I feel that all former posts on this site were not me as I intended to present myself to the world. I began this blog on a class assignment, and after a long hiatus, restarted it, intending to emulate the blunt humour of the author of the blog Hyperbole and a Half, Allie Brosh. Upon further reflection, I found that I missed the point. I asked myself the question why is she so renown, rather than how, as I had asked before.
Allie is so successful because she is honest in what she thinks and how she conveys this. I was not, and therefore I have put myself to shame. Not that there's anyone out there actually reading, as my irregular updates would have put off many, I am sure. I cannot say that they will come with any regularity in time or length, but I hope that they will be a better reflection of the author. Being honest with myself is difficult so I will begin with the basics and work from that.
My name is Laveñia Alice Scott. The ñ is not legal, but my own touch to a shared name. I refer to myself as Alice, but I haven't decided upon a pen name.
I was born on the first of January in the mid-90's. I have grey eyes that used to be more blue and brown hair that used to be more blonde. I recently cut my hair and donated the cropped bit to charity. (More than once, I fancied someone wearing a wig of my hair committing a crime and the blame being pinned on me. I try not to dwell on that.)
I am average in height, 1.6m, though for the most part I consider myself short. I am also wider in girth than I would like to be. The exact measurements I don't know and I really can't be bothered to find a tape measure to write it down. I do not think I want to know, let alone post it on the internet. I have had my teeth in braces to straighten them and I wear my retainer diligently; I do not like the shape of my teeth. I think that they are too wide and too square on top. (An acquaintance once asked if I had any British blood, but that may also be because of the accent I carry around after watching too much BBCAmerica.)
I tend to be cold toward my peers, but who can blame me? They are, for the most part, a bunch of complete idiotic high-school children. This attitude has won me few friends and fewer boyfriends. Those relationships were short-lived and not at all intimate--glorified friendships, really. Sometimes I wonder if, when the time comes, I would be able to give my heart to him, whoever he'll be. Right now, I am fond of the brilliant, lanky ones with sharp cheekbones and dark hair. I used to have several social networking accounts, but I stopped liking how everyone would as me, "Didn't you see it on Facebook?" No, I didn't because the last forty times you posted was about that stupid boy so I stopped reading your posts but didn't have the heart to un-friend you even though we never talk anymore and you really only added me to get one thousand "friends" and I decided a while ago that I really don't even like half the people I added half a year ago anymore including you.1 So I deleted my Facebook.
I have a mother and father, divorced when I was fourteen, and both remarried. I live with my Dad because I cannot stand my stepfather. I think Joseph2 is annoying at best and a right foul git most of the time. I hope he reads that, but by now he'll have been incapacitated by the sheer amount of letters this post contains. I love my mother and I do not get to see her much, and I miss her dearly. Her and the relationship we had that I fear Joseph has taken--never to be replaced. My stepmom is very understanding, but I think that partially comes from raising two severely autistic daughters. I am the oldest of four children, with the remarriages grafting five an four more. I am no longer the oldest child.
I never acted the oldest, shying away from responsibilities that lead to contact with real people in the outside world. I wish I was a famous actress so that I would have an agent take care of things like that. I dislike business contact with strangers. I have a low opinion of myself so I take it out on the world by having a low opinion of the masses.
Religion is a touchy subject, probably because I am christian. I was born and raised in the LDS church. Sometimes it comes up in conversation, but when I try to explain my answers, I think people walk away more confused; things I skip over because I see them as rudimentary are taken as alien to my peers. I don't like being unable to explain myself because I like to think myself eloquent. Another reason I don't typically talk about faith is that people always talk about how their faith makes them feel.
I don't feel. I analyse and dissect doctrine like a scientist does an experiment; sometimes I doubt my faith. The general attitude toward God in public also makes me feel out of sorts. I feel like my faith needs to piggyback off of others'. Once in a while, though, I ask myself: if a Nazi group stormed my house and riddled with bullet holes anyone who claimed to believe in Jesus Christ, would I tell them I did? The answer is always the same.
Yes.
I have much, much more to say, but I can't tell my whole life's story in one post. I think, for now, you have a clearer picture of the half-baked brain child.
-LS
1Not referring to an actual person.
2Name has not been changed to apply accountability
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