First Trimester of Ninth Grade, Briefly, With Most of the Interesting Things Not Actually Part of the Post

So... ninth grade is not bad. Marching band is crazy fun. Also, just crazy. My classes are mostly good and lunch time is only 25 minutes, but it's 25 minutes of pure awesomeness. I no longer have any classes that I absolutely and totally despise with a burning passion (passion del fuego!), which is good. Even math is enjoyable.
I've been taking some pictures recently, because it's fun. I am by no means a photographer, but I do enjoy it. Some of the pictures turned out nice, and the others were deleted.
I have nothing interesting to say, but that's okay because nobody reads these things anyway. Blah blah blah, chicken nuggets.
I have a goat! I got it on the band trip the week before Halloween. It is not a live goat, but it is awesome. His name is Maurice James von Derricson III and he is legit. His beard is adorable and his face was sewed on crookedly, but I kind of like that. Band trips are fun, even when the bus is insanely hot on the way home. It honestly kind of amazes me that a group of weirdos, ages 14-18, can do something so incredible. Like, really, some of the craziest people I've ever met are all gathered together in one place every morning for two and a half hours (or just one hour, now that we don't go to school at 7:00) and instead of lighting things on fire and stuff like that, we can actually (mostly) focus and accomplish things. It's pretty sweet.
Holy cow, I used to regularly update this blog thing... Weird...
Eventually, I will upload some of the pictures I took. Hopefully it will be in the next three years, but I do tend to procrastinate a bit...
Ian has been in England for four months ish. It's kind of weird, because it sometimes feels like he was here just yesterday and sometimes it feels like he's been gone forever.
I need Cheerios. Seriously, I've been craving Cheerios for hours. WHY are Cheerios so good? WHY?
I am auditioning for drum major this year, along with many of my freshman buddies (Drew [Jroo], Mason, Ryker, Jarsden, McKenzie, and Allyn, specifically). I probably won't be a drum major next year, but I am having fun trying out and everyone tells me I'm doing well (and doing well is good), so I have no problem with that. 
Hmm, what else is a remotely interesting thing for me to write about?
I have no idea. Anyway, life is basically pretty good right now, though I don't really have anything to say.

I Am Very Bored

School starts in two days. Everyone asks if I am excited. 
Well, no, not really. It happens every year and will happen for three more years of high school after this one. I've been going to school since kindergarten. I'm ready for school, but I'm not excited. It's been too long since I've seen most of my friends, and I'm ready to get back to an exact schedule of classes all day and homework put off as long as possible, but I'm not really excited. 
School is just something that happens. 
And it's happening in two days. 

Ckzquaeirschzpleauodgjieaofne

 Ckzquaeirschzpleauodgjieaofne. It's so good.

A Poem

I wrote a poem at roughly midnight. Here you go.

The Spineless

Or, The Books We Dream About

These are the books we treasure--

The ones that have been read over and over

And over and over

For years.

These are the books we dream about--

The books we fall in love with

And get in trouble for reading class.

These are the books we will read until

We are old and grey,

The books we will pass on to our children,

And they

To their children.

These are the books we stay up reading under the covers

Into the wee hours of the morning.

Their ink is faded and they are lucky

If they still have

Any covers at all.

They have spines of duct tape

With titles scrawled on in Sharpie

And will, no matter what other great books we read,

Always be

Our favorites.

They have tattered, worn pages

Held in with shoddily placed Scotch tape.

These are the books that we buy multiple copies of--

And we wear down, wear out,

Every copy.

The good books,

The really good ones,

Are easy to spot

Because

They are

Stained and ripped

And read and adored

Until they are spineless.

You're welcome. 

Ellie's Birthday Tribute

One of my very greatest friends, Ellie Anne Anderson, turned fourteen today. Ellie is funny and smart and cute and talented and just plain awesome. Plus, her name is very easily nickname-able. She's been called Ellie-beans, Ellie-phant, Ellie-vator, etc.

Ellie and I have watched many movies, eaten many desserts, ridden (roden? rided? rode-odendroneded? Yes, that one, definitely.)  rode-odendroneded on many bike rides, written down ideas for many inventions and stories, and, among other things, shared many, many laughs together. Ever since sixth grade, when she said the word "phlegm" in an every day situation, I knew she would be an amazing friend, and she certainly has been. 

Happy birthday, Ellie. I'm so glad to know you and to have done so many wonderful things with you. I hope your fourteenth year of life brings a billion more fun things for you. An entire billion.  
Love, Olivia