FINALLY, A WORTHWHILE PICTURE UP ON DISCIPLESNOW.COM...

It's Rey!

"I'M JUST A PERSON, AND I HAVE TO EXPRESS MYSELF IN THAT WAY..." SAYS NOTED ROLE MODEL, BRITNEY SPEARS.

And personally, I believe her...
I'm trying to figure out how exactly I feel this week...Not really awake, too wired to sleep, and much, much too sick to my stomach to eat...Which is a good thing...
Gene is in Mexico (Boo.), Derk is probably plotting my destruction at the hands of Jimmy Fallon (Moo.), and Mr. Plyler thinks I've read The Grapes Of Wrath (Woo.)...It's a rather amusing concept, when you get down to it...
I'm still blessed with a large gash in my thumb thanks to my insane efforts at cleaning up the Prop Storage room...
And Footloose is tomorrow...Which means that it's almost December...I'm a bit more than a month away from 17...Odd...And APeX is probably coming in January...Which could not make me happier...
How pathetic. I hope I'm not falling back into that cycle...I don't think I am, though. I'm not feeling too insanely teeny-bopper-ish, and that was a key sign last time...I'm just...revitalized by him and his presence...It feels good to know that he cares about me, and that he's as excited to see me as I am him...
Ugg. I have to stop writing this.

MY OWN LITTLE SCREENPLAY...WITH MEG RYAN AND TOM HANKS...AN UNLIKELY PAIRING, INDEED.

Take a peek at the comedic genius...

HIGH, HO. HIGH, HO. IT'S OFF TO LANG I GO...

I revised my essay, and sold my soul to Satan.
The day is off to a good start.

TROGDOR THE BURNINATOR HAS COME TO WIPE AWAY THE SEMINOLE TOWN CENTER...BUT NOT BEFORE NOON.

Stranded in a mall. Sounds like a typical girl's dream vacation. Not Kelley's. She was relatively upset upon finding that not only was her morning wasted until noon, but no good looking men happened to be setting up shop as she sat in a Lay-z-Boy, dazed and confused, wondering why she'd be condemned to a fate of loafing around in an empty, freezing mall at 11 AM on a Sunday.
And then, Kelley's-Not-So-Emo-Self kicked Emo-Kelley in the ass.
And it was a good day.
I'm actually relatively relieved. I have gravel for the microphones, I have-- really penetratingly green eyes, I'm just realizing...Sorry. Looking in the mirror while I'm typing probably isn't the best idea...What was I saying? Um, something about microphones, therefore leading to the troll, therefore obviously and inevitably leading to a Derk story...
Horrah!
So, I called up Mary while she was in the SMM NCYC meeting, and of course, before I hung up, I yelled, "And punch Fr. Derk for me..."
Ironically enough, Derk was sitting next to her. And he heard me.
He, then proceeding to grab my mother's cell phone, and murmuring "Hello" into the speaker, forced Kelley to lose all recognition of thought, except disgust and utter loathing, and hang up the phone.
And now, Kelley is "ex-communicated."
Ha, ha!
It's been a very nice Sunday, says the Not-So-Emo-Me.

"IT'S THE FIRE OF...WAIT...WHAT'S MY LINE AGAIN?"

I would have been joyful if !HERO had ended up being what I thought it was going to be...But it wasn't. It was by no means a "Rock Opera", but much more of a Audio Adrenaline concert with special guest stars Michael Tait, Rebecca St. James, and Kelley Smith, the sole person in the audience that was disgruntled over the fact that Tait most definately was a rock star, not an actor...
But I must say- If Jesus was that good looking, he would not have been single...
Sleep is so far beyond me, I fear that I will not find rest for at least another day...But that's alright. Tomorrow, I'm planning on having a little Drama III rehersal at the pad, just to go over the ensemble scene that Nick, Elis, Chaz, and myself have to block and- Oh, that's right- LEARN!
I shall sleep in tomorrow, then reherse, then waste my evening at "The Brantley"...It will be alright, I suppose...At least I'll have something entertaining to keep me distracted...No, not Elis, silly blog. I'm talking about the hand-held device that will beep and rumble at random times in the midst of the show...
That is what they mean by active participant, right?
I am currently "not" thinking about Gene (Which could very well mean I "am"...I don't know how those quotation marks negate effectively, so I just decided to put them everywhere!), and I think that's a good thing...I don't know what I'm thinking right now.
Oh, well...Time for Physics!

