What could you possibly want to know from me that you couldn't find out through reading all the other girls' ramblings? Besides, I've started a million blogs in my life, and they've all ended up like those diaries I was SURE I'd write in every night. The closest I've ever come to memoiring (shut up, little-red-dashed-spelling-error-underline; Shakespeare made up half the freaking language and nobody ever gave HIM crap for it) was an anonymous livejournal I kept from eighth to ninth grade that I updated about four times a week. ...Oh. I was honestly about to say, "And look how much good THAT did me!" when I realized my Red essay came from that very journal. So you win, redthebook.com blog. Yooooouuuu win. I'll write in you as long as you don't try to interfere with the rest of my (youtubing, eating, not going out, drooling on the keyboard that I all but sleep on) life.
No, but seriously, guys-- this whole thing is really trippy. I've always hated books in journal form (except, of course, Megan McCafferty's Jessica Darling series. Duh.) because the first bit is like the opening of any other story: an introduction to the characters, setting, blah blah blah, obvious stuff. Like anyone would ever explain their friends and family to his- or herself. But now I have a legitimate reason to pretend I'm a novel with a beginning, rising action, climax, falling action and resolution. I have [somewhat] legitimate people to tell about my life. I have a legitimate excuse for putting off writing my NaNoWriMo. Almost. (http://www.nanowrimo.org)
So, uh... okay. Name's Hayley. Seventeen. Not unfortunate-looking, not someone people wolf whistle at. I'm crazy-crazy-crazy close with my family. Please hold the incest jokes. I have a small handful of good friends because I require a huge, tangible amount of loyalty and, frankly, there're only about twelve people at my high school who aren't complete morons. My three best friends are Lauren, Jess and Sarah. I'll probably refer to them a lot, so here're the basics. Lauren and I met in second grade when we had to share a floppy disk. We wrote stories together (foreshadowing, anyone?) and once staged a picket line protest when our moms wouldn't let us have a sleepover. Some people think she's quiet. Like hell. She goes on kicks where everything she says is funny enough for me to laugh my way into six pack abs. She just doesn't talk to people she has no reason to talk to and doesn't like.
Jess and I met at our psychotic EVIL babysitter's house before Kindergarten. I don't know if we're mind and soul sisters by chance and fate, or if it's because we practically raised each other. Either way, there's no one in this world who I'd rather talk to. Ever. Not only can we communicate without talking, we understand each other's weirdest thoughts. She's an insanely gifted artist-- you need to see her pop art series posted in my deserted (as per usual) blog on myspace.com/hayleygoover.
Sarah is my common sense. She's the only person I'll ever allow to correct me-- when it's not a matter of opinion, of course, because we're both so stubborn that we've learned better than to start those kinds of conversations. We met formally in fourth grade and became friends in fifth, but she was actually in my first grade class for about a week. God. Sarah was the best drawer (remember when that word was acceptable when referring to one who used crayons well? Now it seems like I'm calling her the best cabinet) and the best reader. I wanted to kick her teeth out for stepping in on MY territory. Slowly we worked through our issues. Ha. I think it was her idea to start our ("our" meaning Lauren's, Sarah's and mine) video-making career. I'll probably get into that another day, but no promises because I'm a sucky ass blogger.
Enough for ya? Eh? What more do you WANT from me?
I think I might actually keep up with this. But not because I respect you (the idea of blogging, that is). It's just because I really liked some of you Red girls that I met this weekend, and I wouldn't mind getting to know you. Alright?