Copy and paste

Artists and authors and scientists and mathematicians,
eaters of breakfast cereals, watchers of rain, criers of tears and shedders of blood
I welcome you all to Copy And Paste, in which I spew onto the screen the recent goings-on of my mind. Despite the magnificent introduction to this post, it is no where near as fancy or profound as you may have expected. Nay, I reckon it'll be pretty odd. It's just bits and pieces from my Notes app.
But the oddness is is what you're here for, isn't it?
HERE WE GOOOO!

Shout out to the kids who kept nose-picking well into the 4th grade and developed that "if I cover my nose with one hand I can pick freely with the other" technique.
Shout out to the kids who have since discovered that doesn't really work.


"I wonder if the neighbors judge me for not firing my gun at night..."
We live in the woods and all the neighbors have guns, which they like to fire at night for no good reason. Dad hates guns as much as The Doctor does, so we have none to fire at ungodly hours of the night.

If I ship 2 boys platonically, is it a broat?
Like boat... Shipping... Bros
Hahaha

Things I saw on the drive to Oregon
•a guy camped out in Starbucks with a 2 foot TV screen and a computer (not like a laptop computer or a desk ish computer, I mean the huge box of hardware you have to put on the floor) he was playing world of Warcraft, I think.
•a small gathering of fat, white, middle aged men with confederate flags.
•a lady in the McDonald's bathroom with a macaw or parrot or something.
•my dad had the hotel key card in his pocket and tried to open the door by jumping up and swinging his butt around
Going to the city is like going to an zoo, only for people. I see all these humans doing their own thing and wonder what's going on in their head.

-Dad wants to be the leader of the Armageddon for his mid life crisis.

-We're going to have a band called Armageddon and makes songs about people that it irritate us

-Dad is going to invent the personal cone of solitude. You press your key fob and a metal cone erupts around you. People just think you're a big metal Christmas tree.

-We need one for the car too. We saw a guy walking toward our car and we wished there was shutters.

These conversations happened in the car when we still went to church, and he was feeling grumpy about people in general.

Terry Pratchett quotes from The Carpet People

"Though the Munrungs didn't have any gods themselves, they were generally polite about those belonging to other people."

"Hiiiiyahayahheya! Heyaheyyahyah! Hngh! hngh!" (I believe it's a chant.)

"We deftmenes are correctly built. It's no business of ours if everyone else is ridiculously  overgrown."

Last year I read The Carpet People, and was trying to write down important quotes. That failed because I was too busy reading.

Movies I like

Monty Python and the holy grail

The princess bride
Wayne's world

Napoleon dynamite

Say anything

Galaxy Quest

Spinal tap?

Hadley Idril Merrick (some of this may have been posted before, i don't know.)

{ It had been three weeks since the last attack. My army had been recuperating well, and a new shipment of marshmallow guns had come in. An alliance with the pasta had recently been formed as well. Things were looking up. I was expecting the war to be over tomorrow, if that peace treaty could get signed. That would be nice. My men were eager to go home to their proper, comfy shelves. The refrigeration unit for the vegetables was cool behind my back while the humid air of August blew gently across my face. I began to drift away to slumber and thoughts of home-

"Commander Merrik! There has been an ambush in the watermelon bin!"

I snapped out of my reverie and leaped up, sword in hand, striding to the end of the display with the celery soldier who brought the news scampering after me.

Reaching the end of the display, I stuck my foot out and let myself drop, landing lightly on the tile.

Around the bananas and over the grapes, we soon reached the watermelon bin. I surveyed the carnage grimly. The watermelon were nice folks, a little fat, but very sweet- once you got past the hard green rind which surrounded their personalities as well as their bodies.

I stared at the juice dripping down the cardboard end cap. This needed to stop. I turned to the soldier who had alerted me. I didn't even know his name.

"Wake the the rest. Send the leafy greens as spies- we need to know where the Orange Headquarters is. Have the cabbages get the survivors to the first aid isle. Carrots need to be alerted of the strike and get prepared for retaliation."

He saluted in reply. In the darkness of the closed grocery store I couldn't see his face without the moonlight that shone on the fallen watermelon. Nevertheless, I could tell he was nervous. He scuttled back to the vegetable display.

I bowed my head in respect for the watermelon, and then dashed off in the smell of citrus. 

The citrus display was void of activity, just as always. Their camp would be somewhere more cleverly hidden- we had concluded that a long time ago. I tried to sniff out the trail of the attackers. It was stronger this time- their numbers had been great. And there was another smell. One unexpected. Sweet.

