I quit.

I hate lessons.
End of story.

Literally, for a while, that's it.
There's NOTHING going on.
Everyone's mad at me for different reasons, but I'm too tired to truly care.

G'night.

Whateverwhateverwhatever,
TAMF

Singing In The Showerrr...

Speaking of showers, it's been several days since I've had a decent one. I mean, sure, they bathe us (and by they, I do mean they. I have a whole group that parades in every morning), but right after that, you're completely doused in different scents that are both sticky and greasy. It's disgusting, but on a brighter side, at least I'm not alone in this situation --- No one here gets absolutely clean.

Oh, and thank the Lord for perfumes. Everyone stinks in a literal sense.

Fred left the night of the second day I started writing this. He'd gone to see the Indians and pilgrims to make sure they were keeping the peace still.
Anyways.
He came back this morning, and took over most of my new classes. He's older, probably about twenty-five, by looks, and seems to be much smarter than anyone I've ever met. He told me that he's the negotiator of the bunch, but here's the thing: His job works both ways. If there needs to be peace, he's usually the one who's secretly behind it, and when war needs to break out, he's usually also behind it.
If you couldn't guess, he just got back from talking to the Indians about how the pilgrims were actually about to come into North America, and that they wouldn't hurt them. Of course, tomorrow, he has to go back, a few decades later, and tell them to rebel.
Woo-hoo.

I mentioned how I'd hate to work here full time. Fred laughed and acted like I was joking.

Ha, ha, Fred. Ha, ha.

Informally, and regreting the size of this update,
TAMF

Sunshine's gone, I'm movin' on...

Ha, ha. I wish.

I haven't had the time to write in a long time, and truthfully, I still don't. I'm starting SIX more classes that Elemere prefers I took, and I'm about to fall over to sleep.

I'm actually listening to Three Days Grace right now, from some files I have on my computer. They're my guilty pleasure.

Anyways, I'll talk more tomorrow. I need sleep.

Informally, and with several large yawns,
TAMF

Play That Funky Music, Ye Caucasians.

Sorry, guys. It's been a while since I contacted the 'real world'. All of this seems so fake and dumb, and oh yeah, I hate it. Every bit and piece. I miss home. I miss my friends and family. I miss reality.

I found out today that back home, it's the middle of winter. It's only been about a week, and it's been MONTHS back home. I'm going to miss Junior Prom, which I'm heartbroken about since Gavin was going to take me. Speaking of Gavin, I think I need to face it - It's probably over by now. He didn't ever really care anyways.

Okay. New subject. Ugh.

Alis left right before the whole 'Introduction to all of your fake subjects', as Elemere cheerily put it, and got back early this morning bearing gifts. I was up nursing a grudge in my room (more on that later), so she snuck up there and pulled out this cool bag of stuff she'd bought for me in my own time period, as kind of a Welcome-to-your-sucktastic-destiny Gift. In it was an MP3 player, which she informed me with pride, was already loaded with two gigabytes of pure amazingness, a beagle puppy named Disaster, and a necklace with a giraffe with emerald eyes dangling from a white-gold chain.
If I haven't mentioned it already, Alis is kind of freakishly awesome.

As for my grudge-nursing, it was totally Kylan's fault. In the middle of one of the stupid French lessons that he'd been forced to sit in with me, though he knew it all, Mikkel got exasperated because I couldn't understand what he was trying to say, so he asked Kylan to give an example sentence in French using the words he was explaining.

"Seulement les idiots ne sauraient pas dire la robe, mais il est facile de comprendre ceci, puisque Trey est un."
Rough Translation: "Only idiots can't say "dress", but it's easy to understand, since Trey's one."

So, yeah, I stormed off and skipped my Old English lesson from up in my room/chamber/pièce. I hate him.

I don't know what's going on with Kylan. He was funny and witty until yesterday, when his mood just suddenly went black and he stopped trying to have fun. He seems really annoyed and ticked off at everyone, with no exception to Elemere, but only Sendrick's gone up to him about it. I'd never actually heard him talk until now, but it was pretty obvious he was as fed up with Kylan's mood as everyone else was. He'd even obviously heard about the French incident, and started yelling at him for being a "complete dolt! You disrespect everyone you're supposed to be practically bowing down to, including the girl who's supposed to be a princess! What kind of idiot wants to blow his own cover..." And so on.

Suffice to say, it still hasn't taken affect on him yet. I tried to thank Sendrick, or at least make some kind of small talk, but he won't even look at me.

Again, I want to go home.

As for the Introduction to "my public", it was boring. I had to make a phony, pre-written speech that Fred penned for me, and then everyone cheered. Amen, people.
Amen. It worked. No big deal.

Elemere and Alis came up to the room after lunch, and said they had a surprise for me tomorrow night, which I'm actually almost exicted for.

So right now, I'm up in my tower (which, as ironic and Disney as that sounds, is totally true - My room's in a tower. But as far as I've seen, everyone's is.), silently rocking out to Three Doors Down.

How weird does that sound? "Thou shalt not believe it, but I am rocking out to Three Doors Down."

Oh, and Disaster says hi. I'm pretty sure he hates it here, too. Poor puppy. Deidre already left a bite-mark on his ear.

Informally, and with absolute regret,
TAMF

Elemere

Hi, um, hello. Or "good day ye people". Or whatever you want to say. I really actually don't care. I just finished a stupid 'Old English' lesson, and it's driving me insane. I can't say 'pants' in this era without being considered a swearing whore, can you believe it?

