THE THIRD DAY OF VALENTINES...

I needed Jesus on here sooner or later

*If there is one good thing about my school, it’s the “Late Start” on Wednesday. So instead of having to be revived at the crack of dawn, I can get up at 8:30 at the latest (!!!). 

 I have to say. This day has been good to me. First of all, because it’s *Wednesday. Second, because in Spanish today WE PASSED OUT VALENTINES! *ear-splitting squeal*

 NACHO (the name has finally been revealed) apparently liked the Valentine I made him, at least according to Sheila. So my work was productive. Yay. I got a Valentine too, and when I read it, I was totally girl-ing out: blushing, smiling, and having to stop my self from laughing out loud (which caused me to do this weird hiccup-thing). It was pretty much the sweetest thing that anyone has ever written about me!

 That is until I got to one line of the charming poem: Tus ojos son como el cielo. (source)

 THE FIRST THOUGHT:

 *Before my statement: In spanish, we don’t call each other by our real names. We call each other by our “Spanish Names”. For an example, my “Spanish Name” is Sierra.*

“El cielo” can be translated into “sky”. At least that’s what we learned in this class. The problem with this is that my eyes are browner than brown. Last time I checked, the sky was blue...

 So, either this person is blind, or has the completely wrong person. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had the wrong person. That would just be so typical for me. 

 If you are this mystery man and you know for a fact that the girl you like has blue eyes, you’ve got the wrong Sierra. So get off my blog, fool.

THE SECOND THOUGHT:

 I was kind of sad thinking that this wonderful person had mistaken me for another in our class. Just to make sure, I did what any normal student would do if they needed to look up a word in Spanish. 

 Google translate.

 So I looked up “el cielo” in this Spanish homework necessity, expecting “sky” to show up and expecting to probably look up at my ceiling and sulk about my life. I hit the translate button and the word “heaven” came up.

Your eyes are like heaven.

 Wow... 

 I’m still speechless, ahaha.

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- To Mystery Man, 

I am so thankful for the card, and I just want to say that I really, truly love it (if you ment my eyes are like heaven) (if not get out). Ahaha I’m just so flattered that you think of me this way. Actually, you must be fricken blind because the Sierra in 5th period Spanish that I know is an awkward loser with unkempt, frizzy hair. I guess she’s doing it right, huh?

Love, Sydney (aka Sierra)

Keep indulging on those chocolates for moral support, ladies. Just two more days left!

THE SECOND DAY OF VALENTINES...

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  I’m watching Gossip Girl as I’m writing, so if it sounds like I’m a wee bit distracted, I totally am. :)

 As the day of red hearts approaches, endemic girls storm the local Victoria’s Secret and the low-key lingerie shops. And it's not just the bra spree, all females have definetly up-ed their lash, lips, and blush makeup game this week... some over-doing it just a tad. 

 There is a high point during this dour week. And this is due to (believe it or not) a Spanish assignment. Last class, our teacher called us up to pick from her bundle of “The Sticks”, or popsicle sticks that have our name written on them. After picking a name, (girls pick a boy and boys pick a girl) (Well, actually there are three boys that had to draw another boy because there is a lack of the female population in my class) we are instructed to create a Valentine’s Day card for them. And for a grade. 

 Part of the grading rubric is to write a poem about our person. 

 So, here is the poem I wrote for my “Secret Valentine”:

Tú eres raro y interesante,

Como un elefante.

Tú ríes mucho y ruidoso

Eres alto como un oso.

No lleva anteojos

Pero, tienes pantalones extraños

Pareces simpático

Y este poema es fántastico.

(source)

I know it’s a little bit lame, but I’m actually pretty proud of it! 

 And I also know that all of you little creeps want to know who exactly is the lucky mystery man I picked (I’m being sarcastic when I say “lucky”, of course) but alas, I’m going to call him “Anon” for right now. Don’t panic, he will be revealed when his card is open.

 And that’s that for day two!

 Hasta luego betches and have a wonderful Tuesday. Hopefully it's filled with chocolate and The Notebook. 

THE FIRST DAY OF VALENTINES...

5 Couples couple-ing

4 Day weekend!

3 More days until friday

2 Extremely attractive boys

And 1 Sydney crying in the corner.

