nananananananananan...BATMAN!!!

I need one more post on my blog to be done with it. I don't know if I'll continue to post after this year is over. I like having a blog, just so I can follow all these funny blogs and nail blogs and whatnot. It doesn't seem like I have that many readers, but oh well.
So I watched Batman Begins earlier. It's definitely a good movie...but goshdangit, Rachel's character is sooo bad. It's not that what's-her-face is a bad actress, it's just that the part is really weak. And didn't they get a new actress for the second movie? And then kill her off? Yeah...but Liam Neeson is such a boss. All those fight scenes where he just opens can after can of whoop...er, he beats Christian Bale soundly. It's kind of awesome. And then Alfred! Squeeee! I don't know what it is about Michael Caine, but he's just so awesome with that accent and everything and I just love him. And then Morgan Freeman, of course. How can you not like Morgan Freeman? I have a feeling that if Morgan Freeman narrated my life, it would be infinity times better.
Moving on once again, I was lurking on Youtube the other night when I was procrastinating writing my Sociology paper (which is done now, thank the heavens) and I was trying to listen to a music video when one of those obnoxious ads came on. You know, the kind where it's usually an overly-chipper mom cleaning something with waaaay too much excitement and energy? Because she's got THIS SUPER DUPER CLEANING PRODUCT THAT IS SO GOOD IT WILL MAKE YOU FALL IN LOVE. WITH THE MOON. Ahem. Anyway, this one was different. It was this trio of Italian dudes singing in these OMGAMAZING voices. They're called Il Volo and they are so good. I mean, normally I don't listen to that kind of music, but go look them up. Right now. (It doesn't hurt that they're all really attractive, too. (I like the one with glasses best.) Their voices are simply amazing, and guess what? They're my age! 16 and 17! I think it's so cool. And I feel impressed with myself because I found out about them before (if only by hours) everyone else did on American Idol, which I snobbishly refuse to watch. But anyway...
Crap. Now it's almost midnight and I haven't done my algebra, which I can't do because I was gone when this was assigned and my teacher just gave me the worksheet and she didn't give me the numbers on the worksheet, and furthermore I can't get the notes on how to actually do the cursed equations.
And now it is midnight and I am giving up. Hello, algebra failura.

Frustration and an unprovoked whining session, and also PROM

My computer frustrates me. I seriously just sat here for 10 minutes waiting for it to unfreeze. Add that to another list of things that are not working in my life:

• Computer
• Clothes dryer. I discovered that this morning, when I went to get my clothes out and found that they smelled like something died in the dryer. Unfortunately, almost all of my clothes were in there.
• Air conditioner. It's gone wonky for some reason. The reason is probably that it's as old as I am, so it's either boiling in my house or freezing cold.
• My grades. They suck. Not as badly as they could, but I'm still struggling.
• My mental state. I don't know why, but I've been so down lately. Maybe it's the post-prom depression, because I spent forever thinking about it and planning for it and talking about it, and now it's over (and it wasn't much fun in the first place) but I don't think so. I'm disappointed with my life in its entirety at the moment. I have no social life, my face looks like a pizza, I hate my job, etc.
• Speaking of my face, my acne medicine is not working. Like I said, maybe it's all the stress I've dealt with lately, what with AP testing and prom and then continuing to worry about my lack of a social life. It probably doesn't help that I pick at them a lot, but I look like I've got a pound of raw beef for a face. Ok, not that extreme, but that's what it feels like. Especially when I wake up late/don't care about my appearance for the day and pull my hair back into an unflattering ponytail that shows off my forehead in all its zitty glory. 

 Anyway, now that I've had my complaining session, let's talk about prom.

Prom was Saturday, and it was...interesting.
EDIT: So I finally came back to this post. Prom was May 7, and it was fun,  I guess. See, I didn't have a date, but I went with a group of friends. And of course, that was fun when I wasn't worrying about how I looked in my strapless dress, which was a bad decision. Let's just say that next year I'll be wearing a dress with straps. Not that any serious wardrobe malfunctions happened, but they were lurking on the edge of possibility all night and that would have been awful. Anyway, we met up at one of the group member's church beforehand to take pictures, before taking the trek out into the boonies to the house of the senior girl in the group, who was giving a dinner before. Pictures were fun, but of course I looked terrible in all of them. Or I think I do, anyway. But then we got to Hannah's house and OMG she has a trampoline. So what did we all do? Jump on it. In our dresses. There are some interesting pictures of that on Facebook, I'll tell you that.  But dinner was great, and then we headed out to the dance. Once we got there, they hadn't started letting people in yet, so we stood outside and squealed over how pretty everyone looked, and I envied every girl who had a date to stand with, but not as much as I did when they played slow songs and I had to slink out onto the balcony, feeling very "Forever Alone". In the beginning, I didn't want to dance because I was feeling self-conscious and stupid, and because my infinitely cool brother was dancing a group over with his infinitely cool friends, and I just felt like everyone was carefully watching who I was dancing with, how I was dancing, and all that stuff that nobody actually notices or cares about. But I got over that, and about halfway through, when I came to terms with the fact that Darren Criss was not in fact going to come bursting through the doors, singing his heart out, and simultaneously sweep me off my feet and propose marriage, I started to have a good time. I was dancing, I was laughing, I was having fun. It was all good towards the end, when they played decent music that everyone could dance to.
My comments on the dancing style at prom? Let's see...I think this sums it up: The "Let's See How Close We Can Get Our Naughty Bits Without Actually Having Intercourse!" was highly popular, as was the "Let's Slam Our Hips Together and Generally Make Fools Of Ourselves!". But oh well, such is the norm with teenagers today.
But all in all, it was fun and I want to go next year. Maybe. (With a dress with straps. I'm thinking a tea-length retro number, with the same shoes I want to wear to graduation (my graduation, that is)):