They had obviously not brought along the whole army to just skewer innocent watermelons. That in itself was a symbol that they were ready for battle and possibly complete rein. No, the extra members must have been brought to scope out the territory. 

I hadn't made it past the meat before the trail was gone, too jumbled with other scents masking it.

Wait a minute- there it was: the distinctively orange smell with underlying sweetness. I breathed harder, thankful for my uncommonly keen nose. I raced after it, for the trail was growing fainter by the minute. Along the seafood I crept, keeping close to the shadows. There could be enemy guards anywhere. Up ahead was the most dangerous stretch- a wide open space flanked by freezers who's humming would drown out your footsteps, but their lights would give you away.

I was a tad unsure. The scent trail led straight through, but I did not want to get caught. I caught my breath, took a last look around, and ran for it.

The crossing went well enough- I saw no one in the dim light of the freezers. I followed the trail past the end caps of the natural foods section and straight to... The bakery.

I should have known. When the attacks had stopped we quit looking for the Orange hideout. The bakery and seafood corner were the only places we hadn't looked.

It was a foolish mistake.

Oh well. Now we knew. 

Here next to the racks of bread I smelled a hint of orange. I wandered around the shadows, snuffling like a dog. Their smell was all over, but strongest next to the doughnut case.

I inched closer... Closer, scanning the display case for a likely entrance. In one stealthy move I had planted myself next to it, my ear to the wall listening for conversation. Is came muffled through the thick glass.

"Pineapples" was the only word I caught before I remembered glass. Oh dang. They could see me if they were anywhere near.

I ducked under the case silently as possible.

Too late. They had been near.

I heard the slow, fat voices of doughnuts and the sour ones of the Naval Oranges beginning to grow loud, footsteps pounding on the floor above. One voice carried over the others. Human. Not a Big Person, but my kind. Doll.

"Check the perimeter for spies, men. Any found creature gets the freezer."

I needed to get away.

I slid out from under the freezer to the baguette stand, and from there to the English muffins. It was then that I got stuck. There was a large open expanse between me and the cakes, and two oranges were behind be searching. There was no room next to the English muffins to hide, so I made  a mad dash. It should have worked- I am faster than oranges and doughnuts, but there were doughnuts closing in from both sides.

Oh shoot.

I was caught.

An orange knocked my feet out from under me, and I fell hard on my back where a doughnut was waiting with a skein of yarn and a roll of toilet paper. I kicked them hard, only for more to come, trying to hold me down. I almost got up once. Almost.

Hands behind my back and legs bound loosely so I could walk, I looked down at my guard of five oranges.

They had been unprepared-}

I got bored of writing after a while. Narrative isnt my thing, is it? I do better at being snarky over my life.

More mildly interesting things:
I'm sitting in the library typing this on my phone while my mom is at physical therapy. That isn't very interesting, but the book I see is. It's called What If by Randall Munroe. This book is fascinating, all serious scientific answers to absurd hypothetical questions.
FOR EXAMPLE:
"If every person on the earth aimed a laser pointer at the moon at the same time, would it change color?"
The book explains all the steps up in lasers it would take to light up the moon, but the interesting bit is this: if we took 1megawatt lasers and covered all of Asia in them and pointed them at the moon, it would be as bright as the mid morning sun. Keep in mind that the laser I use for my star guide thingibob is less than 200 milliwatts. (it takes 1,000 milliwatts to make a watt.)
BUT WHAT IF we tried an ultraviolet laser that puts out 500 terawatts?
WELL. We would all burn. The atmosphere would turn to plasma and burn us up. If we found a way to avoid that, the reflected light from the moon would be 4,000 times brighter than the noonday sun, and the oceans would boil away in less than a year.
Yeah. Nearly every question in that book ends in our demise.
If you want to find the book at your library, it's the one with a Tyrannosaurus Rex being lowered into the Sarlacc pit (The Great Pit Of Carkoon on Tatooine)
I very much recommend it to you and your nerd friends. Me and my nerd friend (ish?) Donald have read it, and subsequently enjoyed the author's website, xkcd, which is cartoons and flowchart sand stuff, most of which I find extremely funny and some of which I don't get.

I have friends. Yes! It's true! Despite hiding in the library during lunch and being an anti-social little poop, I have acquired some companions for my high school adventures.
Person #1: Whitney. We sit in the library and talk about Doctor Who and the lord of the rings (apparently she wrote a fanfic for the Hobbit in which everyone lives???) and stuff. Also, I have told her about this *gestures wildly* thing... We've got going on here. Number of school people who know about my blog has leveled up to 1. Dingdingdingding. So hi, Whitney! I hope you don't go back and read my old posts. Even I don't know what shenanigans lie within.