Happy Monday, y’all. I’m so incredibly sorry that I haven’t been writing for a while but I have been in a butt-load of crap (including homework and mental breakdowns) thus my absence from this from this blog. 

 So now I’m watching Gossip Girl (I’m slightly addicted) and thinking about studying for a Vocab Test tomorrow. 

 And that is that. I'll write tomorrow. *kisses*

"GEOMETRY" YOU SAY "BULL SHIT" I SAY

Study Relief:

 You’re entirely welcome.

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Now for your story:

Geometry is Bull Shit

 Now that I have intrigued you with my very metaphorical mind, you must hear the true struggle of being me.

1. DAMMIT #1
2. DAMMIT #2

#1

 So right when I walked into class and I saw all of the supplies laying out on my teachers desk, I knew that we were going to be doing something different today. A few minutes after the bell rang, our teacher passed some of the supplies back and before we all knew it, we created our very own 

protractors. How absolutely uncanny.

 He then grouped our rows together so that we formed three gigantic masses and sent us outside to measure the angles of some of the school's buildings. So we had to leave the nice, warm classroom and emerge ourselves into the coldness of the late morning. Seriously, it was fucking freezing outside. We all looked like dragons because of the visibility of our breath. Another annoying thing about the weather was that it wasn’t even cloudy. It was incredibly bright. I had to squint while walking around because of it. 

 Before I continue, there is something I have to add. There aren’t that many attractive boys in my class, but the one that IS NOT one of the many basketball nerds happens to be one of the most popular, intimidating guys at my school. And I’m not going to lie, he isn’t ugly. 

 So I’m roaming around like I’m blind because it was very bright, so I couldn’t see anything, and it was cold and I was tired because I had to get up at the fricken crack of dawn for school today. We ventured further into the campus and crossed a stretch of grass. Ahead of me, some people looked back the ground and grimaced. I didn’t think nothing of it until Mr. Everything turned around at looked right at me and then down at my feet. I kind of processed what happened right when I smelled it.

 The good thing is that I didn’t step in it. But holy shit, I was close. Being your awkward queen, I didn’t even look down. I just looked straight across from me, and with a tight, emotionless face I said, “Did I step in it?” which is so incredibly stupid because I would've been able to feel the icky, squishy sensation of it if I did, now wouldn’t I? I also may have blabbered some other awkward and unnecessary forms of ramblance. Then I looked at Mr. Everything and he didn’t say anything. He just gave me a withering gaze or maybe a look of annoyance. I don’t know. All I know is... ugh.

#2

 We ended up finishing the activity later than expected, which was great because it certainly beat the insanely long and boring notes we usually always do. 

 I must have been so shaken up from almost ruining my shoes and the withering gaze and the pressure to finish this really hard worksheet he had just passed out because at the end of the class, I just shoved everything (or so I thought) in to my bag and ran out of there. 

 So I came home from school, and I went into my back pack to start my homework so that I can go to the gym later this afternoon. I reached in to find my pencil case, and Woa-la no pencil case. It sounds silly that I’m being paranoid about the most stupidest thing (a missing pencil case) but I NEED IT! It has my favorite pencil, all of my science extra credit (which I will definetly need this semester), and my calculator (which I REALLY need for fricken Geometry). And not knowing where the hell it is (I SWEAR I put it into my bag) is really freaking me out. So tomorrow, I have to go to my math class again to go ask to see if it's there. And if I can't find it there, then I would have to go to my english/yearbook class to see if I carelessly left it there. The bad thing is that I hate being in teacher's classrooms unless I’m required to be there. So I’m not to excited to pass either of my teachers an extra visit. 

 Moral of story: I hate Geometry and boys make me too nervous.

BLOGGING AND THE OPPOSITE SEX

*A Small Note:*

I’ve ranted about this to a few people, so for the people that already know what I’m kind of talking about: sorry you have to go through this again.

