Thursday, January 28, 2010

Hand in hand

I have a new addition to my last post without actually editing that one.

I have a bully.
He is rude to me for no reason. Maybe I told him to be quiet a couple too many times or to stop taping his pencil. I didn't know that this was a valid reason to tell someone they are stupid, boring and have no life.
Now, I'm not going to go to extreme measures like the girl in my last post because honestly, I never have to see him again. I guess I should just discontinue commenting on my friend's Facebook statuses because I, apparently, have an IQ below 78.
Yeah, I don't think so. Thanks for attempting to make me feel like I am stupid. However, I know that I am not, so your argument is invalid.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

It's not okay.

Today, I'm not going to talk about myself. Or, at least in this entry.

The Untouchable Mean Girls

Like a lot of kids her age, Phoebe Prince was a swan, always beautiful and sometimes awkward.

Last fall, she moved from Ireland into western Massachusetts, a new town, a new high school, a new country, a new culture. She was 15, when all that matters is being liked and wearing the right clothes and just fitting in.

She was a freshman and she had a brief fling with a senior, a football player, and for this she became the target of the Mean Girls, who decided then and there that Phoebe didn’t know her place and that Phoebe would pay.

Kids can be mean, but the Mean Girls took it to another level, according to students and parents. They followed Phoebe around, calling her a slut. When they wanted to be more specific, they called her an Irish slut.

The name-calling, the stalking, the intimidation was relentless.

Ten days ago, Phoebe was walking home from school when one of the Mean Girls drove by in a car. An insult and an energy drink can came flying out the car window in Phoebe’s direction.

Phoebe kept walking, past the abuse, past the can, past the white picket fence, into her house. Then she walked into a closet and hanged herself. Her 12-year-old sister found her.

You would think this would give the bullies who hounded Phoebe some pause. Instead, they went on Facebook and mocked her in death.

They told State Police detectives they did nothing wrong, had nothing to do with Phoebe killing herself.

And then they went right back to school and started badmouthing Phoebe.

They had a dance, a cotillion, at the Log Cabin in Holyoke two days after Phoebe’s sister found her in the closet, and some who were there say one of the Mean Girls bragged about how she played dumb with the detectives who questioned her.

Last week, one of the Springfield TV stations sent a crew to South Hadley High to talk to the kids.

One girl was interviewed on camera, and she said what was common knowledge: that bullies were stalking the corridors of South Hadley High.

As soon as the TV crew was out of sight, one of the Mean Girls came up and slammed the girl who had been interviewed against a locker and punched her in the head.

The Mean Girls are pretty, and popular, and play sports.

So far, they appear to be untouchable, too.

South Hadley is a nice, comfortable middle-class suburb that hugs the Connecticut River nearby and a certain attitude.

“Things like this aren’t supposed to happen in South Hadley,’’ said Darby O’Brien, a high school parent, wondering why the bullies who tormented Phoebe are still in school. “And so instead of confronting the evil among us, the reality that there are bullies roaming the corridors at South Hadley High, people are blaming the victim, looking for excuses why a 15-year-old girl would do this. People are in denial.’’

School officials say there are three investigations going on. They say these things take time.

That doesn’t explain why the Mean Girls who tortured Phoebe remain in school, defiant, unscathed.

“What kind of message does this send to the good kids?’’ O’Brien asked. “How many kids haven’t come forward to tell what they know because they see the bullies walking around untouched?’’

They were supposed to hold a big meeting on Tuesday to talk about all this, but now that’s off for a couple of weeks.

O’Brien is thinking about going to that meeting and suggesting that they have the kids who bullied Phoebe look at the autopsy photos.

“Let them see what a kid who hung herself looks like,’’ he said.

Last week, Phoebe was supposed to visit Ireland, where she grew up, and she was excited because she was going to see her father for the first time in months.

She did end up going back to Ireland after all, and when her father saw her she was in a casket.

Phoebe’s family decided to bury her in County Clare. They wanted an ocean between her and the people who hounded her to the grave.

Kevin Cullen is a Globe columnist. He can be reached at


This is horrible and NOT OKAY. If you see someone else getting bullied, get involved. This should never, ever happen again, and it shouldn't of happened in the first place.
No, I don't know this girl or the girls who did this, but this kind of stuff happens everywhere. It needs to stop.
When I was in middle school and high school, everyone would wonder why we had anti-bulling rallies with speakers and whatnot. THIS is why; because stuff like this happens and no one does anything about it.

Let's end this, okay? You and me. We'll end this.

Monday, January 25, 2010

I wish it was easy as pie to get an agent and just jump into acting.
I actually really miss my high school theatre class because performing was just so top.

