MyDearest,Diary,

A place to share. Please try to keep things PG, friends! -Harpocrates

[technicolorrelays]

Scooby Doo | Bump in the night

[my-dearest-comma-diary-blog]

My Dearest, Diary,

I froze.

Necessary context: sometimes, when I get overwhelmed or even at times I don’t understand, I sorta... freeze. I can move, physically speaking, but I can’t seem to make myself actually do it.

Normally this happens when I’m riding in the car, or when I’m just waking up or falling asleep. Maybe the shower. Times when it doesn’t matter. I can feel it coming, so I power through it in other situations. Today it just kinda hit me.

My good friend made me a bit uncomfortable. That’s sort of her specialty, but this time really bothered me. I won’t say what she did, in the interest of preventing her from identifying me, should she have a Tumblr. It really wasn’t all that bad, I suppose. It just bothered me.

When I went to put some stuff away, I crouched down to take things out of my bag, sitting on my calves.

And I froze.

Not entirely, like I normally would. I just couldn’t get up. I mean, I could, but I couldn’t.

I kinda looked around, tried to see if I could still put the things away from my position (I could not), and said “I’m stuck.”

No reaction from those around me. They either thought I was joking or didn’t hear me. Those are equally likely scenarios. I sat there for a minute, then grabbed the side of the cabinet and hauled myself up with my arms. I put away the books I was returning and picked up my bag. I closed the cabinet.

And I walked away.

Yours,

Harpocrates

[my-dearest-comma-diary-blog]

My Dearest, Diary,

I love when teachers can’t tell you bs’ed a paper. I got a 100 on a paper I wrote about a movie I’ve never seen. It was great. I was given full credit despite being a day late (due to technical difficulties) because he liked it so much. Not to say it was a particularly good essay, to be fair. This guy isn’t the sharpest crayon in the box, and a lot of my classmates turned in garbage essays. Still, it’s incredibly satisfying.

Yours,

Harpocrates

[my-dearest-comma-diary-blog]

My Dearest, Diary,

I promised myself I’d relax this weekend. No major deadlines ahead to stress me out, it seemed like the perfect opportunity! And yet, I’m finding it near impossible to relax! I keep jumping from one thing to another, none of them productive, and all of them failing to keep me entertained. Underlying all of it is the stress of getting absolutely nothing of importance done. Nevermind that there is nothing of importance to do! UGH!!!!! It’s so frustrating. I tried taking a nap, but couldn’t fall asleep. I tried playing a video game, but it couldn’t hold my attention. I tried reading both online and a print book, no luck. If I had some task I needed done that I was capable of performing at this moment, I’d much rather be doing that. But there is absolutely nothing I need to do! I’m just going to go clean some things.

Yours,

Harpocrates.

[my-dearest-comma-diary-blog]

Update:

I cleaned some stuff, found some laundry that hadn’t been done yet, and it worked for a bit! I did some productive stuff and, afterwards, as able to relax. For a bit. It’s like a switch was flipped in me. The feeling of doing something wrong by relaxing returned suddenly and without warning. This sucks!!!

-H

[my-dearest-comma-diary-blog]

My Dearest, Diary,

I promised myself I’d relax this weekend. No major deadlines ahead to stress me out, it seemed like the perfect opportunity! And yet, I’m finding it near impossible to relax! I keep jumping from one thing to another, none of them productive, and all of them failing to keep me entertained. Underlying all of it is the stress of getting absolutely nothing of importance done. Nevermind that there is nothing of importance to do! UGH!!!!! It’s so frustrating. I tried taking a nap, but couldn’t fall asleep. I tried playing a video game, but it couldn’t hold my attention. I tried reading both online and a print book, no luck. If I had some task I needed done that I was capable of performing at this moment, I’d much rather be doing that. But there is absolutely nothing I need to do! I’m just going to go clean some things.

Yours,

Harpocrates.

[my-dearest-comma-diary-blog]

My Dearest, Diary,

My father is, on occasion, the most frustrating person I have ever encountered. Take the other day, for example:

I’m sitting in my room at his house, watching Villanos, I think. He walks up to the doorway and asks me to help make my hermanito’s dinner, cuz he’s got a cold starting and can’t do it. I agree to help, but warn him, “the only savory thing I can reliably do is fry bacon.” (This is true, I’m fairly good at baking, but savory cooking has too many inexact instructions that throw me off). It’s half joking, half self-deprecation. It’s not a refusal.

