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Iceona

If only.....
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So. You may have noticed a recent trend in my photos--they were taking in Paris, France. I had the most amazing time in Europe and I'm looking forward to studying abroad in France soon. I'm not going to say much; rather, I want my photos to speak for themselves. I do, though, want to tell you where I was...

Paris, France
Nîmes, France
Avignon, France
Aix-en-Provence, France
Cassis, France
Carcassonne, France
Barcelona, Spain


Enjoy the photo spectacular.
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Ma Vie

2 min read
est parfaite. I'm not sure when the last time I updated this was, but I'm sure I was ranting about the tragic woes of my life, but that is all behind me like the now decayed leaves of a fall lost to spring. (I sense a poem forming.) Tomorrow is my high school graduation. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! I am so glad to be getting out of that miserable prison system, even though I will miss all of m firends and most of my teachers. The happiness far outweighs the loss, though. At this time tomorrow my black and gold cap will be sailing through the gym lobby with approx. 200 others.

This, while being incredible news, is not the best part of the near future. In 11 days I will be on a plane headed for Charles DeGaulle Airport in Paris. Mon reve vient vrai!!!!!! My nationality may be americaine, mais mon ame est francaise. Going to France is the highpoint of my existence and my overflowing happiness--for lack of a better word--cannot be expressed fully in the paltry vocabulary of human-kind.

After I return from my trip, I will be relaxing and hopefully hanging out with my friends a few last times before heading off to college. I may not have gotten into the university of my dreams--Harvard--I am very pleased with my new school. The fact that it is all paid for because I'm a Covenant Scholar is pretty nice, too.

So, there's a little update about my life. I haven't had a whole lot of time to write lately, but I think inspiration is on the way.
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I am in prison. No, I have not been incarcerated by law enforcement, but I go to prison every day. The prison I refer to is my high school. Now, I know many students feel that their school is a prison, but mine actually is. My high school is a place where the bad are punished, the good is not rewarded, and then the good get punished. We have a warden. We have too strict rules. We have a prison.

Technically my school became a prison at the beginning of last year when I beloved principal was replace by our current warden. Mr Rockstar (as he shall be refered to in this blog) was the best principal a school could ever ask for. He had rules and he was strict, but he also believed that an excellent school should have excellent rewards to celebrate student excellence. Happily for himm--sadly for us--he was promoted and we were soon introduced to his successor. This man, we shall call him Mr. Bad, at first seemed innocent enough.

Then the changes started rolling in like heavily armed men in a police state. Little liberties were taken away and students began to despise him. I will not go into detail here as to specifics (gotta save something for the book). Student morale went down, test scores dropped, and many students discussed transferring to our rival school.

I stayed because my parents moved to this district so that I could go to a top high school. Things got even worse and then the rules that had always annoyed me became personal.

A senior privilege is to take Yearbook. I was in the class first semester, but I had an AP class second semester and could not take it. I knew that one of the editors was in the same situation, so she was taking it as an independent study. I went to my counselor and had my schedule changed so that I could do the same. The next few days passed in relative happiness. I was liking my teachers and we were getting a lot done in yearbook. Then my counselor came in, pulled me out of the class, and informed that "the administration" did not want two people in the class. Needless to say, I was upset. I signed back up for the internship I was orignally supposed to be in. On Monday I still had not been placed with a teacher so I spent the class in yearbook. I have asthma and had forgotten my inhaler that day. My lungs had felt a little tight through my first three classes and then at lunch my attack struck like a perfectly poised cobra. My friend found a girl in the cafeteria who had an inhaler and I was able to use that to save my life. I was then sent to the nurse to await my parents.

While in the nurse's office, a Mrs. Desk-Monkey began to lecture me on my asthma, even though I told that I have been asthmatic since I was five. Mrs. Desk-Monkey's tone was very condescending to me and to my mother when she called. The next day I stayed at home to readjust to my medication. (At this point I had missed two periods of my fourth class.) I returned on Wednesday and the nurse was actually at the school. She condescended me, made me pantomime how to use my inhaler, and then criticized the way I was using it--I use it just like the real doctors told me to. She also made a snippy call to my mother later in the day. The day went pretty normally for me though after that. I was no longer in the internship and the assistant principal would not let me return to yearbook, so I was tossed into Art I.

Then Thursday arrived.

