I've never felt more stereotypically American.

So my mom and I were just downstairs cleaning the kitchen, at 11 at night, and I went into the living room to gather any trash or dishes, and this is what I picked up.


P.S. Nai is really awesome and he rocks and stuff and he also he didn't write this.

World's most depressing movie, probably

I'm so sad. My friends Laura, Jane, and I watched one of the world's saddest movies last night/this morning. It's called "The Devil's Arithmetic", and it's based on a book by Jane Yolen. It's about a girl named Hanna Stern who doesn't respect her Jewish heritage, until one fatefull Passover. Hanna's 16 and can't imagine why her parents drag her to her aunt Eve's house for a holiday that "is for old people". Hanna is volunteered to open the door for Elijah during Passover, and when she opens the door, she's transported back to 1941, in Poland. Hanna does not believe that she went back in time, because she wakes up in her cousin Rivka's house. Rivka tells Hanna that she's been very sick with a fever that killed her parents. During Rivka's neighbor's wedding, the Nazis come and round up all of the Jews and ship them to a concentration camp. Rivka and Hanna find a young girl, nine years old, who's missing her parents, so they take her in. These three girls are made to work, digging trenches, in the freezing winter, with very thin clothes on and no hats, shoes, or gloves. During the movie, one of Rivka's friends, who was 24, had her baby in the camp. The women manage to keep the baby hidden for a couple of weeks, but the Nazi officers eventually find it and take it away. The mother demands to go with it, so they take her too, and then Rivka's mother attacks the Commandent, so she's taken also. Rivka develops chronic depression after her mother is shot, (we don't see that though- thank gosh!), and she becomes very ill, until it's all that Hanna can do to keep her on her feet. No one believes Hanna that she's from the future, so they are all entertained with her stories of pizza, dances, and other common American things. Rivka is so happy with Hanna's stories that she proclaims that if she ever gets out, she'll change her name to Eve.
Rivka's illness persists, and finally the Nazis find out. They also discover that Hanna and Rivka snuck the young girl into the women's barrack. They want to kill the girl and Rivka!! Hanna knows, however that Rivka is, in fact, Hanna's Aunt Eve! Hanna knows that if she lets Rivka die, her family's history will be changed forever. Hanna takes Rivka's headscarf and the little girl, and they are sent to a gas chamber. They are gassed, and right after Hanna dies, she sees a white light, and wakes up, back in her own time period, on Aunt Eve's bed! "Where's Aunt Eve? I need her!" Aunt Eve is brought over, and Hanna cries out, "My Rivka!" Eve tells Hanna the whole story of what happens, and Hanna realizes the importance of traditional holidays, to remember.

The Holocaust.

Never again.

I'm going to the beach tomorrow! Yay!

My family is going with a bunch of people to the beach tomorrow, including my friend Laura!!! Yay!!! It takes FOREVER to drive there, though. The car rides are always awful.

AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PAULIE! I LOVE YOU!!!

PAULIE MCCARTNEY IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY!!! You're 69 today!!! Happy birthday!!! I love you a lot!!! I stayed up until midnight last night, so I could ring in your birthday while listening to "Drive My Car", "Somedays", and "Yesterday". LOVE YOU!!! I'm wearing one of my Beatles shirts today, and I'm only listening to The Beatles, and I'm looking at pictures of you, etc etc. I forgot to send you a card this year though. Do you mind?

Love you!!!!

Eleanor Rigby

I am really depressed now.

Basically, the title of this post should explain my mood. Nai can tell you why. My mom and I checked Paul McCartney's website last night, and tickets to his upcoming concert, and the worst seats, nosebleed section, are $170. I've got $40. It's not gonna happen. Sadly. So no Paul in my immediate future. Or my future at all. Ugh.

And I thought I hated technology the OTHER day!

You're NOT going to believe this. Now my Netbook died! So now I'm resorting to blogging from my mom's archaic laptop, the only computer we have left, and even this one's on its last legs. I wish I could get the Internet back on my phone, just for blogging purposes, but no can do.

And guess what?? I STILL have laundry to do, and my room's not clean, and I have to do a math lesson or two, and I have to catch up on summer school. I took last week off of summer school because of theater camp, and now I'm behind.

Later.

Oh my gosh I hate technology!!!

I really, really, really hate technology! My dad's big computer, the home computer that I use for blogging, broke yesterday, so now I'm stuck blogging from our tiny Netbook. You know, those tiny little things that everyone says are so cool, handy, and useful but are in reality really hard to handle and slow? Yeah, those things. So now I'm posting from the aforementioned Netbook, and hating it.

 I have nothing to do today. Maybe I'll do laundry or clean my room for fun. I just ate lunch and went for a run with my friends Molly, Emma, and Sylvia, but not in that order. Sometime today I have to finish writing in my diary about what I did yesterday, because it was so much fun. I went shopping with my whole family, involving two disastrous car rides and a bag of corn chips, and then I was at my friend Alex's house for three hours. That was so much fun! His little sisters and I were beating him up with pillows and Wii remotes. 

I should really go now and clean. I have laundry to do and I want to read The Diary of Anne Frank again... Oh, and Cami??? Have fun on vacation! We miss you, and I'm jealous of the Coke-cabin! :) And Ewok???


SHMEH SHMEH SHMEH SHMEI SHMEI! (yes I changed it!!!)

