mamma Said Knock You Out- LL Cool J 
Wonderwall- Oasis 
What is Love?- Haddaway 
Bye Bye Bye- 'N SYNC A
ll That She Wants- Ace of Base 
Who Let the Dogs Out?- Baha Men 
Tubthumping- Chumbawumba 
Black or White- Michael Jackson 
Mo Money, Mo Problems - Notorious BIG feat. Puff Daddy & Ma$e 
Blue (Da ba dee)- Eiffel 65 
Genie in a Bottle- Christina Aguilera 
Viva' La Vida Loca - Ricky Martin 
Mambo No. 5 (A Little Bit of...) Lou Bega 
Motownphilly- Boyz II Men 
How Bizarre - OMC 
Call Me - Le Click feat. Kayo 
The Sign- Ace of Base 
Crazy- Brittany Spears

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