Loverly peacock pumps from www.shopplasticland.com

Finals OMG

What? Finals are two weeks away? When did that happen?! I'm not ready to be a senior! My grades aren't good enough! OH NOOOO
All this panic has been brought about by the finalization of the finals schedule by our darling administration. I've been through 5 rounds of finals, and every single time they change the schedule. Seriously. It's irritating, and it results in me not drawing up a chart for myself about which classes I'm exempting from, when I'll be at school and my grades, etc. until the minute before exams start.But now I've got it done (I think) but all my grades and such are dependent on how many more grades my teachers take before final exemptions are due. Like, in some classes, I'm on the border of an A and if we take a few more grades that I do well on, I could bump it up to the A and get out of the final. But I doubt that'll happen, so I'll take like, 3 of my 8 finals. Boooo.

I'm the world's Most Awkward Person--and I have proof! Also, I want to be a cowgirl.

If I were a superhero, my power would the be ability to make anyone, anywhere, feel awkward about anything. I mean, I'm incredibly good at it. With just a few choice words flung from my lips, I can make a situation turn frosty, full of sideways didshereallyjustsaythat glances and false laughing at my incredible wit. I'll think something in response to someone's question or comment, and I'll blurt it out, often without giving it time to solidify into actual proper English. Instead, it emerges at speeds of up to over 90000 mph as mangled gibberish it'd take a speech pathologist twenty minutes to figure it out. Then, to make things worse, I'll try to explain what I meant. This usually goes one of two ways: either they somehow understood what I said, and my attempted explanation is met with more blank stares, or I end up totally ruining the whole situation by confusing everyone more. Then I usually quiet down, and feel ashamed of myself for thinking I could engage in witty banter with these demigods normal human beings, who seems to have no problem at all making themselves understood, and usually getting roaring laughter in response to their observations. Of course, I'm not talking about everyone. Some people just aren't as funny as others. But these verbal slip-ups seem to occur when I'm most self-conscious about what I'm saying, because I want them to think I'm funny and therefore attractive. Not attractive in the "let's find a dark corner to make out in" but "Hey, you're a cool person and I like you" way.

Anyway...now that I'm done whining contemplating my existence, I'll tell you darlings what brought about this bout of angst. I was in the gym today during 4th period instead of sociology, because we juniors got a reward "day" (even though it was 1 1/2 hours) for doing well on the state tests last week. A large group of kids who I'm kind-of friends with most of the people in (wow, that was confusing. Ok, to clarify, there was a large group of kids. I'm kind-of friends with most of them and good friends with one or two. moving on) were playing 4-square. Now, I'm not very athletic (obviously), but I love 4-square. When I'm not playing with uber-competitive track team/volleyball/cross country/swim team stars who unmercifully slay me with their mad skills on the court, that is. My love for the game came about the summer after 7th grade, when I first went to TIP. During breaks, my class would venture outside. Heather, our TA, came up with the idea of playing 4-square on the brick paths instead of languishing in the hot North Carolina sun, or risking injury by crossing the paths of Ultimate Frisbee players to get to the denser shade. Anyway, flashback over. I had awkwardly (!) joined the group of people, since nobody specifically said "Hey Katherine! Get your awkward butt over here and play some 4-square!" I just kind of sidled on over because I had abandoned my previous group because I didn't want to listen to them debate the pros and cons of the stoner kid who sits next to me in class, because a member of said group laaaaiked him. At least, that was my impression. Anyway, so we go a few rounds of the game, I get out without touching the ball, and a kid who will remain unnamed came up to me and talked to me, asking about my grades. When I answered him (saying that they were abysmal, 'cause they are) I used the same swearword he'd apparently used the sentence before, and he said I wasn't allowed to use his own swears against him! So I said something stupid and used the previously described word-vomit all over this kid and the conversation just died after that. So here I am, sitting and thinking about it 7 hours later. 

When I do this (and it's often, believe me) I just console myself with thinking about how in 10 years, I could be living by myself on a ranch in either Montana, Utah, Wyoming, or Arizona. Somewhere out West where there's not a lot of people. And I mean by myself: no bratty kids, no obnoxious husband, no irritating neighbors. Maybe with a couple of dogs and horses. And sheep. And goats. And chickens. I like farm animals, can you tell? I guess living in semi-rural Kentucky has finally brainwashed me, and lately I've had the urge to don cowboy boots and unflattering  flannel shirts. I think it would be cool to be an earthy lady--not like crazy environmentalist, but don't-have-to-go-to-the-grocery-store-for-everything lady. You know? I could illustrate as my main gig and just send my prints to my editor or whoever in their office in the city, and enjoy a peaceful life out West with my animals.