Rant

This here is a shout out to Sasha Fierce...you inspire on the daily. I totally stole your ranting idea for the blog post.


My mom keeps telling me to do my seminary makeup, but, sorry mom, I don't understand why I have to graduate seminary. I'm not going on a mission, and I'm DEFINITELY not going to BYU, so there's really no point. If you're secretly wondering why BYU is not in the option, I have one word: leggings. I would not be allowed to wear leggings as pants, and that'd be really hard for me. Yeah, throw tomatoes at me and call me slut because of my fashion tendencies, but if wearing leggings as pants is wrong, I don't want to be right. And it's not even like I have good legs or anything. My butt is too big and my thighs are too wide. In fact, I usually rip my leggings at the thigh seam because my thighs are equivalent to that of an elephant's. Yesterday someone told me I have small calves, then said "It's a compliment! Mine are huge!" Last time I checked, you wanted big calves because that meant you're muscular, so yeah, thanks for giving me another thing to be insecure about. I've never even thought about my calves before. But now I have small calves, a big butt, wide thighs, a dimple in my chin, too many zits, short hair, split ends, small eyes, stubby eyelashes, ugly feet, awkward toes, and interesting clothes. I hate when girls compliment me, just to put themselves down. Like, literally, shut up. That defeats the purpose of the entire compliment. Today, I went to a farewell, and a girl who so extremely gorgeous looked at me and said, "You actually get ready on Sundays? Sundays are my days to not get ready!" Yet, she was wearing makeup. She claimed it was "left-overs." Please honey, the only left-overs I know of is left-overs from Sunday dinner, and those are usually gone by Monday afternoon. Also, why is it bad that I got ready? It was a farewell, there were probably going to be pictures taken! Another girl at the farewell told me, "Wow. Look at you. This year is your prime." Uhh...thanks? This girl also constantly compliments me saying that this year I look good and this year I'm beautiful. PLEASE GIRL YOU HAVE KNOWN ME SINCE FIFTH GRADE. How come I wasn't pretty last year, or in seventh grade? WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO TELL ME. Because, believe me baby, I already know. You know, I was once told that I cannot be defined by my pant size...but what about my dress size?

I just want to erase this entire post,
Penelope Jude.

How To: Write A "Break-Up Even Though We Were Never Together and I'm Still Not Over You" Poem

First: Identify the person that you are breaking up with, even though they probably never even liked you back and you kinda just really liked them.
Example: Tony Smith. (I'm really sorry if you're name is actually Tony Smith, or if you like someone named Tony Smith. You should probably stop reading now, because the rest of this post will just be awkward.)

Second: Dramatically question everything. Ever.
Example: Did you ever even like me? When you said "Hi" to me, did you actually mean it? Do you remember when you said you liked my laugh?

Third: Bluntly put it all down on paper. Name and all.
Example: Tony, once I liked you and I know that you didn't even like me but I'm a dramatic teenage girl so hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii. lol.

Fourth: I dunno, get over it now, or something. It worked for me.

My Break-Up Even Though We Were Never Together and I'm Still Not Over You Poem:

Is it bad I got jealous?

(yes.)

Is it bad I don't like her?

(yes.)

Is it bad I knew we never had a chance...but I pretend we did?

Is it bad that I think of laying  my head on your chest?

Is it bad I still practice my signature with your last name?

I'm done with this whole "vague poetry" thing.

Tony Smith, I wish I wasn't so awkward around you!

Tony, I'm so sick of remembering "ninth grade"

...can we just enjoy senior year?

Tony...will you understand me for a second?

'Cause all I want to do is understand you.

Let's all take a moment to applaud me, because I saw him and his girlfriend holding hands last night, and was able to be genuinely happy for them. Also, I really like his girlfriend. And I had a conversation with him where I wasn't completely awkward and he actually laughed at my jokes, and it was great cause we're friends. Yesssssss.

Differnt-ish kinda.

Here's my ode to Prompt 11, which I never did cause I was mostly laying in bed.

And I probably won't do Prompt 12, cause I don't have a newspaper, or a sharpie.
I guess I'm kinda sorry about it.

I haven't posted.

You know those days you're so full of emotion, you can't actually show emotion?

Sometimes, for me, those days are weeks.

Or even months.