EXCUSE ME WHILE I BLIND YOU WITH MY RADIOACTIVE BLING-BLING...I MEAN, SHIRT.

The FOOTLOOSE shirts are simply out of control...They're so bright, they glow in the dark. Which for me, is an entirely necessary thing out of a shirt. But others seem to deem it a distraction, or possibly worse, a need to burn me to the ground with flammable chemicals...
In other news, I made it into the APeX chat last night...For two minutes...I said "Hi" to Gene at the exact moment my new computer decided to shut down due to the Breaker Virus that my father had yet to patch up...But at least I said hello...I really hope he saw it...
Mary took me to Thriftko last night, and we shopped the night away...I bought things, she paid for them, and in my opinion, that makes it an overly wonderful relationship...

I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT...

F. Murray Abraham is so much cooler than Tom Hulce...

Hold Me, I'm Scared!

Kelley, how are you not completely freaked out that someone wrote a play about us?! I am terrified! Although, it is kind of cool to be the "Black Widow" . . .
Now, where exactly did you find this play? Are you sure you didn't write it just to make me lose my mind, allowing you to watch and laugh? [Editor's Note: As much as I wish I had made it up, I have to honestly tell you that I Googled your name, and that was what ended up coming up...Eerie? I think so...] I'm going to tell myself you did so I won't wake up screaming tonight. And one more weird coincidence: December 16, the date the play was written, is my dad's birthday. Creepiness . . .

SOMEONE WROTE A PLAY ABOUT ELIS AND MYSELF...A LITTLE ODD? I THINK SO.

I'm scared to death...They made me a dumb waitress...And Elis is this "Black Widow"...It's rather amusing, and eerie at the same time...
But enough about that. The day has been alright. A little stressful, but relatively normal. Sane, if you will. I can't stop thinking about next week, nor can I stop thinking about Thursday...And Michael...Ahh...Sweet, sweet Michael...
I'm actually excited about !HERO now that The Drama III Horror Show is done and over with...It's time to kick back, relax, and learn my NCYC monolouge...
If Maureen even remembers I have one...

I'M A VAMPIRE AND THAT'S OKAY: I DRINK BLOOD AT NIGHT AND SLEEP ALL DAY.

More of a "Paula Poundstone" Vampire, if you must know...
I'm also in a better mood than otherwise expected. I'm content today, because I realize that I have very little work to accomplish, and very little energy to worry about that which I cannot accomplish...I'm doing good, honestly...
(A teensy bit lonely, but that varies not from The Regular Kelley.)
I'm ready to just goof around and enjoy the Halloween Holiday, etc...And laugh at people and their disgustingly rainbow fros...
It will be a good day.

I LOST MY CHANCE TO KILL ELIS, I STILL HAVEN'T WRITTEN MY PLAY, MY TOE IS SPRAINED, AND I'M IN LOVE WITH GENE...AGAIN.

Agh...I don't know one man that has ripped my heart out enough times to know how to put the pieces back together easelessly...I don't know how to count the number of aches I've accredited to him and his vagabond ways, and I don't know why I continue to weave in and out of my own little spell that I've crafted, convincing myself that it's all of his own doing and not that of my imagination...
And I missed him.
The Drama III show was canceled, and that would explain why my toe is sprained...At least, it does inadvertently. The rest of the story is whine and showy, and I have no time to explain, besides the fact that I'm glad it's done with and that we can move on as a class to grow and blah, blah, blah.
Deralic and I have a play that's due to Satan tomorrow, and I don't know how well it's going to go...We haven't worked hard, and it's going to show. He hasn't put any effort into it, which means that Kelley gets to write the entire thing over the course of the next day...Goodie!
I just don't know how I feel right now. I'm sick to my stomach, my toe aches, and I don't know if I'm willing to wait for two weeks to come and the chance to see Gene...
Because I missed him.

I SLEPT THROUGH "THE RUNDOWN", AND AS FAR AS I KNOW, I DIDN'T MISS ANYTHING...

