Halloween Tale

I just got back from the most… terrifying night of my life; or at least one of them…

We went to spend the day with the West family to go do a scary trail in ‘honor’ of Halloween. I was pumped in the beginning, because it’s been a while since we’ve done something like this. Now I know why.

We went to some woodsy trail on Look Out Mountain. The fear started when I found out I had NO service. NONE. ZIP. NADA! They could have killed us on the spot and nobody would have known or cared.

When we got out of the truck, Hunter West carried me around. Then he dropped me. I hurt my foot. Like, it’s still sore. We also saw a shooting star. Naturally, I made a wish… It somewhat came true, though; it wasn’t at all what I was expecting. *sigh*

Then some guy came up and he was pretty old. He looked really ragged and crazy. He was petting a pine cone. For real. He called it his pet and explained why he doesn’t take showers with it anymore. Eventually, some lady came and said: “Let’s go show Morgan you’re pine cone…”

He reluctantly gave it to her and a little girl came out. I hate to be discriminating in any way, and I don’t intend this to be, but she was a two-foot tall adult. She said that he is allowed out of the mental ward for a few hours every day. He said it was just the medicine he didn’t like and that he wanted his pine cone back.

At this point, I was getting pretty freaked out. When we finally went into the woods, I was choking Hunter (West). I was so terrified. I hid my face and some guy followed me and yelled.

“LOOK AT ME!”

“*sobs* Go away, please.”

“SHELLY!”

One of the scariest parts was that they knew my name. They knew everybody else’s, but it was MINE that they called the most often.

“Shelly… I have something for you!”

“Shelly! I’m going to kill you!”

“I’m going to get you, Shelly!”

Eventually, they broke out the chainsaws. I could feel the wind through my jacket. I hid my face again. Apparently I was the only one that was deathly scarred. I mean, through the WHOLE THING; BOTH Hunters were making childish replies. For example:

“Shelly! I’m going to get you!”

“Here, just take her.”

or

“HUNTER!”

“Hey.”

“I see you!”

“That’s nice.”

And it just went ON and ON.

The worst part for me was the end. They all crowded around the house. Our line broke and I thought they would pull of their masks and be all like: “Hey! You didn’t pee yourself!”

No. They attacked ME! I ran around EVERYBODY. Hunter (West) ran the other direction; Becky went toward the trees; Mom followed Becky; Hunter (brother) was nowhere to be found; and Paul was in front of me. I ran to Paul and used him as a shield. Apparently I almost tore his arm off.

They kept getting in my face and yelling. I slapped one of them and (accidentally) stepped on the foot of another. (The funny thing is that we were asked not to attack them in any form or fashion. I feel I had every right.)

When they wouldn’t stop, I ran to the truck and got in the driver’s seat. I slammed the door in the face of one of those demonic, fear-seeking, freaks and locked it. I couldn’t find the button and another climbed into the passenger seat. I yelled: “GET OUT!” Then something tapped my shoulder.

Yea. One climbed through the trunk. What did I think to do? Throw something.

There was NOTHING hard and heavy to throw, so I grabbed the closest thing to me. Paper. I chucked it at his face and he didn’t go anywhere. Just kept yelling at me. I then threw a glove. What good did that do? None.

I got out of the car and hid behind Paul again. He pointed out that I wasn’t running to my Mom. Know why? She would push me toward them. Eventually Paul did make them stop.

They (my group) won’t leave me alone about it. Paul scared the crap out of me when we got to their house by hiding behind my door. I kicked him and he limped to the front door of the house.

I was quite proud of myself…

So… Who wants to go with me next year?

I'm in that "mood" again...

Since we returned from Wal-Mart this morning, I've decided to clean the kitchen a little. Even though I rarely come downstairs over the weekend, it was a disaster. I'm currently waiting on the dishwasher to finish so I can return the spices to their rack...