It's just one of those months.

I'm afraid it'll turn into one of those years.

Then, I'll just be "another one of those lives..."

"A waste of a human mind..."

Do you think I'll be one of those people who end up in a terrible marriage?

The kind where their kids write inspirational speeches about?

"My mom never said much,
and my dad wasn't home.
They argued a lot,
and in the end Dad won,
'cause Mom just wouldn't say anything."

Then it'd go on to say how they rose above it and how you have to push through trials and blah blah blah...

Do you think I'll even have kids?

What do you do when they ask you about sex?

Or for advice?

How often do you wash their sheets, and their hair, and their nails...?

I couldn't have boys.

I wouldn't let them play video games, cause I just don't like that.

Then they'd go over to their friend's houses and play Halo
and eat Totino's Pizza Rolls.

When they came home Mama would be eating a Caesar salad.

But, I couldn't have girls either.

Like, when do you get them their first bra?

Maybe I should just be one of those ladies who never marries.

I'll go for the "hard to get
mysterious and sexy" approach.

But, I'm not really any of those...

They need to make a new approach for me.

Don't Be Mad

I was just waiting for you to get home.

I needed you home.

I'm Thinking About All of You

(So, I wasn't going to write one of these because I "can't rhyme" it would have "sounded stupid" and I was "afraid of who I'm thinking about", but all yours are so freakin' good I really couldn't help it. Y'all inspire.)

I'm thinking about you
like Cruella thinks about fur,
     like frankincense thinks about myrrh,
          and like you think about her...

But I'm thinking about her like

Harry thinks about Draco.

like cats think about the lake-o

Because honestly, 

she's one big fake-o.

lol.

Sometimes I think about you
and I think of what we could have had
what we still can have.
     I think about you like cows think about grass,
          and I'm sure an ass thinks about grass
          and like Rhonda Bromley still thinks we're world class
          and like Twitter thinks about sass
          and maybe Catholics think about mass,
          but I don't actually know cause I'm Mormon and I don't think about my church, so...

awkward.

I think about you like some people are still wondering what meaning of ass I meant.

I really do think about you,

but not all the time,

cause boys like you are a dozen a dime.

And I know that's not how the saying goes,

but that's how you make me feel.

Different.

I wish I didn't think about you all the time.

I think about lying to myself about you too much.

Because I'm honestly still thinking about

     your touch

          your clutch

               and when we played double dutch...

               do your remember that?

               we were in seventh grade.

               your dad watched us.

                    i was bad.

I'm thinking about you like I think of my niece.

And I finally thought I found some peace,

but then I sat in class and my thoughts didn't seem to cease...

     is that what happens when you're worried?

I'm thinking about you...

like I think about you.

All the time.

Never.

In my head.

Out loud.

Through my words.

With my art.

But always,

always in my heart.

Minds. Brains. Eggheads.

I've thought all week about this topic. Mind. I've thought about it all week. It's been on my mind. *ba da chhhh* 

Today the rest of the week caught up with me. Everything hit me, and my emotions ranged from sympathetic to frustrated, angry to ecstatic. And as I tried to put it all on paper, have it flow through my fingers to the keys, this was all I could think of.

My blog consists of the feelings I don't show, the ones that I write. I promise I'm a somewhat happy person.

-Penelope Jude

Rhyming Poems

I miss you.
'Cause without you
my sky's less blue,
ain't nothing true,
and frankly,
I don't know what to do.
You told me that there's some good in rhyming poems,
that night we sat outside my home,
and I just rolled my eyes
and looked toward the sky...
and thought it can't be true.
Because nothing rhymes with orange
(except for door hinge)
and if I'm feeling orange
I have to find a way to say door hinge
even if I'm looking through a window.

I know this poem sucks
(something something bucks)
I really just want to say I miss you,
and that you impacted my life, too.
I thought I was your mentor
and I'm now realizing you're the real Dumbledore,
because even he had to make mistakes.
I never realized what we had
until everything went bad
and all I heard was your voicemail,
but I left a message anyway.

I thought I'd try a rhyming poem,
like I promised I would outside my home,
but I told you it would sound stupid,
do you believe me now?

Why am I still writing
when we're not even fighting?
You're never going to read this,
but I hope you know it's you I miss.