Monthly Archives: February 2013

I Will Be The Disco Ball

We were talking about that downward spiral in blogging after skipping a day? Wow, I actually managed to predict my own doom for about the millionth time. And it’s all because I pledged allegiance to the DJ.

Let’s get serious here. I was going to just post something stupid with random Macklemore lyric references throughout the post, but maybe I’ll loosen up and do something serious for once. If that makes any sense. In spirit, I will freak and give my all.

Oops, nevermind. Yesterday was a good day. I slept, I did homework (FOR THE FIRST TIME IN AGES), and then I called up my favorite Kresha in the entire world and was all like: Let’s Taco Bell it.

So she picked me up after a rushed shower and we drove to Menomonie, blasting ‘And We Danced’ by Macklemore for the entire trip. We went over to the Legacy Chocolate store and got some delicious food-stuffs, and then we Taco Belled it up. Sadly, somehow Taco Bell managed to be pretty gross yesterday, so life was disappointing.

We then trolled around a bit at Walmart. We meant to use stupid pick-up lines on people and freak other people out, but we just ended up buying some ‘Dark Side’ Skittles and some Nerds and getting out of there. It was still pretty great.

I have this tendency lately to make my stories sound less cool then they are instead of more cool. Maybe I have a broken writing gland or something. Is there a literary doctor somewhere about?

Anyway, the plans for the day are pretty straight-forward. Get my door taken away for eating in my room one too many times, do some homework, and then maybe hit up a basketball game later tonight. Sounds like a plan, yes?

RIP to the king, Michael Jackson, we learned it all from you…and also RIP to my door.

Love ya!


The Pioneer Day

What a bloody all-around decent weekend. Let’s have a little chat, shall we?

Yesterday, i didn’t post for the first time in February. Let’s hope that this is not a down-hill spiral, shall we? Anyway, first we can talk about Alex’s birthday. Things were good, if not a little bit weird. We ate pizza, laughed a bit, cross-dressed Alex, ate cake (DELICIOUS!), and then started Moulin Rouge, which I had to leave for because of my overnight laws.

I pulled an all-nighter and yesterday I was driven to a small cafe at 7 am to sit and wait for Pioneer Days to start. Pioneer days is a cold-ass day where tons of people gather in a small town to catch chickens that are thrown off roofs, tackle pigs coated in butter, and watch a horse parade.

So, basically, it’s kinda lame, but I go every year to see people I haven’t seen in a while, so that’s cool. Yesterday, I went to hang out with my friends Josh and Dean. And it was nice. I spent two hours drinking cup after cup of mediocre coffee and reading a Calvin and Hobbes book, and then I went to wander.

Whilst wandering, I ran into Dean a bit earlier than we had planned, but it worked out nicely because I was freezing balls and he had a warm garage. We sat there for a bit, then wandered down to the main part of town where we sat on a Bar Deck and chilled. Literally. 

Then, wondering where the hell Josh was, we headed back to Dean’s to chill there again and call Josh. Just over 45 minutes later, Josh and his buddy Tim showed up and we all went to see the Chicken Toss.

The rest of the day consisted of walking, random driving, meeting new people (Fucking beautiful girl who sat on my lap and flirted with me), and trying to keep warm. Finally, they all had somewhere to be, so I said my goodbyes (A simple: Peace) and hopped out of the Anarchy car with my destination being the Cafe again.

I ordered some fries and waited for my dad to pick me up, which was about 50 minutes later. So it was a good day. Boring, a bit, yeah. But good, overall. Getting out and seeing old faces can be good for the soul.

So today I’m off looking for adventure again, but I’ll probably just drink some tea and take a nap.

Love ya!

The Faulty Alarm

Today is a beautiful day and I suppose you’re wondering why I didn’t talk about Valentine’s Day yesterday and I suppose you’re expecting a story but there isn’t one. I just didn’t. Today is a very short post because I have a jumpsuit to wash, a body to shower, and a party to go to.

Oh, don’t get all up in arms, government. When Telea says party, she doesn’t mean drugs, alcohol and men that are only attractive when you do drugs and alcohol. Telea is talking about something far more legal and far weirder. 

Today, I’m going to the birthday party of my friend Alex, who turned 21 yesterday. Awhh, Valentine’s baby! The plan is that we shall all rendezvous at Alexa’s house for cross-dressing (Me a male train conductor, Alex a something female, dunno about Alexa) and then we shall road trip right on over 10 miles away to the party location where we shall sip tea and watch musicals.

WHAT?! That’s a thing?

