Monthly Archives: July 2012

The Morning After


Last night was not a good one for me at all. My mood was low, the morale of my family was low, and then, of course, I had to have one of my moments.

I’m the kind of person who tries to have a generally good attitude about everything, as you may or may not have noticed, but there are days when I crack. Hard. Last night was one of those days.

Picture me, curled into a ball in my basement, on the phone with someone and holding back tears. This someone is a boy named Cameron, who likes me quite a bit, but whenever I have any chance to express a liking towards him, he shakeweights it off like my feelings don’t exist.

I’m not saying a silly boy is the cause of my temporary downfall, no, absolutely not. I’m just saying that it’s not the best thing when Telea is already headed down a path of destruction. This path of destruction was actually kicked off by the realization that I will not have the capability of getting a job this summer, which means possibly not having the funding to make my way to the Minnesota Renaissance Faire.

It was then followed by a hate message from someone I cared about, a five pound weight gain, and an atomic screaming bitchfest from my parents.

Luckily for me, I had my dear friend Lexi talking to me, and she helped me to not make any rash decisions, such as firing a gun into the ceiling or stabbing a fork into someone’s arm. Not that I would do something like that, it just eased the feelings.

It is now Tuesday, and I am looking forward to laying around all day, doing nothing, and possibly doing a second coat of sun on my finally-tanning body.

We are going to attempt a list of five things today, because this gorgeous woman told me she missed that.

Five things you never say to Telea when she is sharing deep personal secrets or feelings.

1. “Oh, stop complaining, my parents are getting a divorce because my dad cheated on my mom.” Really? You’re gonna pull that card? Well, I can definitely see your pain in the reflection of your shiny new Iphone that you got because mommy and daddy felt bad.

2. “Telea, can you just relax once in a while?” What people seem to forget is that Telea is the queen of being adventurous and laid back at the exact same time. When Telea wants to talk about feelings, you fucking talk about feelings.

3. “No one is interested in your little stage performance.” Hrmm, wouldn’t this make anyone just a little miffed? You try to share something that’s meaningful to you, and end up getting shot out of the sky by vicious arrows of ‘no one cares’.

4. “Liar.” Need I explain the frank injustices of this or can you capture in your mind the moment when your entire existance is doubted on a whim?

5. “I know how you feel.” I don’t hate this because I don’t believe you, but because I don’t want you to feel that way also. Get it? I don’t want you to hurt.

Okay, dears, enough with the long blog post, I’ll see you lovers in August.

Love ya!

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Can Every Day be a Renaissance Day?


By the King’s Sword, I am a happy Ren-goer. Everything is amazing, despite the classic Ren Fair Hangover that comes with being a costumed Gypsy, gallivanting about with an Irish accent and a guild of wonderful actors.

This entire last weekend has been one of glory, to be quite honest. I had been to a larger Ren Fair before, but the difference is that I was too nervous to get involved in something that would, without a doubt in the world, become my scene. Honestly, I would want nothing more than to live in a Renaissance Re-enactment for the rest of my natural-born life.

The food was good, the company was better, and I am now considering investing myself in joining the MRAG, which is a wonderful troop of actors who travel from festival to festival. No, really, my life has been changed by this.

After mastering an Irish accent, I proceeded to rake in some cash singing raucous Irish Pub Songs and dancing like a mad woman. I was taught the ways of the Border Morris Dancers, and I was inducted into the gypsy troop. I battled with brave knights, and served ale with the prowess of a twenty year serving wench.

God, life is good. Now, my birthday is coming up, and I have decided that all I want as a gift is a season pass to the Minnesota Renaissance Faire. Pretty please?

It’s quite hard to readjust to a normal life after something like this. You look at your clothing and wonder when such odd contraptions were invented. All of your words have a lilt, and people ask you if you’re an exchange student. You no longer are in the constant presence of shirtless tumblers, beautiful wenches, dancing gypsies, and older wanderers.

You fall asleep dreaming of Irish music, men with Scottish Brogues, sexy pirates, and gorgeous Fawns.

It’s really a sad story that it has to end. A very sad one indeed. So, as I wrap up this blog post, I bid you all to attend your nearby Ren Fair, and experience the joy that I have just felt.

LONG LIVE THE KING, HUZZAH!

Renaissance and Relationships with Bearded Candy Makers


Good evening, beautiful Star Children. Today, I went to the first annual ‘Ren in the Glen’, a new Renaissance fair that opened nearby. I haven’t told you guys that I’m in that crowd, but I am.

I have personal relations with a pack of Border Morris Dancers and a band of Belly Dancing Gypsies. I know, my life is mega exotic, and we all love it.

It’s really a fun scene, lots of people dressed up (me included), music, shows, fire-dancers, Flame-throwers, giant bubbles, laughter, dancing, food, ale, and ridiculous accents that just put you in a killer mood (in a good way, not a Freddie Vs. Jason way).

It’s where scantily dressed women dance not on a pole, people openly discuss their sexuality and preferred sexual positions, people young and old hit on you in old english, and you are allowed to burst into raucous song, with the only reaction being people joining you. In one word: Beautiful.

Another beautiful highlight was the shirtless (and abbed) band of tumblers. Please sir, can I have some more? There’s one named Gary, and he is gorgeous (and, sadly, thirty). We became friends, and it was good.

There was a drunken man dressed as Jack Sparrow. He was attractive, because he dressed well. Also, because he was method actor, and he was incredibly drunk (on rum, of course). He asked me to be older so that he could shamelessly hit on me.

