THE FINAL COUNTDOWN: 4 DAYS LEFT

I KEEP GETTING HIT BY PANIC WAVES AND I DO NOT APPRECIATE IT

I walked around school with my camera today, and I recorded little pieces of footage that I’d like to remember. It seemed strange to a lot of the girls – after all, I was taking 20 second videos of once shiny black school shoes shuffling to class after a meeting that DID NOT NEED TO TAKE UP MY ENTIRE BREAK. Yes.

The video footage aside, I had conversations with some of the most radical ladies I have ever had the privilege of meeting and talking to. We talked, yelled, debated, and laughed about drunk adventures, whitewashing in our school, the plight of the black woman in the world that we live in, ridiculous hair regulations, and why some boys are So. Thirsty. It was brilliant, and despite the 32°C temperature (that’s 90°F?) we managed to disturb the peace and have a phenomenal time.

I got emotional and nostalgic. As expected.

It pained me to think that whether I like it or not, this week may well be the last time I get to have these conversations with these people. I think it’s a shared matric sentiment: the thought that the people who you’ve loved and lived with for more than a quarter of your life will soon go on and create new lives, often without you, is nerve wrecking. And sad. Mostly sad.

This week, if not this entire year, has made me cherish the people in my grade more than I have in a long time. The class of 2015, the ‘black badges’ – we’ve never been favourites. We’ve probably seen the most high school dropouts and caused the most trouble for all of our respective schools. 1997 (for the most part) must have been a crazy year. Just saying.

In any case, high school as a whole has provided me with a lot – bruises, failures and heartbreak, as well as conversations I’ll miss and points of view that I’ll treasure. I’m going to keep recording this week, and hopefully fewer and fewer people will shy from my lens.
Eugh. Lasts and goodbyes are hard to navigate. I’m going to pretend to study, like the rest of us.

Love and light,
shalom


featured image from http://projectgrad2015.vpweb.com/Announcements.html

THE FINAL COUNTDOWN: 5 DAYS TO GO

This is a brief lil’ post-a-day series for the next week or so regarding my last days at high school. That sounded way, way more intense than I initially intended.


So, I’m finishing high school in five days. Well, not really, but technically. See, I won’t be a student anymore -my valediction is on Thursday- but I’ll still have to come back to write my final exams for four weeks, I think. I’m not sure. All the shit is terrifying.

I keep thinking about how I’m going to deal once school is over. See, I hate school, but it’s also pretty much the only constant I have in my life. If I didn’t go school, I wouldn’t see my friends, eat, or exercise because lord knows, those stairs and my thighs have had an appointment. Also, I’m a little stressed out at the fact that nothing is concrete for me at present? Like, the majority of the students in my year have plans: Finish school. 2 month break. Get results. University. I’m kind of in between every single one of these phases, like: Finish School. Retake SAT. Find job. Work. Get results. Send results to McGill. Find out if accepted into McGill. ET CETERA.

To cut a long and particularly haphazard story short, I’m tired and terrified. I don’t know how I’m going to take this week, or why I’m not studying for finals, or what I’m going to be doing at school tomorrow. I don’t know.

Essentially, I’m just really tired, and I want cuddles and a high speed internet connection.

In a word: Ugh.

Love and light,
shalom

I’m angry and armed with a blog.

this post has too many memes

  • me @ myself:get it together…..

  • also me @ myself:ur literally going through a lot rn? cut yourself some slack?

  • also also me @ myself:…anyway….i hate my entire self


pepe

Greetings, loved ones.

That was terrible. I said that in a Snoop Dogg voice and I’m haunting myself and I NEED TO STOP.

Basically, this is a post about all the reasons I’m angry. You don’t know this, but for the last three weeks, I’ve been complaining and not making intelligible conversation because as of September 5th, I grunt and make guttural noises and hope to be understood. Yugh. Today is also my 2 year anniversary with scooton.wordpress.com! It’s weird that I’ve been writing incoherent ramblings on here for as long as some people have been alive, and probably stranger that you’ve been reading them. Anyway. Onto the post. Looking back on this post, this is a suitable time for a profanity warning. You’ve been warned.

