Define the Word Crush

You’ve had a crush at some point in your life. We all have. 
It can be terrifying. Or magical. But honestly, it’s both.

It’s like you’re being offered a beautifully packaged box with satin ribbons and a big red bow at the top. But, just as you’re handed it, someone tells you that if you open it, you’re going to feel a big wave of emotions. Some could be bad or embarrassing, but some could also be wonderful and incredible.

The box is your crush. Perfect and gorgeous in your eyes. It may seem ordinary or plain in someone else’s perspective, but not to you. It’s special to you.
However, the inside is a mystery, like their feelings for you. Do they like me back? Do they like me at all? Am I just a friend? Am I their crush?

But in the end, you know you’ll never know what’s inside until you open the box. That’s like you confessing to you’re crush. You’re telling them how you truly feel, and then you’ll finally know what’s in the box.

I know this boy in my school who has girls fawning over him at every chance they get. He likes to fool around with them, has never had a relationship longer than two months, and I have an epic crush on him. Epic.

And believe me, it hurts. I’m not sure if it’s supposed to, but it does. It’s frightening and embarrassing and depressing at times, but you know what? It’s also spectacular. It’s like butterflies unfolding in your stomach and flying for the first time. It’s like a firework exploding in your chest. It’s like you’re walking on air.

I watch romantic movies and think nothing of it, but if I’m reading a book and a crush suddenly becomes a soul mate, that’s a no-no.


You’re crush is almost never you’re soul mate, so please shut up.

A Girl and a Suit

Now, this may seem completely irrelevant to anything and everything I’ve talked about in the past, along every other thing I’ve ever posted, but I really feel that this is something many people can relate to.

You’ve all had dreams about what you’ve wanted to be as a young child, no matter how clique or bizarre or “imaginative” it may be. A stereotypical example may be a boy wishing to be astronaut or a young girl wanting to be a ballerina. But, honestly, there is very small amount of people in the world who are willing to work for their dream and, eventually, accomplish it.

It’s completely normal for a parent to brush these thoughts off as a phase. In a parent’s eyes, they’re just children who are going go grow and outgrow thoughts. This is just a cute and imaginative thought that will soon enough be outgrown. But, in the believer’s eyes, they can see that astronaut taking that small step for man on the moon already. They can picture that ballerina twirling to her heart’s content on her stage.

Coming from a child, I’m embarrassed for those “dreams” I had. Those “dreams” of singing and dancing on a stage. I can even remember that, at one point, I wanted to be a fast food worker. But they were childish. I can admit to being naive and not realizing that I couldn’t make a living out of these things. Then again, can you blame me?

I was six. I’ve only just turned twelve.

Now, there’s so much confusion. In four years, I’ll be back to square one. High school teachers will ask me what I’m going to do with my life. What I want to do. Who I want to be. And you know what? I have an answer already.

I’ll point to the woman modeling the latest suit in the magazine. She’ll be in front of the tallest building in the world, where only the smartest, most intelligent, and most talented people work. And you know why? I want to be known as smart, intelligent, and talented. I want people to see my name and know who the heck Lindsay Tidmarsh is. To see me walking down the street and whisper to their friend, “Look. It’s Lindsay Tidmarsh!”

Don’t ask me where or how, because I don’t know. One day I’ll have an answer, but for now, let it remain a mystery. Leave it be. Just let me dream. Let me dream of my importance in the world. Let me dream of my name being called but meaning so much more when said. Let me dream of them seeing me. The real me. Not a person who you bump into while walking to the school bus. Not a person you’ve seen around school but you know you’ll never talk to. Not a stranger. Just me.
I want to be the big time journalist who is known as a passionate and hard worker. I want have my own office. Carry a briefcase. Work in the biggest building in the world. Wear a suit.

Then again, I’m just a kid, right? I’ll outgrow this. Next thing you’ll know, I’ll be strumming a guitar and saying I want to be a country singer. Well guess what? No.                                    

I’m important. I’m strong. I’m smart. I have enough brains to know that I have to work in order to pull this off, but guess what? I don’t care. I will work to the bone for my dream. I can do this. The next time you see me, I’ll be working my wrists on piles of papers, writing like a maniac, all the while smiling and dreaming of that building and of that suit.

