Applications

Upon filling out applications for college I thought about the varieties of applications that exist in our world. We have those that are crucial and those which may be considered unofficial.

I suppose that college applications fall under the category of those which are crucial. In college applications not only do you need to accurately and properly fill out information, but you need to effectively represent yourself and set yourself apart from the masses. I wrote my college essay while pulling an all nighter. I was on my 4th cup of coffee, and it was around 4AM. I write my best when I am under pressure and need to make a lasting impression. On Monday, I will hand in all of the necessary forms, as well as my essay to be sent to colleges. I wrote down my information confidently, and I will hand it in the same way.

Second would be the job application. When I applied to GAP Outlet, I did it as if I knew I were the best candidate. Like the college application, this falls under the category of crucial. I felt similar when I wrote up my resume. I just had to make sure that I impressed myself. Who is going to take a chance on you if you don't take a chance on yourself.

And yet another form of an application that I've had experience are those which involve the government. In order to do anything in the court system, an application must be filled out. In order to get any kind of specific reissuing of a document, you need to have the correct application. This brings me to the importance of filling out the correct application. If you need to apply for something, take your time, writing down your information may be time consuming, and needs to be taken seriously. I take these kinds of applications very seriously. Although our government may seem like a joke, when it comes to dealing with you, the citizen, they do not have any time to fool around.

And lastly, we have the only form of an unofficial application which seems to have become extinct. Years ago, before MySpace died, there was such a thing as a "Boyfriend (or Girlfriend) Application." At the time, you would post a blog, that would be visible on your profile. The title would say "Boyfriend Application," or whatever based upon your sexual orientation. This would be something that you would compose. It would be a specific variety of Yes/No questions, and short answers, based upon what you were looking for. When it came to filling out these applications, it was done with care and time.

This application was one that seemed to be a conglomerate of the other three applications. The task was to represent yourself in the best light possible. The position would be becoming this megahottie's boyfriend or girlfriend. The documentation would be the little piece on your profile that said In A Relationship, and linking the person's picture in your heroes section, and saying how much you love them.

Paper work is exactly what it sounds like: your work, on paper. It's as simple as that. It doesn't take quick wit, and beauty to make yourself known in this sector of life. All it takes is a pen and a dream.

Eighteen

As you may or may not know, my birthday was November 23rd. Snooki's birthday happens to be the same day. Miley Cyrus' happens to be the same day and year.

This year is a milestone for me. I turned 18. While there are many amazing, life-changing things (or so people say), about this age, is seems like I could care less about them. Now I can drive after 9, I've been doing that since I started driving. I can buy my own cigarettes, finally, but I've been smoking for a year. I didn't buy lottery tickets, or porn, or go to a club (Outrage doesn't count since you just need to know the right people to get in there).

On my birthday I had a field trip to go New York City, to go to art museums. It was great, I love New York City.

I looked like a tranny, but let me tell you, there wasn't a single man who didn't check me out. I was the center of attention. I was the ring-leader to the fashion circus, that is New York City.

I spent most of the day with Elizabeth and her brother, Victor. This was slightly unexpected since Marilyn was on the trip, but she had other friends on the trip, and she knows how hard I've been crushing on Victor for the past few years. Elizabeth has an appreciation for fashion like me, she wore 5" heels to New York, even though she knew we'd be doing lots of walking. I appreciate that, since I looked hot as shit.

We had a lovely time, we bonded like never before. I'm glad to see that I have someone at my own school, who has an appreciation for similar things--and lives by it. She's like the Regina George of my school. And although I may be male, I'm like the Cady Heron. The difference in this story is that we work together to be powerful, instead of feeding off of each other's power in order to get ahead.

Her brother makes me speechless. In terms of me being Cady, he is my Aaron Samuels. I obsess over every little conversation, every little notion, every little glance, every haircut. When he smiles, I melt. When he talks to me, I get tongue tied, and insult him like a 6-year-old girl. There is one small detail though. He isn't officially out. Everyone questions his sexuality, all of his friends are girls, and his best friend agrees that he flirts with me, frequently, and hard.

In all honesty, I feel like Elizabeth and him have spoken about me, and she know. He flirts the same in front of her. She lets it happen. She even seems to encourage it, when I make jokes at him about liking me, which never fails in making him red, and flustered. I had just hoped he would tell me he liked me, since it was my birthday.

I'm a sucker for that corny shit.

In the end, it was a great day, Aneta got me a brand new Timex, which is exclusively sold at J. Crew. It's valued at $150. She remembered how much I wanted it, and I haven't thought about it in ages! She did good, I couldn't have had asked for a better gift.

Although Burlesque didn't come out at midnight, it was great since I finally got my phone replaced.

My teenage years are approaching their end. Let's see what else this age has to offer. Unfortunately, I don't think it's companionship.

No Phone; No Life

Coming from your typical, media-obsessed, texting-addicted, teenager, it should come to no surprise that losing my phone has broken my life, and has made my life almost impossible to live.

