Queen

Google informed me today that it is Freddie Mercury's 65th birthday.

I've always found that strange, to be honest. Not Freddie Mercury (although he was a bit of an oddball) but how Google will put stuff like "Van Gogh's 300th Birthday" or whatever. I mean, they're dead. They're not celebrating the date of their birth any longer. It would have been their birthday. This would have been Freddie's birthday, but it's not. So why do people keep saying happy birthday?

I'm not saying I don't want him to be remembered. The opposite, actually. I think he is amazing. He is one of my greatest inspirations for pianist/singers. I love Queen, I love their music, and I love watching their performances because he's such a good performer.

I think it's so sad he died at 45. I know he was gay. I know he contracted AIDS. I know he wasn't a saint, how a lot of people make out dead people to be. (i.e. John Lennon was an amazing musician but he did a shit ton of drugs. That's not incredibly saintlike.) I still don't think anyone deserves to die like that. I just read a very long account of his death on the internet, written by his last boyfriend or something. It could have all been total bullshit, maybe it wasn't. But it was still sad.

(I had a thought. My other greatest inspiration for pianist/singers is Elton John. Can gay men just tickle the ivories better than anybody else? Or should I be concerned with my love for gay guys? Interesting.)

Anyways, Happy Birthday Freddie. You would have been sixty five today. I don't know what you'd be doing, if you would have reunion tours like some bands, or write new music, or release a solo album or something. Maybe your voice would slowly deteriorate, so you can't even sing the songs you used to.

I wonder if it's better for an artist's fame to die young, before the world can see you wither away like a human and watch as your body breaks down and your voice shrinks. They seem to be remembered better that way.

Starting Fresh

Yaaaaaaaaaaaay, I'm a teenager. Like, OFFICIALLY.
As far as gifts go, they were great. $25 to my favorite bookstore, $25 to spend on iTunes, and fish. That sounds so weird when I say it but it's true. Next time I'm at the store, I'm gonna get a couple of exotic goldfish to keep me company and add to the zenness in my room. I went to the city to see a movie (17 Again--it was surprisingly good) with a few friends. Alex gave me a Jacob poster (which is gonna replace my Edward poster hands down), Kensey gave me a sweet new journal and a cool quill pen (I filled up mine; I've already written eight pages in the new one) and Aaleah gave me spending money. We got Happy Bunny socks. I also got new shorts, a tank top, and sunglasses. From my neighbor, who is our adopted Grandma, basically, I got a Jameez garment bag and a thingie from the bank that has $25 on it to spend anywhere but looks like a credit card. I'm gonna leave it in there as long as possible and feel cool. My cousin works at the Bodyshop and gave me a case of make up and showed me how to put it on professionally. My aunt bought me three books: "The Complete Idiot's Guide on How to Write A Novel," "How To Write Killer Historic Mysteries," and a book with bookplate stickers to label all my books. This is awesome, because a) I'm trying to write a novel and b) people always borrow my books. Sometimes they give them back. All in all, awesome.
And, oh yeah, some recent news. I dumped Dylan today after school.
Okay, that sounds so harsh, put like that, but it really wasn't dramatic. I just decided it was time. I'm not a player or anything, I don't dump boys on a regular basis. Besides, neither of us was really into it. We don't really "click". Some people claim the two of them fit together like puzzle pieces. Dylan and I are puzzle pieces, too: two different ones. Some spaces don't connect, and some grind around the edges. He hasn't talked to me in like, a week. My friend Kensey (I didn't ask her to do this, by the way) lectured him on not coming to watch me at dance recital last night (which went good) and he replied, "I don't care." Which somewhat ticked me off.
I'm glad I did, though. When I really think about it, I AM too young to date. I am a teenager, but still young. I'm not even in high school, for God's sake! I'm just gonna hold off till I'm about fifteen, or until some guy catches my eye. Because why should I accept less than the very best? There's gotta be my Edward Cullen out there somewhere.
I'm not saying all seventh grade relationships are bad. My aforementioned friend Kensey has a 'boyfriend' who absolutely adores her. They are so cute together. They honestly like each other and hang out innocently. I see no problem with that.
I know you guys probably don't care about my pathetic love life, but I just wanted to put that down. Now I'm livin' the single life! (Actually, it seems weird to say that. Like I'm a forty-year-old woman who just pulled out of her third divorce. Which I'm not. But that just makes me more glad I've ended it.)
At dance recital, I dance in a tap group called "Five Guys Named Moe." The song is, basically, about five guys named Moe. Big Moe, Lil' Moe, Four-Eyed Mo, No' Moe, and Eat Moe. I am Four-Eyed Moe. Guess what? For Recital, Four-Eyed Moe wore contacts and, yep: forgot her glasses. I ended up borrowing the sound guy's glasses at the last minute. I couldn't see, but at least I had those vital specs.
When I was doing papers, one of the people I deliver papers to came up to me and gave me five bucks. "Just because," She said.
"No, it's okay!" I protested. She shook her head and thrust the blue bill at me.
"Just because," She repeated. I took it.
"Thank you very much," I said gratefully. It was one of those little gestures that just kinda made my day, a random act of kindness that boosted my spirits.
Now, I want YOU guys, those entire two people who read this, to do what she did. Perform a random act of kindess on a complete/almost complete stranger. Compliment a classmate you don't normally talk to. Help an old person across the street. Tip your waiters. I don't know.
Speaking of old guys, while I was on my paper route, I saw an old guy on a motorcycle. It bugged me, the same way forty-year-old moms wearing LuluLemon bug me. The same way old geezers driving convertibles bug me. You ever feel like that?
So, anyways, I'm starting fresh. New clean room, new age, almost new fish, no more dance, softball just starting. I might even start doing my math homework.