  1. WHY AM I STILL AT SCHOOL?
  2. All the matrics (seniors, final year of high school, whatever it is for all you international followers) in my schooling district have FINISHED THEIR SYLLABUSES  and don’t have to come to school anymore but I WILL BE LEARNING UNTIL OCTOBER 16 WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY
  3. I swear IF I GET CATCALLED ONE MORE FUCKING TIME basbs
  4. Seriously. I got catcalled on the way to an extra lesson nine times today. NINE FUCKING TIMES and I hate it so much. Like????? Don’t whistle at me!!! Don’t call me “baby”!!! Don’t TOUCH me!!!
  5. Troye Sivan has not yet released the Blue Neighbourhood part 3 video and I don’t like it

  6. I fuckin’ hate electrostatics.
  7. EVERY GODDAMN PHYSICS EXAM I ALWAYS DO SO SHITTILY IN ELECTROSTATICS AND ELECTRIC CIRCUITS AND I HATE ITbad
  8. Things are so expensive omg
  9. Things that cost more than two dollars are not illegal EVEN THOUGH THEY SHOULD BE
  10. I have to do really well in my finals and I am high-key freaking out about them like ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
  11. COULD EVERYONE ASKING ME ABOUT MY FUTURE JUST CALM THE FUCK DOWN I PROMISE YOU WILL KNOW AS SOON AS I KNOW BUT FOR NOW GO THE HECK AWAY
  12. This also doesn’t make me mad but I’m gonna swear in ice-cream flavours from now on
  13. Who the rocky road decided that seven thirty was a good time for school to start?????
  14. I HATE BEING TOLD WHAT TO SO MUCH COOKIES AND CREAM I HATE IT SO MUCH
  15. I. Am still. ANGRY.

That’s all for today! Thanks for stopping by! Apologies for the assault on your eyes and potentially your soul that just occurred. I’m really tired. I’m going to study for chemistry. Or something.

love and light
shalom

On Faltering Hopes and Broken Promises

People with money who pay for all your things while you’re a minor. Can’t live with ’em, can’t live without them. Unfortunately.

Whether your parent(s), your siblings, or whoever your caretaker is, someone always seems to let you down. Some more than others. Some promise you a trip to the mall and don’t let you know that they’re broke so you cant actually get anything. Some cancel said trip without letting you know. Some encourage you to get scholarships for high school and university options, and then flat out refuse to send you. Some encourage you to work really really hard at school, and take external tests and apply for all the universities that you want to…and then refuse to answer you when you ask about fees. Et cetera. I am angry. Et cetera.

My father is an important man. He’s influential and intelligent. People think he’s a good father too. (False.) But him -he source of 89% of my anger, sadness and frustration- aside, I’ve been trying to figure out how this life thing is going to work if people who hold such weighty claims over my life keep not coming through. As in, they just continue to leave promises unfulfilled and  leave me unable to plan any further than two months into the future. As in, I’m finishing high school in 10 weeks or so, and I have no idea if what I want is possible, or even plausible because my future doesn’t merit that kind of discussion, “it’s not [my] problem”, and because I should expect magic to happen and for my life to fall into a place along with fifty thousand dollars. Obviously.

College is expensive. This is a fact. Uni in South Africa is great, and the standards are great, and it’s all wonderful and cheaper but it’s not what I’ve been working towards since 2012. I was told then that if I worked hard and did well in my SATs, I could go back to the US for college. I got keen. I got down to business to defeat the huns. (Sneaky Mulan ref.) I fell in love with cities (hello, Iowa City) and universities all over the world (Buckinghamshire New University, I see you). I threw myself at schools (Hi, Bethel College!) and settled on a place that was more academically sound and in a super diverse city (Montreal. Hi. Yes.). And then, like everything else I’ve ever been invested in, it got snatched away because someone changed his mind.

Not this time.

There’s a lot I can take, but playing around with my future to this extent is a no-no. Closer to a hell no, no way on heaven or earth or in hell or in a parallel universe, but it’s a no.

Same, Simon. It's a no from me, too.

Same, Simon. It’s a no from me, too.

So, student loans are happening. Jobs are happening. Savings are happening. Selling shit is happening. Because I’m getting out of here next year, and I’m going to Canada with someone I love, and I’m making this happen. Whether the money giver gives or not, it’s happening.

I’m ferociously bitter. Also, my mom told me not to put my feelings on the internet. (Sorry mom.)

Love and light
Shalom

On Being a Mediocre (but not really) High School Student & Person

<<prompted by Jessica Craven’s post here>>

I used to be clever.

