<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365</id><updated>2012-02-16T12:42:14.783-08:00</updated><category term='chapter 11'/><category term='chapter 16'/><category term='chapter 29'/><category term='chapter 27'/><category term='chapter 9'/><category term='chapter 5'/><category term='chapter 32'/><category term='chapter 18'/><category term='chapter 24'/><category term='chapter 34'/><category term='chapter 1'/><category term='chapter 22'/><category term='chapter 20'/><category term='chapter 3'/><category term='chapter 13'/><category term='chapter 4'/><category term='chapter 6'/><category term='chapter 15'/><category term='chapter 26'/><category term='chapter 8'/><category term='chapter 28'/><category term='chapter 33'/><category term='chapter 10'/><category term='chapter 23'/><category term='chapter 19'/><category term='chapter 31'/><category term='chapter 30'/><category term='chapter 35'/><category term='chapter 17'/><category term='chapter 7'/><category term='chapter 21'/><category term='chapter 12'/><category term='chapter 14'/><category term='chapter 25'/><category term='chapter 2'/><title type='text'>Olivia Grace ~ my life.a diary</title><subtitle type='html'>Meet Olivia Grace, 13 years old.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>37</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-7994319628940381348</id><published>2010-12-15T21:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-15T21:05:21.352-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Better Go Back</title><content type='html'>Wow. I seriously suck at updating this blog, don't I? Truth is, I -- uh, yeah, *&lt;em&gt;Emii* &lt;/em&gt;has no idea what on earth is happening/ &lt;em&gt;has&lt;/em&gt; happened in my life. So I'm thinkin' (Yeah, this is Emii) that I should read back on some of these posts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-7994319628940381348?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7994319628940381348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2010/12/better-go-back.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/7994319628940381348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/7994319628940381348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2010/12/better-go-back.html' title='Better Go Back'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-768195409770947577</id><published>2010-07-25T00:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-25T00:17:10.206-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm back?! Wow.</title><content type='html'>Olivia here.&lt;br /&gt;Wow, can you believe I'm actually posting after, what, a billion months? Well, it's true. I'm back. Apparently this guy in my class, Toby, likes me -- but I can't see it. If anything, he's into Holly. Seriously -- he leaves chocolate in her locker, calls her at 2am... and calls her his "best friend". I'm not really sure where I fit in here, and, quite frankly, I don't really care. He's not my type. I prefer the sk8ter boi with the cute hair and the skinny's and the volley's and the cool t-shirt, and the wavvy brown hair. But then, the Lucas Till type is &lt;em&gt;also &lt;/em&gt;so cute... but here's my top 3, in celebrity versions. (Because I'm so bad at describing with actual words, and you &lt;em&gt;know &lt;/em&gt;what these people look like!) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nick J&lt;br /&gt;Gordo from Lizzie McGuire&lt;br /&gt;Lucas Till (From the Hannah Montana movie)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes. Anyway, let's talk about something else. Wow, I forget what I've been posting about on this site, it's been so long.. (Emii says: Yeah. I really need to re-read these posts so I know what to write about:P)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have ya'll heard Miley Cyrus' new album, Can't be Tamed? I don't like the single at all -- Can't be Tamed -- but I LOVE her song "Stay". It's awesomee, I wish all her songs were like that. Oh, and the guy behind Owl City -- Adam Young -- has a new album, called Sky Sailing. I totally want that album, his music is so amazing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...well, I'd better go. Byeee.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-768195409770947577?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/768195409770947577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2010/07/im-back-wow.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/768195409770947577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/768195409770947577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2010/07/im-back-wow.html' title='I&apos;m back?! Wow.'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-5229744087696338384</id><published>2010-02-12T19:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-12T19:38:45.725-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 35'/><title type='text'>to be honest.</title><content type='html'>Okay, so, GUESS who was in town for an awesome concert last night? Yep, you got it -- Taylor Swift. Of course, as my life would have it -- the concert was sold-out before I got a chance to buy a ticket. Which sucked, big time. Bri was gonna go, too. But we haven't totally missed out -- Holly (Remember her? Remember ME, for that matter? It's been so long since I've posted, I wouldn't be surprised!) actually got to go and &lt;em&gt;see&lt;/em&gt; Taylor Swift. Live. In concert. Is she lucky, spoiled, rich, or WHAT? ..Um, let's call it lucky. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm reading a totally awesome book right now -- called &lt;em&gt;Hollywood Nobody&lt;/em&gt;, by Lisa Samson. It's about this totally cool girl, called Scotty Dawn. Yeah, weird name, huh? She has a blog, too -- and she moves around, like, a &lt;em&gt;lot.&lt;/em&gt; I feel pretty similar to her, even though our lives are totally different. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh, Cadbury chocolate blocks are like, SO annoying now. Well, for the past year, make it. But&amp;nbsp;I haven't basically written since then (Sorry..) so I think I have a right to complain still, yeah? Fact is, some American company bought it, and they changed the whole thing to be more, "Environmentally friendly." Yeah, now our lovely Cadbury chocolate lives in a cardboard box, is totalyl flat -- and there's 50g LESS chocolate in it. AND -- it's the same price. Uh, rip off! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and another thing? I feel like the only girl on earth without a boyfriend right now. Seriously -- Bri just moved here, and apparently there's this guy back home, called Tom or something (LOVE the name, btw!) -- and I know personally of one particular guy here in Glitasville, who goes to my school. I don't know how he even knows who Bri is -- I mean, she goes to the boarding school, so, uh, what's with that? I know for a fact that no guy is secretly crushing on me; way to make a girl feel loved, huh? Not that I'm totally desperate or anything -- I mean, who really has the time to play the dating game with a 14 year old guy? Like, uh, hello -- pointless!&amp;nbsp;But still. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The high school is having a dance next month. I don't go&amp;nbsp;to that school (Obviously. You already know that.) but you never know... oh, wait, that's right -- we DO know. We DO know that no guy from there is gonna ask me to go, cuz no guys like me...remember? Oh, but I'll stop going on about all this now. I'm probably boring you so bad that you want to do, like, &lt;em&gt;homework&lt;/em&gt; or something. And, uh, don't even get me started on that. Cuz, I guaruntee it -- you'll be more bored than you are now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so, what am I listening to right now? One Time by Justin Beiber, that's what. He's totally cute, we all know that. And, honestly? He's not that bad a singer. I don't know what's wrong with all these people. He SO does not look like he's 12. Get over it. &lt;br /&gt;Or maybe it's just me -- I Love the Sk8r Boi look. I mean, it's totally cute. Wavy&amp;nbsp;brown&amp;nbsp;hair, t-shirt, skinny's...&lt;br /&gt;Oh, but just so you know -- HATE the "boxers showing over my pants look". It's just, uh, not cool. Us girls here do NOT like it, okay? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that's all for now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;lt;3 Liv&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-5229744087696338384?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5229744087696338384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/okay-so-guess-who-was-in-town-for.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/5229744087696338384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/5229744087696338384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2010/02/okay-so-guess-who-was-in-town-for.html' title='to be honest.'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-1376831890808072807</id><published>2009-11-25T00:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-25T00:24:19.354-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 34'/><title type='text'>1000 Years</title><content type='html'>Okay, so I haven't written a post in like, a 1000 years. Not literally, in case you didn't get that -- but it &lt;em&gt;has&lt;/em&gt; been awhile. Too long, right? I mean, you DID miss me...right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Holly was gone to visit her dad -- well, technically, she's still not back -- and I was bored to death. That is, until the new girl came to town. Yeah, you heard me -- new girl. It seems like Glitasville is one of the fastest growing places on earth...I wouldn't be surprised. Although it wouldn't make me very happy -- we'd probably get heaps of builders and construction people, whatever they're called -- wanting to build huge, complex buildings -- and ruin our lovely little town! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. Where was I? Oh, yeah -- new girl. Her name's Brianna, and she's here because... well, long story. Actually, I'm not even sure she wants everyone to know about it. I'll have to get back to her on that one -- and I'll let you know :D &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bri and I have been hanging out, well, a &lt;em&gt;lot&lt;/em&gt; -- usually at Sammy's Cafe -- and, get this -- we both &lt;em&gt;love&lt;/em&gt; hazelnut thickshakes. Aren't they just the best? Apparently, a lot of people don't agree with me. I'm glad someone finally does. &lt;em&gt;Speaking&lt;/em&gt; of Sammy's -- did I tell you I got&amp;nbsp;a job there? Yeah, just&amp;nbsp;a couple of weeks ago -- and it's only for the holidays...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, guess what! Well, you probably already know this -- but it's nearly Christmas! Doesn't that just like, rock? I cannot wait! And I'm hoping this Christmas has some good stuff in store... and I'm not talking 'bout presents, btw. Because the last time I got a decent amount of presents was when I was like, 9 years old, and mum had gotten me about a hundred Bratz dolls off Ebay. &lt;br /&gt;No, this year, I'm hoping that we'll have a family Christmas, instead of hanging out in my room, while my parents relaxed and just hung out. &lt;br /&gt;Yeah, my last couple of Christmases haven't been that great -- just in case you hadn't figured that out the million others times I mentioned that in this paragraph. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Arrrgghhh, I know this is like, a really short post and everything -- but I have to go help my mum with something. Yipeee. {Haha, that looks really weird, 'Yipee' lolz!} Yeah, yeah -- I know I shouldn't be comlaining. I mean, at least she wants to do stuff with me, as opposed to what I use to complain about.&amp;nbsp;But sometimes, it seems like she's almost trying too hard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-1376831890808072807?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1376831890808072807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/1000-years.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/1376831890808072807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/1376831890808072807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/1000-years.html' title='1000 Years'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-4182660132186548009</id><published>2009-10-24T20:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-24T20:06:16.858-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 33'/><title type='text'>Her Dad.</title><content type='html'>Sorry it's been such a long time since I've posted! It seems like it was just yesterday when I was telling you the whole story of my parents going to Glitasville. So, I'd better catch you up on my life then, hadn't I? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a lot of phone calls, emails &amp;amp; long talks behind a closed door -- Mum &amp;amp; Dad are MOVING TO GLITASVILLE. Okay, my life could possibly be a movie. Of course, it may very well get on the viewers nerves, the whole circle thing -- hating my life, moving to Glitasville, Holly coming to Glitasville, mum &amp;amp; dad coming to Glitasville -- mum and dad MOVING here -- but then, maybe they'll like it. Haha, well it's not gonna be a movie, so I'll stop wasting your AND my time by writing about it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's just this one thing -- mum &amp;amp; dad won't be staying here. They'll be moving into their own house. But the thing is, I don't &lt;em&gt;want&lt;/em&gt;&amp;nbsp; to move out! I LOVE this house, and I love my room -- and I &lt;em&gt;love&lt;/em&gt; being next-door to Holly. But mum &amp;amp; dad say we "Need to become a family". Can't we do that at Nan and Pop's? I don't see why not.. but then, I also see that they have a point. And they ARE the parents, duh. So I don't really have a say in this situation. Grr. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holly's going to the city tomorrow, to visit her dad. She hasn't seen him since she and her mum moved here a couple of months ago. Holly's mum hadn't even told him she was leaving; she just packed up some things -- like their clothes, obviously -- and took a plane here. So, I hope there's no hard feelings between her and her dad; afterall, it's not her fault. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder why Mrs Condye left her husband in the first place. I mean, they both worked a lot, but as far as I know, he didn't like, hit her or anything. No, he was a good guy. Hmm, maybe I'll ask Holly when she gets back. I could ask her before she goes, but she probably has no idea -- her mum's kinda tight-lipped about the whole thing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you know my dad plays guitar? Yeah, apparently he was in a little band when he was a teenager; he'd left, though, before they became anything. Which, in my opinion, was a shame. Just think, my father could've been a famous rocker! Haha, yeah :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holiday's have finished... back to school, now. Well, I am -- not Holly, obviously. Tomorrow I'll have to get back into the routine&amp;nbsp;of getting&amp;nbsp;up early, walking to school, hanging with friends.. okay, hanging with friends isn't exactly routine. But you know what I mean :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;You know what's weird? I can't stop thinking about Holly's dad. I mean, &lt;strong&gt;why&lt;/strong&gt; did &lt;strong&gt;Holly's mum&lt;/strong&gt; leave him like she did?&amp;nbsp;I just have to find out...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-4182660132186548009?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4182660132186548009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/10/her-dad.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/4182660132186548009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/4182660132186548009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/10/her-dad.html' title='Her Dad.'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-4603362051103386274</id><published>2009-10-10T18:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T18:57:17.074-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 32'/><title type='text'>Reunited in Love</title><content type='html'>No kidding. I mean, the one thing I'd managed to process through the wild mangle of thoughts as I stared at my mother on the suede purple couch was &lt;em&gt;Why is she here?&lt;/em&gt; And now, finally -- I was gonna know. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She looks down at the worn carpet, saying, "Well, honey. I guess I realized what a failure of a mother I've been to you..." Mum looked up, a hopeful expression on her face. "I always wanted to give you the same kind of childhood I had, but..." she looked around the room, all eyes on her, and shrugged. "I guess I failed." A tear slid down her perfectly made-up face, making it's home on her purple floral skirt. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't hate her. This confession just seemed so... sincere. As a kid, I'd dreamed about hearing my parents say this to me. And now, at 13 years old -- it was finally coming true. But it could never have meaned as much to me as it did right then. It was as if, after all that pain and lonliness, it was all coming together. Finally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tears were streaming down my own face, smearing the little make-up I was wearing, but I didn't care. Mum held her arms out, beckoning for me to give her a hug. I slowly walked over to her, trying not to let my feet drag on the carpet, almost tripping over the coffee table because my vision was so blurry. But I didn't care. I just wanted to reach my mum, to show her that I love her. My tears were slowing down, my eyesight clearing. She pulled me close, and held me so tight I could barely breathe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm so sorry, Livii." she whispered, "Will you ever forgive me?"&lt;br /&gt;I nodded. "Yes," I whispered back, "I do." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Should we wake her up?" "Sean, son, good to see you!" "Livii?LIVII?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I awoke to the muffled sounds of people talking. My brain was all fuzzy, but wait.. it was still daylight. How come I was asleep? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Livii? Oh, good, you're awake!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then everything came back to me. I remembered talking to mum, hugging her, forgiving her -- and then I must've fallen asleep. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard footsteps, the opening&amp;nbsp;and closing&amp;nbsp;of my bedroom door, people leaving... and someone entering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hello, Livii?" It was a deep voice, a voice that was once familiar, but now sounded like it belonged to a stranger. I looked up, and saw him. No stranger -- it was my father. Dad. Daddy. He was back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Daddy!" I squealed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He knelt down, and held out his arms. "Precious princess, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't a good dad. I know it sounds lame -- but I don't know how else to say it..." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I accepted his hug, and whispered, "I love you, daddy."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-4603362051103386274?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4603362051103386274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/10/reunited-in-love.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/4603362051103386274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/4603362051103386274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/10/reunited-in-love.html' title='Reunited in Love'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-2218745533041433283</id><published>2009-09-23T17:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T17:47:52.382-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 31'/><title type='text'>a turn of events</title><content type='html'>Okay, I know I was complaining about how nothing ever happens in my life. ("Livii!" you must be thinking. &lt;br /&gt;Everthing happens to you!") So I really shouldn't be suprised at all the things that happened today. But I was -- I am. It's just so weird. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all -- Holly &amp;amp; her mum Kate,&amp;nbsp;moved out. We helped them, and because they didn't have much stuff, (They left everything with Mr Condye when they left) it only took about 3 hours. Which means that their house is kind of empty, so I have a feeling we'll be still seeing a lot of them around &lt;em&gt;our&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;house -- which is cool. And we can still walk to school and everything together =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the &lt;strong&gt;big&lt;/strong&gt; suprise came when Holly, Kate, Nan &amp;amp; I were approaching our house after a few hours shopping in town, buying some new furniture for their house. There was an expensive-looking, hot-pink convertible parked in the driveway. As far as I knew, nobody in this town has a hot-pink convertible. I don't think they even sell them. &lt;br /&gt;Feeling confused and mystified, we headed up the driveway, to the front door. Nan unlocked it with the silver key, inviting Kate &amp;amp; Holly in -- afterall, they were as curious as we were! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shutting the door behind me, I followed the others into the living room. I gasped. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There, sitting on the couch, was a woman with blonde-highlighted hair, a pair of blue skinny's, and a tank top. Her long, manicured fingernails were painted black. The looked up as I entered the room, and a look of...fear? Confusion? Unsure-ness? -- crossed over her face. I knew who this woman was. The feeling passing over my face was a look of realization, a look that showed I understood who she was. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't really describe the feeling anymore, except to say this -- she was my mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was so weird. I'd felt so apart, so drawn-away from her and dad -- that this seemed like a dream. My mother was here, looking at me. Giving me the attention I'd always wanted. Except, now, I wasn't sure I wanted it. This was just too much for me. &lt;br /&gt;I take a breath, and close my eyes. I feel a little un-steady, and clutch Holly's shoulder to regain my balance. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Olivia." That was my mother. It feels weird calling her, "Mother", but I'm just not ready to call her mum. It just doesn't seem right. &lt;br /&gt;"Hi." My voice came out sounding like my mouth was full of corn flakes. Kind of a disgusting metaphore, yes, but that's what it sounded like. &lt;br /&gt;ea&lt;br /&gt;"Lydia!" exclaimed Kate. At least someone was appreciative of the mother who never really was a mother to me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that my brain has had a few minuted to calm down, a realization hits me -- has something happened to dad? Is THAT why she's here? I sure hope not. Even though I was never close to him, either -- he was a good man. A nice one, even. It's just that my parents never really understood the "Parent" part of having a family. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pop came in then, and handed round a tray of coffee and pieces of the chocolate fudge Holly and I had made the day before. "Olivia," said mum again. (Yeah, mother sounds too formal...)&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're probably wondering why I'm here."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-2218745533041433283?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2218745533041433283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/turn-of-events.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/2218745533041433283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/2218745533041433283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/turn-of-events.html' title='a turn of events'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-8708477483243177725</id><published>2009-09-18T18:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T18:54:23.443-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 30'/><title type='text'>Happy Birthday, Nan!</title><content type='html'>Why does nothing interesting ever happen in my life? Like, I do so not want to write, "We had maths this morning. It was SO boring," every single say. Well, I don't know if I've written that before. But it feels like I'm always writing it... LOL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's nan's birthday today. I think she's 63 years old. Isn't it weird, how once you pass like, 30, you start to forget how old you are? Not me personally, of course. But even my parents -- when I was younger, and it was mum or dad's birthday, I'd ask how old they were going to be -- you know, so that I could write the number on the birthday card and stuff. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we're going out for tea to celebrate, but I'm not sure where. Not that there's not many places to eat in this little town, but yeah. Hehe, wouln't it be so bad &amp;amp; annoying if nan invited her friend the fat lady? Lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not that I have anything against people who are, er, over-weight. I'm not that shallow a person! It's just this one lady, and it's not because she's fat. It's cuz she's so rude. And stubborn. Almost child-like! Now, I'm gonna make a promise -- to you and myself. If she ends up coming, I will not be rude, or complain and stuff. I'll smile and be polite. Mmhmm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; :::&lt;br /&gt;Ohh, that was so weirdly awkward. I'm back, and I was right -- the fat lady was there. But, uhh, so was somebody else. Besides her husband, that is. So, you curious yet? Or have you already figured it out? Lol. It was Gabby. Uh-huh. And we hardly talked at all, except when they arrived, while we were already seated, and she said, " What are YOU doing here?" and I didn't actually say anything back, unless shrugging counts. I'm SO annoyed nan didn't tell that GABBY was coming -- or I would have &lt;em&gt;begged&lt;/em&gt; to bring Holly! Actually, they were going to come, but Holly's mum wanted Holly to go into town with her to watch something at the Cinema... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus, Gabby had her phone, and was texting like, the whole time -- probably telling Sean &amp;amp; Kim what a stupid little "Party" she's at. &lt;em&gt;Okay,&lt;/em&gt; I thought,&lt;em&gt; if she can do this, then so can I!&lt;/em&gt; I got out my little pink phone, and texted to Holly, &lt;em&gt;Help! Gabby is here. Argghh.&lt;/em&gt;&amp;nbsp; Hol texted me back sraight away. &lt;em&gt;Waaat? How can u stand it?! poor u!! :(&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gabby got up for her seat, and went to the bathrooms or something. Something occured to me --&lt;em&gt;Maybe I could read her SMS's!&lt;/em&gt; But of course, she'd taken her phone with her. Uhh, duh. Who would leave their phone at&amp;nbsp; the table, anyway? &lt;br /&gt;While she was gone, the waitress came over and asked if we were ready to order. "Yes, thankyou," smiled nan, "What do you guys want?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Umm.." I paused. I'd been staring at the fancy-looking menu for&amp;nbsp;five minutes, but I still hadn't decided what to order between nuggets &amp;amp; chips or chicken Shnitzel. I chose the second option, with gravy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll have... the ROAST." the fat woman ordered, (Does it seem really mean for me to call her that? I keep forgetting her name, and at least you know who I'm talking about...!!) in a voice&amp;nbsp;that was probably heard from the bottom of the lake. The poor waitress looked startled for a moment, then jotted a couple of things down on her notepad. "I'll have the steak, medium-rare, thanks," ordered Pop. I don't even know what medium rare is... I think it has something to do with how well you want your steak cooked, lolz. &lt;br /&gt;Nan ordered the same, but the fat woman's husband ordered the roast, like her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, you may remember a certain evening when they came over for dinner, and pop and I had made a roast, and I'd put those herbs or chicken salt or something&amp;nbsp;on the potatoes, because it gives them flavour &amp;amp; makes it look proffesional. Yeah, if you wanna read that post, click &lt;a href="http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/company.html"&gt;Here.&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp; I guess they forgot about Gabby, because nobody ordered anything for her. I was going to say something, but before I could, the waitress left. Oh, what a shame. =P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Gabby came back, she was still texting. Gosh, could what she and Sean be saying really be THAT interesting? Or was -- AM -- I just really boring? After about ten minutes of watching Gab text, listening to the fat lady grumble about the table cloth, and my grandparents and the lady's husband try to ignore her in a nice way -- our food came. It looked soo yummy! The only problem? I didn't know if I'd be able to eat it all! I watched Gabby's grandma (See, that's a nicer name!) as she grabbed her roast from the waitress. I saw in delight that the potatoes were coated lightly in chicken salt, like they'd been at our house. A frown shaded over her already-grim face, and I started to laugh. I stopped when I felt pop kick me under the table, until I looked up... and saw the glimmer in his own eyes! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Uhh, ex-cuuuse me?" questioned a now &lt;em&gt;annoyed&lt;/em&gt; looking Gabby. "Where is MY meal?!" I giggled again, but thankfully, nobody could here me. "Ohh, sorry, sweatheart!" exclaimed nan. "Why, you've been texting so quietly, I really did forget you'd gone...I'm so sorry!" she said again. She didn't &lt;em&gt;look&lt;/em&gt; sorry.. okay, she did -- that's just me, trying to make this dramatic. Gabby sighed, and ordered a chicken salad. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After we'd all finished our food, with only random scraps left on our plates, pop excused himself for a moments -- then came back, with one of the chef's --&amp;nbsp;who was holding a huge chocolate cake, with 63 candles on it!&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;'Happy birthday to you!" &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;sung Pop. We all joined in, even Gabby and her grandma. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Happy birthday to you!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Happy birthday dear...Nan! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Happy birthday to you!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We counted to sixty-three, and Nan blew out the candles. "Hip Hip Hooray!" I said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ate the cake, talked, then cleaned up, paid the bill -- and went home. And right now I'm a very tired Olivia Grace who needs to get some sleep! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luv,Livii&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-8708477483243177725?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8708477483243177725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/happy-birthday-nan.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/8708477483243177725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/8708477483243177725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/happy-birthday-nan.html' title='Happy Birthday, Nan!'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-5998575673550007465</id><published>2009-09-10T15:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T15:29:55.626-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 29'/><title type='text'>HE -- how embarrasing!</title><content type='html'>Well, I'm at school again. In music, this time. Oh, the most embarrasing thing happened this morning. So, I was getting ready for school, right? Yeah. And nan's adorable cat, Smiggle, wanted to get out of my room. (Cats can be kind of annoying that way -- they wanna come in, and when you finally have enough energy to open the door, they change their mind!) I was trying to find my trackies, and I was wearing like, my school jumper and stuff, right? But cuz I couldn't find my trackies, I just, well, wasn't wearing them. So, I open my bedroom door -- and there's this guy standing there, fixing something! Actually, I only stood there, in the doorway, long enough to see the guys black jacket -- but it was SO embarrasing! I wanted to scream, but I quickly closed the door, and was so humiliated I had to laugh! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I quickly found my &lt;em&gt;grey&lt;/em&gt; trackies, and raced AWAY from that guy. I did not want him to see my face. You see, I have this "Theory" that if they can't see my face, then they won't remember me if they happen to see me ever again. Yeah... of course, I don't know if it's actually true or not. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm, I wonder how long until lunch. *Sigh* I'm so bored... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:::&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You will never guess what happened at lunch. Well, you might... but you probably won't. LOL.&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so you know how it's been like, really windy lately? Yeah, well Gabby &amp;amp; Sean were like, kissing and stuff behind this shed-thingo-ma-bobby, right? Well, the wind was really loud and stuff, then the shed fell down -- and everybody could see them! It was soo disgusting. Anyway, they both got like, 20 demerits or something -- and now they both have a week of internal suspensions! :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'd better go. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luv,Livii&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-5998575673550007465?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5998575673550007465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/he-how-embarrasing.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/5998575673550007465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/5998575673550007465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/he-how-embarrasing.html' title='HE -- how embarrasing!'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-7316414756511968733</id><published>2009-08-28T22:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-28T22:20:29.567-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 28'/><title type='text'>Shopping.. gone wrong?</title><content type='html'>Well, I'm back, obviously. Shopping is soo awesome, don't you agree? So, what did I buy? Lemme see...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Black mini-shorts, pink Roxy thongs, black &amp;amp; purple nail polish, a purple Roxy purse, some awesome t-shirts... AND I got my ears pierced. Sounds kind of horrible really -- I got my ears &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;pierced&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. I've always been too scared to get them done before, but, like, all my friends wear earrings -- so, I figured, why can't I? But I sorta forgot one, uhh, MINOR thing. You know -- nan. I serioulsly didn't think that she'd oppose to the idea, or that I'd even have to ask. I mean, my mum'd never of cared if I'd had it done while I was living with her and dad. But then, I'm not. I should've realized -- my mum &lt;em&gt;is&lt;/em&gt; different to my grandparents, even if they are related.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, there I was, walking home with Holly (We'd already dropped Shan off), all happy and &lt;em&gt;proud&lt;/em&gt; of myself for not being too scared and stuff -- and then, as soon as we enter the house, we bump into my nan, who frowns. "Olivia Grace!" she gasps.&lt;br /&gt;"What?" I ask, not completely sure of what I've done wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What did you DO?!" she exclaimed, her eyes focusing on my newly pierced ears.Okay, now I'm getting a bit worried. I'm pretty certain she's talking about my ears, and I'm thinking, "Maybe I should have asked for permission.." But like, it's not big deal -- is it? I mean, it's not like I went ahead and got my belly-button pierced or anything!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Olivia? Did you ask if you could get your ears piered?" I shake my head. "Then why did you go ahead and do it, then?" Now I shrugg -- "Well," I answered, "Mum always said I could, so I thought --"&lt;br /&gt;Nan interrupted me. "SO? You're not living with your mother OR your father right now. You're living with your pop and I, and you must ask US for permission before you do things... okay?" she softened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was thinking she'd probably make me take out the small silver hoops that were in my ears, but instead she said, "..but you can keep them. What type of nan would I be if I let you go through with getting holes punched in your ears --" she paused, as if the thought was too painful to imagine -- "..and not let you keep them?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I smiled. "Thanks, Nan... I'm sorry I didn't ask you first."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luv,Livii&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-7316414756511968733?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7316414756511968733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/shopping-gone-wrong.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/7316414756511968733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/7316414756511968733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/shopping-gone-wrong.html' title='Shopping.. gone wrong?'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-658803716629449781</id><published>2009-08-26T23:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-28T21:54:30.738-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 27'/><title type='text'>School.Shopping.</title><content type='html'>Okay, so we're in english right now, with Mr Riley. We're supposed to be studying poetry, but I'm a step further that I usually am, cuz it usually takes me forever to even like, choose a poem! Anyway, I figured I deserved a "break" before I start to memorize my poem, "Friends".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ohh, there's like a whole hour till recess... ohh, guess what! I'm going shopping today, with Holly &amp;amp; Shan. I haven't really done anything with Shan in a while, so it will go well... hehe, I sound like an old lady or something -- "So it will go well", lolz! =P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soo, what should I buy this afternoon? Hey, it's almost summer! Yayy! Summer is like, so awesome. I'm just gonna buy heaps of summer-ish stuff -- byebye skinny jeans, hello mini-shorts! *Sighh* A couple more months, and all this cold weather'll be gone... ohh! Summer means summer uniform! No more kilts!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got nothing to write ~ just shows how boring english really is. Even if it is my best subject.&lt;br /&gt;Ohh, Mr Riley is teasing this girl about where she used to live, in New Zealand. Only cuz he used to live there too, lol. Wow, this must sure be soo interesting to read! Hmm. At least I'm not just sitting there wasting my time, like I usually do in english...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so I'm just going to write some more random stuff, about what people are doing:&lt;br /&gt;Gabby &amp;amp; Sean are on the computer... Tay &amp;amp; Emii are on the computer... yeah, most people are on the computer, which I think, personally, would be pretty boring -- only cuz the stupid school took away the internet, which means we can't access it unless our teacher actually books us in. Ohh, MSN had better work, grr.