You hate me now, right? :P

On this day

             On this day, June 12, 1929, a baby girl was born in Frankfurt am Main, Germany, to parents Otto Frank and Edith Frank-Hollander. She grew up to move to Amsterdam, Netherlands, where she lived on the third floor of a house on the Merwedeplein. And then, on July 6, 1942, this girl, now 13, and her two parents left their house in the beginning of the morning and walked to Otto's office building, 263 Prinsengracht. Her older sister, Margot, had arrived earlier that morning.
               This family was joined a few days later by the Van Pels family: sixteen-year-old Peter and his parents. And in November, a dentist named Fritz Pfeffer joined them in the Secret Annex, in the back of 263 Prinsengracht.
               This girl kept a diary from June 12, 1942, to August 1, 1944. On August 4, 1944, at 10 in the morning, these eight people were captured and arrested. They all perished in the clutches of the Nazis except Mr. Otto Frank. After the war, Otto returned to the Prinsengracht and collected his youngest daughter's diary.  First published in 1947, two years after the author had died, this diary has gone on to sell more than 20 million copies in 55 languages. The girl's name was Anne Frank.

               From the beginning: 
                                                                      June 12, 1942

                  I hope I will be able to confide everything to you, as I have never been able to confide in anyone, and I hope you will be a great source of comfort and support. 
         
               To the end:

                                                                       Tuesday, August 1, 1944

Dearest Kitty, 

 "A bundle of contradictions" was the end of my previous letter and is the beginning of this one. Can you please tell me exactly what "a bundle of contradictions" is? What does "contradiction" mean? Like so many words, it can be interpreted in two ways: a contradiction imposed from without and one imposed from within. The former means not accepting other people's opinions, always knowing best, having the last word; in short, all those unpleasant traits for which I'm known. The latter, for which I'm not known, is my own secret.

      As I've told you many times, I'm split in two. One side contains my exuberant cheerfulness, my flippancy, my joy in life and, above all, my ability to appreciate the lighter side of things. By that I mean not finding anything wrong with flirtations, a kiss, an embrace, an off-color joke. This side of me is usually lying in wait to ambush the other one, which is much purer, deeper and finer. No one knows Anne's better side, and that's why most people can't stand me. Oh, I can be an amusing clown for an afternoon, but after that everyone's had enough of me to last a month. Actually, I'm what a romantic movie is to a profound thinker--a mere diversion, a comic interlude, something that is soon forgotten: not bad, but not particularly good either. I hate having to tell you this, but why shouldn't I admit it when it's true? My lighter, more superficial side will always steal a march on the deeper side and therefor always win. You can't imagine how often I've tried to push away this Anne, which is only half of what is known as Anne--to beat her down, hide her. But it doesn't work, and I know why.

         I'm afraid that people who know me as I usually am will discover I have another side, a better and finer side. I'm afraid they'll mock me, think I'm ridiculous and sentimental and not take me seriously. I'm used to not being taken seriously, but only the "lighthearted" Anne is used to it and can put up with it; the "deeper" Anne is too weak. If I force the good Anne into the spotlight for even fifteen minutes, she shuts up like a clam the moment she's called upon to speak, and lets Anne number one do the talking. Before I realize it, she's disappeared.

        So the nice Anne is never seen in company. She's never made a single appearance, though she almost always takes the stage when I'm alone. I know exactly how I'd like to be, how I am... on the inside. But unfortunately I'm only like that with myself. And perhaps that's why--no, I'm sure that's the reason why--I think of myself as happy on the inside and other people think I'm happy on the outside. I'm guided by the pure Anne within, but on the outside I'm nothing but a frolicsome little goat tugging at its tether.

        As I've told you, what I say is not what I feel, which is why I have a reputation for being boy-crazy as well as a flirt, a smart aleck and a reader of romances. The happy-go-lucky Anne laughs, gives a flippant reply, shrugs her shoulders and pretends she doesn't give a darn. The quiet Anne reacts in just the opposite way. If I'm being completely honest, I'll have to admit that it does matter to me, that I'm always trying very hard to change myself, but that I'm always up against a more powerful enemy.

       A voice within me is sobbing, "You see, that's what's become of you. You're surrounded by negative opinions, dismayed looks and mocking faces, people who dislike you, and all because you don't listen to the advice of your own better half." Believe me, I'd like to listen, but it doesn't work, because if I'm quiet and serious, everyone thinks I'm putting on a new act and I have to save myself with a joke, and then I'm not even talking about my own family, who assume I must be sick, stuff me with aspirins and sedatives, feel my neck and forehead to see if I have a temperature, ask about my bowel movements and berate me for being in a bad mood, until I just can't keep up anymore, because when everyone starts hovering over me, I get cross, then sad, and finally end up turning my heart inside out, the bad part on the outside and the good part on the inside, and kept trying to find a way to become what I'd like to be and what I could be if...if only there were no other people in the world.

                                                                          Yours, Anne M. Frank

Wow. What must people think of me???

Today, my friends Molly and Emma saw my bedroom for the first time, and they were totally speechless. Eventually Emma goes, "How did I know what your bedroom was going to look like???" It was really funny, but I really wonder what people who've never seen my bedroom before think. For those of my friends who have been to my house, you know what I'm talking about.

Here are some pictures from my bedroom. I found copies on Google.

See what I mean? I have posters of Michael Jackson and The Who, but I couldn't find those pictures.

You're not gonna believe this but...

Did anyone watch the So Random sketch where Rufus is totally "you're not gonna believe this"??? I love that sketch! My bro, Ben, and I were doing that all day at camp.

The Who