Screw clever: I was brilliant. I started talking at 3 months of age, and I could read when I was two. I was sent to several educational psychologists because at the age of five, I was ready for grade two. I had an impeccable memory, I didn’t forget anything. When I was eight, my teachers would give me extra books to read and then would send me to the other teachers for more, because I would finish 30 page books in 10 minutes.

My point? “WAS”.

I think that people don’t realise how difficult it is to feel like you’ve gotten less intelligent. Granted, it’s believed that losing intelligence can’t actually happen, but it’s easy to feel that way. Using myself as an example for the tonnes of other students like me, let’s carefully look at where thing went wrong:

Everything was fine, kind of, until grade six: I was quiet, got into competitions, beat myself up when I wasn’t first, absolutely adored my title of “Smartest Girl In The School” and was constantly looking for ways to be better than my main competition: a boy named Slade. Granted, my unusual sadness scared me a little from grade five, but it was okay – I was still clever.

Grade seven came, and I started to feel the effects of depression. I felt lethargy at its worst, and felt the most lonely I ever had, up until then. I got my first detention. I tried to cut my hair (DIDN’T WORK). I tried to accept that I wasn’t pretty so there was no need for me to talk to anyone. Then I tried to talk to everyone. I tried to be friends with the pretty girls (DIDN’T WORK) and I tried to be friends with everyone (DIDN’T WORK). I tried so hard to be popular and became the confidant of many, the carer of most, but the friend of none. NOT. ONE.

My grades started slipping. I remember a meeting with my head of year, because I wasn’t in the top ten in the grade. I was 13th. From 2nd to 13th after 3 months of hardly eating, trying to become less less less, utter loneliness and extreme confusion. I was told my slacking was unacceptable and that it didn’t look good. I was externally apathetic, but internally sobbing- I just wanted to be enough. I was sad because I wasn’t as special anymore.I was just at school, not even mattering. But I was still smart enough to laugh it off,I was still brilliant.

Most people have the people that they leave primary school and go to high school with, or the friends they’ve had since they were tiny. I never had that. I never had anyone who was my friend; I just knew everybody because I talked a lot.

High school came about and I tried to create a new name for myself – Shalom became Scoot – and went to a completely different school than my brother and sister. I tried desperately to re-invent myself.  I coasted through grade eight and nine and was a B student, shocking all of my primary school teachers. I studied for subjects I enjoyed. I laughed at the ones I didn’t. I was still put into the ‘smart classes’. But then, I noticed something: I wasn’t as smart as they were. 

I started thinking, “what if I studied? Would I be as smart as Nina? Or Jessica or Sarah or Tamsyn or Slade, all who managed to stay smart?”

I found myself in trouble: I had never studied before. I felt no need. All of these people had spent their time working hard, and I hadn’t. I had been great, or at least alright, without the work they had to do.

Then, grade ten. Read: the first year I failed a subject (kinda).

I got really bad at maths despite my new attempts to work hard. People laughed at me and my efforts because I got moved into a weak  maths class. I studied ridiculously hard and only just managed Ds when I would get a B+ without any effort just a year prior. The people I sat with? All super intelligent. All taking AP classes, while I barely managed to stay in school. All swimming, while I choked – despite my flippers and floaties.

I’m in grade twelve now, and I’m still sad that feel that I’m not as brilliant as I used to be. Simply because I used to think that I could move mountains with my mind, because I was told so. I was told I would change the world because I would have the potential to do so. And all of a sudden, my mind switched off. I don’t know how or why, but I wasn’t smart anymore, and people tried to make it better by assuring me that I was smart, just not at school. That didn’t help at all, because I SHOULD be smart at school – I used to be.

I should still have the potential for brilliance.

This year, I’m trying to do well at school, because it does matter to me. I’m trying to get better at eating, because I value my health. I’m trying to have a positive outlook because I want to manage my depression better. I actually care, people! So many people think that I just waltz around, looking into people’s faces, giving sound advice, saying “wow! Cool! Lovely, wow!”  and pass through.

Learn this: I AM NOT JUST THAT.

Last week, a foolish boy called me a shallow character. I stopped, and looked him dead in the eye and said,

“I am not a character. I am not shallow. I am a hurricane with more brilliance inside of me than you will ever dare to find, and I am stronger than you will ever know.”

Dramatic? Yes, God yes. But true. I felt so powerful, and so plainly honest, that it couldn’t have been anything but the truth.

I tell people this:

Another person’s beauty is not the absence of your own.