The ladies-in-waiting obviously suspect something. They were appalled that I wanted to put on my clothes, and I was totally embarassed when I realized that I couldn't put the big, fluffy, frilly thing on without their help, not to mention this dumb, way-too-tight corset (I saw Pirates of the Carribean, and yes, corsets are pure torture. Hear, hear, Elizabeth Swan.) and had to call them back in. None of them speak a word of English. At least, not around me. I think it's French, but it's not like I would know. Yet. I've got another one of those lessons in an hour, and Elemere's promised to come and get me down from my room because, yeah, I don't know how to read a sundial. No kidding.

I took a picture of Ele today. She didn't realize what the camera was for a whole minute, until I told her what it did. She kind of scoffed, her hands on her hips and said, "Oh. One of those contraptions. Cursed things that Fred was always wanting." I'm pretty sure she wouldn't agree with the laptop, but who said she even had to know?



Isn't she pretty? I told her so, and she just laughed at me and said something about not being a little maid anymore, which I don't understand, but personally, I think she's gorgeous. She has this wildly curly red hair, much brighter than my auburn, with amazing blue eyes that you'd have to see to believe. She's the only one (well, okay, Mikel is, too, but he's ignoring me right now because he's jealous) that actually belongs in this time period, too, which kind of shocked me, since the boys look like they've lived here all their lives.

Kylan and Fred didn't want to talk about it. Go totally figure.

My wrist is going to be absolutely hideous whenever my whole "mission to humankind" is over. Deidre is constantly attacking me, and for some reason, only on my wrist. Dumb dog. She loves Kylan, though, which seeing as how they've both got an evil streak the size of the Mississippi, it makes since. He told me that I just don't know how to handle her, which I really don't think is true. Dogs have never liked me. I don't do anything to them, but I'm the one who has to get a rabies shot almost every year because a loose dog bit me on the leg. I've got scars, no lie.

I got to meet another member of the Protectors (is that what they call them, again? I can't remember... It's something cheesey.). Her name's Alis Millan, and she's actually from 2099 --- A whole two hundred years ahead of 1899. Sheesh. Anyways, she's really cool and exciting, and she has a twin brother, Sendrick, who's really quiet and glares at me all the time. If it's true that there's always a good and and evil twin, he'd be the latter. They're both amazingly pretty, though, with these sharp-angled faces and black pointy hair, with -get this- violet contacts. Or... Well, I think they're contacts...

Anyways, court introduction is tonight, too, so I better catch some more rest before Ele comes up here to wake me up. Deidre made a point of not letting me sleep strictly, uh, well.

Stupid creature.

Informally, and with Deep Confusion,
TAMF

My Story.

I can't believe I'm actually doing this. You don't even KNOW the trouble I'd be in if anyone that knew me found out, let alone any of his other-worldly friends (and if you think I'm kidding, just wait). But you know, I don't even care if doing this is a sin or something, because you can only hold back secrets so long.

So, Fred, Mikal, Elemere, and mostly, Kylan, you self-absorbed jerk; if you're reading this, I'm sorry. I don't know how you'd ever get to access something like this unless you stole my laptop (so it's probably Kylan, in which case, thanks a lot), but you've got to understand, I'm begging you.

Alright. Well. I'm not and never have been good at starting an introduction or anything, so I'm just going to get to it, and probably end up telling my story in lumpy chunks of random words. If you can put it together to make sense, okay. If you can't, even better.

My name is Trey Anne-Marie Kalhan. I'm seventeen (but really, who isn't these days?) and auburn-headed (my hair goes down to mid-back, but according to Nina, I'm officially starting to grow it out more), with what Kylan would call 'weird and freezing' blue-gray eyes. I'm pale, which kind of works with the whole redish-brown hair thing, with freckles on both sides of my nose, which, if you knew the pressure I'm under to look "pure", is a horrible quality. I never liked them until now, though, so that just goes to prove that the bad things in life always look better at the really bad times.

Speaking of really bad times, I guess I should probably explain my whole situation. After all, that's the whole reason I've had to resort to a stupid blog. Most people would go to a shrink for these problems.

There's no shrinks, psychaitrists, or anything relating to mental health here. Being stuck in 1899 A.D., you just get thrown in prison if you're mentally unstable.

This is the point where most people start doubting me, and switching blog pages to something more interesting. But I can tell you now, I'm not lying. Victoria is queen, though she's rather annoying sometimes. I know. I've met her. One war has broken out so far this year, though no one knows the exact date (it's believed to be February 4th, but whatever): the Phillipene-American War. I didn't even KNOW we had a Philipene-American war until Mikal was teaching me current history (which, yeah, is kind of a contradiction in it's self, but seriously, it's needed --- just like Old English class. No kidding.), and Kylan seemed kind of amused that I was that "ignorant about my own countries past." (I informed him that the Second Boer War would break out this year in October, too, and he just rolled his eyes.)

So, if you get the jist, I'm not lying. And believe me, I wish I was.

If you're confused yet, just wait. It gets oh-so-much better.

I used to live in Augusta, ME, with my mom, two older brothers, and whoever Mom was currently dating. And when I say 'used to', I mean 'less than 96 hours ago.' No kidding. I had an okay life, and I was fine with it. It didn't bother me. I went to the local high school, I worked at the local grocery store... literally, I was one of those cookie-cutter kids. Until Bartholemew Saalem tried to kill me, and I woke up from a comatose state in the 19th century, because a group of people, the Protectors(a.k.a. Fred, Ele, and Ky), had to have a decoy fake Princess, and since Bartholemew, who if you didn't guess by now is the bad guy here, had already tried to kill me for reasons no one understands, they pulled me into the past to fit the part.

I'm tired. It's a pain dragging someone else into my mess.

Deidre, the Princess Dog, or whatever, is already starting to hate me. This whole staying-up-late-to-tell-my-story-illegally isn't helping, if I had to guess.

Informally, and with deep, dark pleasure,
TAMK