He responds, “That’s not true, that’s just all you’re willing to do!” Now, the frying bacon thing was a new thing I’d learned, like, the day previous. Usually, I’m not a good enough judge of if it’s burning or not, but I’d just gotten the hang of it. I was a bit bitter that he brushed that off as something I could’ve done at any time, that didn’t take all the work I put in to learn.

Anyway, he turns around saying, “You’re in culinary for a reason.”

Um...

I’m in a culinary class because I’m interested in cooking (and baking) and I’m thinking about perusing it in the future. I’m not in culinary to make my brother dinner.

So now I’m salty. I remind him that there’s a reason I prefer baking.

“So, rather than grow as a cook, you’d rather just do what you like?” That is not what I said and I informed him as much. Or tried to. He cut me off with, “Nevermind, I forgot who I was talking to.”

Guess he forgot that I’m not my mother. I ended up teaching my hermanito, who is 15 by the way, how to make his own dinner. He actually had a blast doing it, too! I dunno why Dad didn’t do that in the first place. Dad acts like he admires that I’m learning to cook, but completely ignores that in a few years, my brother will need to know how to support himself as well. The baby’s always a little spoiled, and there are some extenuating circumstances, but that is a bit much.

Yours,

Harpocrates

[my-dearest-comma-diary-blog]

My Dearest, Diary,

Gosh, you’d think people had never seen a wig before! It’s not like it was out of place in the situation. I’ve seen people wear full onsies for similar events, but a brightly colored wig is sooooo weird. Whatever man!

This one girl was literally startled by my hair. Like, walked in the room and went, “Oh!” and stepped back slightly. It’s HAIR! Wtf are you afraid of???

I got a lot of compliments too, to be fair. People asking where I got it (the internet) and the like. Still, who tf gets startled by a wig? Yeah, it’s long and the ponytail made it look a bit more natural, but even if it were my real hair, it’s still just hair. Weirdos.

Yours,

Harpocrates

[my-dearest-comma-diary-blog]

My Dearest, Diary,

I’m such an idiot. It’s nearly midnight, I need to got to bed, and what do I read about? Frickin demons. Now I can’t fall asleep. I know there are no demons in my house. I feel like, having lived here a few years, I’d have noticed if there was anything haunting this place. And yet, I can’t get around the idea that there’s something here. It’s the childish kind of fear, too. Like, as long as I’m in bed I’m safe. I literally jumped from several feet away into my bed coming back from the restroom. My plan to sleep? Keep reading about demons. I’m intelligent, I promise.

Yours,

Harpocrates

[my-dearest-comma-diary-blog]

Update, I was playing around with the flashlight test, y’know, where you turn a maglight right between on and off? Well I was doing that and the light kept coming on and staying on. So... I may have been wrong about nothing haunting my house.

Yours,

Harpocrates

[my-dearest-comma-diary-blog]

My Dearest, Diary,

I don’t actually have anything to talk about, I just wanted to talk. That’s a habit of mine, I guess. I talk a whole lot. I never shut up. It’s kinda great. Never a boring moment. A little annoying.

Think I freaked out my friend. I asked them if I was annoying. I’d meant to ask if I was being annoying, but it didn’t come out that way. They said “Of course not!” so I guess I was alright.

Yours,

Harpocrates

[my-dearest-comma-diary-blog]

My Dearest, Diary,

I love Buzzfeed Unsolved. Specifically Supernatural. The only problem is that I’m terrified of the idea of things in the dark. I wouldn’t say the supernatural specifically, just the idea of something potentially malevolent out there that I can’t see.

It makes it hard to sleep.

So, I end up doing research over some of the places they’ve gone and junk, making it even harder to sleep! That’s what that earlier entry were I mentioned reading about demons was about.

Yours

Harpocrates

[my-dearest-comma-diary-blog]

My Dearest, Diary,

Standardized testing is bs and I think we all know it. Let’s break it down, shall we?

- Teachers are limited in the material they can cover and how much time they can spend on it because they have to cram students’ heads full of the information they’d been told may be included.

- Students stress endlessly, even if they have a history of doing well on th tests, because what if this one is harder?

- Students memorize all the information, sure, but for how long? I cant remember much of any of the information I was tested on. I remember some of the questions, but the answers? Long gone.