I’ve decided that it applies to brilliance too.

I’m still brilliant, and that’s all I’ve been trying to get across. I refuse to treat myself as less, and I refuse to be treated as less.

apologies: this may have been a load of utter, utter crap.

love and light
s

On Why University Students Know More Than They Think They Know

HANDS UP FOR THE LONGEST TITLE EVER
(alternately titled: it doesn’t matter)

Today (tonight?) I stopped by my old school.

I’m not entirely certain that stopped by is the correct term, seeing that I was there for roughly five hours. In any case, I came to a couple of realisations, conclusions and utter WHAT-THE-HECKLING-tions today. Allow me to fill you in, friends.

1. People are more viscious than you think they can be.

Granted, we all love a skandal, but the amount of shade-throwing and utter hate that goes on in high schools is fairly ridiculous. Is there a reason for this? Possibly. Am I aware of it? [insert obviously not meme]

2. There are so many people in the world to love.

Ugh. I feel like a sappy, and hungry (but mostly hungry) wreck. Most of the people I saw tonight -even the almost accidental run in with some twins- made my metaphorical teenage girl heart swell. Sometimes, it was a swell of sadness. The most of it was an “I’M SO FREAKING EXCITED TO SEE YOU AND YOUR LOVELINESS” swell. In any case, my heart is so full, but there are still so many people to see. Hence, title of paragraph,

3. University students are quite flippen’ rad.

I had the pleasure (PLEASURE LET ME TELL YOU!) of sitting in front of four students in second year, all studying accounting majors. They were the greatest. Apart from chats about the Sims with Kyra, Sim murder wth Kyra and Chen, rapid fire talk with Bradley and an utterly, utterly beautiful Daniella, they made me fully (mostly) grasp something that’d been swimming around in my brain for a while:

It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if you had a full colours blazer in high school. It doesn’t matter if you were the nerdiest of nerds and landed up studying accounting, because you’re freaking great at it. It doesn’t matter if you hated high school. You’ll still love  the annual crappy-but-exceptionally-talent-filled showcase. You’ll come every year that you can. It doesn’t matter if someone told you you weren’t cool in high school because you were a chess champion. Know why? YOU ARE STILL A CHESS CHAMPION. Nothing of that sort matters because the right people and energy really make the sun (moon) (artificial light that’s also beautiful) shine out of your face, and in this case, you both look and are lovely.

 

From left: Chen(Lillian), Kyra, Daniella, Bradley. Also known as "the cool uni kids I've dubbed my cool friends without asking".

From left:
Chen(Lillian), Kyra, Daniella, Bradley.
Also known as “the cool uni kids I’ve dubbed my cool friends without asking”.

Granted, being relatively ambushed by an aspiring teenage blogger who had too much coffee with her medication this morning is something that should matter. Tonight, however, it was all marvellous and wonderful and everything good I could have hoped for.

I have masses of History homework. Hell, I have masses of all homework, and it’s 00:32.It’s already Friday. Intentions to complete said homework exists. Making these intentions into actions into reality? Debatable.

Have a beautiful Friday, darlings.
shalom

It Is What It Is – Academic Awards Edition

Shalom Obisie-Orlu. Scroll.

Tonight at the academic awards evening at my school, that was what was called out before I walked onto stage and received my certificate. A scroll for academic achievement. Sounds good, right? Wrong. Let me fill you in on what has been going on in the swell of tears and banging in my brain for the past hour since the event ended:

(also, hello!)

At the school I was at from 2012-June 2014, academic awards can be achieved in grade ten, eleven and twelve, under half colours or full colours. With the report I achieved last year, I would have qualified for half colours. I’m confident I would have also managed to get full colours for netball, and been a councillor, or senior leader.

Does it matter? No.

In June/July of 2014 I made a decision to transfer schools in an attempt to save myself. As dramatic as it sounds, it’s the truth. I didn’t, contrary to popular belief, get bored and move to a school where I would have (a) nothing to my name, (b) no academic reputation in the most important year of high school, and (c) an extremely tough time fitting in to school in the middle of the year.

Nobody does that because they’re bored. Nobody uproots his or her life for attention. Nobody goes through extremely depressive cycles and ridiculous application processes just for fun.

It’s NOT fun.

Today, I was presented with a scroll. A scroll is the most basic academic achievement award presentable at my new school. It’s the award that anyone can get. You get a scroll for your first year of doing well.