Yes, my dear friends, much as getting together with your buddies for pizza, sex, porn, drugs, and video games sounds like a smashing (and I mean that very literally) good time, I would rather kick it with 3-4 people, drinking Earl Grey and singing every single number in Chicago in a loud chorus of off-pitch voices until our energy is gone.

Now, let’s talk about the alarm clock that couldn’t. Last night (Or, I mean, at 5:30 am), I set an alarm for 10:45 so that I could get up and get around to shower up and cross-dress. WELP, guess what alarm didn’t go off until noon? THIS ONE. 

So here I am, wasting time posting a blog when I should be getting my stink off and suiting up. So I should go. Today shall be a great day, my friends. A great day, indeed.

Love ya!

The Book

So, let’s start by informing you that I am a woman who cannot make up her mind and that I have changed my monologue piece yet again. Not only that, but I’m back to choosing between three, this time all from the same book.

Cliche as it might sound, I liked Perks of Being a Wallflower before it was massively cool. Now, I know it’s actually been around for quite a bit more time than I had initially imagined when I read it (I thought it was a new release when I cried over it for the very first time in 2007), but I still beat possibly millions of hopeless fangirls to the punch, so take that, internet!

Anyway, this is one of those few books that I would read many, many times and that has only succeeded in making more sense as the years have gone by. After all, the first time I read it, I had just hit my teenage years, and now it means so much more to me than a story about suicidal thoughts and molestation.

Because it’s not really either of those things. It’s really a journey in the mind of someone who doesn’t necessarily know what’s wrong with them, only that is something wrong with them. It’s also a very well-written vision into the teenage psyche, along with being enlightening and educational on a variety of subjects.

Enough about the book, though that’s kind of what we were initially here to talk about. I have selected three really good monologues from the book and am having trouble deciding which one to use. They all run about five minutes, which will work excellently when I add all of my dramatic gesture stuff.

One of them is kind of an intro in why Charlie, the main character, is writing letters to a stranger. The second one details Charlie’s first kiss, in which the girl who kisses him states: I want your first kiss to be from somebody who loves you.

The third one is the scene where the same girl leaves for college and around the same time Charlie remembers/realizes the messed up shit that happened in his childhood and kind of has a breakdown. They’re all good, I just have to choose which one is best.

I’m running on so little sleep, though, and I feel really behind in my classes. We’re halfway through February and I don’t have my shit together the way I wanted to. I’m also experiencing some frustration with weekend plans as I RSVP’d ‘NO’ to the Forensics meet but my coach paid the registration fee anyway and is trying to force me into going.

Which is total bullshit and it makes me want to cry. Anyway, it’s time for a quick nap and then a million other things that I have to do. There’s your personal insight into the life of Telea. I hope you’re satisfied. Ha.

Love ya!

The Comment Imposters

Recently, my spam filter has been avoiding its job. Let me tell you the story of my assumed rise to fame and then the fall back into regularity.

About a week ago, I checked my Gmail (As I do every day) for messages concerning my darling people who like, comment, and subscribe to this blog. I was astounded when my inbox was filled (or maybe it was just like 23 emails) with messages about comments from the lovely beings of WordPress.

What’s that I see? 23 comments and counting on my own humble blog? What, pray-tell, did I post that was so inflammatory to the eyes of the public that I would receive not one, not five, but TWENTY-THREE emails concerning it?!

Well, I rushed right over to Blog Central to check it out and was sorely disappointed to find 23 very similar messages.

We were very impressed with the content you offered on your blog. May I suggest a theme from to make your blog more appealing? 

Well, that is just so flattering, guys. You’ve made me feel super confident in what I do and also convinced me to spend 60 dollars on a web layout. And by that I mean:

Please fuck off, I dislike it when you get all up in my shit. I’m just trying to express myself to actual people, okay? Okay. Good? Good.

Of course, these spammers don’t actually read these dear posts of mine and thus my ‘Please Fuck Off’ messages are shot into cyberspace where only my real human followers have to deal with them, which is both sad and unfortunate.

I’ve decided to call these ‘Faux-Commenters’ the Comment Imposters, and they are evil beings that seek the demise of honest and talented individuals such as myself and yourselves and many other selves that exist out there.

I was just discussing with my father how it would be nice to have a small army backing me and supporting me on the road to fame, but here’s the thing: I want that army to be made up of real, honest, caring people. 

If you follow my blog because you believe I am a total fucking rock star from Mars, I love you forever and please keep reading and enjoying. If you follow my blog for any other reason that has any type of emotional, physical, or intellectual value to you, by all means, continue. I love you forever.

