Tag Archive | food

Summer Lovin’

Earbuds firmly stuck in her ears, my mom dances around the lawn, backlit against the sinking sun. Her weights are in her hands, swinging dangerously near to her head everytime she raises her arms. She’s supposedly working out, and as she launches into the chorus of Van Morrison’s Brown Eyed Girl, I can practically see her happiness gauge filling up. Cooper, the always hungry 10-year-old pup, pads around behind her, hoping he’ll get some kind of reward for his loyalty, not realizing that she has no idea he’s even there.

She’s oblivious to anything but her music, he’s oblivious to anything but his stomach. Together they make the perfect pair, spinning around until their shadows blur in the oncoming nighttime. Smiling, I shut my window on the enchanted scene, closing yet another perfect summer day.

Live long and prosper \V/
Yours sincerely,
The Mostly Confused Teenager.

 

Being a Lady

I take a huge bite out of the greasy sandwich I’m eating, instantly hiding it under the table, pretending that I don’t have food in the no-food school library. The librarian shoots me a glare that would make a bloodsucking mountain goat recoil in fear, but at this point all I can think about is eating before my afternoon classes start, so I shoot him my sweetest smile, completely forgetting that my mouth is full of tomato and cheese. His eyes widen in horror as I quickly gather my books and dump the rest of my lunch in the trash. As I pass the front desk I stub my toe in the doorframe and utter a string of swear words as he chuckles and looks away so I don’t see him laughing at me. Yeah, as if. Nice try dude.

Being the perfect lady has never been a particular goal of mine, but as I progress through life and have people say things like “No spitting contests. They’re so unladylike.”, it does force me to think of what being a lady is all about. So, without further ado, here is The Mostly Confused Teenager’s guide to being a lady.

#1: Be Respectful of Others
Some would call this first rule “be kind”, however I tweaked it purposely because in my humble opinion life would be a complete drag if you couldn’t tease people just a little bit. I guess that you could just implement the rule that teasing and ribbing (are those the same things?) are fine up until the point where you’re causing pain through your words. Now now, I can already hear your cries of protest: “CT, laughing at someone is always wrong!” Well, yes; but my wise sixteen year old self knows that some relationships are based pretty much purely on insults and fake-loathing and that those friendships are worth everything in the world. So in a short, babble-free resume: teasing = OK, one-way insulting = well… guess. Bad (duh.)

#2: Make Your Own Choices
You all know the meek “we can do whatever you want” type. I’m not talking about normal polite people who can easily go with the flow, but rather people like my mother. I love my mom to bits and would without a doubt jump off a cliff to save her (although I’m not sure in which circumstances this would ever take place), but she annoys me to no end by having no particular opinion about most anything. Ladies, if you want to do something, as long as it doesn’t involve insulting nuns in their presence, go ahead! Being a lady means being a person, and being a person means standing up for yourself and for what you believe in.

#3: Respect Yourself
This suggestion ties in with the previous one. A lot of people would say that being a lady entails having perfect hair and makeup at all times, having the posture of a telephone poll and dressing like a 1950’s housewife. I think that that’s cow poop. The basics are hair that doesn’t have capybaras living in it, a face that doesn’t look like a grizzly bear gave it two black eyes and no bikinis (or equivalents) in business meetings. Other than that, do whatever the hell you want, within reason! Respect yourself and, generally, others will respect you.

In short (yeah, ironic I know), being a lady means being yourself. There are no 100,000 commandments to obey to the letter; there are only a few guidelines to follow. Swear, get sweaty, eat pizza with your hands and get it all over your face… And most of all, have fun. Otherwise, what’s the point of being anything at all?

Live long and prosper \V/
Yours sincerely,
The Mostly Confused Teenager

PS: On the 3rd of August 2014, TMCT turned one. Happy Birthday to the best little blog this girl could wish to run!

The Versatile Blogger Award (<– Whaaaaat)

Holy cow on a cracker, I’ve been nominated for an award 🙂 I figured I might as well do it so my awesome audience can know a little bit more about me! Or they might just, you know, not care. I’m taking a chance on this one! I have to thank the lovely Attempting Reality for nominating me, you guys should check out her blog, it’s funny, quirky and generally amazeballs amazing.

Here are the rules:

– Display the Award Certificate on your blog (with great pleasure)

– Link back to the person who nominated you (HA, I would have done that anyway, she’s awesome)

– Present 15 awards to 15 deserving bloggers (I’ve only been blogging for two weeks, but I’ll try!)

– Leave them a comment to let them know after you have linked them to a post. (on their ‘about’ page?)

– Post 7 interesting things about yourself. (crap. 7 interesting things? that many?)

OK, so 7 interesting things. Suck it up Confused Teen (I would put my name, but I’m conserving anonymity on the big bad Internet), and think. In case you were wondering, yes, I often give myself pep talks. And if you weren’t, well… well… I have no words. Anywho, here goes.