I, like almost every other teenager in America, own a cell phone. I carry it with me because that is how I get in touch with my mother at the end of the school day. Every morning I turn my phone off and slip it inside the inner pocket of my purse. At some point during the day, my phone turned itself on. I was in Mr. Formerly-Awesome's class when I heard the unmistakable sound of my phone receiving a text message. This class was an AP class and I had no intention of owning up to it being my phone, especially ater the previous events of the week. Mr. Formerly-Awesome refused to ignore the noise and called the administration. After the two assistant principals bullied me into pseudo-admitting it was my phone, I was escorted to detention.

I was not happy considering that I am in the top 10 of my class and am currently an applicant to Duke, Havard, Yale, Brown, and Princeton.

I informed my mother and she and my father flew into a rage. Mom went into the school where she was lied to by an assistant principal. She flew out of the parking lot and immediately took to the internet to research school and county policy. The school policy says that the third cell phone offense was one day in school suspension and that the first two were "principal discretion." That discretion is used to punish first time offenders with the penalty of a third time offender. Also, the county policy states that a student should only be removed from class if they are causing a SAFETY risk. So unless my phone was spraying anthrax, they had no right to remove me from my Art I class and my three AP classes.

My parents met with Mr. Bad the next morning. When they tried to speak with him rationally and calmly, he refused to listen to them and just kept repeating that it was "policy." A policy, I will remind you, that is not written anywhere. A mark of a good leader in the ability to listen to others. Mr. Bad does not posess this skill. My parents then began to raise Hell and threatened to pull me out of the school. Mr. Bad did not even attempt to prevent them from taking such action, because he simply does not care about the students. We left the building under the watchful eye of one overweight rent-a-cop.

My mom called the county school board and soon received a call from Mr. Rockstar. Now, admittingly, the 'policy' was Mr. Rockstar's, but if he had been there he would of listened to our complaint and perhaps we could have convinced him that there were more fitting punishments than detention. Mr. Rockstar calmed down my mom and we agreed that we could do more damage by keeping me in school than giving Mr. Bad what he wanted.

I returned after second period in a newly made shirt that had "Inmate 21411919" written across the chest and "______ Penitentiary" written across the back. Not a word was said to me by Mr. Bad and that was very wise of him. I was brought up not to start anything, but I WILL finish it. I sat in detention for two class periods.

Now, PHS's detention is a joke. Actually I assume the same is true of any detention. By taking kids out of class you are giving the kids who don't want to learn what they want and preventing the kids that care about their future to receive the education that they are entitled to have. Instead of learning AP Euro and taking my test in AP English (which I had now missed four out of five days in) I sat in a room and colored a fuzzy poster. Tax- payers money hard at work there. You would think a county as sickeningly conservative as mine would take offense at their money going down the drain.

I will be back in detention Monday for Art I and AP Statistics.

I will have another prison shirt. I will not back down. I will get that policy changed. I will get Mr. Bad removed. Mr. Bad will learn that he messed with the wrong girl.
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Facebook l Myspace l Gallery l dA Portfolio l Watch Me l Note Me

I just feel like writing, but there is not really any inspiration buzzing in my mind currently. I think I had a thought last night, but I don't remember it now. Oh well, if it was good it'll come back to me. My journal entries have been mostly rants lately, but I wanted to do something more structured and informative today.


College, College, and More College:

I think this time is the worst time in any senior's life. My college apps are all submitted, but the torturous waiting is almost as bad. I applied to six very selective schools and I worry that I won't be good enough to get into any of them. I have an excellent academic record but college admissions boards are so finicky about who they select. I worry that I've spent too
much time being a "good student" and not enough time devolping something that will make me "interesting." I don't know. It's all very stressful. And I haven't even mentioned the interviews yet.

Oh, the interviews. I have already been interviewed by Duke and I think it went well, but now that it is over, I can think of better answers. I'm scared. Then my Harvard interview is 9 days away. NINE DAYS!!!!!!!!!!!! I should be hyperventalating right now.

I can't wait for this whole ordeal to be over. Also, I think I just had an epiphany. I've been complaining about my morbid prose of the last few months and I now think I know the cause. College. All of the stress with applying has sent my subconscious plummenting into a ravine of unhappy thoughts. All the repressed panic is coming out in my writing.

That actually soothes my mind. I don't feel so disturbed now.