It stars The Rock, people. How much could I have missed out on?
Ahh...So very exhausted I am, but ready to hang out with Mr. Plyler for two hours...And then with Backel for seven...Okay, maybe not with Backel, but P-Dawg won't kill me...
I think.
I'm so ready for NCYC. I want more than anything a chance to hang out with the amazing people that I've been missing for so long...And guys. I want guys, too. Hot guys. Guys that look like James. Or comparable. But I'm not picky.
I need to stop writing...No logical train of thought exists anymore...

WHO'S YOUR FAVORITE DEITY? KELLEY IS...

Ugg...Who gave me the idiotic notion of inviting someone like her onto my blog...A ridiculous waste of time, in my own, trustworthy opinion...As if she was my friend or something...
The thought makes me chuckle.
Now that's my kind of pumpkin...
I'm completely and entirely exausted, but I'm not really concerned with anything right now...It's not as if I don't care (even if I don't), but I don't have the energy to bother with the things that people are whining about right now...I have three shows to prepare for in the next two weeks, and I don't have the time or energy to waste dealing with the relentless crap of mindless drones, better known as my peers...
Except for Elis. She can drone to me...I don't mind...
Casey Woller? She can go die...That would be nice, actually...
"HAH!"
That's what she sounds like. A whiny rat. That whines. Whiny biznit.
Geez...Even I don't look that bad...
Elis- I'm sure this is Nathan AND Kenneth...
I'm off to plan my career at Seminole Community College...
Hoorah!

I Hate Bugs! I Say We Squish Them All!!!

Except if the bug is named Kelley! ;)

I'm glad to hear that you got to rest some this week, since you've lost so much sleep doing your AP American homework. [Editor's Note: Yeah, right.] Seriously though, I'm glad you got some rest, because this week has been really stressful with all the Homecoming festivities and no Elis to go to the game with you. Sorry! I at least hope the pumpkin patch was fun...

By the way, I'm honored to get to contribute to your prestigious blog! :)
[Editor's Note: You better believe you are. Kelley is God. Feel more than honored. Feel beatified.]

ELIS HAS A BLOG, AND I CAN BUG HER ABOUT IT...BUG.

Ahh...A good week since I've had the opportunity to sit and relax and extend my waist out much further with the help of Pizza Hut...What a nice feeling...
I've had a rough week, tedious few days, but I think I'll survive...It may take hours, or years, or a few milliseconds to catch up on my days of missed sleep, but I don't really care...I'll be fine.

jengerh: honestly, i wouldn't want to run into her in a back alley when she's drunk (or sober for that matter) and angry and bitter....
jengerh: *shudders* i pity you greatly
me: it would be amusing to see her slur, though...
jengerh: LOL! yes, that it would

And that, my friends, is all I need to survive this travesty we call life...
That, and a Master Carpenter.

READY FOR HOMECOMING GOODNESS? I DON'T THINK YOU ARE...

But I'll give it to you anyway...

Red. Purple. Orange. More colors than otherwise humanly possible, strewn about on an array of formalwear, sinisterly intent on wasting $60 of a student’s hard-earned (or borrowed) money. Now, let’s not forget the other expenses that pounded into our spirited minds over the last few chaotic weeks, such as food, tickets, and undeniably, transportation.
That, my friends, is my experience with a deity we all know and love, Homecoming.
Without trying, a simple evening intended to illuminate and make content our high school existences, can single-handedly wipe budgets clean and erupt into a mass of chaotic fury, all in a convenient little five-hour package. In “school dance mode”, stress is King, and the anger and frustration of getting prepared for what should be one of the more exciting aspects of a student’s career suddenly becomes the primary focus of the ever-impending evening. But the “tension” of the evening isn’t even what destroys my fun:
It’s the formalwear.
Never, ever will I claim to be fashionable, or even capable of wearing things (let alone clothing) that society would consider interesting on a human being. My fashion-conscious nature tends to lean on the “I-hope-you-only-paid-fifty-cents-for-that” genre. Nonetheless, I take pride in my lack of fashion sense. Not only does it define me as “One of THOSE kids”, but it allows my own sense of creativity to reign supreme. Now, ask me to pick out a gown- an actual dress normally intended to be worn by a member of the more-feminine species- and I’ll take the hours normally spent searching and sewing to laugh heartily in your face. Ha! A dress!
Inevitably, every dream must fall. Mine plummeted viciously to the cold earth one early morning last year, the moment I read the dress code for the Homecoming dance. It demanded that in order to enjoy myself in the company of the student body, in celebration of our Fall sports and general school giddiness, I would be forced to bear the brunt of the world’s little joke on myself: The Dress. I decided to hold my head high, stepping into the crossfire of retail stores intent on stealing my soul (but with that tasty, Gap flair!), and more importantly, my wallet. Weeks flew by. The days seemed to wash together in a glazed sense of the impending danger and my undeniable doom. But I’d yet to find a dress.
On the Tuesday before “the big HC”, I gave up all remaining hope. I forgot the questions screaming across the wide-screen-stadium-seating-theatre of my mind, and decided to fall into the pit of final decent: THE MALL. I wish I could convey the actual emotion in those draining three hours, provide a suitable image of the pain and disgust that followed as I realized that there are indeed human beings, still living and breathing, that can loosely (and the key word is “loosely”) fit into a size “0”. Although several things, better classified as “pretzels”, left me sidetracked, I did, eventually find a dress suitable enough to be worn outside the safety of my own closet, and for a convenient, one-time price of two Alexander Hamiltons.
Although I’m not completely sure, I believe that the dress has been worn a total of three times (including this year’s event), if, indeed, I decided to make myself present at any other formal events beyond that first experience. And perhaps, it’s time to retire my orange gown and begin a new trek, an exploration for another “perfect find” that will tide me over for a good two, maybe three years. But I don’t think so. After all, I’m all for sparing myself public humiliation and keeping my non-existent budget intact.
Lucky for me, Juniors don’t have to worry much about Prom attire.

