So, I was watching Law and Order online when I was supposed to be doing homework. The usual chestnut. Season 10, Episode 2. It’s called Confessions.

Late in the episode, a tape of someone dying by being stabbed, as recorded by a 911 call in the episode, is played. i hadn’t been paying attention to most of the episode, but I quickly clicked over when I heard that tape. I remember that the person being stabbed was a pedophile, or was going to become one if he didn’t get help (that’s one third of SVU episodes)

It wasn’t the character. What made me click over was the voice. The tape being played was mostly screaming, but then there was a “No, no! Please stop” cried there. And there was something familiar in the tone and pitch of the voice, the slightly slurred words…

I teared up, I admit it. I know it wasn’t you-you’re not an actor, and I wouldn’t want you to be anything like the character-but for a moment, I heard you on that tape, and almost cried.

I’M FREE!!! Till January 5! W00T!

The last song of 2008 on the Music Wing piano has been played. It was Love Reign O’er Me on the good piano in the band room, and “Luna,” (the song, not me) per L.A.’s suggestion, on the bad piano in the tech lab. (Which is getting REPLACED!)

To my little brother the monkey: WHY CANNOT YOU LEAVE ME TO EAT MY CHINESE FOOD IN PEACE? But seeing you get tackled by a guy who’s about a foot and a half taller  and a hundred pounds heavier than you was VERY funny! But then, he tattled to my dad and I got talked-to for “goading my brother.” Not my fault!

It started out like any other CTY reunion, with hanging out in the Time Warner Center and getting food at Whole Foods. But the difference this time: there were 24 FREAKIN’ PEOPLE!!! J.L. the guy, J.L. the girl, A.R. Pedobear, F.E., M.F., Turtle, and S.B. were there (regular fixtures) but: the third J.L., D.S., V.W., and lots other people were there too, and they almost never get to reunions!

We had a large game of Silent Football in Borders, and the staff actually didn’t kick us out. M.W. was Mr. Dictator (or Mr. Ducktator, to be exact.) Then we all ran out to Central Park, and danced to Canon in the snow. (I did the Time Warp without dislocating a kneecap this time, yelled out all the callbacks along with A.R. Pedobear, did the DMD in the snow, and ran to End Of The World until Max yelled to change direction, when I couldn’t run that fast and got separated because I was on the end.)

And I don’t know how this happened, but an ACTUAL PEDOBEAR SHOWED UP IN THE PARK!

A.R., how did you change so fast?

Well, anyway, then we went to Grand Central, (the subway and people getting lost was epically bad) ate Junior’s, called E.M. to wish him a happy birthday (I organized a giant singing over speakerphone to Virginia!) and then it was time to leave, unfortunately. If you know what I’m even talking about, pics will be up on Facebook later today.

Snow day!!!

I’m half thinking that a Monday snow day would be nice too, considering the prospects for four more inches on Sunday. But then again, I miss people from school (L.A., L.S., J.B., C.R, J.Z., the usual crowd)

REUNION TOMORROW!!!

YAY!!!

And? The cyborg surgeon also knew the late great Ahmet Ertegun.

HOW MANY CELEBRITIES DOES MY DOCTOR KNOW?

“On three. One, two, three….MAXI THE VOLE!!”

From the middle of September to present day, me and L.A. will collectively say/yell that whenever the entity known as Maxi the Vole approaches. Maxi is a trombone player in the marching band, and his hobbies include singing What is Love very loudly and asking if me and someone else are screwing each other yet. However, that ultimately backfired when I, fed up with his awkwardness-creating assertions, yelled “ARE YOU SCREWING *blankity-blank* YET?” right back at Maxi. Bingo! I had yelled the name of the girl he liked. He quickly said that I was wrong about that, and went on the defensive. A few weeks later, they were dating, and I did a little “I WAS RIGHT!” dance in front of him.

He also enjoyed wearing my very ‘manly’ flowered hat, especially at the band dinner, much to the amusement of me and Maxi’s girlfriend.

Early in the season, L.A. (Maxi’s fellow trombone) and I (an out-of-commission colorguard) decided that Maxi would get punched every time he said something stupid, which turned into Maxi getting punched any time ANYONE said something stupid. (Maxi, if you’re reading this, I hope you have recovered because L.A. is after you again, and you will be punched. If you plan on attending the choir concert, I suggest you wear protective gear.)