To the non-believers, picture this. You, age four, pretending to be performing a career that you want to do in your life. Perform your dream. You go to your parents, aunts uncles, or grandparents, and show them. Would you rather have them encourage you, believe in you, or just nod, smile and say, “That’s nice, dear.” No, I’m sure you wouldn’t. You would want your parents to see you as you see yourself. You would want your parents to see a confident, strong, smart, and independent young child, on the verge of growing up.

I’m only twelve, but in my heart, I know I’m not playing dress-up or pretend. This is real. I’ve got the guts. I’ve got the brains. And most importantly, the heart.

Hello and Buh-Buh-Buh Bye Bullies

I know I haven’t been on here often, or ever, but I decided to take the time out of my day to try and, once again, make a fresh start.

First off, Summer Vacation is not turning out to be what was expected. I actually thought to myself on the last three weeks of school, It’s just 21 more days, no biggie. I will survive. Soon I’ll be away from all these jerks and never have to see them again. I seriously thought that I was going to have one of those TV show vacations where the girls go to the mall, stop by Forever 21, buy jewelry, and gossip, but no.

The last three weeks ended up to be a survival. It was the production auditions where we’d audition for a program in the school. The choices were musical theatre, drama, stage craft, dance, and film crew. Throughout the year, we had 40 weeks of rotation between the four groups musical theatre, drama, film, and stage craft, which was divided among them into an equal amount of 10 weeks per production. We had to do three major assignments that would determine our grade in the class, and let me tell you, they were back breaking. But, we turned all in, passed, and went on to the auditions.

Now, I was supposed to audition for all of the production classes, but I only wanted to get into two, so I only went to musical theatre and film. I thought I failed miserably on musical theatre, so I figured, Hey, I have one more chance to actually be in a group, so I skipped down the yellow brick hallway and aimed straight for film. After the interview, I was walking down the hall feeling like a boss. Not to toot my own horn, but, toot toot! I aced it!

Suddenly, my friend Paul calls me over and asks me to hang out with him and his pals, so I said sure, me being the loser girl who was stupid enough to neglect her three other choices. It’s always good to have more back-up plans. Never do that, kids. Ever. Anyway, we kicked around a ball, had chips, talked about our interviews, and then became terrified of the wait of our results.

A few days pass, my former “friend” comes up to me and says that she doesn’t think my friends like her. Big whoop, turd. I really dislike her. Like, if this was a remake of  Nightmare on Elm Street, I would get that turd first. I look up to her and literally say, “Who cares? If you don’t like them so much, don’t hang out with them,” and, like the little special snowflake she is, she asks to go to the field with us, knowing that my friends obviously do not care to acknowledge her existence.

It’s not that we’re mean, it’s just that she’s a big bully. She only cares about herself, is completely coincided, and is just plain dumb. First off, she tells someone that she doesn’t like a very close friend of mine anymore. That person tells her, she tells me, and I tell her to confront her about it. Simple. She does just that, and the doof piles up lie after lie in her “story”. My friend even made up a lie and said “Oh, well, I saw you talk to insertnamehere during dance and I figured you were talking about me.” To this, the idiot responded, “Oh, well we were just talking about this guy, Brian, who likes her.”
She never even talked to the girl that day. Two strikes.

I was just about done with this turd at this moment and was ready to snap a neck when suddenly, a little birdy tells me that she said to CENSORED because it was none of my business and I was going to be ruined by her. She said that she was going to tell my dirt to everyone through Instagram. Now, this turd is all talk. A few days before, she changed her bio and said, and I quote, “To all the haters DIE CENSORED DIE!“ This was obviously directed to us and a few others we knew, but I honestly could care less. Besides, as I suspected, she changed her bio the next day, right after school.

I went up to her, confronted her about what she said to me, and she denied it. Obviously. But I was still angry. I publicly humiliated her in front of her groupies and so-called friends by piling up evidence that she was lying about everything, and even mocked the way she lied and talked. I hate myself for doing it and wish I could take it back, but nope. Can’t. That’s life. But luckily she never bothered my friends again. So, it was a lose-win, I guess?

But I guess what I’m trying to say from all of this pointless and useless info about my life is that middle school is going
to have the jerks who are high and almighty, stupid, annoying, and loud teens who think they’re so cool and hilarious, and even fakes who wouldn’t know what the definition of truth is, but you’re going to get through it. As much as TV says otherwise, high school is so much better. The students are much more mature and know exactly where the social boundaries are. They know how to fix and ruin friendships, and say the right thing (most of the time).