It’s not my first year.

I’m not smart at school but I try really hard. I used to be brilliant. It was all I had. I worked so, so hard in the most difficult school year I have ever had to endure and then, this.

I meet the criteria for half colours. I meet the criteria at two schools, for goodness’s sake! I just so happened to make a decision and I now don’t get the award I deserve in every manner of speaking,because I haven’t been at the school long enough.

Look, tonight I’ve managed to offend one of my closest friends, almost swear at my mother, cry so hard my eyes are struggling to open, held back so many outbursts, fake smiled at so many people and said so many “thank you”s that I honestly wish I meant.

Grow up, Shalom. Get a hold of yourself. You got an award! Some people didn’t get anything. Be grateful. High school isn’t everything. You’ll be done with this in ten months.

I’ve been trying to get myself to understand these things, but how can I when they so clearly contradict everything I’ve been told?

  • this is the most important most important year of your life
  • matric stays with you forever
  • you get what you work for

Not the case here. I’m also really, really angry at myself; at the fact that I can’t be 100 per cent hapy for my lovely friends who did so well. About the fact that I snapped about not getting a good enough award when my lovely friend didn’t get an award at all.

I sound like an arrogant, unsatisfied brat. I know. And I hate it when people are like this. But these are my feelings and I would never act on them for fear of hurting another person (sorry Chy). I just needed somewhere to put them.

That’s all I have o say for now. That’s all the stupid, overprivelleged, arrogant and annoying ranting you’ll have to tolerate for today. I’m terribly sorry.

 

In truth, well done to all of the award winners tonight. You deserve it. (no cynicism intended)

with love,
shalom

Matric: senior year, grade twelve, hell.

The third day of matric and I’m already exhausted.

For those of you reading from a place that isn’t South Africa, matric is the last year of high school in South Africa – grade 12.It’s the year before everyone goes off to university/home/travelling / who the frick knows. It’s the seemingly shiny senior year and it’s full of expectaitons. I don’t think I like it.

Scratch that, I most definitely don’t like it. I’ve only been back at school for three days and I want to swear at everything. EVERYTHING. It’s as if a curse word generator has been planted in my brain was set to begin work on January 14th, 2015.  I’m overwhelmed, and have more crap to do that HAS TO GET DONE than I ever have before. I’m also running  out of sticky notes.

I’m too tired to write. I’m working really hard and doing my homework (!!!) and revising (read: learning for the first time because I wasn’t paying attention when it was taught) because I have a maths test on TUESDAY. I hate maths, remember?

I got moved up in my math and Afrikaans classes because I SOMEHOW managed to do acceptably well enough to be in the same class with people who get As for these subjects. Afrikaans? Understandable. Maths? *curse word generator fires up again*

The girls in my group of friends are ALL DIETING for the Matric Dance in May (Prom?) and it’s driving me nuts – I almost force-fed Mouse some chocolate –her birthday present– during a strange break.

Inappropriate puns have taken over my brain. My list of books to read has grown SO much and I’m extremely disappointed in myself because I’m already so busy, and there is no way I’m going to get to read them all when I want to.

I got yelled at for having an afro at school, because my natural hair –I REPEAT, NATURAL HAIR– doesn’t comply with school regulations because it isn’t flat. The biggest amount of — *CURSE WORDS EXTRAVAGANZA*

There is not enough time. Barely a week in, and bam- burnout.

On the plus side, we are studying my favourite  novel in English (The Great Gatsby) and we did the Charleston at the end of the day to get usinto the spirit of the 20s. It was fricken’ rad.


This year may well kill me.

2015, you ridiculous, rude, burdensome, distracting, lying, hopeful, promising bastard of a year.

love and sheer, sheer exhaustion,
shalom

Scoot on ~ reunions

There’s something about seeing people that you haven’t seen in a long time.

I generally get attacked by nostalgia when I’m least expecting it, and it gets me subtweeting and drinking copious amounts of tea and eating all of the noodles in my house. I’m not extremely fond of it, but I don’t entirely regret or hate it. Simply because reliving memories can be wonderful. It can be so lovely to remember the things that once made you smile, laugh, cry and almost run naked in the street – the usual.

Anyway, today I met with my class from my old school. I’d been in that class since 2012 until June this year when I moved schools, and not much has changed. Except the dynamics. Today there was so much love, and food and chocolate milkshakes and joking. I met up with people who had survived exams, just like me (kind of, I’ve still got two to go). I took bad selfies with good looking boys (because they’re the only kind I can pull off) and I got a Christmas present from two lovely girls-one who I’ve become extremely close to this year through failed maths tests and direct messages on instagram.