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ohh, guess what -- Holly &amp;amp; her mum are moving into their new house tomorrow. I just think that it's soo awesome  that we're gonna be neighbours! Oh, we have like 20 mins until school is over..oops! I meanuntil &lt;em&gt;english&lt;/em&gt; is over. There's about 5 and a half hours until SCHOOL is over. :S&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;:::&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School's over. Finally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey, I just read all the Kim books in the "Diary of a Teenage Girl" series, they were awesome... ohh, but I just realized something. Kim has the same name as Kim. Uhh, yeah. Duhh. I mean Kim as in the girl in my class, has the same name as the girl in the book.&lt;br /&gt;But you probably think I'm being kinda childish -- either that or you have no idea what I'm saying. =P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish that something would HAPPEN, so that I've have something to actually write about! Not that I want like, something bad to happen or anything... even though It'd probably be more interesting for ya'll to read...why is that, anyway? That people like reading about bad news?Ohh, wel. I don't have to know everything, do I? I hope not, LOL!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ohh, I gtg shopping now, I'll tell you what I buy when -- well, when I get back. Duh, lolz...ohh, what should I wear? Yeah, I'm still here. =P Hmm, how about... my skinny's, Little Miss Naughty t-shirt, and my volley's? Yeah :) Well, I really do have to go now, Cyaa!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luv,Livii&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-658803716629449781?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/658803716629449781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/schoolshopping.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/658803716629449781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/658803716629449781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/schoolshopping.html' title='School.Shopping.'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-1519042997327303022</id><published>2009-08-26T00:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T00:50:53.738-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 26'/><title type='text'>livin life..</title><content type='html'>Finally. School's finished, and I'm home. Sitting on my bed. Doing homework. Yeah. I hate maths, but I'm not what you'd describe as a "natural", so I gotta practice...ohh, duhh. If I was a natural, then I don't think I'd hate it... lol. Gabby &amp;amp; Sean got "caught" today. I don't know what they got "caught" doing, but yeah. Hey, I'm gonna listen to some music...Taylor swift? Miley? Jordin Sparks? Umm.. Taylor Swift I think, lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I'm listening to one of her awesome songs, "Breathe". Hey, guess what! Camp is in a few weeks... well, a lot of weeks. But still, I can't wait. You know, I've never been to camp before..!!&lt;br /&gt;Wow, you should hear outside. It's soo windy, and it's raining, and, well, COLD. I ♥ Diary of a Teenage Girl books, they're soo awesome!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know how those"Pizza" shapes are like, the favourite flavour? Yeah, well, I used to disagree, but I just had some then -- and they're soo yummy! =P&lt;br /&gt;Soo. Kevin Jonas is getting married, lol, to this Danielle person... the engagement ring he got her has like, 210 diamonds!! What type of person spends that much money on a ring... ohh, yeah. A rich and famous one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey, remember that rude fat lady &amp;amp; her husband who came to our house for dinner that night? Yeah, well, guess who I saw with them the other day, while Holly &amp;amp; I were walking home from school? Gabby! Hehe =P&lt;br /&gt;... We're studying poetry in english now. I wrote an acrostic poem, called "Olivia Grace". I've been doing those ones since like, grade two, and they're like, the same every time! Hehe..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ohh! One of my absolute favourite Taylor Swift songs, "Should've Said No" is on... it's such a good song! ".. should've said no. Baby and you might still have me.." Go TAYLOR! xx&lt;br /&gt;If you haven't listened to that song yet, then you have to do one of these things (Well, you don't have to, lol). Go to youtube and look it up, or but her album "Fearless" -- OR buy it on iTunes. LOL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;luv. livii&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-1519042997327303022?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1519042997327303022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/livin-life.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/1519042997327303022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/1519042997327303022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/livin-life.html' title='livin life..'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-1334061937956932945</id><published>2009-08-25T00:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T00:50:39.377-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 25'/><title type='text'>school. again</title><content type='html'>Hey. So I’m at school right now, sitting next to Tay. In food tech. Okay, I know it sounds fun, and it can be. That is, unless you’ve had a substitute the entire term, and have done theory like, all the time. It gets boring after a while. Yeah. So, nah I’m not on the computer. Cuz school is NOT allowed to be that fun...actually, I’m just writing this down in a random book.. **Well, not anymore, obviously, cuz I’m typing this out on a computer.. but you get what I’m saying** Mmm,, this teacher is so annoying. No offence to her, but I’m kind of, well, you know – BORED. Duhh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ohh, right. Now she wants us to write out MORE random stuff. Something about how to measure out salt or something. Uhh, right. Ohh, now something about small quantities. At least I look like I’m doing what I’m supposed to be, lol. *Sigh* I wish we could cook. Actually, I wish our normal teacher would come back. Yeaahh. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what else should I write? Gabby &amp;amp; Kim aren’t in this class, lol. So that’s a good thing, I guess. I don’t have to listen to Gabby &amp;amp; Sean talk about all that gross stuff, eww... (They’re going out). Hey, you know what? I’m totally gonna start doing this every day. You know, writing in here, this book, cuz some classes are so boring. ESPECIALLY SOSE, now that we have “Assigned Seats”. And I have to sit next to Kim. Yayy. And yeah, that was sarcastic, in case you couldn’t tell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ohh, great. Now the teacher gave us a sheet to fill in. Arggh. Lol. I mean, really. I DO know how to separate eggs. I wish we were allowed to bring laptops to class... but then, there wouldn’t be many people to talk to, cuz we’d all be at school... lol. Okay, new subject. LOL. WHY do I say “Lol” so much? I mean, yeah, it’s normal. But I’ve decided, this second, that I’m gonna make up a replacement for it... okay, forget about it. I can’t be bothered... I guess I could use “rofl” or something, but I think that sounds kinda dumb... lol :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ohh, there’s about half an hour left to the end of the day... great. Ohh, guess what!!! Mrs-What’s-Her-Name just gave us MORE work! Actually, I don’t care. Cuz I’m starving. Grr.&lt;br /&gt;Eww. This worksheet has the recipe of “Savoury Cheese Ring”. GROSS! Ohh, you should see the ingredients... it’s like random stuff – onion, bacon, cheese...dough... capsicum, and other stuff. Ohh, she just said that’s what we’re making next week. Rgg. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I gotta go.. luv ya! xx Livii&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-1334061937956932945?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1334061937956932945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/school-again.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/1334061937956932945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/1334061937956932945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/school-again.html' title='school. again'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-4577103142014332375</id><published>2009-08-16T14:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T00:50:22.198-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 24'/><title type='text'>weekend. :)</title><content type='html'>Okay, guess what – Holly’s mum found a house – NEXT DOOR! I mean, is that so awesome or what?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How did this like, happen , you might be wondering. Yeah, it’s a neutral feeling. You see, the people who were living there are, obviously, moving out.&lt;br /&gt;And they’d heard that the Condye’s were new to Glistasville, looking for a new house in their new life. SO – Mr and Mrs Jameson offered them their beautiful single story home for a really great deal. (For some reason, grown-ups don’t like to reveal the actual price for these things...grr!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it’ll be pretty awesome to have her next door, when they move out... which is, I think, in a couple of weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what’s been happening in my life? Besides that, and that’s not really about me, more about Holly and her mum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shan came over last night, it was just like old times... she and Holly seemed to get along, and the&lt;br /&gt;three of us had a movie marathon – we watched “Sydney White” and “Confessions of a Shopaholic” and “Nancy Dew” and “Big Momma’s House”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were pretty awesome... yeah, so they were a bit girly(Well, not Big Momma’s House... but it was funny!) but duh – we’re girlz!&lt;br /&gt;Mmm, what else did we do? Went on MSN... Holly talked to Jayden... I think she likes him...this is how their conversation went (Yeah, I was reading it... lol)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:Holly_glam96@hotmail.com"&gt;Holly_glam96@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt; ~ Available&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:imacoolkindaguy.jayden@hotmail.com"&gt;imacoolkindaguy.jayden@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt; ~ Available&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xx.Holly Says: heyy&lt;br /&gt;Jayden. Says: hey&lt;br /&gt;xx.Holly says: what’s up?&lt;br /&gt;Jayden. Says: just hanging out at home..&lt;br /&gt;xx.Holly says: lol, awesome.&lt;br /&gt;Jayden. Says: what u doin?&lt;br /&gt;xx.Holly Says: at livii’s,, me her n shan are havin a sleepover lol&lt;br /&gt;Jayden. Says: lol, realy kool&lt;br /&gt;xx.Holly Says: Yeahh.. im boredd.&lt;br /&gt;Jayden. Says: hehe, me too. So, how u liking Glitasville so far??&lt;br /&gt;xx.Holly Says: it’s pretty good. Way better than where i used to live...&lt;br /&gt;Jayden. Says: Realy, awesome. So, u hang out with livii and emii and them at skool?&lt;br /&gt;xx.Holly Says: Yeah :) Livii used to go to the same skool that i useda go to, lolz.&lt;br /&gt;Jayden. Says: Realy? I didn’t no that! Awesome :)&lt;br /&gt;xx.Holly Says: Ohh, i gtg.. cyaa&lt;br /&gt;Jayden. Says: cya at skool :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so maybe I’m just making something about nothing,, but hey, what’s a girl to do? :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the sleepover went pretty well, and now here I am, tonight, in the lounge with Holly, watching Australian Idol. Now, I’m not a BAD singer, but I’m not exactly a really good singer or anything – and I would so NOT have the guts to audition for that show! I mean, I know that criticism can like, help you improve and stuff – but really. Some things they say to the poor contestants aren’t needed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ohh, Jayden’s online... I’d better not tell Holly! ...Ohh! He said hi to me, lol ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:imacoolkindaguy.jayden@hotmail.com"&gt;imacoolkindaguy.jayden@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt; ~ Available&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:livii_glita-chick96@hotmail.com"&gt;livii_glita-chick96@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt; ~ Available&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jayden. Says: hey livii&lt;br /&gt;Livii Says: hii&lt;br /&gt;Jayden. Says: what’s up?&lt;br /&gt;Livii Says: Lol, watchin auditions on Australian idol..&lt;br /&gt;Jayden. Says: Same ;P&lt;br /&gt;Livii: I feel sorry for this guy,, they’re sayin no to him ..ohh, they’re sayin yes! Hehe&lt;br /&gt;Jayden. Says: lol yeahh&lt;br /&gt;Livii Says: EEK! Listen to this guy!!!!&lt;br /&gt;Jayden. Says: i no! And that song is jus GROSS&lt;br /&gt;Livii Says: yerrr,, i no :S ... WOW, rejectionnn!&lt;br /&gt;Jayden. Says: he totally practiced that line to kyle.. i bet it was a setup thing for him to go on the show, lol.&lt;br /&gt;Livii. Says: yeahh, thats what mrs condye was saying :)&lt;br /&gt;Jayden. Says: lol kool.&lt;br /&gt;:::&lt;br /&gt;And now I’ve stopped talking for a little while, because I know where this conversation is going – “Soo. I’m bored” and stuff like that. LOL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, this is kinda a long post, hehe!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I’m gonna end this post right now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luv,Livii xx&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-4577103142014332375?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4577103142014332375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/weekend.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/4577103142014332375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/4577103142014332375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/weekend.html' title='weekend. :)'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-2271347733522394464</id><published>2009-08-11T00:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T00:50:09.432-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 23'/><title type='text'>shAn and clariSe</title><content type='html'>Hey! I’m so sorry, but I haven’t blogged in a couple of days. Don’t worry, though. You haven’t missed out on anything :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Church was same as last week...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday was same as last Monday...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And today. Tuesday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, it was a bit more different. Remember Shan and Clarise?&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I haven’t really mentioned them lately. We haven’t been hanging out with them, because they’ve been with Gabby and Kim, but today it seemed like they wanted to hang with us. Which was, uhh, kinda awkward...hmm, “awkward” is a pretty, well, awkward word. Lol.. I had to say that :p&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. Shan and Clarise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Tay, Holly, Emii and me were hanging out at recess, when suddenly Shan and Clarise came over. We stopped talking. Which made the situation even more weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Umm, hey you guys” said Shan.&lt;br /&gt;“Heyy,” I say.&lt;br /&gt;“What’s up?” said Tay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clarise shrugged. “We don’t really feel like hanging with Gab and Kim. We’re kinda sick of it, if you get what I mean.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emii nodded. “Yeah, I kinda understand how you’d be sick of those two.. in fact, I’m surprised you’ve avoided us so long.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holly jumped in, “I don’t really know you guys, but how come you’ve been with them two girls, giggling and talking about us – and now suddenly, here you are, wanting to be best friends..” She hesitated for a moment. “No offense or anything. I mean, I’m sure you’re awesome – and I’d love to be friends! But you’re not just gonna go from us to them or something are you?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She took a breath. So then I said, “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But it’d kinda get like, really annoying if you hung with us, then we go to math or whatever, and you just gossip about us with Gab and Kim..”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shan shook her head. “We wanna hang with you girls all the time. Gabby and Kim aren’t really the type of friends I like to influence my decisions. And it’s not like we have much in common or anything.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tay nodded. “Yeah. So, what you girls been doin lately?”&lt;br /&gt;And they proceeded to share all the stuff Gabby and Kim had been telling them... about us, that is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because, we figured, it was only fair we knew!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So, you guys gonna start coming back to church?” Tay questioned.&lt;br /&gt;They nodded. “Yeah, probably” said Clarise.&lt;br /&gt;“Cool” Holly replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then the bell rang, and we headed to maths. Well, after we got our stuff from our lockers :)&lt;br /&gt;The five of us sat together, and it was pretty awesome. And yeah, the rest of the day was pretty much like that...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ohh, Holly and I have gotta leave in about and hour – we’re going to Tay’s for a couple of hours, Emii’s coming too.. I don’t think Shan and Clarise are, though. LOL :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I’d better go get ready...&lt;br /&gt;Luv,Livii&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-2271347733522394464?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2271347733522394464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/shan-and-clarise.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/2271347733522394464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/2271347733522394464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/shan-and-clarise.html' title='shAn and clariSe'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-2380481984989012891</id><published>2009-08-06T13:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T00:49:37.119-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 22'/><title type='text'>Random ;)</title><content type='html'>Hey. I haven't written in a couple of days,, but now it's 6:58am and I had some spare time.. well, obviously, because who has something to do at 6:58am?! Okaay, fine. A lot of people. But no-one in this household, at least.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finished that Chloe book, btw. You know, the one in the Diary of a Teenage girl series? Yeah. It was pretty awesome. No, actually --&lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; awesome! I can't wait to get no.2 :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holly's asleep across the hall, in what, apparently, used to be my auntie's room. And that might not sound interesting to you or anything -- but I never even knew that I HAD an auntie, until last night, when the grown-up's suggested Holly moving into her own room, to give us girls our own space. Now, I know we both hadn't &lt;em&gt;minded&lt;/em&gt; sharing a room -- but we were starting to get a bit.. well, not sick of eachother. But, you know -- we've both grown up in our own rooms,, used to our own private place to go. I also found out that MY bedroom used to be my mum's bedroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which I thought was pretty awesome. You see, even though I've never been that close to my parents (as you probably know, if you've been following this blog for a while). But I'm kinda starting to, like, well, wish that they could be here, too, and I could grow up with my family around me, in a gorgeous house in a gorgeous country town called Glitasville...sounds to good to be true, yeah?