I had the day off, this passed Friday. I decided I would take a trip to Amsterdam, to go see Ronnie. We had went to Outrage, and before going inside I had switched jackets. I had thought nothing of this until we had gotten inside and I realized I didn't have my phone on me. Once again, I thought nothing of if and figured it was in my car, and I carelessly left it there. Leaving Outrage, and getting in the car, we had searched like crazy, for my phone. Neither him nor I found my phone.

On a quick side note, I did not go see Ronnie, because we wanted to get back together. We hung out because we were both wicked horny, and wanted someone to grind on and make-out with. His kissing hasn't improved...

ANYWAY!

When I had gotten home, I tried to tray calm and collected about losing my phone, so Aneta and King Arthur wouldn't tease me about my reaction (although, I'm sure they're find something else to tease me about).

The next day, Charles' birthday (which he decided to get a hideous tattoo for), Charles informed me that Aneta was furious about the fact that I went to Outrage, then drove home. Um, hello?! I didn't drive until like 4 hours after. Allegedly, "it was obvious, that I wasn't able to drive." Are you kidding me really? But this pussy ass bitch didn't wanna mention it in front of Kind Arthur, so I brought it up for her.

They were both against me, and I didn't even hide that I went too Outrage. They both told me how unsafe it was, and asked me to promise to never do it again (even though I never did it in the first place).

Aneta always complains that everyone thinks she's dumb, and uninformed... but the thing is, she is. She opens her fat mouth before thinking, and just goes off of her gut, which completely lacks proof, logic, and common sense.

The past three days I have felt lost. I haven't really been sure what to do with myself, and I think I might actually study or something completely lame along those lines.

Aneta just said dinner is ready, she made one of my favorites because she knows I'm the Queen of grudges. She now knows that I'm a winner, and she knows that I can't be beat. She realized she was wrong, and since she won't admit it, it appears that she's kissing my ass after I got in trouble with her.

I'm just thankful that I lack a gut to go by.

Public Speaking

In my Public Speaking class, we generally give a speech every week or two. The first topic we wrote about have to either be a personal experience or pet peeve. Of course I chose pet peeve, since most people chose to write about a personal experience.

In this speech, I wrote about some fashion faux pas which perturbed me. I wrote about three particular items, for a good reason.

The first of the three included overalls, I do not like how they provide no shape, and make one look like a sack. The second would be over destroyed denim, I don't like how sloppy and unintentional they look. Buying and making distressed denim are very different. The third would be crocs, and I'm not even explaining this one since they're clearly disgusting.

In the end I told about how I had met a woman at GAP, and she was in all three of these items. I judged her and didn't even want to talk to her, I continued with saying that she turned out to be very sweet. In the end I wrapped up with the fact that, I shouldn't judge what people wear.

The next day I was informed by Elizabeth, that everyone was offended my my speech, despite all the laughter in the room. They're a bunch of country bumkins anyways. They know nothing about fashion, and wear the same outfits every week. They're so unoriginal, and boring. Needless to say, when I spoke with my teacher about this, and she agreed with all of those assholes.

The next speech had to be a speech to entrain. I was really nervous since I knew I would be judged before even opening my mouth. I wrote about Senioritis, which I knew we all could relate to... tons of laughter, and great smiles. I succeeded, I got a much better response than before, but a similar grade of an 88, like the last one.

Thirdly, we had a demonstration speech. I skipped out on this one since I had Senioritis. haha, This speech, fucking sucked.

And tomorrow I have to give my fourth speech, A Book Report. I have no idea how a book report could be a speech, but I'm gonna do it. I looked up a book on SparkNotes, The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison. My speech is done, and I didn't even read the book. But she said she wanted the book in class, so I had to waste $15 on this PAPERBACK book. wtf.

I don't read, but I may end up reading this to get my money's worth. It's about a beauty struggle essentially, so it totally fits me, perhaps I'll enjoy it.

The other day I really wanted to possess blue eyes, since I feel like I could be prettier with them... and that's exactly how Precola, the main character feels.

Turns out, that a class I've spent all year hating, finally has something good coming out of it.

Prince & Trick

Last weekend, was similar to most. But just two small things made it a little more than average.

A week ago, today, I had gone to GAP to pick up my check, and headed straight to the bank after. My bank is open until 8PM, so I had all the time in the world before I had to be there. Around 7:30, then I arrived, the parking lot was packed. This was mostly due to the fact that there is a grocery store next door.

As I got out of my car, which was parked in the third-to-last spot, I strutted myself down the deserted parking lot. I was wearing a silver and black sequin vest, my hair and makeup were picture perfect. Usually, this goes unnoticed.

As I was halfway through the parking lot, I saw a beautiful man, in skinny jeans, combat boots, and a black peacoat walk out of the bank. He had a perfectly buzzed head, and was around the same height as me. As I got closer to him, I noticed he gave me the up-down. I would catch his eye, and turn as if I didn't notice (bashfully). As he walked past me, he turned his head and looked at me and in a sexy, whisper-type voice said, "damnnn!" I smirked, and shook my ass just a tad more.

As I was about to enter the bank, I hear him whistle, and holler, "SEXY!" I looked back at him, Trick, and he was standing in the parking lot as if he wanted me to go back. I just winked, and went into the back. Mostly everyone says I should have gotten his number.