I’m so glad that I went. I took matching selfies with a girl who I kind of lost touch with – remember Jess? We kind of call ourselves “lovers rekindling an old flame”. Let it be. I also took selfies with her boyfriend who was really polite this time (thank you Seth 🙂 ) and they were quite funny.

I told jokes and we all laughed, and I had a grand time. And I thought for a moment, that maybe 2014 hasn’t been so bad. Dwelling on those thoughts made me think of the bad, though, so I stopped. I think that we’ve all come a long way, from counting down to 2014 with then-boyfriends and making promises to ourselves that the universe just didn’t let us keep. Some dangerous nights and lovely days later, we find ourselves here: five Fridays from 2015.

Here are some things that made me happy about this reunion – the first, and hopefully not last I’ve been to.

This is me and Jess. She's very beautiful and intelligent and great.

This is me and Jess. She’s very beautiful and intelligent and great.

THIS IS REBECCA SHE IS THE COOLEST AND LIVES DOWN THE ROAD FROM ME AND LENT THE ENTIRE HARRY POTTER BOXSET TO ME PLUS SHE LOVES CATS

THIS IS REBECCA SHE IS THE COOLEST AND LIVES DOWN THE ROAD FROM ME AND LENT THE ENTIRE HARRY POTTER BOXSET TO ME PLUS SHE LOVES CATS

IMG-20141128-WA0038

This is Annemieke, my maths buddy. LOVE.

This is Annemieke, my maths buddy. LOVE.

Luca = attractive. Me= hfsgj

Luca = attractive.
Me= hfsgj

This is Seth and I :)

This is Seth and I 🙂

IT WAS A STACHE BASH

IT WAS A STACHE BASH

This is it. The end. Happy and eyebrowed.

This is it. The end. Happy and eyebrowed.

I’m filming for most of tomorrow! Hopefully, by Monday, there will be moving pictures of me on YouTube. Thank you for all of your continuous love and support.

Love and affection,

Shalom x

Scoot On ~ why I probably SHOULD shut up

Oh hey! No,I’m kidding. But hi anyway!

So if you’ve been following this blog for a while, you’ll know that here in South Africa, it’s exam season. In three weeks or so, I’ll be writing on pieces of paper that determine how much I’m worth until I’m out of school. It sucks that the only way our intelligence at school is measured is based solely on how well we follow instructions from another person or do exactly as they say without questioning anything. School is actually really difficult, and you know, I think that the only thing I’m certain of is that

THE MITOCHONDRIA IS THE POWERHOUSE OF THE CELL

Thanks, Mrs Moloney (6th grade Natural Science teacher).

Today, while sitting with a group of girls and doing the chit-chat thing, I realised something several times : I’m in the business of saying things that shouldn’t be said. I don’t know how to phrase that any better, but I suck at timing and my facial expressions really are beyond my control.  Off the top of my head, here’s three:

  • ” I’m going to be a little late for the meeting at break…I’m doing the thing with that girl in the bathroom.”

WHAT? I just had to go to the bathroom,but that came out of my mouth instead. I wish it hadn’t because I’m almost 300% certain that my deputy headmistress was behind me.

  • History teacher:” Are you sleeping in my class? You’d better have a good reason for this.”

ME:*looks around nervously* “I’m so sorry, I just–I — THERE ARE BOYS IN MY HEAD AND I HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF THEM, YOU WOULDN’T UNDERSTAND”

I have no explanation for this. I can’t justify myself. I feared momentarily that I was going to re-enter the “I’m so random” phase, which was by far THE WORST to ever possess our generation. I don’t know, I’m still apologising to myself. And to everyone who had to witness it.

  • “I’ll chi chi your hua hua if you don’t stop”

Real talk,this human wouldn’t stop talking about their dog teddy bear thing from old/new/imaginary boyfriend. For real, it’s great to talk about things that make you happy like a teddy, but if that’s all you talk about, we’ll have a problem. I think I’ll stop here before I (a) fail physics, (b) make myself more potentially unhireable than I am, and (c) type more garbage.

embarrassment is said to build character. I sure damn hope so.

All my love,

-Scoot xx


YOUTUBE CHANNEL IN DECEMBER