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ohh, and the other day, I had an awesome idea. Okay, awesome for me :P But I'm sure everyone else in the house will appreciate the new mouse. Hehe, I don't really want a new mouse -- or an old one, for that matter. I just wrote that cuz it rhymed with a whole bunch of other words in the sentence. Actually, it rhymed with like, two or something -- but...yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, my awesome idea? Oh, you're probably thinking, "Uh-oh, another one of Livii's ideas? The last time she had one of THOSE, she wanted to move across the country!" Well, for your information -- 1) I don't wanna move again and 2) I did NOT move across the country -- I just went to the top of the state. So &lt;em&gt;ha&lt;/em&gt; :P&lt;br /&gt;Lol, that &lt;em&gt;ha &lt;/em&gt;looks kinda lame there. But oh, well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANYWAY -- my idea -- I want a gorgeous little kitten! I'm not sure what colour or anything,, I'm thinking maybe either orange &amp;amp; white, or grey :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oops, it's 7:18am now -- I should probably think about getting ready for school.. YAY, it's Friday -- finally! Then the weekend..ahh. I'm smiling now. I just gotta get through one more day, till it's ... sleep-in day! Yeah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, Holly's up. I can hear her &lt;em&gt;attempting&lt;/em&gt; to travel up the passage way, to my room. But, uhh, it's not really working. LOL :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luv,Livii&lt;br /&gt;♥xxx♥&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-2380481984989012891?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2380481984989012891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/hey.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/2380481984989012891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/2380481984989012891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/hey.html' title='Random ;)'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-1498318095653609795</id><published>2009-08-01T22:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T00:49:05.054-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 21'/><title type='text'>school.</title><content type='html'>So, school was today. Holly's first day, too. It went pretty well, I think -- I mean, at least she didn't get stares during roll call, like I did!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Livii, do I look stupid in this uniform?" Holly asked me this morning. I shook my head.&lt;br /&gt;"No, you look awesome!". She didn't look convinced. Anyway, we managed to get ready, and walked to school. When we got there, we met up with Tay and Emii. It was like we'd been doing this for years, walking to school together, meeting up with our friends -- it felt so naturally right, lol!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We showed Holly her locker (Which is next to mine) and then we hung out, Tay and Emii telling Holly who everyone was, me occasionally throwing some stuff in. Mainly, though, I was paying attention to Tay and Emii -- they hadn't told ME this stuff!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the bell rang, we walked to class, and sat down at our usual table. Finally -- one of us didn't have to sit by ourselves anymore. Yay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr Tiler told us to settle down, but I still heard some whispers from the back corner of the room. I turned in that direction, and, what a suprise -- Gabby, Kim, Shan and Clarise are back there. I have a feeling I know what they're whispering about, too. Yeah -- Holly. But I can't understand why -- I mean, she's really pretty. Wavy blonde hair, green eyes.. she's gorgeous! I guess they didn't wanna feel threatened by Holly or something. You know, be mean and stuff so that she won't look cooler than them or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The teacher introduced Holly, and then did the roll. The morning pretty much just went by, with maths, SOSE and english. Recess was just the same as usual, except Holly was with us. We hung out in this random place, outside the science room or something, Tay's idea. She says it can be "our spot." lOlz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm. I thiNk it'S kinDa coOl haVing a caPitalized lettEr iN eveRy woRd, lOl. It loOkz preTty awesoMe,,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, where was i? Oh, yeah. School. Science was after recess, then Music -- and btw, I cannot stand either of them -- and then lunch. We hung out in our spot again, and just talked and stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This school's pretty cool, ya know." said Holly once we were eating our lunch.&lt;br /&gt;I nod. "Yeah, waaay better than our old school.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tay shrugs. "Yeah, it's nice, I guess..." I give Emii a &lt;em&gt;look&lt;/em&gt;, that I'm hoping says, "How come she's just gone like that?" Emii just points her finger to her mouth, as if to say, "A secret. I can't tell.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Great. A secret. And um, how am I supposed to figure out what that secret IS? I mean, how come Tay doesn't like this school?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tay went back to normal once we changed the subject, though. By the time it was library, we were ready to just collapse on the couch and read a book. At least, I was. I remember those Diary of a Teenage Girl books, and decided to see if they had them in the school library. I headed over the senior fiction, and, yay -- they had some! I chose "Chloe, no.1" and sat down on one of the really comfy couches this school has -- waay more comfy than those ones at my old school!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then it was hometime. Holly and I said bye to our friends, walked home, and now Holly's writing in her diary or something..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'd better go, to. See ya..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luv,Livii&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-1498318095653609795?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1498318095653609795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/school.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/1498318095653609795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/1498318095653609795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/school.html' title='school.'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-8898189671576609337</id><published>2009-07-30T22:56:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T00:48:35.722-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 20'/><title type='text'>tay.emii.holly.livii :)</title><content type='html'>Hey. Church was yesterday, school starts tomorrow..and Holly and her mum are still here :)&lt;br /&gt;I'll bet you're wondering about how Holly and Tay and Emii and I went yesterday at church.. then again, maybe you couldn't care less :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Livii! What are you wearing?" It was 8:45am, and Holly and I were getting ready for church.&lt;br /&gt;"Umm.. my skinny's and that purple top we bought the other day, with my volley's.." holly sighed. "So, what should &lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt; wear?" I shrug.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How about.. your blue skinny's, that black top we bought, and your black ankle boots?" I suggested. She thought about it. Then she's like "Yeah, good idea. Lol, I'd forgotten how good you were at fashion.."&lt;br /&gt;I poked my tongue out at her.. not in a little kiddish way, you know, in a "Ooh, you're gonna get it!" way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she grabbed the spray bottle, filled with water -- and pulled the trigger, so that my hair got all wet. Okay, &lt;em&gt;now&lt;/em&gt; she was in for it!&lt;br /&gt;I grabbed another one from the bathroom, raced back to my room -- and suddenly we were involved in a very fiercely..well, &lt;em&gt;wet &lt;/em&gt;-- situation. Sigh. Ya see, friends without all the fights and stuff is soo much more fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it's like, Tay and Emii are awesome, but I feel like, closer to Holly.. probably because I've known her for years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oops, where was I? Oh, yeah. Getting ready for church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, after we had showers and got dressed and did our hair..and brushed our teeth, and had breakfast..it was time to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So, how do we get there?" asked Holly. This may sound like a prettyyy dumb question to some -- but I'd taken her on a tour, and she knew as well as I did that we could easily walk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I'm not a huge fan of walking. But when you're with friends you love (Love in a friend-kinda-way, lol) , the things you hate suddenly change. Like walking, for instance -- is a heap of fun! Even doing boring things like unloading the &lt;em&gt;dishwasher &lt;/em&gt;are more fun with a friend!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We decided to walk, and Nana, Pop and Rebecca said they'd leave soon, and meet us there. I love walking around Glistasville. I mean, it's so pretty. I know it might sound pretty boring, but it's not. The parks we passed -- there's this river in Glitasville --oops, I mean lake -- I mentioned it when I first moved to Glitasville, if you missed that post -- you can get to it by clicking &lt;a href="http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/glitasville-here-i-am.html#comments"&gt;here.&lt;/a&gt; :)&lt;br /&gt;Like they say -- a picture can describe a thousand words. With that in mind -- I think I might post a picture of this place sometime :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We get to church, and I see Taylor and Emii hanging around the back of the main building. They haven't seen me yet -- and furthermore -- they didn't even know, at that stage -- that Holly was even here, in Glitasville. So I couldn't wait to see how they reacted, because, I figured -- that might show a part of them I haven't seen yet. You know, jealousy and stuff, because here I am, with this girl I've known since year 1 or whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tay turned around then, and started to wave, motioning for me to join them. But then she stopped, when she noticed Holly. She got this questioning look on her face, and poked Emii to turn around. I started walking towards them, and Holly came with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey, Livii," said Tay.&lt;br /&gt;"Heyy, you guys" I greeted them. "This is Holly" I held out my hands, as if I was unvealing a statue or something. "Hey Holly.." they said, somewhat more less-exciteish than when they'd greeted me. "Kind of a long story," I told them "But Holly and I used to go to the same school, and now she and her mum have, um, just moved up here to Glitasville." I smiled this kinda big-but-unsure-of-the-reaction-I-may-get smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But they were really nice -- "Ohh, really? Well, I'm sure you'll LOVE it here. It's an awesome place..right, Livii?" Tay asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I nodded. Then Emii said, "Hey, Holly -- are you gonna come to our school? That would be soo cool! We'd be a foursome, instead of a three-some-sometimes-foursome.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we started telling Holly about Gabby and Kim and stuff -- and Clarrise and Shan -- who, to be perfectly honest -- I'd actually &lt;em&gt;forgotten&lt;/em&gt; about 'till now! Haha, I'd better not tell &lt;em&gt;them&lt;/em&gt; that..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At 10am, the service started, and we sat down at our usual spot, on one side of the church. Ususally, we do our best to listen to the sermon and stuff, and today was no exeption. Even though Holly and I are both pretty new to this whole church thing, I think we're both realizing that there could be something to having a realationship with God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because you know how people are always saying, "I don't want no religion." or whatever? Yeah, well the minister, this guy in his 30's or something, well he said something this morning that really made sense to me. It was this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christianity isn't a religion. It's a realationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah. I think that, when he said that, something inside me just "clicked". I may not be an expert on God and stuff, but I think that -- well, I know that -- I need God.&lt;br /&gt;This might sound kinda dumb, but umm, I don't really &lt;em&gt;know&lt;/em&gt; how to get God -- do I just say something like, "Uh, God? Are you there? Um, I just wanted to say.. I wanna be friends. Like, I wanna have a realationship with you." I mean, can I do that? I think so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, after church, us four girls hung out at my house, and right now we're getting ready for an awesome sleepover -- the official start of the awesome four. lol. Hey, maybe we should think of a name.. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I'd better go make sure they're not having too much fun without me..!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luv,Livii&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-8898189671576609337?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8898189671576609337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/tayemiihollylivii.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/8898189671576609337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/8898189671576609337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/tayemiihollylivii.html' title='tay.emii.holly.livii :)'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-361353178162664239</id><published>2009-07-28T14:38:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T00:48:20.170-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 19'/><title type='text'>Wow! This is soo awesome..</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;**EDIT!!** Hey, I realized a mistake I made, lol. Where it says, 'friends are the least of my troubles' i did NOT mean that, because what i was about to write was not a problem, lolz.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of days have gone by since I last posted, and right now, friends are the least of my troubles. Because guess who showed up, with her mother, the other day?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose you could read back, on one of my earlier posts, to try and solve this little "Mini-Mystery" that I've managed to fit into my blog. If you've been paying really good attention to the stuff I'm writing, you may also know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then -- if you have absolutely no idea, well, I might as well tell you. Drumroll please..*okaay, I don't even know what drumroll &lt;em&gt;means&lt;/em&gt;. Actually, I do, but yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, it was Holly and her mum. You know, when I was leaving my old life, that day, and Holly's mum drove up, and told me how she was leaving and stuff? Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I'm in my room, doing english homework, when I hear a car pulling into the drive. I figure it's one of nan's friends, so I don't bother to look out my window, like I ususally do when somebody comes over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Olivia!" nan was calling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ohh, great, &lt;/em&gt;I was thinking. She wants to introduce me to another one of her friends, like that Mindy woman -- click &lt;a href="http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/company.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; to read about that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I headed towards the living room, I heard chatter. But it didn't sound like the usual croaky-ish voices saying "And how is that granddaughter of yours these days anyway?" they say to Nana. And she always says "Oh, Olivia? She's settling in quite nicely, thankyou.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which only goes to explain why I was majorley...well, STUNNED would be the best way to explain the way I felt when I first saw Holly and her mother in our family living room. I mean, you don't &lt;em&gt;expect &lt;/em&gt;this type of thing, do you? Maybe you do..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they saw me, Holly walked over and gave me this awkward little hug. I shuffled into the room, a little more, and tried to be a little more hospitable. "Hey, Holly. Hi, Mrs Condye".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hello, Livii. You're probably really suprised to see us here.." Mrs Condye greeted me. I nodded.&lt;br /&gt;"I told you the day we left, that I'd decided to leave Erik.. and Holly wanted to come with me. We've been living with an old friend for the past few weeks, but I'm afraid that..well, it doesn't seem to be working out. Besides, it was only temorary," she added.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And THEN she said -- "We knew you were living here, in Glitasville, of course. And so -- " she paused, and looked at Holly, to see if she'd like to share the news she was preparing not only me, but my nan with. Holly shook her head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.."We've decided to move to Glitasville." I don't think anyone was that suprised, really. And you may be thinking that &lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt; was thinking, "Ohh, no. Just when I've escaped, it's all coming right back.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I wasn't. Actually, I was pleased. I don't think I've shared the latest of my "Friendship Life".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shan and Clarise came in late that day, the day Jayden had told me Clarise and Shan were those type of girls who, "Befriend you then ditch you" to put it in understandable context. Apparently, not only is Jayden kinda cute -- he's also really smart!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when Shan and Clarise came into class with Gabby and Kim (Yeah, that's how I'm spelling them, forget the "ii".) But this time, they didn't sit with me, Emii and Tay. They went straight to the back of the room, with Gabby, Kim and those two guys, and I've totally forgotten their names -- again. I think one of them is Sean..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suprise, suprise -- they didn't hang out with us at recess. I guess I'm sorta used to that now, though. I mean, I'm not holding my breath that they're suddenly gonna start hanging round with us again -- and to be perfectly honest, I don't know if I really want them to..oh, yeah. They haven't been coming to church, either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I have. And I've been learning some stuff. Stuff that makes me wanna know, "Is there REALLY a God out there, who loves me? Who wants to be FRIENDS with me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In youth the other week, I met this girl, her name's Caitlin, I think she's like, 16 or something -- well, I talked to her for a bit, and she told me I should start reading the "Diary of a Teenage Girl" series, by Melody Carlson. Caitlin said that I'd learn alot from them. So I'm thinking of ordering them online...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, back to the living room. Holly looked like she was waiting for my reaction, so I smiled. I was pretty happy about this. "Really? Wow, that's pretty awesome!" and suddenly I felt pretty close to Holly again, like the old days. I invited her to come up to my room with me, and she was pretty impressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I always thought living in the country would mean living in like, little shacks and stuff, like in movies, lol" I laughed, then told her it was SO awesome having her here!