So I was thinking that people might want to know what I look like, but my mother says no pictures. "No pictures, Amelia. None whatsoever." But then I asked her if I could take pictures of this stick bug on the deck that was mostly dead and she said "of course." I guess it is okay to take pictures of things that aren't me and post them so expect pictures of all the good things I find on the river bank (yesterday I found a tin bucket with a purple horse painted on it and a handle that said "BUCKET"--I love things that are labeled with the exact thing that they are...that's just an FYI). Anyhow, I'm starting this blog to talk about the underwater church--I'll get to that later--but also because mom won't let me have a Facebook page. She says I can get one at the same time I buy my first martini, which I guess is her way of being funny. She said there are too many "pervy wervys" out there. And I said, "If that's true, maybe you shouldn't give them a cute nickname." She said, "You're so funny, Amelia," and patted me on the head. Annoying. She's been doing that lately. The head patting thing and adding a "w" to the beginning of words that don't deserve it as if I am a baby again. She says, "How is wittle Woundog today?" Or "It's time for dinner winner." Weird.
In any case, the long and short of it is no facebook page until I'm nearly dead and no pictures of me on my blog so I thought I'd just tell you what I look like and hope the pervy wervys don't find that too interesting.
I recently discovered an amazing artist from Tokyo. Karen Whitefoot Wilson introduced me to the artist's work--Karen is a new kid at school, not the artist, who has a cool name and excellent taste in art, popsicles, and movies. She's new. Like brand new. She just moved here from North Dakota where she says "life is so boring I almost had to start liking Justin Bieber." She's super cool. But that's a tangent. (I seem to be big on tangents today. Sorry.) The artist's name is Yoshitomo Nara. Anyhow, Karen says I kind of look like one of his characters. She's got postcards of his work plastered all over her school cubby. They are kind of creepy but so, so amazing. Little kids looking bored or sprouting fangs or dressed in dog costumes. Look it up if you want to know what I mean.
If you ask me, I'm pretty average looking. I've got sort-of curly brown hair, and I'm not too short and not too tall. I have too many freckles on my nose and even more on my shoulders, but my arms are a good length. My feet are big, which means I'm gonna be real tall (I can't wait for that). I'm the right kind of skinny and my dad says I've got a great nose. Like a button--don't worry, I don't understand that either. I mean, has he ever seen a button? Sometimes I wish I was more unique looking. I wish I really did look like a Yoshitomo Nara character, but I'm the kind of girl that can blend in, which is sometimes awesome since blending in means grown-ups forget I'm there and say juicy stuff. Most of the time, however, I don't blend in. Mom thinks I do it on purpose, the not blending thing, but I swear I don't. I just have peculiar tastes. If I want to blend, I tone it down, and if not, you get Amelia in her true form.
Let me explain. I love to wear dresses, which isn't too weird for a girl, but I wear them all the time. Long dresses, short dresses, dresses with ruffles and puffy skirts that billow out like mushroom caps. Dresses that hang so long they drag under my feet and the hem gets all gray and rippy. I like those the best.The long dresses that drag under my heels and the toes of my Converse sneakers--I have low and high top Converse in pink, purple, black, zebra stripes, and orange polka dot. I like dresses best if they are at least two sizes too big so that the sleeves can flop long and cover up my hands. I always cut holes so my thumbs can break through--having a fist full of fabric helps me think. I buy short sleeve dresses or no-sleeve dresses too, but I usually put on a long-sleeve shirt underneath or a hoodie over top. It's important to always have cuffs to chew on when I make my plans for the day. I usually top this all off with a pair of swimming goggles my father wore when he was in college. He was a competitive swimmer so he wore them all the time. He had to replace the elastic for me so that they'd stay on my head. We found this rainbow lastic that is super perfect. Anyhow, they help keep my eyes clean. I worry about that, getting dirt up in my eyes. I knew a girl once in school who had a brown spot on the white part of her eye. I felt bad but it was really gross, and Evelyn told me it was because she got dirt kicked up in her eye and it just got stuck. I'm not sure that this is true but it freaks me out so the goggles calm me down if I start to worry about it too much. Also, they were my dad's so they feel good even when they just rest on the top of my head.
The thing about me that makes my mom crazy is that I'm not your typical dress-wearing kind of girl. I love to climb and chase and dig massive holes. Calliope and I love to dig moat-like trenches around our favorite woodsy, treasure spots. I like to rough house (ruff house my dad says--hardy har har) with the dogs and bury the animals that sometimes get hit and killed on the main road--I'm not to touch the ones that are too bloody but I usually do anyway. My mom says: "Dresses are for dressing up! They are for tea parties and church and school. They are not for summer or wading in the river or riding your bike." Mom gave up fighting with me on this one a long time ago. She understands now, even if she won't admit it, that having ones legs free to move about is key. Pants are hot and sticky and clingy. She's a good mom. The best. She takes me thrifting and lets me pick out all the dresses I want as long as they are under $2.00.
Now I've gone on too long about nothing. No one is even reading this blog yet and I'm already boring. I guess I'll just treat it like a diary that way I won't feel unpopular.
This blogspot is gonna be about what went on last summer. I promise. I'm nervous to write about it. It might take me a little while to get right down to it. You won't believe me when I really start telling about it so if you need to believe it's all fiction that's okay too. It's a story true or not. I'll try to make it a good fiction.