While I move around the house doing random tasks, I started messing things up... Like, I busted a drawer trying to fix it. Then, I thought of THIS:
Yes, I walked through the flow chart to see if I was in any bit of trouble.

Did the drawer work?
No.
Did I mess with it?
I sure did.
I'm a fool.
Does anyone know?
Considering I was screaming at the darn thing, I'm sure at least ONE person knows...
I'm a poor fool.
Can I blame somebody else?
Eh... I can blame the past Shelly for being so careless as to when it came to the proper care of our lovely drawers.

On the up side, I fixed it. I sealed my victory with a yell of satisfaction and accomplishment. That drawer has been broken for the longest time. Now I sit here stupidly laughing at my amazing achievement.

I think the best part about cleaning involves the little things. For instance, later, when somebody tries to cook something or use the bathroom I can say smugly "Don't forget to clean up your mess, I worked hard in there!"

Truth is, I don't mind cleaning as long as I have my iPod handy. I listen to it on random and get lost in the lyrics as I run on autopilot. So, basically, my brain shuts down while I'm still productive.

This is really, depressingly sad. I mean, we had a long weekend... The most exciting thing was my dream about a demonic hat box out to kill me. Other than that I've been in my room reading, taking notes, and watching Lilly run around my room. And here I am, writing a blog about CLEANING...

My social life is very lugubrious.

Oasis

I've been listening to a lot from Oasis lately and I've discovered a few songs that have really jumped out at me and have be trapped on repeat on countless occasions.



I love this song for multiple reasons. I love it because it plainly states that you can be who you want to be. The world is your oyster and you can live life the way you choose to. Make your own choices and be unique. You're free.




This one kind of just keeps me thinking that I can't look back at my mistakes. I think it means that you can't dwell on the bad things that happened in the past, but you shouldn't be angry they happened. If anything, be happy. There's a benefit from it, I suppose.



This one is just comforting. In all honesty, this song has made me feel better on some of my worst days. It just proves the power music has over the human mind.

I'm Paranoid of the Paranormal

I've been pondering the paranormal a lot since I woke up about two hours ago. It just may be from all the sinus medication I've taken or I'm going crazy. I can't tell.

Upon arriving home at about 1, I immediately went to bed and slept until I was awoken by a blood curling scream coming from the television. I was angry about being brought back to conscientiousness in such a rude and terrifying manner. Of course, once I got over my grogginess, I was captured into the show.

It was about the most haunted places in America. They were, at the time, talking about children during the industrial revolution. They started working as early as the age of seven. I was drawn to the idea, that they, innocent souls, would want to stick around after death.

Yes, I do believe in the paranormal... I occasionally think there's a ghost in my house. Actually, last week, I was laying in bed and I saw a shadow of a man glide across the far wall of my room. It was about 3 in the morning. Let me be the first to say, yes. I'm losing hope in my own sanity.

Anyway, the haunted places got freakier and freakier. I had to turn on my light and, regardless how hot it was in my room, hide under the sheets. I couldn't turn off the TV, because I'm deathly afraid that something is waiting under my bed... And I lost the remote.

I know that since Halloween is drawing near, that more shows on the paranormal will be coming on; but am I the only one who thinks that there is a world in between? That you can actually get stuck in the middle?

Another tale was on a woman who spent the night out with her boyfriend. Resurrection Mary. She then got into an argument with him and left. On her way home, she was then killed by a hit and run driver. Mary is said to be seen walking up and down the road by Resurrection Cemetery. Maybe I'm the only one that finds the name ironic....

Also, let me throw in that I live near a alleged haunted area. Ever hear of Cry Baby Holler? Yea. I could walk there if the road wasn't grown over... I've heard countless stories about it. I even found it in a book. It was the FIRST story in a book on the most haunted places in Alabama.

I guess I'm just proving that I'm an idiot and have so little of a life that I have to waste my time thinking that there is something not there out to get me. Maybe I'm trapped in my own fear that every time a breeze of cool air brushes my arm that something else is there.