&lt;br /&gt;We hugged then -- a friendship hug. We were officially FRIENDS -- again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We talked for ages that night. (The Condye's need to find a house to move into, and nana said they could stay as long as they needed...Yay!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holly told me about how when she was away all those days -- well, she just couldn't stand being at our old school. "Mum kinda understood, which is why she let me stay home. Dad just thought it was a huge waste of money..which I guess it was."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, it was. LOL, I remember writing something about that in a previous post :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told her about school, about Shan and Clarise, and then about Emii and Tay -- and she said she couldn't wait to meet them. Then I told her about going to church. She didn't get that expression on her face that I might've expected. She goes "Really? Hey, maybe I outa go with you, I've never been to church before.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I nodded, and told her that, before I moved here, neither had I. I also told her about the the series by Melody Carlson. "Hey, maybe we should both buy the books, but like, different ones, so that we can just trade and stuff?" I agreed, thinking it was a pretty awesome idea. We talked more, about how school back in the city, some other state away -- was getting worse. I don't know how long it'll last..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last few days have been pretty much the same -- in other words, awesome. We cooked today, with nana's help, while Mrs Condye, (Who told me to call her Rebecca..) is looking for a house, and a job.&lt;br /&gt;We haven't been able to catch up with Tay and Shan yet (We have a long weekend, from Thursday till Tuesday, something to do with a teachers conference thing), but we'll see them at church tomorrow, and I can't wait to introduce Holly to Tay and Emii!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holly was in town with her mum, but they just got back, so I'd better go... btw, maybe I should tell Holly about this blogging thing..! For now, though -- goodbye..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luv,Livii :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-361353178162664239?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/361353178162664239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/wow-this-is-soo-awesome.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/361353178162664239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/361353178162664239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/wow-this-is-soo-awesome.html' title='Wow! This is soo awesome..'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-3826352502108991631</id><published>2009-07-23T02:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T00:47:11.960-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 18'/><title type='text'>what--</title><content type='html'>Yay. It's finally Saturday. School was pretty...well, average yesterday. It was kinda awkward, with Shannon and Clarise actually hanging with Gabby and Kimberly, and Tay going between them and me and Emii. I feel kinda sorry for Tay, actually. She's trying to be friends with everyone, but.. yeah. But I &lt;em&gt;do&lt;/em&gt; want to be friends with her. Though it does go to show that the friends you start out with aren't always the friends you're gonna always hang with, although you never know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got to school, Tay was waiting with Emii at the lockers. They both gave me a hug, and I asked where Shan and Clarisee were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"With Gabby and Kim. And, uh, apparently Shan's name is no longer Shan -- we're supposed to call her Shannii. Lol" answered Tay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emii shrugged. "Kinda weird, I know. And Clarise is suddenly spelling her name like, Clariise"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I interrupted -- "And lemme guess. Gabby is now G-A-B-I-- and Kim is K-I-M-I-I.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They nodded. And this is really annoying me. Not that they're nodding. About how those girls are stealing the way I spell my name, with the double i!&lt;br /&gt;Ohh, and so does Emii! Lol, without copying eachother ,too ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, then the bell rings, and we head to class. Of course, Gaby and Kim aren't there, but neither are Shan or Clarise.&lt;br /&gt;Hmm. I wouldn't of thought they'd have wanted a detention..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr Tiler took the roll. "Jayden?"&lt;br /&gt;One of the guys near the front answered "Yep". He has brown, wavy hair, and his teeth are almost perfect, I mean compared to the guy he's sitting next to, I &lt;em&gt;think&lt;/em&gt; he's names Harry or something. Not that I spend much time looking at them. =P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Clarise?" no answer, obviously. He sighed. Then he said "Excuse me, class. Does anyone know where these girls &lt;em&gt;are&lt;/em&gt;? This is wasting my time, your time and &lt;em&gt;their&lt;/em&gt; time."&lt;br /&gt;Everyone looked around. Then the class started staring at me -- &lt;em&gt;again&lt;/em&gt;, just like the first day of school. &lt;em&gt;Ohh, come on&lt;/em&gt;, I'm thinking. I mean, what is with this staring thing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, even though I am so not the type to usually say this, I go "Hey, how come you guys keep like, staring at me?" Then no-one says anything, and one of those guys in the back, the one whose called Sean or something goes, "Uhh, yer. Well. Ya see, you seem like friends with 'em and stuff, but.." He paused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I go, "What?" He shuggs. Then that guy, Jayden, goes, "Well, you know how you hang around with Shan and Clarise? Yeah, well they're those girls who befriend you and then--"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gtg =P I guess you'll havta find out what he said tomorrow..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luv ya, Livii&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-3826352502108991631?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3826352502108991631/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/what.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/3826352502108991631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/3826352502108991631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/what.html' title='what--'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-3928649281791211944</id><published>2009-07-21T14:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T00:46:54.243-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 17'/><title type='text'>another.day.in.my.life</title><content type='html'>You may be wondering what conversation took place after my friends sat down at the table with Emii and I. Well...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Mr Tiler took the roll, he said to try and do some homework we might have, because he had some stuff to do. With &lt;em&gt;no&lt;/em&gt; talking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, guess what. I felt really sick, probably because I couldn't figure why my friends had ditched me and Emii. So,, Emii took me to the office, and I went home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, in actuality, the following conversation didn't take place at the table in school -- it took place on msn. (Right now, I only have like, 10 contacts.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ ємιι .. said (4:38 PM):&lt;br /&gt;hey&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tayyy said&lt;br /&gt;HEY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ ємιι&lt;br /&gt;how come u guys ditched me today?????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tayyy said&lt;br /&gt;umm.. well, shan anD clareise wanted to go with them,And u werent there yet, so i jus went with them . lol, it wasnt much fun, we jus went to the toilets And watched kim n gabby do their makeup And stuff , lol..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ ємιι .. said&lt;br /&gt;*confused* Okaay. did clarise n shan hav fun, or did they think it was like, totaly boring?&lt;br /&gt;..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tayyy said&lt;br /&gt;i think they kinda had fun, but like me, kinda felt guilty for ditching u for them, n then being late for class an stuff..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ ємιι .. said&lt;br /&gt;realy? Oh. so, u dont hate me, like, im not too boring? cuz lemme tell u, ive had plently of friends ditch me in my lifetime,,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tayyy said&lt;br /&gt;realy that must suck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ ємιι .. said&lt;br /&gt;Yeah. it does. well, did. well, does. .. that depends -- r u guys gonna KEEP ditching me ? i mean, i can hang with emii ,, if ya'll hate me that much. not that theres anything wrong with emii. shes awesome. but i thought u guys were my friends ,too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tayyy said&lt;br /&gt;we are. at least , i am. did u get to talk to shan or clarise today?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ ємιι .. said&lt;br /&gt;nope,, i got sick remember? Yeahh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tayyy said&lt;br /&gt;Ohh, poor u. r u feeling better now??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ ємιι .. said&lt;br /&gt;Yeah. i think i was jus confused about stuff like how u didnt like them girlz n now ur hangin with 'em.. but if ur not gonna do that anymore, at least without ditching me -- well, tay , i forgive u =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tayyy said&lt;br /&gt;realy? Ohh, good. u rOk. xxoo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ ємιι .. said&lt;br /&gt;Ohh, tay, soz i gtg nan wants me.. xoxoxoxox&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tayyy said&lt;br /&gt;Cyaa xoxoxoxo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so, at this point in time -- I'm not &lt;em&gt;totally&lt;/em&gt; friendless. Tay and Emii are my friendz... but I dunno about Clarisse and Shan.. time will tell ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luv,Livii&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-3928649281791211944?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3928649281791211944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/anotherdayinmylife_21.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/3928649281791211944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/3928649281791211944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/anotherdayinmylife_21.html' title='another.day.in.my.life'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-6992375562594530760</id><published>2009-07-20T01:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T00:46:38.792-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 16'/><title type='text'>another.day.in.my.life</title><content type='html'>So, I get to school this morning, I put my stuff in locker no. 45 , then go and look for Shan, Tay, Clarise and Emii. I find Emii, but I don't know where the other girls are. "Heyy, Emii" I say. "Hiii" she says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Where's the others?" I ask her .. she pauses, then shruggs. I give her a look, that I'm hoping says, "Eek! Tell me or I'll tickle you!" or something weird like that. She sighs, then says, "Look. They're hanging with Gabby and Kim today. &lt;em&gt;Okaay, &lt;/em&gt;I'm thinking.&lt;em&gt; Why are they hanging with them? I mean, I thought they didn't like them!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I consider saying this to Emii, but change my mind. Who knows, maybe she'll ditch me, too.&lt;br /&gt;But this time, I don't just let my friends get away with it. I mean, this is my new beginning. I can't just spend my whole life with a new beginning each year! Besides, I can't think of many people I could live with...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emii looks at me, and says "Anyway, we'd better get to class.." Oh. I hadn't noticed the music today, probably because I didn't regognise the song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Now I know you may have made mistakes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;But there's forgiveness, and a second chance.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;So wait for me, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Darling,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Wait for me&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was the part of the song that I heard. Even though it sounds like one of those girl-boy songs, I think I can apply it to the situation I'm in. Like, sure, my friends are making a mistake (imop), but I can forgive them, I guess. No -- I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emii and I walk to class, and when we get there, most kids are sitting down. But I notice that Shan, Tay, Clarise, Gabby and Kim aren't there. I sigh. And here I was, thinking I'd made awesome friends. Ohh, well. At least I had Emii.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr Tiler was perched on the edge of his desk, his long fingers tapping the roll. "Sup?" he nodds at me and Emii. I give him this look, like, uhh,&lt;em&gt; okay&lt;/em&gt;. Sorry if that sounds about "Bad-girl-attitude", but hey, isn't it like, a teacher rule that they can't say "Sup" to students? I mean, it's bad enough when students say "Sup" to you. It's like, uhh, nothing? I mean, here is the typical conversation of a teenager with nothing better to do:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Kayla: Heyy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Rachelle: Hiiii&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Kayla: Supp?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Rachelle: nm,, u?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Kayla: nm lol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;..............................(long break)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Rachelle: Sooo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Kayla: Umm,, how's ur life? lol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Rachelle: Uhh, okaay lolz.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You get what I'm saying? Yeah. Haha, in fact I'm having one of those convos right now!! =P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, where was I? Ohh, yeah. Supp.&lt;br /&gt;So, Mr Tiler, whatever his name is, takes the roll. "Emii?" she says yep..."Gabby?" no answer, obviously, because they still haven't come to class. "Olivia?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yep," I say. I'm waiting for everyone to turn and stare again, but thankfully hardly anyone does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The classroom door opens then, and in come Tay, Shan, Clarrise, Gabby and Kim. Gabby and Kim head over to their usual table, but Tay, Shan and Clarrise stand at the door, I think they're trying to decide wether to sit with us, or with Gabby, Kim and those guys. With a quick look at Gabby and Kim, they quickly settle into their chairs at our table. I look at them, and whisper, "What were you guys doing???"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But they didn't get to answer, because Mr Tiler interrupted. "That's it. Gabby, Kim, detention...Shannon, Taylor and Clarrise -- this is your final warning."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he goes back to the roll, "Anthony?" ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I gotta go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luv,Livii xxx&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-6992375562594530760?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6992375562594530760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/anotherdayinmylife.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/6992375562594530760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/6992375562594530760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/anotherdayinmylife.html' title='another.day.in.my.life'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-9037243925480219972</id><published>2009-07-17T16:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T00:46:14.977-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 15'/><title type='text'>first.day.of.school</title><content type='html'>Where was I? Oh, right. I was talking about how small this school is. Anyway, back to the first day...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a bit of an awkward silence after that, and I couldn't help feeling that it was my fault -- I mean, if I hadn't been there, they'd probably be babbling away about stuff. While I was thinking this, I heard &lt;em&gt;Cover of a Magazine, &lt;/em&gt;by PureNRG playing in the background. (I hadn't even heard of them until the other day, because Shan had bought her new PureNRG CD over to show me. Her favourite is The Real Thing, and I really love it too, but my favourite it deff Cover of a Magazine. And so I was pleasently surprised when I heard it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What's that music for?" I asked the group of girls. "You &lt;em&gt;know&lt;/em&gt;, it's instead of a school bell. The music means that it's time to think about goin' inside" explained Kimberly. &lt;em&gt;Actually, &lt;/em&gt;I thought to myself&lt;em&gt;, &lt;/em&gt;I&lt;em&gt; didn't&lt;/em&gt; know. But I decided not to be a baby, and get over it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But, since we're in high school, we don't do that, right?" she and Gabby giggled. Clarise, Shan and Taylor just looked annoyed, and I supposed I just looked confused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clarise grabbed me by the arm, and the four of us walked to the buildings, leaving Kimberly and Gabby behind. "So." I said. "What are they gonna do? Cut class or somethin'?" Shan nodded.&lt;br /&gt;"It makes them feel like 'Bad girls', lol. They're trying to impress the guys or something, I guess."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We kept walking. When we got to class, we went to this place where the year 7/8 lockers are located. Shan, Tay and Clarise all put their bags in their lockers, but cuz it's the middle of the school year, I didn't have one, and I didn't want to take the chance of putting my stuff in some kids locker, and have them go around saying that the new girl stole his locker or something -- that would just be embarrasing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shan went and asked this lady who was nearby about what locker I could have. She came over, and introduced herself as Miss Dee. Miss Dee was really pretty -- she has long, flowing dark brown hair, and she was wearing jeans and this really awesome-looking top,that had peace signs all over it, with the words Peace-Maker in the middle. I told her I loved her top, and I asked her where she got it. "Hey, thx, Olivia. I got it at this place on Tready Ave. Do you know where that is?" I shook my head, but Tay said, " Hey, I live near there. You could come over sometime, Liv, and I'll show you" she smiled. I said "Sure, thanks!" and then asked Miss Dee about what locker I could use. She went into this office, and looked at a sheet of paper. "Number 64" she called out. I gave her a thumbs up, then found my locker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I chucked my bag inside, then walked with my friends to our classroom. ACtually, it was just a portable, but hey, it had a heater, and in the middle of winter -- that's what counts, right?In my opinion, anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My new teacher, Mr Tiler, was an average-sized man, with blonde hair. He looked about 20-something, and I had a feeling that many of the girls in his class probably had a major crush on him. He asked everyone to sit down, so I sat down at the nearest table, between Clarise and this other girl, across from Shan and Taylor. "Hey" the girl next to me said. I smiled. "Hey" I said back. "I'm Olivia." She smiled back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm Emily. But, uh, you can call me Emii. That's what my friends call me" she smiled again. She had a kind of small smile, and I guess you could kinda tell she's not the type to smile big, probably from fear of showing all her teeth or something, although from what I could see, she had pretty good teeth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She looked quite a lot like me, with long, dark brown hair, and green eyes. She wore glasses, but they looked really awesome, because they have these little jewels on the sides, which say 'TH'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked her what they stand for, and she said that they stand for Tommy Hilfigur, however you spell it. Okay, so I have heard of it, but I don't like, own anything of that brand. "Neither do I," Emii said. "LOL, I just loved the glasses, so I got 'em"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just then, Mr Tiler told us to shut-up, so he could take the roll.