My Mental Library:

I have read some books lately that I think are fantastic.

1. The  Tragical History of Dr. Fausuts - Christopher Marlowe (Dr. Faustus for short)

This play is simply amazing. I'm now dying to see it performed, but no one near me is putting it on. It is the tale of a man who is too smart for his own good. It carries the reader into a journey of evil and repentance, of fate vs. free will, and of the corruption of knowledge. It teaches us that we should be happy where we are and not reach for things that are rightfully beyond our grasp. Dr. Faustus sells his soul to the devil and, in the end, what did he really gain from that?

Awesome isn't it? You should all read it, both versions. The A text is more condensed and opens up better discussion, but the B text removes the confussion surrounding some characters.

2. Frankenstein - Mary Shelley

We are all familiar with the story from the many pop culture references, but what you learn when you read the book is that EVERYTHING YOU KNOW ABOUT FRANKENSTEIN IS A LIE!!!! A LIE!!!!!!! I'm not kidding. None of the references I have ever seen are close to the truth. The only thing modern television got right was that Frankenstein's monster was tall. In case you didn't know, the monster is not named Frankenstein, it actually has no name. I knew that before but you would be surprised the ignorance of some people. I'm not referring to you but to a girl in  my AP English class. She thought that the doctor's name was Frank Enstein. Why the heck is she in an AP class!?!?!?!!?

3. Any of the Temperance Brennan novels - Kathy Reichs

I love the TV show Bones and decided to read the books. They are nothing like the show, but they are very good. Reichs has excellent description and character development and a budding romance that is infuriating in its slowness.

4. Any book you pick up - Any author

I really advocate reading, so if any of my readers out there aren't a fan of books, give them another chance. Books are magic.



Music:

My music preferance is unusual for my generation. I listen to rock and the following is a list of my current fave songs that are worth checking out.

Bullet in my Hand - Redlight Kings
Goodbye - My Darkest Days
Diamond Eyes - Shinedown
If you Only Knew - Shinedown
Face to the Floor - Chevelle
Scream With Me - Mudvayne
Head Like a Hole - Nine Inch Nails
Collapse - Adelitas Way
Nightmare - Avenged Sevenfold
Lonely Boy - The Black Keys (you MUST watch video)
Howlin' For You - The Black Keys (also MUST watch video)
Sound of Winter - Bush



Casual Observer:

My latest publication is in need of some thoughts. I don't know what to do with this story and would really appreciate some advice.

CSS made by TwiggyTeeluck
Background image by AF-studios
Brushes by SummerAIR

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So, to any of you who read my prose pieces you know that my recent foray into prose (that's not Fan-fiction) had been extremely... well, morbid. Now as I type this at 10 minutes until 1 a.m. I have just finshed a new piece entitled "A Lover's Monologue" (title subject to change if I later decide I don't like it). Spoiler Alert, but this not so stunning piece of prose is morbid as well and much more depressing than it was originally set to be. So my question to you, my non-existent readers) is WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME!!!!!!? I'm not depressed, other than being terminally stressed I'm rather happy, but that sentiment cannot be expressed in prose. I can write happy poetry, so what is wrong with me that I can't write happy prose? Is it that "happy" dominates the shelves in the bookstores so I internally turn away from the norm, or is there seriously something wrong with my brain? I'm not sure I will even upload "A Lover's Monologue." Oh, who am I kidding, I am an attention hog and it'll be posted. Then I will get no comments on it and I'll be sad and then I'll write more sad things. I mean really, I write this knowing full and well that no one will read it, but I write it anyways. I don't know, maybe I should just stop writing. I'm not really that good at it and while I'd like to published one day, I'm no where near having anything that is worth getting published. I did submit my poem Breed to a contest and if it wins, I think it will be more for the message than the writing. (Oh and as a sidebar, Paint it Black by The Rolling Stones just started playing on Pandora. That is so not going to help my mood.)

Anyways, back to my self-deprecating rant. I've run out of things to complain about, but that may just be my brain shutting down at this late hour. Goodbye, fair readers. I'll talk to you at 1 a.m. some other time.
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Featured

Paris, Je t'aime. by Iceona, journal

Ma Vie by Iceona, journal

Diary Of An Inmate by Iceona, journal

Some Thoughts for You by Iceona, journal

Queen of All Things Morbid by Iceona, journal