Person #2: Donald, an upperclassman I have Algebra 2 and Biology with. He's an oddball.
Things Donald has said:
"Sometimes u sit so still I worry steam is going to come out ur ears."
"I'm going to write a love story about the gourds in Mrs. Nutella's room. {goes on to explain which pumpkin has a thing for which squash and a love triangle involving ghosts} "
And this failed magic trick also happened: he hands me a price of paper and tells me not to look at it. Then he says to pick a number from 0-5. I pick 3. He tells me to open the paper. It says "why three?" At first I am kind of impressed. Then he tries it on Josh, handing him the same folded up peice of paper and asking him to pick a number. Josh picks 1. Donald says "wait give me that back"
I'm all done being impressed. Now I'm just laughing.
Other weird Donald Schmidt:

The first few weeks of math we spent bothering Donald's friend Garrett, mostly my making an unhealthy amount of Harry Potter references. Then Garrett had a schedule problem and switched classes, so we have to find someone else to annoy.

I did not draw Whitney because she is too pretty. I try to make a stick figure and brain saus "NO! zat is not right!" I try to make a nice drawing and brain says "y do u even try."

I have decided to do the blogging behind the scenes tag by Noor.

Where do you blog?
The couch of destiny.

Always that cushion. That is my cushion. It is the only cushion that amplifies Gwen vibes in the best way essential to posting.

Where do you find inspiration?
Everywhere. Mostly my life. When something less bland than usual happens, I write about it.

How long does it take you to write a post?
Depends on how lazy I am. Sometimes they sit in the drafts for weeks and I gradually add to them, other times I get really excited and am done in half an hour. Doing doll posts takes the longest. I wait for inspiration, and then make the set... Room... Whatever it is. And do some more waiting for proper lighting. The fun (and most frustrating) part is taking the pictures, which is done with this heavy thing right here: cannon eos 60D. It's dad's camera. Really heavy. I'm still trying to figure out how to use it effectively. While I'm taking pictures, I'm usually planning the story in my head. If I don't do that, I'll make it up as i go along later. When I'm done, I plug it into the computer, which is old and super slow, to edit them in iPhoto. Or if I'm very patient, I could do it in Aperture and make cooler things happen. Aperture is more powerful, but harder to use. Generally iPhoto is best for my purposes. After editing, I upload them to blogger, which takes a painful amount of time. Writing the post is the easy part. When I'm finished I read it over three times for mistakes, which I never find until it's already posted and its several weeks too late.

Do you plan your big posts?
Only the doll ones. I make up the story as I take pictures. For the posts about my life, I just barf my thoughts all over the screen and spend a few minutes wondering whether my out of whack sense of humor will be appreciated.

What camera do you use? What editing program?
For important photos- Cannon EOS 60D - iPhoto - Aperture if I'm feeling fancy
For whims and goofiness- iPhone 6 - no edits
For space- the hella big telescope in the observatory with a camera similar to dad's (only better??) - photoshop  (but these are only ever used with the Paulys' or Braden's help and even then only when I get a chance to go out to the place.)

Do you use a notebook to track your ideas?
Nah. Like I said, I just regurgitate the cool stuff from my life into a pile of Gwen weirdness, and hope it all goes well.

What's your favorite type of blog post to write?
Posts where I just let myself write. We weird posts are the ones where you have pure, unaltered Gwen  flowing at you. Actually, it's more of a dense spray, isn't it? Like an out of control fire hose.

Who knows about your blog?
Mom and dad, my brother, maybe my grandparents, Barrett and her family and because of that there's maybe a few of my uncle's co workers too. As far as I know, it's just Barrett and the co worker(s?) that actually read it. (In June uncle ken told me he had shown off my blog to the people at his work and they were impressed. {which confuzzles me slightly because it isn't particularly hard to blog, nor is it all that uncommon. I probably have better things to do with my time. Learning JavaScript, for example. I haven't done that since school started!}) And since I first wrote this, Whitney has become one of the people who knows of it.

Are you an organized or messy blogger?
I think you can tell just by reading it.

Biggest blogging pet peeve?
Woah. You want to go there? But that means... But that means talking about things people have done and they know they've done it and they might think I hate them! : (  so I am faced with a choice: truthfully answer the question, or save people's feelings.
YOU KNOW WHAT? I'm gonna compromise! I'll choose the most inconsequential pet peeve I can think of.
"Sorry" posts. When people have forgotten to post for a bit, they always come back with a huge "IM SORRY" and they go to great lengths to explain just how sorry they are and how they promise to never leave again and get something interesting up sooooon....
I don't care, man. I'm not looking for apologies, I'm looking for the content that made me follow you in the first place. The worst bit is when you get multiple sorry posts in a row. That's when I'm done reading.