&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;We did. Oh, btw , he was talking to the whole class, not just me and Emii. He took the roll.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Gabby Feild?" he called out. The door opened, and in came Gabby and Kimberley. Both flashing uge smiles at Mr Tiler, they flipped their hair and found seats at the back of the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr Tiler sighed. "Girls, if you're late like this tomorrow, you'll both be getting a detention." They just giggled. &lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt; rolled my eyes. They reminded me of Alison and Taylor (Not the Taylor I'm friends with now -- the one at my old school...) They were next to these two guys, I think their names are Chris and Sean. Chris has short, black hair, and Sean has longish-blonde hair. They both have these smirks on their faces, as if they're all that. I've decided I'm going to try and stay away from them as much as possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr Tiler got back to the roll, and said, "Olivia Grace?" I called out,&lt;br /&gt;"Yep" cuz that's what everyone else was saying. Everyone, well, basically, turned around and looked at me.&lt;em&gt; What??!!&lt;/em&gt; I wanted to shout. Why were they all staring at me? I looked at Shan, she just shrugged. Mr Tiler continued on with the roll, and eventually everybody stopped looking at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Okaaay&lt;/em&gt;, I'm thinking. &lt;em&gt;Why were they all staring at me???? Sure, I'm new. But they don't have to stare at me that long and freak me out, do they??? LOL&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, first period was maths, which I happen to hate. Nothing out of the usual happened, I just talked to Emii, and Clarise and Tay and Shan. I talked about my old school, my old life, and why I moved here. Emii gave me her mobile number, so we can text eachother when we're bored =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we had english, which I happen to love, and of course, I love to write, which is one of the reason's I have a blog.&lt;br /&gt;My english teacher, Mr Reli, assigned us work to do at home, so we just talked the whole time. Our assignment was to write a story about anything, as long as it didn't go over 2000 words. Hey, I wonder how many words this is? Maybe I could turn it in, that way I wouldn't even have to actually do my assignment...Ohh, okay, I could. I've writeen 1160-something words. Maybe I will...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At recess and lunch, I hung out with Clarise, Tay, Shan and Emii. I think Emii was new this year, and so she hangs round with Clarise, Tay and Shan, too. Well, duh. I already said she hung out with us -- or, should I say, I hung out with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's basically my first day. Apart from those weird stares in homeroon, it was just a normal day in a teenagers high school life. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luv,Livii&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-9037243925480219972?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/9037243925480219972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/firstdayofschool.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/9037243925480219972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/9037243925480219972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/firstdayofschool.html' title='first.day.of.school'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-893650582509097666</id><published>2009-07-17T01:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T00:45:59.255-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 14'/><title type='text'>School. first. day</title><content type='html'>So, yesterday was the first day of school.&lt;br /&gt;Suprisingly, Clarise dropped by at about 8:30, and offered to walk me to school. "Sure!" I say. Wow, I'm thinking. Maybe she doesn't hate me, after all...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Listen." She says to me, as we say goodbye to Nan and Pop, and are heading onto the driveway. "I'm sorry for the way I've been acting. I mean, I guess I was just kinda, well, jealous, cuz you and Shan seem to be getting along so well, and I thought that maybe, um, well... I guess I didn't think we could all be friends. But I've realized that that's just plain stupid. So, what do you think, Olivia? Friends?" I can't help smiling. "Definitely friends!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that made me think that maybe this day would rok. I'm not saying that it didn't, like in some diary-format books, where they say, "But then this went wrong" or whatever. Nope, it was basically just like a normal day in high school...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We get to school, and find Shan and Taylor at the gate, along with these two other girls. Clarise introduces me to Gabby and Kimberly, who are in my class, along with Clarise, Taylor and Shan. Apparently the Christian school is really small, so there's only one class for year 7. Although I &lt;em&gt;was&lt;/em&gt; expecting it to be pretty small (Only 300 students -- and that's from prep to vce...), Gabby informed me that the public high school has about 600 students, so yeah...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ohh, it's tea time, I'll have to finish this after...so sorry!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luv,Livii&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-893650582509097666?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/893650582509097666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/school-first-day.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/893650582509097666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/893650582509097666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/school-first-day.html' title='School. first. day'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-4595967269245983769</id><published>2009-07-13T01:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T00:45:24.850-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 13'/><title type='text'>school. tomoz</title><content type='html'>School is starting TOMORROW. My uniform is just a basic dress, except it's grey, which I think rokz. And I'm wearing my usulal T-Bars. And my hair down, I love wearing my hair down, it's looks soo pretty. Oh, and one more thing -- the school I'm going to here is a Christian school. I've only ever gone to public schools, so this is something new for me. But nan and pop insisted, and seeing as my friends go there, too -- who am I to disagree? (Btw, what does it mean when people say 'We agreed to disagree'?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, that was just a quick post to prove that I'm still alive. I'm sure I'll have a longer post tomorrow...with all the stuff about, well, tomorrow. Eek! I'm soo nervous. I suppose it would be way worse if I knew like, nobody. Anyway, I'll see how it goes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish me luck!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luv,Livii&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-4595967269245983769?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4595967269245983769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/school-tomoz.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/4595967269245983769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/4595967269245983769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/school-tomoz.html' title='school. tomoz'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-676386508298970717</id><published>2009-07-10T01:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T00:45:07.793-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 12'/><title type='text'>Shopping!</title><content type='html'>Today I went shopping with Shan and Taylor. I don't know where Clarise was, I don't think she wanted to come -- you know, because I was. I hope I'm not stirring up some kind of conflict, or something...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to shopping. Shan and her friend, Taylor, came by at like 1:30am, and said they were going shopping, and they asked me if I wanted to come. "Sure!" (Ohh, if I'm not clear enough on whose talking, you know, cuz this &lt;em&gt;is&lt;/em&gt; my blog -- well, that's obviously me who said "Sure!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked nan if I could go, and she asked who with, and I said Shan and Taylor, and she said okay. Btw, Taylor has dark brown hair, a lot like mine =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, we walked to these shops, and nope -- it wasn't like, a general store or anything (Which made me go "God really does answer prayer!" because I'd been praying that they weren't planning on shopping at a general store...and &lt;em&gt;no,&lt;/em&gt; I did not say it out loud!) Okay, it wasn't one of them big shopping centres, but it was pretty good. A Target, a Subway, a Supre, and some other shops. For the first hour, we shopped. Another good thing about the country -- the shops weren't busy at all! It was awesome, we were like the only customers in basically every shop we went into.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taylor bought some blue skinny-jeans, Shan bought a Little Miss Sunshine jacket, and I bought some ugg boots, because it's Winter right now, and it's seems like everyone has them -- and I was feeling a bit left out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For lunch, we went to Subway, the "Healthier alternative to life." That came from Taylor. She said it came from her dad or something, lolz. The little take-out place was, like everything else, practically empty of customers. But hey, that rocked, at least for me. I don't know if Shan and Tay were hoping for some other friends to be there or something, but I loved it =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did a bit more shopping after that, but we didn't but anything except nail-polish -- I bought bright purple, Tay bought bright green and Shan bought bright pink. We're planning to all paint our nails all those colours alternately -- you know, thumb green, then the next finger pink, then the next purple...etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The downside -- the shops began closing about 4:00pm. But that was okay, really. We'd done a whole day of shopping, and I'd spent a whole day with friends. What more could I want?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luv,Livii&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-676386508298970717?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/676386508298970717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/shopping.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/676386508298970717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/676386508298970717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/shopping.html' title='Shopping!'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-5220290973557464098</id><published>2009-07-09T16:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T00:44:51.273-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 11'/><title type='text'>Company.</title><content type='html'>My grandparents had friends over last night, which was why we had a roast (the carrots tasted especially nice, if I do say myself.) It was okay -- I mean, they were a nice couple. But come on -- they were old. And okay -- so are my grandparents. And oka-- ...I'll stop with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But they didn't stop talking to ME! I mean, it was just like the other day, with Shan and Clarise (Who, by the way -- just started her own blog! I don't have the address, but I asked Shan to ask Clarise...) It was like, they walk in the door and then this fat lady came and gave me this big hug. I could smell her perfume, and it didn't smell bad -- she just had waaay too much on. I must admit, with my impulse deodorant, I tend to put waay to much on as well =P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But who asked me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After this lovely (*blech*) introduction, her husband, who introduced himself as Harry, shook my hand. Ahh. What a much better approach. I'd have to talk to Nana about her friends displays of emotion...on second thought, Nana was a lot like that t00, like at the airport...NO, we are related. She and popa are allowed to hug me -- even if we&lt;em&gt; don't&lt;/em&gt; know eachother that well!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, back to the meal. We all sit down, and Nana brings out the roast, and the fat lady goes&lt;br /&gt;"Eeeek! What's that on the potato?!" The adults all look confused, but I know what she's talking about. You know how chef's, like on that TV show Master Chef, always make their food look more proffesional by putting mixed herbs and stuff on them? Yeah, well I suggested that, and Popa agreed -- so we put it on. And, if I do say so myself, it looked awesome! Nana agreed, when we showed her when it was all ready. But apparently this woman did not -- which, I was knew, was not &lt;em&gt;my&lt;/em&gt; problem! Or maybe it was -- "Child, what is this INSTANCE on the potato?" she demanded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uhh, instance? I had noo idea what she was talking about, so I said nothing. "I SAID--"&lt;br /&gt;her husband Harry (Haha, Her Husband Harry) cut her off. "I say we say Grace, and enjoy this lovely meal". Good idea. Who was going to say Grace? I'd been hearing it ever since I got here, but did not want to say it myself, especially in front of the fat woman!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Popa offered to say it, and we all closed our eyes. " Dear Lord, we just thank You for this beautiful roast on the table -- and the Chef's that prepared it." I opened one of my eyes then, and pop winked at me. I couldn't help smiling. Then we both closed our eyes, and he went on, "And thank You also that we could have Harry and Mindy here with us. Amen".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We opened our eyes, and Mindy purposely took a portion of everything but the potatoes. WELL -- if you ask me, she was acting like a stubborn little child! Okay, I thought -- two could play this game. So, I took about 5 potatoes. Then a little meat and veggies. And I started to eat -- oops, forgot the gravy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then they just spent the entire meal asking me about what it was like living in the city, and why on earth would I want to move here. I answered simply "Because."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I commented how lovely the potatoes tasted. Mindy snorted. Her husband looked astounded at her behaviour, and I didn't blame him. And then it was time for desert. I was tempted -- VERY tempted -- to sneak into the kitchen and put mixed herbs over the apple pie Nana had made, but I didn't. I was a good little girl =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ohh, and this little girl has to get off the laptop. Nana wants to take me to the market...just kidding. Ohh, wait -- that was a little pig, wasn't it? My bad. Maybe Nana should take Mindy, instead...sorry, I had to say that. =P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luv,Livii&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-5220290973557464098?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5220290973557464098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/company.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/5220290973557464098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/5220290973557464098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/company.html' title='Company.'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-1717027391781929403</id><published>2009-07-08T23:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T00:44:08.896-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 10'/><title type='text'>friends.</title><content type='html'>Have I said it before? This life rocks. I just had Clarise and Shannon over, and on Friday I made plans to go to youth with them... we didn't really do much, just hung out in my room -- which Shannon offered to help me decorate. But then Clarise looked left-out, which of course we didn't mean to do, so I told her that she could help too, of course. And no, I'm not trying to be a goody-goody. I'm just trying to be a friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shannon was asking me about church, and what church did I use to go to. " I haven't been to church before yesterday" I told her. She was like, "Really? You seem so like, open about God and stuff..."I smiled. Then I told her about my life.&lt;br /&gt;"I figure, if anythings gonna help, it's gonna be God, right?" She and Clarise nodded. Clarise hasn't been talking much, I'm wondering if I should ask her if it seems like I'm trying to steal her best friend or something. When she got up to go to the bathroom or something, I asked Shan if Clarise thought I was taking away her friend from her. She shrugged her shoulders -- and said that Clarise was usually really fun and stuff, it just took her a while to warm up...but I like, didn't get this, because she'd seemed so fun and awesome yesterday at church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dunno. Maybe Shan's right. Anyway, when Clarise got back, she said she and Shan had to go, so I said goodbye and asked when I'd see them next. "How 'bout we pick you up for youth, on Friday night?" Shan asked me. I looked at Clarise to see if she thought this was okay, but she seemed fine. I guess I'm trying to make a story out of my blog, trying to make it look like my frienships are really comlex or something...though, ya never know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I know that was a really short post, but Pop wants me to help him make a roast for tea...mmm, yummy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luv,Livii&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-1717027391781929403?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1717027391781929403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/friends.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/1717027391781929403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/1717027391781929403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/friends.html' title='friends.'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-2788646739944351124</id><published>2009-07-07T19:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T00:43:36.228-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 9'/><title type='text'>Where was I?