- As for the testing itself? Well, kids are provided with one pack of crackers and a water bottle (sometimes a bag of animal crackers too depending on the school), and are left to sit in a room for four hours staring at tiny print for four hours, until their vision starts to blur.

- And, sure, you get unlimited bathroom breaks, but since they have to prevent any sort of cheating, if there is someone already in the bathroom, you have to wait. And teachers encourage you to go even if you don’t need to so you can stretch your legs. Half the time, students are just waiting for what seems like a reasonable time to leave while someone else nearly pees their pants outside.

- Let’s talk about that eye strain a bit. I can sit and read a book for hours and not have that happen, but a test. There’s something about how hard you have to focus on wording (because they WILL try to mess you up on purpose) that makes it ten times worse. Kids leave those testing rooms blinking a bit too much and complaining how everything is fuzzy around the edges. Doesn’t help that there’s literally nothing to do but read when you finish. Or take a nap, but that doesn’t help the blurry vision either and some testing supervisors won’t let you do that.

Okay, I got really into that, but what can I say? I hated my state’s yearly test. And I was the type of kid that got the Better Than We Expected(TM) rating every year. LIke, some places call it exemplary, or level 3, or whatever. Not that it matters, cuz it doesn’t really reflect on the quality of the school the way it’s supposed to. It more reflects on how hell it is on students and teachers alike. Learning the topics could be so much better if there were less time limitations imposed by the need to cover EVERYTHING by March, or whenever the stupid test is. I learned more from the Crash Course YouTube channel than I did in just about any of my normal classes, and I’m the type of person that learns by writing. I didn’t write down anything from those videos, but I remember quite a bit. Heck, I learned more from the Bill Wurtz, history of the entire world, i guess, video than I did in my actual world history class. Really shows the value of the education system, huh?

Yours,

Harpocrates

[my-dearest-comma-diary-blog]

My Dearest, Diary,

I’m such an idiot. It’s nearly midnight, I need to got to bed, and what do I read about? Frickin demons. Now I can’t fall asleep. I know there are no demons in my house. I feel like, having lived here a few years, I’d have noticed if there was anything haunting this place. And yet, I can’t get around the idea that there’s something here. It’s the childish kind of fear, too. Like, as long as I’m in bed I’m safe. I literally jumped from several feet away into my bed coming back from the restroom. My plan to sleep? Keep reading about demons. I’m intelligent, I promise.

Yours,

Harpocrates

[my-dearest-comma-diary-blog]

It’s weird to be in this house minus one occupant; it’s nearly been a year. Why is this the one thing that doesn’t make me cry?

[my-dearest-comma-diary-blog]

My Dearest, Diary,

You may have noticed I’m posting quite a bit. This blog isn’t even a day old and this is already the 7th diary entry. Now you may have an idea why people get annoyed. Why I made this.

Anyway.

I hate Naomi Rodriguez in 21 Chump Street. Like, talking Justin into buying drugs? That’s not doing her job right! That’s illegal. What a jerk. Her idea of letting a guy down gently is to get him convicted of a felony.

This post is risky. I’ve talked to the people I’m keeping this blog a secret from about this topic. But, millions of people talk about this everyday, right? I don’t think it’s a big deal. There are millions of blogs on Tumblr! The odds one of them sees this are tiny. Only a few of them even have Tumblr accounts. I only hope that if one of them does find it, they’ll keep their mouth shut.

Yours,

Harpocrates

[my-dearest-comma-diary-blog]

Substitute teacher lady: I like your hair pulled back like that! It shows of your face. You have a pretty face.

Me out loud: Oh, uh, thanks!

Me in my head: pffjksjijpjdien, what?!

-Harpocrates

[my-dearest-comma-diary-blog]

My Dearest, Diary,

I cry way to frickin easily. Like, when I’m anxious, yeah. But sometimes randomly.

Like, Zero to Hero started playing on my Pandora and my eyes started to water and I’m like, “What the heck?!” Like, I cried a bit listening to Seventeen (Reprise), but that’s an emotional song. But a song about Hercules getting famous? Really, brain?!

Yours,

Harpocrates

[my-dearest-comma-diary-blog]

My Dearest, Diary,

Question for Waitress:

How does one eat an Oreo cookie before the cream? Like... that’s sounds so impractical. You can eat the cream off the cookie without even trying to get the cream off all in one piece, but if you wanna eat the cream first you gotta get it all of in one or two pieces or it’s just a mess.

Yours,

Harpocrates