Once a performer, always a performer.

Saturday, January 23, 2010


I am already regretting my choice.

Monday, January 18, 2010

I still feel the same

Is anybody listening?

Photo credit: myself. Taken on my Nikon D60. Unedited and unaltered. Click it to see full size)

Dear you,

This lady has written a book and needs to get it published. I can't wait to read it.

I don't like Keltie Colleen because she dated some guy in a band. I don't like Keltie because that relationship ended.
I like Keltie because she's a good person, she's honest, she's funny, and most importantly, she's real.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Extremely Loud and Incredibly close.

Probably one of the best books of all time. Just sayin'.

There's a lot of space in outer space.

I sit around a lot.
I sit around and think about writing a lot.
I sit around and want to write a lot.
I sit around and stare at Microsoft Word, trying to write a lot.
I sit around and never finish what I start a lot.
I sit around and think about finishing what I start a lot.
I never finish.

I started something again. Let's see if I do anything with it.

Photo: Orion Nebula. It makes me think of Pandora (n3rd 4 lyf3)


Do it. All of it. Do everything. Do what you say. Do what you believe. Do what you preach. Whatever it is that scares you.
Do it.

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Square one.

I question whether or not things will ever change. I feel as if the only way anything will change is if I hightail it out of this city. But I also know that people are pretty much the same anywhere you go.

Sometimes, I look around at all of my crap and I wonder how much money I'd make if I just sold it all. And then I wonder what would happen if I packed up what was left and hit the road.
I know I'm not going to do any of this, but the thought crosses my mind sometimes.

I am unhappy with so many different aspects of my life.
Oy vey.

Painting by Mark Rothko.

Monday, January 4, 2010

Right here, it's clear that I'm not getting better

I wonder when everything will be so completely awesome again.

And I wonder what I'd look like if I didn't have that god awful "beauty mark" by my mouth.

Friday, January 1, 2010

The last night of 2009/the first morning of 2010

Last night was so many things.
Stupid was a huge theme of last night, if such a word can be used to describe a night.

I left my keys in the lock of my car door. MY CAR DOOR. PARKED ON A STREET. AT NIGHT. WHEN A BIG PARTY IS GOING ON. STUPID.
Can anyone say "Space cadet"? Yeah. I'm fucking stupid. And of course, I didn't notice I didn't have my keys until 2.30 AM. And my brain took another part of a memory of me taking my keys out of my car after locking it at night and putting them in my purse, so whenever someone asked where I had them last, I was like, "IN MY PURSE WHICH WAS IN J'S ROOM ALL NIGHT >:[" And I got mad at everyone like a little bitch because my memory was like "Oh hai i'm gonna be inakuret rite nao."
And one of my friends being completely shit faced was not helping at all. So, while searching high and low for my keys, I had to deal with them and try to get them to go with their dad. Their dad kept telling them really sternly that it was time to go and that they couldn't stay the night and they kept asking why to everything. Finally, he said, "If you aren't outside in one minute, you're gonna be in a lot more trouble than you already are," and he went outside. Alee, Becca and I had to talk to them like they were a child and answer the "Why"'s, and finally, Justin picked them up and said it was time to go and took them outside. It was ridiculous.
Why do people drink that much? I know my friend didn't do that on purpose, but really, people need to get a grip on themselves sometimes.
Like, five minutes later (I was searching for my keys for 45 minutes, mind you, and everyone said they hadn't seen them), Justin's eldest brother, Rex, came in and told me his friend had seen my keys and took them inside a long time ago.
1. If someone had picked up some keys and took them inside, they should have announced that someone left their keys in their car door as soon as they got into the party/got back to the party.
2. In the 45 minutes I was searching for my keys, why the hell didn't that person say they had found a set? Why did it take 45 minutes for someone to finally say they had picked them up? Fucking stupid.
But of course, I was like ":'] thank you so much" and I gave Rex a hug (even though we have never spoken before) and he was like "Er. Okay." So...
Dear Rex,
Looking back, I realize just how awkward that hug was, and I apologize for it. I was overwhelmed. Once again, I am sorry.
Morgan M., Space Cadet.

Anyway, after getting my keys back and crying because I had my keys and I could go home finally, I hopped into the car with Alee's drunken ass and headed home.
And then I became even more stupid. Why, you ask? How could you get any more stupid?
Because I didn't read a street sign until it was too late. I was meaning to get onto I-10, but instead, my brilliant self got onto the entrance ramp to go on the toll road. YEAH. I AM SO FUCKING SMART, U GUISE. So I wasted even more gas driving down the fucking toll road and then to Alee's apartment.

I should just not be allowed to do anything ever. I am too stupid.