</title><content type='html'>Hey, I'm SO sorry I haven't posted in the last few days. I already mentioned that I wasn't allowed on my laptop (or any form of computer, for that matter) on Sunday's. But THEN she and pop took it off me. I mean, come on. I just get here, to this place in the country, ready do spend some time blogging. And they take it off me...anyway, the main thing is, I have it back. For now.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, where was I? Oh, that's right -- church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I'm walking into church, and I see this girl. The first thing I notice is her hair. Dark brown, it's flowing past her shoulders. She turns, and looks at me. I see a glimmer in her sky-blue eyes. She gives a shy smile, and walks over.&lt;em&gt; Eek!&lt;/em&gt; I'm thinking. &lt;em&gt;WHAT am I gonna say?! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No need to worry. She smiles again, and says "Hey. I'm Clarise. You know, like in Princess Diaries? Kind of an old fashioned name, I know." Now I smiled. That's exactly what I'd been thinking, but I wasn't going to &lt;em&gt;say &lt;/em&gt;that -- to her&lt;em&gt; face&lt;/em&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She took me into the place where she said the teens had their service. It was this big-ish room, with black walls. &lt;em&gt;Okaaay then&lt;/em&gt; was what I though. BLACK walls? I thought this was a church where you worship God. Not that I have much experience in that area, but hey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I tried to keep my mouth shut, but come on. I couldn't. "Is, uh, black the new pink?" Oops. I think it goes "Is whatever the new black?" LOL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, it was just painted last week. Ya see, the youth are doing a 'graffeiti night' where they write stuff..well, paint stuff -- all over the walls." Awesome! I so wanna do that! So I ask Clarise when it is, and if I can go, and stuff like that. She told me it's on Friday nights, at 7:30-10:00pm. I hope I can go, I'd love to paint over the walls! Not that I'm any good at drawing or anything like that, but hey, a girl can have fun, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The service was pretty good. Claries introduced me to this girl, Shannon. She's got blonde hair,and green eyes, but she's not like those girls in movies...or books...or real life. She's soo nice, and pretty and loves God. I think she and Clarise might be best friends, but they treated me equally, which I hope they know I've appreciated, since as you know, my frienships in life haven't been, well, great. Actually, it's prettyyy non-existant. But you never know -- maybe that's about to change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night, (after nan took my computer off me) I asked nana and pop about going to youth group. "Sure" Popa said to me. My nana looked at me. I suppose she thought I'd be like my parents, and not wanna go to church any more than I &lt;em&gt;had &lt;/em&gt;to!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you know how I said I was, uh, "Searching" for something? I think God might be my answer. Maybe it seems to you like this happened a bit quickly. Like a story moving too fast. But it's my life...or maybe not. Maybe it's God's life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, guess what -- Shannon has her own blog, too. And another friend of hers (not Clarise) has a blog as well, her name's Taylor. I haven't had time to look at them yet, but I will as soon as I've finished this post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besides, I've got some thinking to do. That sermon by the guy on Sunday really did something inside of me. I'll post about it some other time. Right now, I gotta go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luv ya, Livi&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-2788646739944351124?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2788646739944351124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/where-was-i.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/2788646739944351124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/2788646739944351124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/where-was-i.html' title='Where was I?'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-810593461491144521</id><published>2009-07-04T20:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T00:43:17.691-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 8'/><title type='text'>ME? CHURCH?</title><content type='html'>I went to church today. That is, my grandparents and I. I've never been to church in my life. Probably because my parents don't go to church -- they work even on Sunday's (I told you they were workaholics).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, there I was. In my new bedroom, which isn't much, because Nana said that I could design it how I want, like on those TV shows. Which I think is pretty awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where was I? Oh, right. I was in my bedroom, just lying on my bed, with the covers up to my chin (it's a lot warmer that way). I was just, you know, thinking how great this was going to be, living here. And then Nana walks in, and goes "Rise and Shine, Olivia!" I look at her. Why, it's only 9:00am. And it's a Sunday. My sleep-in day. I don't say this too her, of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;em&gt;do&lt;/em&gt; say "Morning, Nana. What's up? I mean, uh, how come your up so early?". She peers at me in that way that you'd stare at hole in the ground. Like, what's with that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Darling, don't tell me your mother didn't ever take you to church?" I shake my head, and she opens my closet, which I've put all my clothes away neatly. "You'll need to find something to wear, sweetheart. Just jeans and a top would be fine..."&lt;br /&gt;She smiles at me, and heads down to "Make my breakfast".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Make my breakfast? I've never had someone make my breakfast in my life! LOL! Anyway,&lt;br /&gt;I took my new skinny-leg jeans out, my Little Miss Chatterbox t-shirt, and my volley's. I quickly brushed through my hair, and walked down to the kitchen. On the way, I saw pictures everywhere -- of Nana and Popa's family, mostly. I saw some of my mum -- and boy, did she look different! She looked like a country girl. I'll bet you anything she was one.&lt;br /&gt;I have no idea what made her move to the city, but it must have been something big. I mean, who leaves a place like this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I get to the kitchen, pop is sitting down at the table, reading the &lt;em&gt;Glitasville Times&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;"Morning, Rosie." he says to me. Uh, okaay, I think. Why did he call me 'Rosie'? He's to young to be losing his mind!&lt;br /&gt;"Morning, pop" I reply anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nan gives me my breakfast, I eat it, brush my teeth, and then hop into the car. We drive along a country road for about 10 minutes, when I see a building with a cross on top of it. This must be it, I realize. "Here we are" pop says, as he parks in a parking space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He and nan get out, but I stay in the car. Will anyone my age be there? I wonder. If there are, will I be as cool as them? Or will they act like farmers, and smell like cows or something? Will they think I'm a snobby rich girl?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While these thoughts are circling through my brain, Pop opens the car door, and I hop out, trying not to look nervous or anything. It must of worked, because nor he or Nan said anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The garden along the church is so pretty, with daisy's everywhere. I walked in the warm, lightly-bright room, and I saw this girl. She was wearing --&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Argghh. Nana just came into my room, and says that I shouldn't post on Sunday's. Great. I guess that means I'll have to finish this tomorrow...or at midnight =P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luv,Livii&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-810593461491144521?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/810593461491144521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/me-church.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/810593461491144521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/810593461491144521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/me-church.html' title='ME? CHURCH?'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-7029712970543823579</id><published>2009-07-03T18:02:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T00:42:45.850-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 7'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Olivia Grace sits down at a table, aware of the happy couple next to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beyond them, through the clear glass of the brightly-light cafe, The Dunes, comes the crashing sound of the treachures ocean waves. Olivia stares into the darkening sky, as tiny droplets of water begin falling from the heavy dark clouds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She watches as a lone surfer struggles to ride one of these waves to shore, as he risks his life to accomplish this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The freedom to risk his life. God gave us freedom. What we do with it is our choice. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is this surfer willing to die for this wave? Olivia doesn't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A waitress comes by, and the woman asks for a hot chocolate, for the windy weather outside chills her bones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The waitress returns, with a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Olivia stares into it, watching as the flavoured marshmallows melt into eachother. She lifts the mug to her mouth; the aroma of the chocolate is too powerful to resist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Is this what it's like for the surfer? The power of the wave is to powerful to resist?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olivia stares out into the ocean. Her eyes are on the surfer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The droplets of rain are falling harder now. The branches on the trees are moving more swiftly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The waves are getting bigger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She watches, in anticipation, as the surfer rides this wave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;This surfer has the power to overcome the wave. He can do it. He can't let it's power destroy him.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then he was gone. Just like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nobody can over-power the power of God. If you go against Him, chances are, you'll fail.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olivia sees a shadow in the darkness. It's the surfer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;God shows Mercy.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The surfer is given a second chance. God is merciful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-7029712970543823579?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7029712970543823579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/olivia-grace-sits-down-at-table-aware.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/7029712970543823579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/7029712970543823579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/olivia-grace-sits-down-at-table-aware.html' title=''/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-1823886398461828425</id><published>2009-07-03T17:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T00:42:16.190-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 6'/><title type='text'>Glitasville? Here I am...</title><content type='html'>I'm here. My plane arrived last night, and my grandparents came to pick me up, right on time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was standing there. All alone, clutching my little suitcase on wheels, wondering if this was too good to be true. Would they really be here, my grandparents, to pick me up? Or were they like mum and dad, and couldn't afford to get off work? After all, they &lt;em&gt;are &lt;/em&gt;mum's parents -- maybe she's the way she is now because of the way she was bought up... or &lt;em&gt;maybe &lt;/em&gt;it's because of dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, there I was, in the large, open air-conditioned room. Room. That's right. No longer was I a city girl, with airports a 1000 times bigger than this room. I was in...the country. I was going to become a country girl! I know it might sound kind of, you know, old fashioned. But come on, it's like I'm going to live on a farm, and talk to cows or something. Not that there's anything wrong with a farm and cows, of course... in fact, I secretly fantasize of one day owning my own pig. But, uh, lets keep that one between us, okay?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turned around, and what I saw captivated something inside me. My soul. Something had clicked, and I knew I'd never be able to leave this place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through the clear-glass window, I saw green grass that stretched on forever, or at least as far as my eyes can see. Trees, with leaves as green as apples (&lt;em&gt;No,&lt;/em&gt; not the red apple's. The &lt;em&gt;green&lt;/em&gt; ones).&lt;br /&gt;Flowers everywhere, all different colours. A lake in the distance, with a house boat floating on top. All lightly bright by lantens hung in the trees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Olivia!" a voice tore me from the beautiful scenery. I turned around. Who had said my name? What would they look like?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Olivia, over here!" A tall, friendly looking man stepped out of the mob of passengers, with a kind-looking woman by his side. The both wore huge smiles, their arms out, an invitiation so inviting I couldn't help but fall into their arms. I can't remember ever doing this with my own parents, and I don't want to take advantage of the opportunity to be loved. As un-teenagerish as that may sound -- I don't care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, well, well. Just look at you." my grandfather stated. Grandmother smiled, and looked at me. "We're so excited you came, Olivia Grace. You're going to &lt;em&gt;love&lt;/em&gt; it here." I nodded, but still couldn't say anything. I knew that coming here was not a mistake. I &lt;em&gt;was&lt;/em&gt; going to love it. I could feel it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we got into their Holden Commodore, and I spent the drive staring at the gorgeous scenery. &lt;em&gt;How did it get here?&lt;/em&gt; I wondered to myself.&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;I did not know. I still do not know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We we arrived at Nana and Poppa's house (As they've asked me to call them -- grandmother and grandfather are waaay to formal, they tell me.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And here I am. I told them I was going to un-pack, which the kindly offered to help, but I declined &lt;em&gt;politely&lt;/em&gt;. So, I'd better begin my unpacking now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until then,&lt;br /&gt;Olivia Grace&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-1823886398461828425?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1823886398461828425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/glitasville-here-i-am.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/1823886398461828425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/1823886398461828425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/glitasville-here-i-am.html' title='Glitasville? Here I am...'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-326407080006893813</id><published>2009-07-02T21:27:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T00:41:44.205-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 5'/><title type='text'>On my way...</title><content type='html'>I'm officially &lt;em&gt;on my way.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But before I left, I had a...well, a surprise. A surprise I was &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; expecting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was calling the taxi service, to organise for somebody to take me to the airport (naturally, my parents had forgotten to this themselves...) when a blue Ford comes up the drive -- and I see Holly's mum at the wheel. &lt;em&gt;Hmm, &lt;/em&gt;I thought to myself. &lt;em&gt;What's she doing here?!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Hey sweetie." &lt;/em&gt;she says to me, when I step outside the front door and head towards the car, which she is now standing beside.&lt;br /&gt;I'm soo confused, but I say "&lt;em&gt;Hi, Mrs. Condye&lt;/em&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;But then, out of curiousity,&lt;br /&gt;I ask , "&lt;em&gt;How come you're here? Mum and dad are at work&lt;/em&gt;..."&lt;br /&gt;Actually, I was surprised Mrs Condye herself wasn't at work -- Holly's parents (Actually, all my ex-friends' parents) are like, work-a-holics, like mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She smiles sadly at me, and says that it's not working out.&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;em&gt;I had to leave. I mean, I can't go on living like this!&lt;/em&gt;" she looks as if she's about to go on, but she stops, and smiles at me. "&lt;em&gt;Although, I'm sure you've got your own troubles." &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look at her, and nod. " I'm leaving. To live with my grandparents, in this place called Glitasville.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You may ask &lt;em&gt;why&lt;/em&gt; I'm actually telling someone from this life I'm still currently living where I'm headed to begin a new life...LOL, that makes me sound kinda old -- normally, people begin a "new life/fresh start" in like, their 30's or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I told her because I'd just decided I trust her. Even if she &lt;em&gt;is &lt;/em&gt;the mother of one of those girls who ditched me... &lt;em&gt;how&lt;/em&gt; had Mrs Condye known that I was leaving?&lt;br /&gt;I ask her, and she replies "&lt;em&gt;Holly told me&lt;/em&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holly?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hadn't even told anyone I was leaving, much less Holly...besides, she was away so much that I wouldn't have been able to tell her, even if I'd &lt;em&gt;wanted &lt;/em&gt;to...okay, so maybe that's an exaggeration. I could have called her...or sent her an IM on MSN...but that's beside the point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look at my watch then, and realize that if I'm gonna make my flight, I have to leave &lt;em&gt;now&lt;/em&gt;. WHERE is my taxi?! I tell this to Mrs Condye, and she gives me a weird look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I thought you were coming with me." she explains. Oh! What a good idea! I mean, we &lt;em&gt;were &lt;/em&gt;both going to the airport, the only difference was that I wouldn't be completely broke by paying taxi fare by the time we got to the airport. LOL!