Then, there was the candy man. He was old and had a beard. He told me he needed a third wife and winked at me. He then offered me a seven week job in Cinncinati, selling candy and fudge at this huge re-enactment festival thing. If he hadn’t been so old and weird, I totally would have said yes. The offer was ten an hour and all you can eat candy, thirteen hours a day, paid one hour break to eat and wander the festival, and all expenses paid. Sweet deal, right?

Anyway, I’ll be heading back tomorrow to get some more awesome stories to tell. For now, revel in the fact that my life sometimes hits amazing status and that you are slightly jealous.

Love ya!

The True Definition of an Early Morning Blog Post


I am awake, I am alive, I am watching Dinotopia. My butthole is very sick, and my stomach seems to be going with it. I feel awful. It’s a very interesting experience that I would not care to repeat any time soon.

I trust you to not tell people, dear internet, that my ass burns like I just injected Ghost Pepper juice into with a very large, very sharp needle. Of course, having shared this with the entire world, I can only hope that no one I know is reading this.

Winky face. Troll face. Double troll face. Triple troll hating on weird ‘notecard’ Youtubers face. If you know what I’m talking about, you might be stifling a giggle-snort right now.

Moving on. Today, I barely ate anything. I was so hungry, but every time I saw food, my stomach attacked me like a rabid bullfrog.

I did consume a whole jar of pickles, and drank about a gallon of water. I don’t quite feel as beautiful as most Telea’s my age generally do.

I have to wake up early tomorrow. Bright and early. For a job. Because I love delivering the monthly newspaper. I really need the money, but I’m feeling as if…if I move…bad things are going to happen, and they are going to happen hard.

We shall see, Watson. We shall see.

I’m going to go…do something…involving a bathroom, some crying, and a lot of toilet paper. Please forgive me, and remember that girls don’t poop.

Love ya!

Your Entire Life was a Dick Move


My birthday is in 9 days. Meaning that I should have been planning something for my birthday about a month ago. Some kind of something, you know? I’ll be 18! This should be something big and wonderful and amazing.

Yet, there are no plans yet. Nothing, nada, kaput. Why? Because even though I have been attempting to plan this day for…oh man, years, it has become the laughingstock of my entire family nation. As in, oh, we’ll wait until the last second so that people won’t show up.

Fun, right? On top of all of this teen complaining, I am feeling the pressure of many real-world issues, including best friends stealing my debit card, being broke, not being able to find a job, and rethinking my entire life.

Hello, angst!

I’ve pretty much established that in 9 days, I can’t get anyone from the cities here, but a valiant effort will be made. This is a short blog because I just now, finally, got the okay to have a party.

Aww, shucks, how sweet, and I thought you were going to wait until at least the day before my birthday.

I promise to be less stupid, complainy, angsty, on my next bull run of blogging.

Love ya!

I Wake Up To The Sound Of Screaming


Not really, not today. Today, I woke up multiple times to the sound of my sister receiving text messages. She’s so popular that, even at 3 in the morning, there are many people who want to talk to her. Many.

She also had to wake up at 7, so, a rather loud, rather annoying, tone decided to make itself useful multiple times for the next twenty minutes.

And finally, when I thought it was all over, that I was home free…there she was, standing over me and breathing like she had just been chased by a wild heffalump.

Trust me when I say that yes, her shiny new Iphone has been destroyed 643562362 times in my fantasies. My subconscious tells me: pick it up, pick it up and smash it. However, I have not the time for apologies or the money for replacements, and so, I just wake up crabby and rant on my blog.

Today is the day. The first day is always the easiest, you know. You get so excited about your new plan that you simply outdo yourself, sending your tomorrow screaming into the land of oh goddd, why me???

So, I’m taking it slow. Today, instead of working out (which I haven’t actually done in a long time, thanks to one bum ankle), I will stretch everything thoroughly. I think it’s a good start.

Today, instead of completely restricting sugars, I will simply avoid everything that is obviously jam-packed with them.

And today, I am going to start looking for options to move out of my house. For real, guys. I can’t live here anymore. I can visit, for sure, but living? No. So, I’m trying to find a place where I can live, with access to a nearby jobbing facility and also a way to finish high school.

And that’s all for today.

Love ya!

Write About My Day Because Fuck Trains


Today, I woke up early. I took care of all of my mother’s animals, hung laundry out, and weeded in the garden. It was my first step towards making a decision and being proactive.

Tomorrow, I stop eating sugars, other than the natural ones that occur in fruit. I also stop eating chicken, ham, and pork chops. I’m whittling down my meat diet until I reach vegetarianism. I want to start making healthy choices for me.

Tomorrow, I start working out again. I want to feel fitter, to be better. I know this sounds like the same old thing from the same old teenage girl, but the fact is that these are steps to organize my life in order to figure it out. I know it’s not the best routine, to control things in order to figure other things out, but it’s something.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Do you ever have that feeling that tomorrow is never going to come? I’m working on staying as positive as this blog makes me sound. I am a cheerful chipmunk! I am a ecstatic elephant. I am a happy human. That’s what it is. I need to stay positive.

So, tomorrow it starts. Tomorrow, everything starts. My life, which has felt slightly empty and incomplete starts tomorrow.

How do I know? Because something impossible happened. Something that feels like my entire life is changed. My entire direction has be waved just a little bit to the right.

I think I’m alone. That’s what happened. I am alone here. I am prepared to not be alone anymore. I’m ready to move on. Don’t worry, my blog will be pretty normal in the next few days, this is just a transition.

After all, I’ll be eighteen in just a few short weeks. I’ll be an adult.

Love ya!