Scoot On ~ Soundrtracks and Comebacks

I’m currently sitting on my bed, without – well, let’s not make everyone uncomfortable – I’m sitting on my bed without things you’d usually sit on a bed with. There we go, disaster averted! I just returned from an afternoon-turned-evening out with a friend, and mama wasn’t too happy. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not one of those kids who “hates their parents” even more than they hate their own sucky teenage lives. I love my mom. I also like to forget t tell her things that, in one way or another, directly affect her.

I like to go out. I’m also sixteen, and have to be driven around. There are no taxis that shall be taken by me after 6:30 PM in summer and 6:10 in winter. Yes, yes, I know, I could just ask my mom to take me places like the rest of you do. That, however, would require asking.

Asking is a simple process, theoretically: you pose a question, and in the case of the parentals it’s usually a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer that’s required, and await an answer. As teenagehood goes, questions are asked about where, when, why and what you shall be doing, and there will be talk of dangerous things like drugs and strange strangers in alleyways (but nothing of contact lenses falling out or toddlers who spontaneously throw up on things). And then, you get your answer. I think it’d be a lot easier if the answer came first, but hey, maybe I’ll think differently if I ever birth some baby children.

I DON’T KNOW WHY MY CONTACT LENSES ARE STILL ON MY EYEBALLS. (Actually, It’s because I can’t find their container thing right now. Hold on, I’m looking.)


Update: I just took my contact lenses out using a webcam. And my hands. Also, I’m now wearing a shirt.

Anyway, in my case the main question is usually, “How are you getting there?” and I usually skip that part of the conversation out, or I skip out the entire conversation, i.e I casually whisper that I’m going out and I’ll be back and then, I call my mom (usually with someone else’s phone) to “Please come and pick me up, please please.”

She gets annoyed and rightfully so, and then she sometimes comes out to get me, and other times she doesn’t. But this really is entirely my fault- she’s not neglectful or anything.

Well, as the story goes, I got home and she was in her state of annoyed-angry-confused-hurt, and that’s the least pleasant state. It’s like when somebody tells you that they’re disappointed in you plus your mom shouting at you plus seeing your mom tired – all those little thing compiled into a moment where you have no comeback to what is said, where “I’m disappointed” or “This will be the last time” or “Stop treating people like they’re insignificant” is the only soundtrack that goes along with it.

In my defense, I had no idea how this post was going to go, and this was not the direction that I foresaw.

Soundtracks and Comebacks by Goldfish popped into my head while I was looking at my mom eat, and I don’t know why. I just tried to imagine what the soundtrack to that moment for me would be. If we had to talk strictly music, I’d say Lost Kid, by The Apache Relay. My comeback was “sorry. good night.”

I hope yours is better.

All my love,

Scoot xx

Scoot on ~ stuff I don’t know what to title

My name is Scoot – wait…wait, I’ve done this before.

Anyway, hi everybody! I know, I know, I said new posts every day but woah :O School just got a lot more hectic and I don’t even know how. It’s like someone’s standing behind the school, and has got this huge hectic-o-meter, and they just turned it up to something crazy like 11 when the scale only goes up to 5.

Anyway, I’ve been out and about going on camps, being pranked involving hyenas, eating bag after bag of chips, becoming lacto-vegetarian  😀 PROUD 😀 and also staying alive, which is relatively important at this point. 🙂

I guess with all my days away I’ve had a chance to think about something absolutely mind boggling…but I changed my mind. I guess what my dear shortest friend said to me today means much more: “Isn’t it scary how most of your life is based on things you do as a teenager?”

That got me good. I mean, you’re a crazy sixteen year old who wants to do nothing but have a beautiful face and a boyfriend/girlfriend and be accepted and taste alcohol…and that’s your future, bro. Why on earth would the universe ever let some crazy hormonal-ass teenager make life decisions? Like, is this some sort of a sick joke? It’s craziness, I wont lie. And today, I don’t have a list for you on how to make the best decisions when you’re a teenager, or how to live a fuul life, or how to be absolutely fantastic and amazing…but I do know that we can do anything.

We, as in you and I. I can. You can. YOU CAN! I probably don’t know who you are, or what you’re going through, or why, or if your favourite goldfish got stolen, or if your pasta sauce won’t thicken, or if you’re feeling suicidal and want to die more than anything, I don’t know. I do know that I’ve been through a hell of a lot. And I’m here. There are so so so many times when I think about all the times I tried to picture how better the world would be without me, but I’m here. I’m here, and I’m a blogger, and I’m alive. I’m alive.

I don’t know if that’s a big deal for you guys, but it is for me. Really, it is. It’s a big deal to be able to look someone dead in the face and say, “You are a lovely person and I would love to keep talking to you”. It’s a big deal for me. I think that we all have time to do that, to make someone better–we just need to find it.

So that’s all I have on my mind for today, and also that I think you’re beautiful. Everyday, I think you are beautiful. And whoever has the pleasure of ever speaking to you is a better person because they did. 

My interview for Junior City Council is tomorrow, and I hope you all have fingers crossed for me 🙂

Gun to my head honest, I love you all. I mean, thank you. For being.

All my love all the time

-Scoot xx