Uninteresting, sort of ironic, meta thing: pet peeves are my pet peeve. Remember the book I wrote in 6th grade: Petty Conversations For The Weak Minded? Yeah.

I caught a leaf as it fell of a tree. I feel so accomplished.

I got my hair cut and when I came home this little guy was hanging out on my door.

Here is a Wednesday morning sunrise taken with a cruddy iphone camera

Aaaaand here's a scribble i made of a girl on my bus.

A while back someone asked what I use to make these crude little scribbles. Well I'll tell you. It's this app called Tayasui Sketches, which is free in the app store (or 1.99 if you want the in-app purchase of more tools, which you do need.)

It is rather excellent for my little doodles. Very simple.

How I make cruddy drawings in Sketches:

1. Sketch

2. block in the colors

3. add details

And more on the topic of Gwen drawings: improvement!

This is how I started out in 6th grade, when I first got excited about drawing.

(apparently she has boobs sprouting out her neck?)

You've seen this before. This is the beginning of 8th grade (we're not going to talk about 7th grade.)

You've seen this before too. It's from the end of 8th grade.

I haven't drawn much since then, but can you imagine how excellent I would be if I did?

I don't know what or when this is from. Less excellent than toothless. At first I was thinking it was my middle school friend Laci, but considering that there's flaming Doritos falling to the ground and a Dorito blaster 3,000, I'm willing to bet it came from some wacky comment left on Ellie's blog. 

Ok I checked my sidebar and yes, Doritos are something we declared war on. We are now detectives, guys.

At first I was laughing at myself for trying to draw a silly comment.... then I realized that I devoted a whole post to that very thing just a few days ago.

Doctor who is such a weird show. It is painfully cheesy and at the same outrageously tense and meaningful

This is dog. This is my dog. Dog happy. dogdogdogdog. dog's name is Indigo.

My desk was making some nice shadows.

Remember my last post about Old Spice and the smellcome to manhood thing? Honestly I don't want to buy any of it until this wolf gets his life together. He's obviously having some problems. It must be from the smell (whether it's the smell of the manly body soap or the armpit sweat I don't know.)

There's this door at my aunt's house with peeling paint and you have no idea how fun it is to pull it off in strips. Often i just stand in front of the door not talking to anyone, peeling away. My family probably thinks i'm weird.

I convinced my little cousin Ryan that peeling paint off the door was fun.

Actually, it's less of a "force myself into" sort of thing, and more of a "default setting" sort of thing. It's easier that way. If someone else tries to start a conversation and you say some weird schmidt, you can always say "you asked." or "you brought it up."

  

I would pay money for this to happen. I take that back. I'll pay my soul. Psych is my favorite show ever.

I find windows to be very pretty things. Especially if they have panes like this one. This is in a bathroom at a yarn store.

This is a window sill with a dead bee in it, if you were wondering.

More excellent windows.

There's this relaxing puzzle game called Monument Valley, full of impossible shapes and Escher structures. You should get that app too.

Kimber is my aunt's crazy dog. She is trying to get me to cuddle her.

(dogs are always moving their heads. I can never get a nice, crisp picture of one. I hope you're enjoying my blurry dogs.)

I put a guinea pig in my pocket.

Maria is the last pig standing. Sophia died and Henna soon after. :(

Things written on the piece of paper beside my bed:

"If I stare off into space and whisper bad words while i'm talking to you, please know that i'm not mad at you, i'm just remembering something dumb I said."

"If I was an artist, I'd probably name my paintings things like "sorry." and "this isn't my best work but here it is" and "I hope you don't think I'm being too needy or emotional by painting sad things. I'm not really sad I'm just trying new things to paint I know it's bs please don't hate.""

"the worst thing about Internet friends is that you cant just walk over to their house and sit in their room, not talking, just absorbing their presence. I don't have any irl friends I've tried this on but I expect it would be nice."

"barking spiders!"

"sacrilegious meerkats!"

^the thoughts I have at night are very weird indeed.

I HAVE A QUESTION.

I seem to be doing these really long life posts with multiple different topics. Would you prefer I break them up and post more often, or keep them long? I'm leaning towards short and often, so you can digest everything without scrolling up and down and everywhere and trying to remember what was interesting enough to comment about.

So it's settled then. Thank you for your help in my decision making process.

SO I HAVE A DIFFERENT QUESTION.

November 16 will be my one-year "blogoversary" thing. I  know it's a long way away, but considering how often I have been posting, It's probably good that i'm asking now. Anyway, what do you think I should do for that?