Dog Days are Over

Dear readers,

A few months ago, Eaven White started up a new blog for herself. I didn't really understand why she did it. I thought her old blog was just fine! I liked her old blog!

Now I understand. Sometimes your blog loses its savor, and you gotta start over again.

That and blog titles for this blog take way too much effort.

And so I invite you to my new blog, my new pseudonym, my new identity. Soren Cantus will still exist (and may even blog from time to time here), but there's a new girl in town. Her name is Apricot Jones.

Welcome to the secret life and times of Apricot: http://thesecretlifeandtimesofapricot.blogspot.com/
(Read from the beginning. It makes so much more sense.)

Until next time, adios faithful readers!

All my love,
Soren Cantus

My Friends, My Friends

Don't ask me
What your sacrifice was for
Empty chairs at empty tables
Where my friends will sit no more


Remember how last post I was hooked on Jekyll&Hyde? Well, now it's Les Miserables. I've actually never heard Les Miserables before Saturday. No joke. And then I watched the 25th Anniversary (the one with Nick Jonas) online, and I fell in LOVE. I love Eponine! I might have loved Cosette if she'd had a personality!

And right now my favorite song is Empty Chairs at Empty Tables. And it makes me want to cry every time.

Ah, the joy of the theater!

--Soren, out

Keep Holding On

This is my theme song for reading Inheritance. No, seriously. I'm 100 pages in and nothing is happening!

NaNoWriMo died. Alas. I got behind, and it snowballed, and trying to catch up with NaNo made me behind in my homework, which isn't good. Like, at all.

I'm hooked on Jekyll and Hyde, the musical. The music is so addicting!

--Soren, out.

Can Anybody Find Me...?

It's that time again: NaNoWriMo!

If you don't know what NaNoWriMo is, it's short for "National Novel Writing Month". And guess who's doing it this year? Me!

Disclaimer: If I go MIA, don't worry. I'm just selling my soul in hopes of accomplishing my dream of becoming a world-renowned author.

Right now, I'm up way too late procrastinating finishing my project, because frankly I don't know what to do, and I'm afraid that if I go to sleep, I won't wake up in time for class tomorrow. Because I slept through my first class yesterday. And I was late to my class today. I can't pull all-nighters like I'm used to. And now my second wind is kicking in, which means I have to drive to do something. Maybe I'll do dishes.

I think I might take little cat naps throughout the night to ensure that I get to class on time (because my project is due, and I HAVE to be there to present it), clean the dorm while I'm at it, and maybe get something to eat. I'm kinda hungry.

I'm exhausted. And, because I am exhausted, I am prone to being highly emotional. Which I am. And so here goes my splurge.

I want love so bad. I want someone to look at me like I pulled the sun right out of the sky, I want him to hold me like he couldn't bear to ever let me go, I want him to tell me that he thinks I'm the most amazing person he's ever know. Because I know when I meet him, that's what I'm going to be doing.

Normally I can put on a brave face and go on through life like it doesn't bug me, but it does. It hurts seeing other people so madly in love, and wonder what is wrong with me that I can't find it. I changed my clothes, and my hair, and my makeup, and I changed how I thought about myself, and nothing changes. I get out of the house, I go do stuff, I participate, but I'm invisible. And it hurts. It hurts really bad. I just want someone to look at me like I'm there, like I exist. Because I feel like everyone is just passing me by, going on to something that's bigger and better and makes an impression, and in the end, I'm left alone in the dust.

I just want somebody to love me. I just want somebody to hold my hand. I want to feel loveable, and likable, and kissable, and wonderful. I want my love story to begin. I want to belong with someone. I want to feel love.

--Soren, out.

A New King

I have a boyfriend!

Well, not really. He's an action figure on my desk serving as my makeshift boyfriend until I get a real one.

So my roommate has sisters. And said sisters sent her a small Smurfs figurine to serve as her makeshift boyfriend to make up for her lack thereof. She made the mistake of telling me, and I started teasing her (with love, of course). In retaliation, she promised to get me my own makeshift boyfriend.

Yesterday I get an email that I have a package waiting for me. I go to pick it up and I have no idea what it is. It's a small, rectangular box from Brian's Toys in Lexington, KY (irony, anyone?).

It was my makeshift boyfriend. Loki the action figure now sits proudly on my desk. I have one of the best roomies in the world.