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rushed inside, located my luggage, locked the front door, &lt;em&gt;kept&lt;/em&gt; my key (don't ask me why -- but my parents hadn't thought to ask for it back so I figured, hey, why not keep it?) and jumped into the front seat, next to my ex-friends mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, here I am, staring out at the clear, blue sky. &lt;em&gt;Wondering&lt;/em&gt; about what my life holds for me. Don't ask &lt;em&gt;why&lt;/em&gt; I'm always thinking that, I just do. I mean, why fantasize about becoming a famous pop singer, if I don't even want to spend my life &lt;em&gt;doing &lt;/em&gt;that? But then again, why not? As you can tell, my thoughts are pretty much all over the place, but what can you expect from a 13 year old girl, on a plane directed to some place called Glitasville, ready to move in on my grandparents -- whom I've never even &lt;em&gt;met -- &lt;/em&gt;lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I can't &lt;em&gt;wait.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;em&gt;finally.&lt;/em&gt; It's lunch time. I'm soo hungry, and I didn't think to bring a snack...I probably inherited &lt;em&gt;that &lt;/em&gt;from my parents.&lt;br /&gt;Hmm. That's okay -- from what I can see from my tray, lunch is a salad with lettuce, cucumber, tomato and cheese, a bottle of water or juice -- whatever we prefer -- and either pumpkin soup (eww) or chicken and chips...yummy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna eat now, so..xox&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luv,Livii&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-326407080006893813?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/326407080006893813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/on-my-way.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/326407080006893813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/326407080006893813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/on-my-way.html' title='On my way...'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-8052483113886413503</id><published>2009-07-02T21:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T00:40:41.282-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 4'/><title type='text'>Glitasville, here I come...Goodbye, Old-Life</title><content type='html'>I know, I know.&lt;br /&gt;It's kinda weird how I've managed to get over the fact that I mean nothing to my friends &lt;em&gt;or&lt;/em&gt; my parents -- the people that bought me into this world in the first place. But as I mentioned the other day, they really haven't been around at all...there is a better place in this world for me, a future writer -- I know it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, right now, I'm packing for Glitasville, because I'm leaving...TODAY! I didn't want to stay here any longer than I had to, even if it means leaving my parents. But, uh, hello -- don't they realize how HORRIBLE it is, to not even stay home from work this&lt;em&gt; one day &lt;/em&gt;-- to see me off to the airport? Nope. Perhaps now you might understand why I'm so desperate to leave. And I mean, it's not as if I'm running away, like some teens my age do because of their&lt;em&gt; parents, their friends -- THEIR LIVES!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mum and dad actually agreed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My flight leaves at 7:30pm, which means that by the time mum and dad get home, I should have just arrived in Glitasville about a half hour earlier, and they can love their lives, without a daughter to hold them back.&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, I'll be with the grandparents-I've-Never-Met. Starting at a School-I've-Never-Been-To. And-- I can't WAIT. So, If you'll excuse me, I have to finish packing, and I'll be on my way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Btw -- I'm taking my laptop on the plane, so I'll blog again later on...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luv, Livii Grace&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-8052483113886413503?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8052483113886413503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/glitasville-here-i-comegoodbye-old-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/8052483113886413503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/8052483113886413503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/glitasville-here-i-comegoodbye-old-life.html' title='Glitasville, here I come...Goodbye, Old-Life'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-7909412770359947649</id><published>2009-07-01T18:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T00:40:21.996-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 3'/><title type='text'>stunned response...</title><content type='html'>It worked, I guess. My plan, that is. I suppose you're all inching further and further into the screen, desperate to see what it was? I wish. The idea I was so jazzed up about before was this -- &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;moving. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;To a whole other town. I thought it'd take away all my problems. I suppose I figured it would just naturally solve them, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I was wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I was suprised I managed to even &lt;em&gt;have&lt;/em&gt; the talk about moving, with my parents. I mean, they're at work and stuff so often you'd think we were rich. Actually, we're pretty good, money wise... and that's another thing that keeps my parents from me. Money. Actually, that covers about all of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, in the world we're living, how many people do you know that work because they love what they do, or to &lt;em&gt;help &lt;/em&gt;people -- not for the money. Not many -- at least, from what I've heard.&lt;br /&gt;Take my mother, for example. She goes to work at 9:00 in the morning, into the city where she works at her boutique, called Gracie's Gardening Gear... LOL, I'm just kidding! It's actually called &lt;em&gt;alexandra grace&lt;/em&gt;, and according to her, holds the most &lt;em&gt;"excuisite" &lt;/em&gt;(Okay, fine. I'm not the best speller around...that doesn't mean I'm not good at english!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, as I said, she leaves at 9:00am, sells clothes and socializes to all the snobby rich women all day, closes shop at 8:00pm and gets home at 9:30 that night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there's my dad. &lt;em&gt;He &lt;/em&gt;leaves at 6:00am, gets to his office, also in the city, where he sits and does &lt;em&gt;something&lt;/em&gt; important, I'm sure, or he wouldn't recieve as much money as he does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The things people sacrifice for money...namely, ME.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I've pretty much been spending this past year, well, on my own. No-one to talk to. Nothing to turn to. I've figured, why not give up? Why keep living, if my life's turing out this way? But something kept me, curious to see what life had in store for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I said my plan "kinda" worked. You know how my ex-friends "Abandoned" me? Yeah, well guess what -- they're not the only ones who don't care about their realationship with them. You guessed it -- when I &lt;em&gt;finally&lt;/em&gt; found a spare moment with both my mum &lt;em&gt;and&lt;/em&gt; dad, at the same time, they both nodded -- serioulsly. At first, I thought they were actually going to agree with something&lt;em&gt; I, &lt;/em&gt;the daughter I now know, is a burden to both of them. No, that's not a typo. Yes, you read it correctly. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am a burden to my parents.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Can you possibly imagine that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The following conversation is the one where I discovered this, among other plans...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;ME: Hey, Dad! I havn't seen you much over the last..well, let's see, YEAR!&lt;/em&gt; (I smile, to show that I'm not trying to be like, disrespectful or something)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;DAD: Yeah, well, I'm a busy man.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No kidding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;ME: Yeah, I kinda noticed...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;DAD: So, what do you want? I really have to get back to this paper...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;MUM: Sweetie, your dad's a very busy man, could you please hurry up and get this over with?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;ME: Um, sure.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I say, in a complete rush,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I don't know if you've noticed or anything, but over the last uh, YEAR -- I mean, I know you guys haven't been around much -- &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad looks like he's about to butt in, so I keep going...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But I've kinda lost like, ALL of my so-called friends, have nobody to hang out with school, I feel like a total loner, and I don't even have my parents to turn to while all of this is happening. I don't know, I just thought that maybe, if I could get out of this place -- you know this school -- this LIFE. I could, well, start over. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took a deep breathe. That was the most I'd said to my parents in a long time, and I wasn't sure how it would go down with them, you know, how I said they were never around and stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT, of course, the next part of the conversation took away any guilt I may have been feeling at this point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;DAD: Hmm. Well, you've made some valid points--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME: Really? So, you'd actually consider moving as a posibility?! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;MUM: Mmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DAD: How about we just try it first? Then, if you love it, you can stay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point, I'm thinking, okaay. If I like it? What about him and mum?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME: What about you and mum?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DAD: What about us?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME: Well, what if you don't like it? Will we still stay there anyway? Or will we like, come back here, and, uh, get back into the lives we have right now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MUM: Um, Olivia? We weren't, er, actually going to go with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT?! What are they gonna do, send me to boarding school or something? I mean, it's not like I can go live in an apartment/house on my own! It's like, against the law or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;ME: What do you MEAN?! Why wouldn't you guys come?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DAD: Well, your mother and I are both leaving very busy lives, and to be perfectly honest -- I think you've been holding us back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother gasped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;MUM: Frank! You didn't have to put it that way -- look at the poor child! She's about to cry...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No kidding. I mean, what am I supposed to do, when I first find out that, apparently, I've been holding my parents back. That they don't really care about me I thought they did -- or at least, the way they used to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DAD: Honey, don't cry! You can stay with, um...your mothers parents. Yes, that's where you can go! So I've heard, the last time your mother contacted them, they had a little place going in Glitasville.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME: You'd really give me up that easily?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MUM: Sweetie, it's not like we're giving you up -- I mean, you're the one who wanted to leave in the first place. Besides, what with my boutique, and your father's business -- there's no way we could just up and LEAVE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ran to my room at this point, stunned. About what my parents had just informed me of. And I'm getting my wish -- I'll be leaving this town, moving to some exotic-sounding place called Glitasville. Actually, it sounds quite nice. Peaceful, in fact. Imagine, if it turned out that my grandparents had a house on the shore...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I wasn't created to live my life this way.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I was created for a whole other purpose.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-7909412770359947649?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7909412770359947649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/it-worked-i-guess.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/7909412770359947649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/7909412770359947649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/it-worked-i-guess.html' title='stunned response...'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-3730565786786172681</id><published>2009-07-01T15:16:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T00:40:08.322-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 2'/><title type='text'>me</title><content type='html'>In my last post, I just babbled on about how my friends are so totally not &lt;em&gt;right&lt;/em&gt; for &lt;em&gt;me&lt;/em&gt;. I forgot something soo important, though. That's right...uh, yeah. The title probably gave it away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've made such a big deal of it I might as well say it anyway. ME. That's right, I forgot to tell you all about &lt;em&gt;me!&lt;/em&gt; Actually, all I told you about my "friends" is that they ditched me. But hey, first impressions last, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So. I'm 13, my name's Olivia Grace, I'm a brunette. I've never had a boyfriend, and, after seen those ex-friends of mine (Yes, that's what I call them now -- I can't be stuffed doing the "friends " every time, lol) with their boyfriends -- well, I don't really want one any time soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm. What else should I write? I like to read, just random stuff. I'm sorta trying to find something that suits &lt;em&gt;me,&lt;/em&gt; ya know? If anyone has any suggestions, &lt;em&gt;please&lt;/em&gt; comment!&lt;br /&gt;What else do people usually write on their "About Me" page?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm average height, and a C student in maths. Hopefully, the fact that I'm an A student in English makes up for it -- Maths and English are the most important subjects, right? And I'm doing soo brilliant in one of them, that it doesn't matter bout the other...right? Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, fashion. I mean come on, I'm a girl. I have to include this part. Well, I guess I don't have to, but heyy. I don't have anything else to write.&lt;br /&gt;So, right now I'm wearing...My Little Miss Chatterbox Pajamas! Yay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, that wasn't so bad, was it? Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Omigosh, I just had the &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;best&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; idea ever! AND -- It will put me out of &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;all&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; my misery! Oh, I've got to go, I'll &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;be back soon&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luv, An-Excited-Livii =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-3730565786786172681?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3730565786786172681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/me.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/3730565786786172681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/3730565786786172681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/me.html' title='me'/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3307027481932711365.post-4132526630034249514</id><published>2009-07-01T04:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T00:39:53.085-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chapter 1'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>All my so called " friends" were either away, or ditched me. Really.&lt;br /&gt;Alison and Taylor went to the library, and hung out with Jonny and J.J on those gorgeous, comfy leather couches we just got from one of those government grant things, that give us heaps of money to, you know, "upgrade" our school, so thatpeople actually WANT to send their kids here, which, in my opinion, would be a stupid thing to do in the first place. But who asked for my opinion,right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bianca and Rachelle told me they had detention, even though I know for a fact that they skipped it and hung out with Rosie and Stace --who I, of course, thought were MY friends. Funny, how one day Rosie and Stace are all "Hey, Livi! Your soo awesome, wanna hang out with us?" to whispering with Bianca and Rachelle about stuff like, " Did you SEE Olivia's mouth?! Haha, it's like a big banana!" then giggling away as if that was actually &lt;em&gt;funny.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, as usual, Holly and Daisy are away, "sick". I don't get it with those girls. What, may I ask -- is the point of attending a private school, if you don't show up half the time? I mean, I guess if you have rich parents or something, who might actually AFFORD to be spending that much for a child whodoesn't even learn anything -- just to tell those useless rich friends of theirs which "Highly Educational-and-Special" school their spoilt child is now attending, and how much they're paying for this simply &lt;em&gt;incredible&lt;/em&gt; experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose that should tell me something -- that, perhaps those people I love to call my "friends" are actually not the friends I need in my life rightnow. I mean, they were awesome buddies in 2nd grade -- and 3rd -- and 4th -- and 5th. But then in 6th, they started to change. Our tight little "group" of us 7 girls suddenly started breaking up -- into &lt;em&gt;paris&lt;/em&gt;. Guess who was the odd one out? You got it. Me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, for the last year I've sort of been floating round the six of them. As I mentioned earlier, I'd thought I'd made a couple of new friends (Rose and Stacey) but suddenly they've become a "clique" or whatever you call it -- with Bianca and Rachelle. Great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and what did I do at lunch? Good question. After I realized all my friends obviously cared nothing whatsoever about me, or our friendships --well, I sat down and started to seriously THINK. That's when I came up with the solution that I'm in desperate need of a new group of friends. Sadly,this school is not the place I'm gonna find them...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that just about concludes my first-ever blog post. Stay tuned to read the story of my life...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luv, Olivia&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3307027481932711365-4132526630034249514?l=writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4132526630034249514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/all-my-so-called-friends-were-either.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/4132526630034249514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3307027481932711365/posts/default/4132526630034249514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writingbyteengirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/all-my-so-called-friends-were-either.html' title=''/><author><name>Emii</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rx-kQJ7V-1A/Twds1chPRgI/AAAAAAAABIM/IYj_lV_WJZA/s220/peacelovesmile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry></feed>
