Neighbor is such a lonely word, so I'm making it a lovely plural noun. My neighbors are such swell little chapettes. I have Bay to my left and Connor to my right. I remember reading Dylan Sarkisian's sassy neighbor post last year when he showed it to me, and I've been looking forward to this week's blog ever since.
Alright, I'll start with Bay first. Bay is kickass awesome. You see, I've known of Bay since freshman year, but never really knew her until this year. We have had homeroom every single year, and I enjoy having familiar faces in my life even if I never speak to said familiar faces. Bay is happy, Bay is energetic, Bay is reserved, Bay is goofy, Bay is sarcastic, Bay is awesome. She is herself, and I admire that above any quality in a person. Bay makes me laugh until my stomach hurts. She always has her sword out, drawing the most elegant sketches I have ever seen someone conjure in a matter of minutes. She told me she was going to read more Vonnegut books, but she never did. I forgave her. Bay has a wild cyclone of interests; she loves fanfiction (I hope), role-playing her favorite characters from said fanfictions (I hope again or else I'm going to sound very silly for presuming this), and she loves to write. Bay wears lovely clothes and I love to compliment people with lovely clothes. Bay has a heart of gold and a mushy-gushy soul of kindness. She has never been mean to me and she always crinkles her nose at me and smiles like a goober when I tell her things. Bay makes me feel warm inside. In five years, I see Bay being a successful writer/drawer and relishing on the cool place she chose to study abroad. I'll give her the benefit of the doubt and say she studied for a semester in Porirua. Bay is a very rare species to this world. She is the color red because she is such a strong person; she is passionate but quick to interject when she disagrees. She is always poised and collected, yet ready to pounce when need be.
And now I must describe Connor, which I think will turn out to be a very difficult thing. I've known him since freshman year, even though I sort of secretly hated him at times but then really enjoyed his company in that lonely Spanish III class. Connor and I have matching octopus shirts that we never wear on the same day. Connor is synonymous to wildly goofy, immaturely mature, and incredibly intelligent. Connor and I both like to look at each other and say stupid things, such as 1) pushpops 2) I'm old Gregg! 3) oh, mister children, no. Connor and I share the same humor, which basically means we can be very immature at times and very condescending the next. Connor and I have created this odd cycle of him laughing, me mocking his laughter, him ceasing the laughter, me genuinely laughing from the awkwardness, Connor laughing again, and both of us halting the laughter at the same time with equally stern faces. Connor is incredibly intelligent and doesn't have to bother trying, so I really envy that. He likes to talk a lot, but sometimes I don't like to talk a lot, so he doesn't talk as much. He makes really stupid jokes that are still funny regardless. Sometime I wonder if he's friends with me just so he can make jokes about my chinchilla's name. We sit at the perfect angle so that we can make incredibly unattractive faces at Mr. Logsdon. In five years, I see Connor wearing a feather fedora and the same plaid shorts I constantly tell him that I hate as he is studying cognitive psychology or sociology or international business relations. I say this with confidence because Connor can do anything he puts his mind to. He may be a goofball that never reads the book we're assigned for English classes, but he's still a super rad munchkin. I see Connor as energetic yet wise and powerful, so I'll christen him as dark green.
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