A Little Catching Up

I've been absent for a while...as Jehsyka puts it, it may seem like I was "eaten by a moose." Which would suck. But, as it turns out, moose only nibble. So I'm alive!
Dance recital is next weekend, which I can't wait for. That means dance will be done! It's really weird. I can't believe it's wrapped up so quickly. And, after dance has completed, it's basically hard-core softball until July.
I live in a lil Saskatchewan town, which can be veryvery frustrating. For instance, over the Easter break, it was just warmer and warmer and warmer. We went to my cabin (which is somewhat more Northern, so it was colder/wetter, but oh well) for Easter, and when we came back it was like May warm!!! I was just pulling out my flip-flops when--nightmare of nightmares--it SNOWED again. Darmit, stupid snow!
It's not exactly frigid out today, but it's not Maywarm, either. It's sunny and windy, so I'm dealing.
So, as far as Easter break goes, it was awesome. I deeply enjoyed no school, and I got some writing done as well. I hung out at the local park (the kind with no toys; just grass and memorials and stuff) with some friends a few nights, had a sleepover with a friend, made fifty bucks babysitting yesterday and my whole family crashed at my aunt's house. With the exception of Dad. He had a poker night over here. When they have poker nights, they eat meat and beer. It's so mannish and disgusting. We asked Dad what they ate last night and he detailed, like, six different kinds of sausage. Call me nuts but I couldn't eat MEAT all night long. Ugh.
Oh, and I spent about six hours cleaning my room. No, it wasn't THAT messy! I dug through and organized and threw old stuff out. I'm a total pack rat. I don't think I've thrown anything out in my life. Into a bulging garbage bag I was shoving those cheap plastic beads from like four years ago, certificates of good behavior from second grade, etc. It was a total disaster. At one point, I spouted an awesome line: "I am drowning in the remnants of my life." It was true, but I figured it was a good line, so I wrote it down. My room is so fresh and organized and awesome now! The theme I've got going on in there is best suited to be PERFECTLY NEAT. Which doesn't often happen. But it's been three days and it's looking much the same, but I won't say anything else in case I jinx it. I might be getting new furniture, as my set is teeny and unable to store my almost-teenager clothes.
I'm turning thirteen on Wednesday, which I'm hyped about. I want some fish. That sounds so weird when I say it, but it's true. Just, like, two exotic-looking (I can't trust myself with keeping a true exotic fish alive) goldfish in a small fishtank in my room. It'll add to the lights and candles of zen in my room. I also want a few books, a new bag, and an iTunes card or something.
Lots of people my age want a cell phone, but to be perfectly honest, I don't. I mean, I know I wouldn't use it often. In theory, a "teenager" could have a phone, in my world, but 13 is still too young, I think. Also, none of my best friends have a phone. Who would I call? My mom? I want to get a phone at about age 15, maybe 14, or whenever my BFFs get phones. Otherwise there is no point to having one.
"The Choice" by Nicholas Sparks is the best book I've read in a long time. READ IT.
And that's all, folks. By da way, I'll try to post timbits of Miriam's Isle soon.