Anyway, that is all. I do believe I will post either again later today at night or next week on Friday. Yeah, let’s make it a routine, guys! I’m willing to commit to that! Yay! I also apologize for my very long and pointless stories. Sorry.

Alrighty, bye bye! Love y’all and hope to see ‘ya soon! Muah!

Middle School? Not My Style.

Middle School has taken its toll on this poor, poor girl, but at least I get to type everyone’s personas!

The Duty Teachers: They have eyes everywhere. No one is safe in the junior high jungle, especially if you’re in the sights of these ten eyed monsters. They have banshee wails that drive you back into the cafeteria where you cower in fear along with the other sixth graders. You want to go to the library? FOR. GET. IT.

Vice Principles: They’re a step higher than the duty teachers. They have more authority and can give you the hairy eye anytime. There isn’t a hope for you, just stay alert and look death in the eye like a man. And don’t you even think of eating the lunch! Those lunch ladies can’t be trusted…

Librarian: His safe haven is the safest place to hide. If you can get past the vice principal, run straight for the doors and grab a book. Many of the other students won’t be as lucky, so just read in your last few moments. The librarian will take you in with open arms, so just stay quiet until that bell rings.

Lockers: The devil is actually laughing at you when you’re struggling! These suckers keep your stuff safe but, be careful. They enjoy the horrible suffering you endure as you try to crack the code. Your sweat and tears only make it stronger, don’t give it that advantage.

The P.E Teachers: Trying to open your locker? There are a bazillion other students that I need to see for three more hours. Quit your yapping and start cracking! Do fifty push ups while you’re at it! They are the @#$%ing worst.

Trying To Survive Middle School?

May the odds be ever in your favor.

Period 5:  A place where you can starve in safety

A Sorry Goodbye, And A Late Hello…

SHOOT. I haven’t been on here in a while… huh. Umm, happy 4th of July guys. Oh, and a happy birthday to Jocelyn and Devynne, sorry I wasn’t there. So.. Let’s catch up. Hmm, well, HAPPY BIRTHDAY ME! I’m so excited for my birthday, It’s like finding a 20 dollar bill on Christmas! As the meme goes, I start overflowing with rainbows. Also, as an apology from the Great and Generous Lindsay, I’M RECOMMENDING BOOKS FOR YOU! Bring out the big fandom gloves everyone, you’re going to need them to grasp the totally awesome knowledge and skill (but mostly books) I’m going to give (recommend) you.

Hunger Games

Daughter of Smoke and Bone

Days of Blood and Starlight

Clockwork Angel 

Clockwork Prince (if you ,eh, kind of liked City of Bones

City of Bones (if you like the whole “awkward sibling” thing)

Night Circus

Throne of Glass (still reading it thouugh 😉

         Must NOT Reads





A Word of Wisdom

 Hello, you know how sometimes you look at a button and think it’s cute so you put it aside and look at the rest, or when you look at the sky and think that cloud looks like an elephant, or even when it’s raining and you look out you’re window and think that the raindrops are racing each other? Well, it’s the little things in life that are the most memorable. So, if there’s a song on the radio, sing it, if there’s a storm coming on, get an umbrella and enjoy the rain, if it’s sunny outside, have a picnic! Remember, it’s the little things in life that are so, what’s that word? Oh yeah,


Me, Myself, and I Argue

Me: I want ice cream.

I: I want a million dollars, but that’s not going to happen.

Myself: Shut up! We have guests!

Me: Oh, hi! I didn’t see you there! You just witnessed a reenactment of Thursday, when I was trying to keep balance with three weights for one scale.

Myself: I want to tell them the story!

Me: No, your too loud! I think I should tell the story.

I: Why, that’s a pleasant idea! On Thurs-

Me: NO! I mean, I think I should tell the story, not you.

I: I’m confused.

Myself: I’ll tell them the story. On Thursday, we were just coming back from class when my friend’s asked me to join them for handball (such a stupid game).

Me: Yes, I was asked to join them.

I: No, You were asked not me.

Myself: Whatever. Anyway, I was also asked to join my other group of ‘friends’  for a trip to the bathroom. I know what you’re thinking, why would anyone want to hangout in the bathroom? Well, I didn’t. I was forced to choose the group of ‘friends’ to join. The friends or the ‘friends’.

Me: So, I ended up making a lanyard. Such a simple situation, if life gets sticky, take a shower.

I: What kind of a lesson is that?

                         HEY! SHUT UP, ALL OF YOU!!!!!