It's things like this that make me love life.

--Soren, out.

Love, Can You Hear Me?

Here I am, procrastinating homework, wiping sleep from my tired eyes, trying to find a reason to do this pointless "aura-gram" assignment. The auras I see are much cooler. Not as informative, but much cooler.

I also need to retake my online Music 101 vocab test. I got a high "C" on it the first time (not too bad for not having reviewed beforehand), and I can retake as many times as I want, so long as I don't use my notes.

My favorite Pandora station is about to put me to sleep.

If I could just get a move on and do my work, I might be able to do something with my life (or at least with my dorm) before my classes start. Why is motivation so elusive?

I really want to write. And I'm not talking about essays. I'm talking about stories, whether by myself, or with someone else. I need creativity, I need creation, I need to build worlds and characters and relationships.

I might have a really big crush. It looks hopeless at this point, but I've been talking to him (electronically, since I can't face-to-face) and...I don't know how to describe it. I feel floaty. Happy. But I know that as soon as he gets here he'll probably forget he ever knew me and meet some girl and fall in love and oops, there goes the sound of another broken heart of mine. My supply is getting low. I have to guard them carefully. When will I ever learn that?

--Soren, out.

Slow Me Down

I'm pulling another all-nighter.

In my defense, I wasn't completely procrastinating all this time. Mostly I've been working on the proposal for the paper (which we've been diligently working on as a group) and today I spent all day at the PPC.

I hate having to cite resources. It takes so much time, and I'm so tired.

Schedule for tomorrow:
1. Pull all-nighter. Get paper ready for peer review.
2. Come home. Do music hw. Eat leftover rice/hot dog/creole creation. Take a nap.
3. Go to music class.
4. Sleep til I feel like waking up.
5. By this time, it's probably Saturday. Shopping day! $1 Totino's pizzas! $0.59 cucumbers! Freedom! Mostly...and then more homework.

Not going to the masquerade. In reality, it's so much better to go with a guy, and since I have no guy, I have no dance. Besides, this week has been hectic. I'm ready for some rest.

--Soren, out.

I'm so Sick

I'm a bit sick.

Not the throwing-up kind of sick. I probably have an inner ear infection, and so I've been having headaches, and lots of vertigo. I've also been suffering from Seasonal Affect Disorder. It's made me really tired and depressed.

Oi with the poodles already, right?

So now that I know what's going on, I feel better. I mean, I still have it, still feel it, but now I can deal with it.

This post wasn't supposed to be depressing. Hopefully it isn't. If it is...oops.

Thursday is the Pre-Professional Conference, and Gary Schmidt and Lawson Inada are coming to read at it! Because I'm in the English Academic Society, and I'm also hosting a panel, then I get to attend a special breakfast and lunch with them and all the other EAS people! I'm so excited!

Friday is the masquerade ball! I really would like to go with someone (ahem, I want a guy to ask me out already!) but even if there is no guy, I'm still going. I have way too much fun with things like this to miss it over a stupid guy.

I'm totally hooked on my "The Lady of Shalott" station on Pandora. Celtic music win. That and my "Gregorian Chants" station. Ah, study music.

Life is good right now. Cold, yes. Tiring me out, to the max. But it's good.

--Soren, out.

Try the Grey Stuff (It's Delicious)

Normally I don't care if people comment, but this time I really need your answers.

What is your "skinny" food?

By "skinny" food, I mean, what's the food that, when you eat it, makes you feel good and healthy.

Every time I eat something, I feel incredibly fat, no matter what it is. Right now ice cream sounds really good. Maybe I just need to eat cold foods.

The thing is that I honestly don't eat much. I don't have the time to eat, and I don't have to money to buy food all the time, so I have to be careful with what I have and make it last. I still feel really fat whenever I eat anything.

Please comment! I need to go shopping soon and I need suggestions of what foods to make me feel better!

--Soren, out.

Tricksy Clock

I'm stuck.

I should be working on an essay due tomorrow about the etymology of a word, tracing that word and its usage back into the Indo-European origins.

Oi with the poodles.