1. I have a weird obsession with cookies and sports. Have you noticed?

2. I was born in the same clinic where the French first lady (at the time, Carla Bruni) had her baby and passed it everyday for years on my way to school. I feel special right? Not.

3. I lived in San Francisco from the age of 2 months to 6 years. Because our (pink) house was in West Portal on a hill where it was always foggy, my mom would bundle me up in sweaters and turtlenecks before school in the morning, only to go down into the valley to find that the sun was blazing and it was sweltering hot. Ironically enough, she didn’t stop doing that when she found out about the weather differences. Now I’m thinking she was out to get me.

4. I have never spent more than 3 years in a school, and I won’t before college. I always held it against my parents that we moved around so much, but now I realize that if we hadn’t, I would have never met all the amazing people that are in my life today *dabs tissue daintily against eye and blows nose like a trumpet*

5. I never eat much when I’m not home, but when I am I eat waaaay to much. I then feel guilty about it, and eat some more. At this point I usually get called out to play baseball or football because my mom has noticed that the chocolate chip cookies are all gone and since she’s convinced that a future of lying on a couch eating chips like Honey Boo Boo’s mom awaits me, she feels responsible to ensure that I move around enough. I appreciate her motives, but as a naturally lazy person, I say ugh.

6. I’m claustrophobic, which is one of the reasons that I love the countryside, convertible cars and Field of Dreams. Although it does kind of piss me off that I can’t go in the tube slides at the water park. I wonder if you feel like you’re processed food going down the intestine when you’re inside.

7. I am a perfectionist. If I don’t position my toothbrush exactly right in its holder, I feel like it’s calling me to come back and arrange it again. On second thought, maybe I’m just crazy.

There, if you had the courage and perseverance to read all of that, you now know 7 things about me. I’ll nominate 15 bloggers, and even if they don’t take up the challenge, I think it’s cool that you can see their links and check them out!

http://thehowlingfantogs.wordpress.com

http://questionableradioactivity.wordpress.com

http://floodedroses.wordpress.com/

http://mydaysasme.wordpress.com/

http://mishal99.wordpress.com/

http://keepitcalmandcarryon.wordpress.com/

http://gammagamification.wordpress.com/

http://acuriousgal.wordpress.com/

http://theworldoffluffiness.wordpress.com/

http://smalltownbear.wordpress.com/

http://longlivethemouse.wordpress.com/

http://rejectreality101.wordpress.com/

http://sarahdiariesblog.wordpress.com/

http://iamtoofree.com/

http://curlysblog.wordpress.com/

I’d also like to point out http://girlwiththesilverlocket.wordpress.com/ and http://collegesportstown.com/ as great blogs to follow.

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager.

PS: I didn’t hyperlink the nominees because I’m too lazy. Just thought I’d clear that up.

The Doctor Dolittle Syndrome

I talk to animals. Like, I have conversations with them. Is that weird? Probably, but I can’t help it. I have the Doctor Dolittle Syndrome. Ever since I saw that movie when I was a little girl (the musical from 1967 mind you) I became convinced that much like Rex Harrison I had godly talents and could converse freely with any sheep that strolled by. After a few uninspiring attempts to talk to my neighbor’s horse, I realized that I couldn’t talk to just any animal. The animals that I felt comfortable rambling to about the facts of life (please, no comment, I already know that I’m crazy) were the ones that were close to me, that I knew.

My cat  is unusually social. She is, to me, quite a contradiction in in of herself: she’s independent and throws mice against our door like the murderer that she is and yet she always seems to be hanging around when people are outside (and not threatening to run her over with a tractor). Because she is extremely social, she is often my target when it comes to late night musings. Yes, I know, I talk to my cat. I’m the quintessential loser, but I love her anyway 🙂 With her, there is no need to use a ‘special’ voice, I can just talk normally. And she answers with emphatic MEOWS and more conservative meows, depending on her opinion on the subject. Then again, she may be telling me to f*ck off. I don’t know, I don’t speak cat (Doctor Dolittle fail).

When it comes to Cooper, my dog, I feel obliged to use my baby voice. There is something about his wide brown eyes and floppy ears that kicks my motherly instinct into action (even though I’m only 15. Geez). And yet I don’t have any trouble insulting him… I think my motherly instinct is quite twisted. Cooper, while being a very smart dog, is also very stupid in some aspects of his everyday life. Contrary to his best friend the cat, he doesn’t listen to all the words I say with equal attention. Noooo, he’s only interested in the words having to do with food and boots. That may be why I swear at him a lot.

Cooper

How could you not want to discuss philosophy with a dog so expertly and carefully eating his bone?

Anyway, I guess I’ll just end up being that crazy old lady who talks to her pets too much and makes everyone feel a little sad for her. But you know what? I’m happy to be the victim of the Doctor Dolittle Syndrome for a couple more years. After that, I might start scaring the boys off. And that, this teenager does not want to do. But I will never abandon my pets completely. Ever. Um… Until they die. *cries a little*

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager.

PS: IGCSE results tomorrow, GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!