Part 1: ACTUAL Blogging

 One thing that I don’t see a lot of is blogging in general. Of course there are a tone of “tumblr girls” and “tumblr boys” who own their “tumblr blogs” but I’m not referring to those at all. I have a tumblr, and I am addicted to it. Like seriously, I don’t understand why reblogging pictures could be so fun and so time consuming to me but what do you know. It totally is. I never really pictured tumblr as what you would call and “actual blog” (ie this thing that you are on currently) infact I reblogged a statement that some one made that is so incredibly true that I actually had to think about it for a while, “how is any of this considered blogging?” (via odair.tumblr.com) How true is this? So now, if I ask you if you have a blog, and you say that you have a tumblr, I will first follow you on tumblr because I will forever be addicted but I wouldn’t label you clearly as a blogger in my mind.

Part 2: ACTUAL Blogging Males

 There is something that is even RARER than general blogging. This is blogging men. I’m not talking about the pasty, overweight, middle age men who have nothing better to do but spend all of their free time on their computer shoving Doritos down their throat ranting about video games or stalking girls online. Because believe me, that isn’t attractive at all. What IS attractive though is teenage boy bloggers who just want to have a place to rant about their school and society and just the life of growing up as a teenage boy in their generation. As I kind of hinted above, I think that if you were a boy at my school, or at any high school for that matter, and you obtained a legitament blog (NOT a tumblr, but I would still follow you if you did, ahaha) I would be SO MUCH MORE attracted to you. I think that all blogging is a piece of art, and I think that anyone who has the balls to talk and sort out things on the internet with the whole entire world watching is very courageous and, well, real. I think it’s incredibly sexy. 

 I really don’t even care what you’d (I’m addressing the boys) talk about honestly. Seriously, if I found out that a boy at my school ran a personal blog, I’d be on it 24/7. It’s just so rare, that honestly I wouldn’t even care if you were just ranting about Call of Duty (as boring as that blog sounds). I would read it. Maybe it's because that stalker-ish part in me just kind of wants to see what everything's like from a boy’s perspective. It’s hard to analyze things like that with the complex, taunting answers they give on ask.fm. Running a blog, as a guy, would give girls a birds-eye view of what you are feeling, what you’d look for in girls, and what you really think about school (because school is one interesting place). It would make girls like me think, “Wow, this guy knows EXACTLY what he’s talking about and he knows EXACTLY where he’s going in life.” You (again, to you, boys) may not believe this, but with blogging, that’s the kind of aura you give off. It’s really amazing how typing what you’re thinking about down benefits you. And this is coming from an actual female blogger.

Now, back to how rare it is. I’ve been really trying to find blog boys for the longest time, with the attempts of google. So far, all of the blogs I've visited are about wine, about research, or are obtained by overweight, creepy, middle aged men shoving Doritos into their mouths.

 So boys, if you want a different way to pick up chicks, resort to blogging because why the hell not.

And we’ll just end this with a picture of Johnny Depp because it’s finally February. 

Almost time to be alone on V-Day, bitches.

MORTIFIED ON THE MOUND

Part 1: Pitching

Part 2: Humiliation

Part 1

 I don’t understand exactly why I keep pitching. Honestly, I feel like I’m terrible at it, lessons cost a ton, and I just really don’t have the time to practice. 

 I feel that if I give it up, I don’t fucking know like I feel as if I’d be letting everyone down since I’ve been doing it basically my whole entire life. 

Part 2

 Today was an interesting day at 6th period softball. Today the pitchers and the catchers had to go out in the outfield and show the coaches what we’ve got. So the five pitchers (including myself) and 3 catchers trudged out to warm-up. Considering there were only 3 catchers available (2 out of the 3 didn’t really want to catch in the first place) there would be one set of just one pitcher to one catcher and 2 sets of 2 pitchers to one catcher. Of course, as the freshman, I had to be in the second set. And of course the girl who was sharing the catcher with me was a very ambitious varsity player. 

 So of course being me, I panicked when the coaches walked over to examine my skills. Let’s just say that I could have done better. A LOT BETTER. And of  course the other varsity player did very well. And she knew the coaches saw that too (if you know what I mean)

*sigh*

MEANWHILE:

 The baseball team (I have to add that it contains a copious amount of good-looking boys)'s out field starts right when ours ends. So supposedly, they were doing terrible so they had to run from the foul pole on the third base side of the field to the foul pole on the first base side of the field. The path that they were running on passed right next to our group of pitchers (I was the closest to the hotties. Probably like 10 feet away from the path they were running to and fro on). And they weren’t running just one lap. They were running for a whooping 20 minutes and they were STILL running after THE THING and even after practice ended.