Was it wrong of me not to get picked up in a parking lot, at night, by an older man?

On Sunday, I had a lovely 7 hour shift at GAP. As usual I went on my break, got some subway, and ate alone. It was nothing out of the ordinary. I finished eating, and decided to go have a cigarette outside of the food court and break tradition. As I walked past, some tables, I hear a girl say "Heyy!" She was blond, tan, and had pink streaks in her hair. The boy she was sitting with was all flustered, it was clear she was his hag.

The followed me outside, "unintentionally," they claim. Prince and Princess had introduced themselves to me over a cigarette. Prince wasn't a smoker. Prince was a senior at a nearby school, so he seemed ideal. After he left, I was talking with Princess.

She continued to ask me if I thought Prince was cute, and so on. She made it seem like she was asking for him, so I just went all out, and said was I felt. I was completely honest, which is crazy because I'm kind of a compulsive liar.

They added me on Facebook, and he had a status up that was posted an hour after meeting me: "so, I really like you and think you're amazingly cute ha :)" Princess had posted on this ans said "i know who this is about" Being flirtatious me, I posted a status saying, "It would be vain of me to think that your status was about me, but I hope it is :3" I'm really vain... go figure.

He messaged me that afternoon, after school. He asked if my status was about him, and I was like, well do you think it's about you. He modestly said he didn't know. I told him yes. THEN he proceeded to tell me that he's seeing someone, and he didn't mean to send the wrong signal, and that his status had nothing to do with me. Um, okay, hoe. You were drooling all over me, you had to have your hag talk to me for you. Check yourself before you wreck yourself, bitch!

I'm not going to reflect on this in sum, because all I wanted was to feel wanted (by hotties), and that has happened despite me turning them down, and vice versa.

Be careful what you wish for. ;)

Lock Me Up

Again being nice has gotten me nowhere, fast.

Today Charles had to drive me to school, because I let Madame Dupont borrow my car to go to the doctor. As always we were a little late to school, despite the fact that he know how much I hate to be late to school.

Anyways, he was also supposed to bring me home from school, because he needed me to take him to get his oil changed, and bring him to his boyfriend's after school. So I was going to do just that. I guess he just went to get his oil changed after school, and never came and go me, or let me know what was going on. Everyone got to see me wait in the rain as if I were some noob who doesn't have his own car, when in fact, I pay for my car entirely myself.

Madame Dupont picked me up from school since Charles is the most unreliable, asshole of a human being that has ever set food on this Earth.

I did something nice, I let Madame take the car, willingly too. I wasn't even mad that she needed it. But Charles had to rain on my parade.

I was so nice. SO FUCKING NICE.

I'm sick of being nice and getting nothing in return. I know I've done a lot of fucked up shit in the past, but for real? I've done plenty to make up for it, and gotten it handed back to me and then some. My horoscopes have also been very uplifting and delightful lately.

Whatever, whenever I get in a little argument with someone lately, I have to be the one to back down, which is completely out of character for me.

I want to dish it out so bad, like a big steaming pile of BITCH on a silver platter.

Saying things that don't exist.

Easy A

Yesterday, I went to the movies and saw Easy A, it was $10.75, and more.

Lately I've been doing a lot of thinking about the word SLUT. Yes, a word defined as a woman with morals of a man (1).

I've always wanted to be some kind of whore, tramp, hussy, trollop, or slut. I've always wanted to be that wanted. I've always wanted to be so obviously wanted, just by my aesthetic and reputation. Unfortunately, I feel no need to stray away from who I am or my look. It's not in the cards for me, unlike most gay men.

I've always been allowed to express myself. I can look on an old polaroid from pre-school. I can see the day exactly. We had a discussion about bunnies, and we all went around and said something about them. I said, "Bunnies like to hop." I can only imagine how bad my lisp was before I hit puberty.

The teacher (who was ironically a whore herself, proven by the fact that when I was in 4th grade, she was fired for sleeping with the new, married, Principal) posted these quotes with polaroid pictures of us all standing on a step-stool. In the photo I'm grinning huge. I have my hands folded on one knee, which was raised. I was wearing a white undershirt, that fit a little too snug, as a regular shirt. I had on baby blue shorts that went half-way down the thigh, and knee-high socks with a purple and green stripe on the top, and Barney on the side.

Looking back, I think: I've always been gay.

I've always been obsessed with fashion, and I was always encouraged to be if I so wanted. I loved 3LW and Kelly Clarkson. I would practice singing. All of my friends in the neighborhood were girls. I played with Bratz dolls. C'MON.

Everyone always knew I was, I just didn't give official confirmation until I was in 6th grade, when I was introduced to public school and learned about sex. I told my friends I was sexually interested in men. It was like history. I think the only reason gay men go through a "slut-stage" is because they need to suppress their sexual desires for the least bit of time. Seeing as how I never had to do that, I've completely avoided this stereotype.

As bad as I want to be a whore, I'm glad that I come off as a stuck-up, cold-hearted, disinterested bitch, and completely unapproachable.

I'm a five-star fag, would you expect anything less?