I WISH I WAS A DRUNK CHICK, SO THAT I COULD GET "HAMMERED" TONIGHT...IF ONLY I KNEW WHAT "GETTING HAMMERED" MEANT...

Tonight is Halloween Horror Nights, a first in Kelley's book of unimaginable things...Excited, yes. Petrified, not totally, but working up to it...
Ohh, speaking of terror, here's a site that may be too much for the littlest eyes...
I'm actually pressed for time, not to any insane, desperate degree, but enough to signify that it's almost the end of Thursday, leaving me with very little "vacation" left...Saddness...The fact that I haven't been in contact with Elis makes me a little more weary, thinking that in all possibility, she may not even have the energy to get herself together and ready on Saturday to spend a day of Birthday Fun. Today is her 17th, but the dreaded St. Augustine tears us apart yet again...
God, it sounds like we're dating.
Eww...I could never be a lesbian...Too much work...Girls are whiny and annoying...
Duh! James Barbour! That's why I can't be a lesbian.

I don't know if I feel validated or consoled in writing anything down about Erin's death. Excuse me. Suicide. It feels unjust to rank her passing in the same category of those facing "natural causes", "illness", or dare I say it, "accidental impalement". Cruel? Yes, that was innately cruel. But it fits. Why waste my God-fearing energy on something as momentary as this? Why shed a tear? Why place her hatred of me on a pedestal to wave around shouting boldly, "Look at me, she hurt ME, not anyone else. They didn't know her! They didn't understand her! Look at me!"
But I can't do that. I never could. It's not a matter of her dying and my living, it's a matter of her dying and my death within that rage she embodied, a rage no one else seems to realize the existance of or give credit where credit is due.
That's all I can muster up at the moment. I'll let you know if I can pull anything else out...

NO WAYNE, ANNOYING TOURISTS, TALKING MICKEY, TWO TIMES THE JACK-NESS, AND THE "IN-" WORD I HAVE NO HOPE IN REMEMBERING...

This, readers, was the extent of my weekend.
Enjoyable it was to some degree, and although a little musty when it came to details, The Disney Experience was one I choose to repeat---Oh wait. I mean "not repeat." Fervently. Jen is the only one who can truly understand this, seeing as we're the only two (besides the willing tourists) who had to sit through the Vibrating Mickey lecture...It was not as entertaining as I had hoped...
But we did see Wayne Brady posters and parking spaces...
Beyond that, my weekend only consists of one true, constant thing- Jack Black. Not just Jack, but his amazingness and glory and magnitude among all who try to quash his greatness. He's magno.
*Just the thought of Ah-nold taking the seat of Govenor gives me hope for a brighter future and/or acting career...*
I have to finish baking cookies, murdering B-Camp for devious plots to ruin my friendship with Elis(e), and still find room to dream longingly about the man of my dreams...Derk...
Or not.