If you follow my blog because you are a robot and/or impostor and/or Dalek…well, I don’t know why you do. You don’t have a brain or a heart, so it’s either a clerical error or you think I’m going to lead you to the Wizard of Oz. Anyhow, this ridiculous post is getting long and it’s getting dark out.

I still have a snow fort to build! Until next time, my lovelies (and not-so-lovelies).

Love ya!

Napping and My Religion

My love! The reason I survive. Because while I’m terrible at keeping up normal sleeping hours or even sleeping at all during the night, naps have saved me. They are my salvation. They are my God, Yes, napping is a religion.

Let’s talk about this. You all know I’m not a man of religion. It’s true, I breathe air, I pray to Asgard when things get tough, and I believe in The Doctor. I’m told that this is not religion. I’m even told that this could be considered as heresy.

First off, just because my religion isn’t your doesn’t mean it’s not real. When you die you go to heaven? When I die, I wake up in my real body imprisoned at the castle in Asgard, where I am broken out by Loki and then kidnapped by the Doctor for various adventures whilst the body I thought was mine decomposes beneath the ground and reminds me of a life that was a dream.

Or something along those lines. So you could say I’m a man of religion, though we’re not actually discussing my true beliefs. What we’re discussing is my best-case scenario for when I have that awful disease called ‘Being Dead’. Why are we not discussing my true beliefs?

Partially because it’s not considered polite company to speak of your God. Did you know that? It’s a true story. But mostly (because we know I’m not of polite company anyway) because it’s hard to talk about something that I’m not sure exists. Well, I mean, it’s simple to do that, but when it comes to religion, putting my words into something comprehensible is impossible.

We can simply say, for the sake of your curiosity, that I do have faith. It is not, however, invested in any God or Deity or Holy Object etc. that one would know about. It is simply faith. It’s like keeping a one hundred dollar bill in your wallet instead of investing it in a bank or pyramid scheme. 

Though it’s risky to do so, I prefer to know exactly where my 100 bucks is, rather than trusting in something that is only firm and absolute in the here and now. That is my faith. 

Anyway, back to the religion of napping. Let’s say I take my money out of my pocket and put it under my mattress. I still know where it is and it’s less likely to randomly disappear because of a clothing malfunction or a thief. Even better, I take that money, cut a hole in my mattress, and then guard it with my life during the daytime hours.

That is my faith in napping. I have complete faith that, after 50 hours of not sleeping at all, a nap will make me feel at least a little bit better. I also have faith that if I nap under the right conditions, my dreams will not be haunted by evil. You have faith that your prayers will be heard and your life will be happier? I have faith that naps at the appropriate time will herald dreams of rainbows and butterflies and snuggling and bacon rather than hospitals, slides that never end, and my vision of the world in 50 years.

To sum it all up: If you love the big JC, kudos to you, buddy. However, it will not be JC that pulls the covers over me ten minutes from now and turns out the light and it sure as hell won’t be him screaming at me to wake up three hours from now. No, that will be the Dark Lord Satan, reminding me that napping comes with a price that I was all too willing to pay.

My Soul.

Love ya!

The Motivational Inconsistencies

I don’t know if you have the same problem as I do, but I tend to experience high swings and low swings of motivation. Now, when I say this, I’m not saying something along the lines of: I get a good deal done one day and not much done the next.

What I mean when I say this is: I’ll get inhuman amounts of work done in two days and then take three months off.

This is obviously not conducive to me, my sleep schedule, my teachers, my family, or anything else for that matter. I mean, yeah, it’s great that I can do a semester of work in 48 hours. That’s super pro and not many people can just go and do that shit.

But the problem is in the downswings. The long stretches of time where smoking crack and drinking keggers would be considered to be more actively motivated than what I do. Sprawled on on my almost-comfortable bed with my lazy life, I can be found drinking copious amounts of tea and taking naps at midday.

Of course, this is terrible and you should not follow my example. The most productive thing that I did yesterday was post a really cute Facebook status about how weird I am. Oh, and I listened to a lot of Macklemore…and I watched some Robin Hood.

This is the problem with Telea. If you catch me on a motivated day, well shit, there is NOTHING you can do to stop me. But if you catch me on a day where even adventures feel like hard work…well shit, there’s nothing you can do to start me.

Today isn’t quite one of those days. Today I’m about to start slamming some school and then look for an adventure worthy of my time. I can guarantee you that tomorrow is going to suck as far as getting things done. I’m just one of those people, man.

Anyway, better get on with my motivation while it lasts. 

Love ya!