I wish I wasn't so disturbed over everything that I'd possibly imagine things to be afraid of...

If any of this made sense, you're probably going crazy too. Congratulations.

This is Strange.

Life is funny in an odd way.

Today, we were sitting in English, reading our sentences for Mrs. Monroe. I was completely zoned out and thinking about something else when I heard, "The streets in Boone are bustling during the winter."

Hearing the word "Boone" I turned around and blurted, "You know about Boone?!".

Jack, the fellow student who wrote that sentence, looked at me and said, "Yes, we have a house up there."

I sat dumbfounded. I've been going to Boone ever since I was a baby.

My great grandfather built a house up there and his son (my grandpa) recently purchased it for my grandma and himself.

On a side note, my great grandmother sold it. The house has always been in the family. Above, you should see the house. It's a large blue house by the golf course. I love how the rug is always vacuumed and that it's always quiet... And there's always a possible chance of getting mauled by a bear... Not that I've ever seen it happen.

Back on subject. I'm now afraid to go on vacation up there. What if I run into Jack at the Mast or even in Banner Elk?

That's where I go to get away from you people... Not that I don't love my friends or anything... But I'm sure you enjoy the break from me as well.

I just thought it was strange...

Also, I was there first. Let it be known.

I feel like a machine.

I've been home for approximately an hour. So far, this is the longest I've sat down since then.

I've cleaned the kitchen. This consists of wiping down counters, starting the dishwasher, sweeping, taking out the garbage, and watering the plants.

I've also started cleaning my room. Changed the sheets on my bed, started laundry, throw out my waste basket, ect.

I also took the opportunity to count how many pillows I sleep with at night...

10 and a half...

Wow.

Anyway. Occasionally, I fall into vehement cleaning moods. I clean until I can't clean anymore. Like the lady in the picture... Only I don't dress like a marshmallow.

Normally, I would be sitting on Facebook or Twitter socializing with the few people willing to talk to me. Instead, I'm cleaning.

I hate falling into this 'mode'.

I feel like a machine.

Miss Havisham

To those who took Honors English with me... Do you remember this woman?

I do... all too well... When I saved her image to my desktop, I was afraid my computer would crash.



I hated reading Great Expectations.

Hated. It.

Like, I wanted to claw my eyes out. Rarely do I say that about a book.



Anyway, I was going to use the image of her on fire... But I couldn't find it, sadly.

I remember we watched Miss Havisham's death three times...

I'm certain it was our English teacher's favorite part as well.


Though, I would have read the book again if I knew for a fact that Pip and that girl, who's name escapes me, died a painful death. One that would make me laugh more than Miss Havisham's.

That was harsh...

But I really hated that book...

I don't know why I thought of it...

Telephone? Telephone.

Normally, I love getting phone calls from people I WANT to talk to...

Unfortunately, everybody that call the house always wants to talk to my mom or brother.

Though, I get plenty of text messages, but it's nice to know that somebody wants to focus on one conversation with you. When you text, odds are that the person you're messaging is texing 5 other people.

Depressing, right?

This is why I hate answering the phone unless I know who it is and I'm willing to talk to them.

Sadly, I was forced to take a call...

Like I couldn't have made a bigger fool of myself.

"Hello?"

"Hi. Is this Hunter?"

Stop. You mistook me for my brother? Ow.

"Um. No. This is Shelly..."

*Awkward silence*

"Oh. I have the wrong number."

"Are you sure? I have a brother named Hunter..."

"No, I got the number completely wrong."

"OK."

Then I hung up.

Hunter then walked into the room and said, "WHY DID YOU DO THAT!?"

"He said he had the wrong number...", I responded.

"That was Hunter."

At this point, I'm was confused out of my mind!

Hunter was asking for Hunter.

Then it clicked.

Hunter had a friend named Hunter...

So I just hung up on one of his friends.

Oops.

Eventually, my brother called him back and they got everything worked out.