And that was my post.

To “Luna” by the Smashing Pumpkins, for which this blog is named.

To music.

To Echoes trips.

To Pink Floyd.

To my upcoming School of Rock All Stars audition.

To marching band.

To Randolph funnel cakes.

To intensity.

To the marching band dinner and marching band slideshows.

To Say Anything, Almost Famous, and The Royal Tenenbaums.

To “Within Your Reach” by the Replacements.

To Last.FM, Facebook, RSS feeds, and WordPress.

To TMBG.

To Scrabble.

To piano.

To screaming.

To hugs.

To telling people I’m a cyborg and the interesting scar on my arm.

To burgundy hair, and the prospect of getting a haircut soonish.

To Led Zeppelin.

To “Love Reign O’Er Me,” “The Rain Song,” “Northern Sky,” and “Summer ‘68.”

To threatening to throw my brother under a camel.

To band gossip and CHSMB Bus 1.

To Pseudo-bus 1 on the way to Allentown.

To Cory, Chris, Greg, Matt, and Geoff’s rendition of “Hips Don’t Lie” on Pseudo-Bus 1.

To one year since my two huge mistakes, and yet having no regrets.

To Tetris.

To making lists.

To koolice music closet.

To FrostWire.

To CTY and all who attend (even Campbell).

To Big Star.

To lying in the grass, daydreaming, and sometimes doing both at the same time.

To the sound of a flag spinning.

To laughing.

To hot chocolate and tea in travel mugs.

To Turkey Hill.

To Combos, four dollar lunches at J&Js, and sushi.

To long road trips.

To flying dreams.

To cliches.

To dancing.

To singing.

To Eric Whitacre.

To iPods.

To birds, snakes, and aeroplanes.

To Monty Python.

To corsets and kimonos.

To the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

To frilly dresses.

To being a short haired girl.

To Okemo.

To inside jokes.

To Rickrolling.

To the canon.

To what happened on the balcony during the second CTY dance, even though it didn’t mean anything. It’s going in one of my movies someday.

To combat boots.

To Firefly and AMV making.

To epic plans.

To my color guard documentary.

To the day after Christmas when I wake up, turn on the tv, and there’s no holiday commercials.

To memories.

To stalker photography.

To being able to rest my chin in both hands.

To my laptop.

To101.9 RXP.

To bike rides,

To nuts.

To Fries in a Box! and Box in a Fries!

To books by Chuck Palahniuk (Pronounced Paula-nick).

To band t-shirts,

To flan.

To kites.

To xkcd and YouTube.

To bookstores.

To dusty record stores in Bayside and Asian markets in Flushing.

To fairy tales.

To composing.

To playing my feelings out.

To getting mixtapes.

To making mixtapes.

To nerd boys.

To cats.

To slow dancing.

To rain.

To snow.

To esprit d’escalier.

To fishnets.

To Century 21.

To chocolate, A&P cards, and chocolate you can buy with A&P cards.

To IMAX.

To Why So Serious.

To astronomy.

To walking to get lost.

To eyes.

To nostalgia.

To BLT stripping.

To Nutella.

To skiing in clouds.

To Sileny Ota.

To Firefox.

To Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog.

To orgasm juice.

To roast turkey.

To comfort food.

To no more arm brace.

To serendipitious family reunions on the C train.

To Julie and Izzy, the best aunt and cousin anyone could ever want.

To J.L., who was there when I needed it from the first day of Crypto to Penn Station.

To A.B., who I’ll always remember.

To C.S. and his smile. (Did I ever tell you, you made a very cute girl?)

To R.K. (Awww!) Your mixtape will be delivered soon, I promise.

To D.S., and his love for the world.

To E.M., my manwhore confidante.

To R.G. Scrabblestalking!

To C.P. and V.W. and our Twilight-bashing.

In the same vein, to K.P. and this quote: “I put Twilight in the bathroom at my dad’s house in case anyone needed extra toilet paper.”

To Maxi the Vole and his long-suffering shoulders.

To S.L. and her randomness. And FISH!

To the Columbia Guard and everyone in it.

To E.R. and our CTY memories, sharing one certain E.M. and sketchiness.

To J.Z., the best captain and impropmtu EMT ever.

To J.Z. (the other one) and her dress-borrowing,  poking, molesting, singing, hilarious self.