I have no idea how to write three to five pages about something that is summarized in less than a paragraph on the Oxford Etymology Dictionary. I mean, really? The word voice came from the PIE (Proto-Indo-European) base "wekw-", which mean to speak, or to vocalize. I don't even know if there are any controversies over this. How do you research something so obscure? I guess I could discuss the gradual move from the PIE base into what we know now, using primarily Grimm's and Verner's laws.

And now I'm watching Criminal Minds while analyzing the nonexistent trends in Grimm's laws. Ugh! It started as a vocal fricative, and it's stayed that way ever since! There goes my brilliant idea! And I have no idea what the Great Vowel Shift entails! We haven't covered it yet! I don't have to write about it, but it was something they were talking about in class.

There is some variation, but I don't know when they happened, and they aren't explained by these laws. Can I go to sleep yet?

I am Writer-Rant! Hear me roar!

--Soren, out.

A Dream is a Wish

I have this amazing opportunity to go study abroad in Britain. I want to go so bad. I've been dreaming about this for a year, ever since I knew I could study abroad there.

Is it the right thing to do?

Can I even afford it?

My mother says that the impossible dreams are the best ones to shoot for. This dream is pretty impossible. I'm living on $15 a week, and in order to do this, I'd have to have a $500 deposit, and then get $3200 by July. I want this so bad it hurts, but it seems so hopeless.

Then again, my left hand has been itching for two weeks.

"I'm going to go pray some more."
-Fa Zhou, Mulan


--Soren, out.

I'm Gonna Make Your Head Burn

In addition to blogging, I have now started vlogging. If you know me on YouTube, please wait a few days so I can actually get a good vlog up. If you don't know me YouTube, then lucky you.

--Soren, out.

Airplanes in the Night Sky

I am now addicted to flying.

The first flight was, not gonna lie, terrifying. I wanted to be firmly on the ground throughout the entire takeoff. I wanted OFF. And then I slept through the ride (I hadn't slept that night. Too nervous). Landing was pure bliss. That kind of feel I like.

Takeoff = Adrenaline = NO.
Landing = No Adrenaline = YES.

So at the Dallas-Ft.Worth Airport I got to ride the bus-thingy from one section of the airport to where I needed to go. So fun!

On my second flight, I made myself enjoy the takeoff, so it was super fun. Again, I slept. Being in SLC and knowing my family wasn't there was super weird.

So I got to college safe and sound.

--Soren, out.

Going the Distance, Going for Speed

I did it! I broke the PPC! I was packed before midnight! Now I just have to clean up my mess (mostly old receipts) and then go to bed. But I have to get up in two hours, so I'm wondering if I should just stay up and make sure we get going on time rather than go to sleep and possibly be late.

I'm so nervous about this flying thing. I'm not sure if it's am excited-nervous, or a scared-nervous. Right now, I'm leaning towards scared. And hungry. I'm insanely hungry.

Bon Voyage! Wish me luck!

--Soren, out.

Gonna Go Far, Kid

Today I am packing. It's noon, and I haven't really done anything yet. I have a system:
1. Tell yourself you have a whole day, and that's plenty of time, so don't worry about rushing the packing.
2. Watch a few movies. Or TV. Or read a book. Or play with your cat. Or surf the net. In other words, Procrastinate.
3. Start to think about packing around dinner.
4. Start packing after the kids go to bed and realize you had more to pack than you originally thought.
5. Realize that room in your bag is running out.
6. Panic.
7. Stay up until it's time to go packing. Finish the packing process by the skin of your teeth.
8. Enjoy a well-packed trip!

In case you're wondering, yes I've tried to break the PPC (Packing-Panic-Cycle)...but I always end up following it anyway. Today, I choose to embrace it! And maybe give myself incentive to go pack up my bathroom stuff, at least. Maybe. After some lunch.

Yeah, it ain't gettin' packed til I'm ready to panic.

--Soren, out.

Scream Like a Banshee

I've been having the dreams again. The scary ones where I know I'm going to die. This time I was with my family, and my Grandpa (the one still living) and his...girlfriend, partner, whatever (I don't like her much) are sitting with us, and for some reason get into an argument with my parents, and they say a Chinese phrase (I've forgotten it) which meant something like "Inevitable Death", meaning one of us children had to die.

Rather then let them take my brother, I gave myself up to die. So a noose appeared in the dream living room where everyone was sitting. During the dream, I was running around, sometimes feeling the noose around my neck, trying to find a way out of this death. Nothing worked. There were no solutions, no answers. I had to die.