 Anyway, the last pitch we had to throw ending the session was a change-up. By that time, I was already discouraged enough and I don’t think I could have been redder than I was then. The most frustrating part was when I was throwing that pitch earlier, it didn't work at all. So the whole situation generally was pretty ironic, if you ask me. 

  Of COURSE I ended up being the last person to go (since we were assessed individually. All of the other pitchers were pretty bored watching the nerve-racking moments, so they all jogged back to the dug out where the rest of the team was packing up. It was just me, the pitcher; the two head coaches; and Grace, the catcher. Oh, and of course the whole entire baseball team just a mere ten feet away.

 I was shaking as I wiped my sweaty hand across my pants (which really didn’t do much) and gripped the ball tightly. I went through the motion and gasped when my hip flinched closed too soon and my throwing hand containing the ball hit the back of my leg. I watched as the ball dropped 4 feet in front of Grace. Then I heard the Head Varsity coach grunt behind me. I felt the color rush straight to my cheeks and I slowly spun around to face my fate, which felt like it would be a lot like death honestly. That’s when THE THING happened.

head varsity coach: how do you throw that pitch?

me: *gulps* uh back-hand *makes motion with wrist*

hvc: oh, i see... *moves to the spot where i’ve been pitching*

        come right in front of me

me: um-

hvc: come on.

me: *apprehensively trudges in front of him*

hvc: face the catcher

me: *turns slowly towards Grace who’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates*

hvc: *takes my throwing arm* ok so you’re going to hold the ball in this hand and and you’re going to go through the motion like this... *takes my arm and leads me through the motion* and you want to make youre only throwing the ball in this space *takes my shoulders from behind* this is your space. you cant throw anywhere but your space, got it?

grace: *stares*

head junior varsity coach: *stares*

baseball players: *stares*

entire world: *stares*

me:

        what the fuck just happened.

  So that’s when I think my pitching career had officially ended. Well, I should say MIGHT end, because you never know.

 I’m debating to chop off and bleach my hair, get a tattoo, and go by Lupe. Seriously I don’t exactly know how I’m going to be able to show my face tomorrow.

 What has my life come to?

A NORMAL SCHOOL DAY

ME:

1. no. oh god no, my bed is so warm and comfy and i just had the most amazing erotic dream. i will not get up. never. *presses snooze*
2. i can probably sleep for a few more minutes... *presses snooze*
3. i’ll just skip breakfast today. *presses snooze*
4. oh fuck it’s six o’clock and I need to take a shower. i hate my life *after two minutes of glaring angrily at the ceiling, i push myself out of bed*
5. shower, shower, shower. a time to embrace my inner britney spears 
6. *30 minutes later* SHIT I HAVE 20 MINUTES TO GET READY
7. *gets dressed* FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
8. *brushes teeth* FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
9. *puts on makeup* ok sydney, you cannot rush the mascara. calm down and focus on the strokes
10. *puts in earphones* cant walk without a beat
11. *walks/dances to school*
12. oh shit i’m late
13. i hate this place
14. oh my god its so cold
15. stop looking at me like you dont know where i came from. we’ve been in the same english class since 5th grade
16. i hate this class
17. ok... moving on. 
18. i really hate walking down these halls
19. dont touch me
20. omg there he is ah hes so cute
21. ew there she is
22. i hate math
23. im dying
24. at least amy is here to suffer with me
25. omg why
26. finally, that bell couldnt have rung sooner
27. back in the hallway
28. its like a fucking war zone here omg
29. i. hate. school.
30. NOTICE ME ASSHOLE
31. WATCH WHERE YOURE GOING ASSHOLE
32. ok really. youre going to stop in the middle of an utterly crowded hallway to go through your backpack. honestly.
33. omg finally ive been waiting for snack since like i got here
34. ew yearbook
35. ew interviewing
36. ew writing
37. ew getting yelled at
38. ew
39. im so tired
40. LUUUUUUUNNNNNNCCCCHHHHHHH
41. YES YES YES thank the lord i decided to take a zero this year i cant wait to see my bed again
42. adios bitchachos 
43. poor ashlyn she has to suffer through another class
44. well at least she doesnt have to wake up at the crack of dawn
45. *walks through the door* buenos noches.