To M.S. and his fabulous sayings and style.

To E.S. and our math class antics.

To C.R. and her corruption. I lost the Game.

To L.A., backmarching in the halls, the pencil behind his ear (which I love to steal), and his excellent hugs.

To J.B. and her facial expressions.

To L.S. who is always there when I need her, who I can tell anything, who always cheers me up.

To friends.

To family.

To life.

To waking up each day not knowing what the hell is going to happen, but knowing that whatever does happen, I can take it, experience it, and hopefully get all the epicness, legendary-ness, happiness, and memories that I can get out of it, because there’s nothing at all holding me back.

OUR FOOTBALL TEAM WON A GAME.

THE LAST GAME THEY WON HAPPENED WHEN THE CURRENT SENIORS WERE IN EIGHTH GRADE.

Granted, it was the Toilet Bowl (two worst teams in the state play against each other.)

But to give you an idea of how epic it was, it was 42-0 (or 48-0, can’t remember.) L.A. even cheered during the last cheer, and he NEVER cheers!

LET ME HEAR YOU GO! COLUMBIA! OHHHH! COLUMBIA! OHHHHHH!!!

I was going to blog about this tomorrow, but I think that this says it all. Almost.

http://larkinskye.deviantart.com/art/We-re-beautiful-103410068

My two cents: Just don’t boob tag the person you’re calling beautiful. It’s awkward.

I lose!

And you lose too!

What? You don’t know what the game is? Excuse me while I go steal RealCTY’s entry.

*STEALS* Ahem….

“

The rules of The Game are numbered five at Lancaster, and this numbering is given more importance at the site than any other.

1. If you think about The Game, you lose, and must loudly declare that you lose, by saying “I lose” (or something similar, although “I lose” is used almost ubiquitously). After losing, if anyone asks about The Game, you must immediately induct everyone in the area into The Game by telling them these rules.
2. After losing, you get a thirty minute grace period in which you cannot lose.
3. If you die within this grace period, you lose forever.
4. If you die outside of this grace period, you get a patch but you do not win. The only person known to be eligible for a patch at the current time is Phil Gunn.
5. TO KNOW THE GAME IS TO PLAY THE GAME (this should be said in a deep, ominous voice).”

Outside of CTY, people will look at you a little funny if you say merely “I lose,” but if you say “I just lost the Game!” you will get mixed reactions. CM will tell you to free your mind, CR will slap the table and say “Fuck! I lost the game!”, and LA will yell “I JUST LOST THE GAME!” while laughing, and giving me the finger. LA’s reaction is quite funny to watch, as not many people around him acknowledge the Game, and will look at him weird.

LA is in marching band. He is one of the only people I know who can tolerate *, a kid who pretty much no one likes because of general creepiness and overhelpfulness and randomly “quitting” marching band only to come back the next day. Case and point: Yamaha Cup competition at Giants Stadium yesterday. I was sitting with LA and KP, and I was closest to the aisle. * spread his stands jacket out on the  floor and asked “Luna, can you make sure no one steps on my head?” I asked why he was lying down, and he said becausde he was tired. Five minutes later he asked if I thought that the paint on the walls was lead paint.  I said I didn’t know. “Just by looking at it, Luna, PLEASE!” I asked somewhat skeptically how I was supposed to know that by looking at it, as I was, and still am, not a paint expert. He got up, probably scared of little lead paint monsters, and I fled to the higher reaches of the stands. Later, he asked two girls if he could hold their hands when the scores were announced, as he tended to get nervous, something that recieved many criticisms on the bus. Even I thought that was creeper-ish, and I know creepers. I’ve been to CTY, remember?

On the way back to the bus, I talked to LA and then got swallowed up by the display of the Cadets. When I caught up to the band, LA was with *, who I had no desire to talk to. He continued to talk to *, and I amused myself by looking for cute guys in other bands without turning my head. * is not on my bus, LA is, but * and LA continued to talk all the way to the bus. Once * had turned to leave, I needed to laugh, so I yelled to LA “I LOST THE GAME!” LA responded in his typical fashion, but *’s reaction was LA x10, and his reaction was the subject of much lulz on the bus home.

Now what? My position on the * torment is neutral. Do I keep losing the Game in my usual fashion and make * a scapegoat for more tormenting? Or do I lose the Game quietly? Or do I free my mind? A true dilemma.