There's always terror in these dreams, and I feel the terror days after I have the dreams. Right now, I'm so scared. The dreams are so real. I try to look up the meanings of them, but they don't fit. Nothing in my life relates to these dreams at all. None of my stresses, none of my worries. Normally I don't worry if I'm going to be sentenced to death by family, or shot in the head, or in the back, or slashed, or any of the other deaths that I've dreamed. Maybe I need to see a shrink or something. I don't know what to do. If I try telling my parents about them, I feel stupid, because it comes out sounding trivial. And they're so busy with other stuff, they don't want to hear about some stupid little dream. But these dreams make me want to cry.

I have looked death in the face, and I am a coward.

--Soren, out.

But Who Cares? No Big Deal, I Want More!

A Book List
For Glo

Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow
by Jessica Day George

Paranormalcy
by Kiersten White

The Storyteller's Daughter
by Cameron Dokey

Divergent
by Veronica Roth

Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch
by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman

Across the Universe
by Beth Ravis

The Book Thief
by Markus Zusack

Writing Magic
by Gail Carson Levine

Dragon Slippers
by Jessica Day George

Mistborn
by Brandon Sanderson

The Hunger Games
by Suzanne Collins

Song of the Sparrow
by Lisa Ann Sandell

I reckon this is a pretty good list for now. Read on, Glo! Read on!

--Soren, out.

Today I Don't Feel Like Doing Anything

No, really.

Today I stayed in what I slept in until around 3:15, when I had to go down the road to pick up my brother from the bus (which forgot to let him off, so I was stuck there for an hour wondering where the heck he was). I should do dishes. I should do laundry. I should at least make up my bed.

Have I done it? No.

Why haven't I done it? I just don't care. That pretty much describes how I've been feeling for the past couple of weeks: I don't care. I am completely apathetic about everything. And then other people talk to me. And I don't care enough about my own problems, let alone theirs.

Disclaimer: This post isn't directed towards or talking about anyone in particular. It's just a general statement about everyone. Don't get offended.

The only emotion I feel strong enough is something akin to anger. But only when I'm listening to songs that help me feel that. Which really, could be anything.

Really, my life could be summed up in Empty, by Ray LaMontagne. Which just so happens to be the first song that plays on my playlist (for now).

The mellowness, the last verse, the general vibe of the song. Yup. That's me right now. Maybe it'll change when I go to college and get a life.

Until then....yeah, I've got no advice. Enjoy your life. What's left of it.

--Soren, out.

Airplanes

Packing, packing, packing. That's what I'm doing. In my head, at least. I still have a week and a half before I leave. I can't wait! But at the same time, I'm insanely nervous! Why, you ask?

I've never flown in a plane before.

It's true! Whenever I went somewhere, it was always with my family, and we always drove (can you imagine the money it would take for a family of nine to fly anywhere?) and so I never had a reason to fly in a plane. So now I get to ride in a plane for the first time in my life all alone.

In all honesty, the plane ride doesn't scare me so much. I'll probably just sleep through it. It's the layover that gets me. Lots of people running around, and that nagging that I always get when I'm doing something new that I am doing it wrong, or I've got the wrong gate, or I've missed the next plane, and then comes the panic, and then comes the hyperventilation, and then the frantic phone calls to my mother.

I'm trying to avoid all that.

Bag of peppermints for calming my freaking-out-sense down? Check.
A good book to read while waiting for the next plane/bus/whatever? Check.
iPod movies to watch while I fly? Check.
Tablet to play on while waiting again in the airport? Check.
Confidence to be able to do it on my own? Loading....

--Soren, out.

You Can't Keep a Good Dog Down

We have a dog.

Just for clarification, I hate dogs. I can't stand them. Especially small dogs. All they do is smell, and they pant all the time and it's really loud and it sounds like they're hyperventilating, and they go poop in the yard, and they're not very cuddly, not like a cat. They don't purr, they don't figure things out like a cat does (which can be both a blessing and a curse), and they're just...ich. Give me an independent cat over a dependent, slobbery, smelly dog any day.

We now have a little Shih Tzu named Remy. He is a dog. I hate dogs.

This dog is starting to grow on me.

But I still hate dogs.

--Soren, out.