But I still feel like an idiot.

I wish people I wanted to talk to would call just to talk to me or even just say 'Hi'. It makes me feel special. Ha ha.

The Answer is P...

Today was our last day of Heath.

YES.

Come Monday, I will be taking Art with the band director.

Though, today was our final.

I failed it miserably.

Only ONE person passed with a perfect score.

It wasn't me!

Out of 49 questions, I had only gotten 15 correct...

Anyway, when he was passing out the answer sheet, I received it upside down.

I looked at it and looked up.

Then I looked at it again.

I turned to Juan and I said, "Since when do we have 'P' for an answer choice?"

I must have turned it over three times at LEAST until I figured out which side was up...

And I have the audacity to call myself an honor student...

Grammar and Football

Friday. This means football.

YES.

I had a blast tonight. I got an AMAZING two hours of sleep last night and I loaded up on caffeine, so I was bouncing off the walls... Though, now, I'm about to crash...

Apparently, our school has not been able to defeat Plainview since 1985. So, we were unbelievably pumped when we saw we were tied at half time.

Well, I'm not proud of my performance, but I'm confident about tomorrow.

After halftime, I pulled Jacob and Matt's hair up.

The saxophone section is now up to FIVE girls. Yes! Finally.

They were pretty... I wish I'd gotten a picture... I will tomorrow.

Whilst this was happening, we discussed commas.

We talked about how we would have to yell "LET'S GO COMMA PEE!"

Because, you see, if we were to yell "LET'S GO, PEE!" nobody would know if we were begging the director to go to the bathroom or cheering for the football player.

Because the comma is silent.

Like the "X" in my name.

ShelXly.

Another classic example is the "LET'S EAT, GRANDPA!" The comma is silent. SO, my conclusion is that commas should be expressed as an interjection.

Oh! Wow! COMMA!

It could work, though it would be weird to have an interjection in the middle of a sentence...

Anyway... When the game ended, we fled to Pizza Hut. There, we met a former SBM.

He was on the drum line and loved it. I thought he would know my English teacher considering she was in the band back in the day.

She's my favorite teacher.

We talked about how much the school had changed and all that.

I really need to start taking pictures...

CANANANADA!

I've been feeling rather... intelligent today. Seriously.

You know how you rub your hands together and it causes them to warm up? I'm talking about friction. Well, we know that particles and atoms are CONSTANTLY moving. Even in solid substances. But in a liquid, they have more flow to them.

SO. I started thinking.

There are many different kinds of particles in coffee. The sugar, creamer, ect. Well, if all those particles bounced off of each other FAST enough, don't you think friction would take it's course and cause the coffee to warm up?

I thought so...

So I grabbed what coffee I had left from this morning and I took it to lunch with me.

I shook it all the way down the hall.

Now, before you go off and start calling me crazy, I'm going to tell you a secret.

It worked.

I got to the lunch room and my coffee was warm-ish. Not hot like it is supposed to be, but it wasn't room temperature. It was WARM.

Amazing, right?

Well, somebody had the audacity to tell me that it was just because it was in a thermos.

I forgot about that part.

So I inspected my coffee...

It was cold....

I sat like an idiot shaking my coffee trying to make it warm up.

Didn't work...

BUT, in theory, it should. You just have to shake it fast enough, I suppose....



On another completely unrelated note... Did you know the lady that sings "My Heart Will Go On" is CANADIAN?

I didn't.... Somebody told me 3rd block... only his exact words were....

"Yea, she is from Canananana... Cananana... Canana..."

I looked at my friend and we busted laughing.

OK, now imagine a two-year-old... Do you know how they shake their head and wrinkle their nose when you try to give them vegetables?

Now... Do that whilst saying "Canananada!"

Great fun.

Our new "obsession" is...
"Squirrels have big fluffy tails that go WOOSH *insert funky hand gesture here* and they live in *shakes head like a two-year-old* CANANADA!"