Complicated by Nftnat.
Hello. Recent convert to Hey Arnold! & reviewer of record here, about to submit my first HA! fanfic. For my first fic I'm attempting the dreaded songfic. And it's not even a song from BackSync or any other group from what I call the Orlando Sound (Britney, Christina, 98Degrees, Destiny's Child, etc); no, it's a country song. I know, but just wailt until you read the lyrics; it sounds just like Helga. I'd appreciate reviews, of course. And if my attention doesn't wander, I have much more in mind. Keep in mind this is my first fic; with the proper feedback they can only get better, & that's up to y'all.
Hey Arnold! is owned by Craig Bartlett, Snee-Oosh, and / or Nickelodeon which in turn is owned by Viacom. Complicated is written by Carolyn Dawn Johnson --- who also sings it --- and Shaye Smith, & is from the album (yes, I still call them albums) Room With a View on the Arista label.
"AAAUUUUGGHHH!!!!!" was the first word that escaped the lips of 12 year old Helga G. Pataki upon entering the comparable sanctuary of her room, said word being uttered as she fell onto her bed. After the requisite minute to regain her spirit --- such as it was --- she chose to take out her frustration by banging her head on her headboard and pouring out her latest failure to the four walls of her room.
"AGAIN! I did it AGAIN! Again I had the perfect chance to tell him, & again I push his feelings down into the mud & tread across them! Why can't I just tell him? And why do I keep asking myself the same questions I can never answer? What's wrong with me? Am I crazy? No, Dr. Bliss confirmed that I'm not crazy, so what is it?"
At that moment the banging finally attracted some attention from downstairs. "Helga, are you alright?" came the annoying slurred voice of her mother, followed by Big Bob's usual barking. "Hey, Olga, whatever you're doing up there, stop it!" Helga steeled herself for talking with her poor excuses for parents yet again. "I'm fine, Mom. And I've stopped, BOB! Thanks for caring as usual." She didn't talk with her parents any more than she had to; she found talking to them usually brought more problems than it solved. "Maybe I should be grateful they pay any attention to me at all", she thought, followed by "And maybe the Jolly Olly guy volunteers at Boys Town."
Helga figured this would be a good time to spend in communion with her shrine to her beloved. So she opened the doors to her closet, pushed her clothes back, & pushed the button on her boom box which would start the tape containing her worship music. Then she donned the ceremonial robe & headdress & prostrated herself in front of the football-shaped image. "Oh idyllic ideal idol in my intemperate idylls..." "Hey, alliteration! Not bad, Pataki.", she stopped for a self-pat on the back before returning to her worship. "I won't keep asking why I can't tell you how I feel. A better request would be that I have the inner strength to tell you how I feel. Please..."
But her idolatry was cut short by a ringing phone. A minute later,...
"Hey Olga, it's for you."
"I've got it, BOB. And it's Helga, Helga!"
"That's what I said, Olga. And no back talk!"
"UHHNHNH!!", was the manifestation of exasperation that escaped Helga's head as she grabbed her phone & fell onto her bed. "Why do I even bother?", she asked to the air, forgetting for a second the phone receiver in her hand within earshot.
"I don't know, Helga."
"Oh, hi Pheebs."
"Konichiwa."
"Please, after today I'm barely in a mood for English, much less any other language."
"Sorry."
"Hey," Helga asked, hearing a familiar song over the phone, "that sounds like Mr. Hyunh's song playing."
"Hmm? Oh, yes, it's on the radio right now."
"I didn't know you liked country music."
"My mom does."
"Oh. Um, could you hold the phone a minute?"
"Holding."
Helga put the phone down & went to her boom box in the closet. She pushed STOP on the tape deck & switched to FM, where she turned the dial to the local country station. Country music wasn't really her favorite, but Mr. Hyunh lived in the same building as her beloved, and anything she could do to feel closer to the orzo-shaped Prometheus she did. "Now where was I?"
"Out of sorts. Does this have anything to do with that incident in class?"
"*Pfft*, you could say that. Why'd that throw pillow have to drag the ol' Truth Crown out of mothballs anyway? He knows I have problems in that area."
"It did seem like deja vu. You were trying to say something nice about Arnold and then..."
"...and then boom! my baser instincts take over & I insult him again. And I tried to apologize to him later, but I messed that up as well! I just can't be honest with him at all." By this point in her life, Helga had figured out that Phoebe knew her secret & that there was really no point in pretending when it was just the two of them talking. It was really a bit of a release in her lifetime of tension, being able to open up a little bit around Phoebe, who in turn liked it that her best friend could act a little more like it. Of course, they still used the old euphemisms for Arnold on occasion.
Phoebe continued the conversation, "Hmm, maybe you have a brain freeze from all that ice cream."
"What are you talking about? I haven't had any ice cream today."
"I said maybe you have a BRAIN FREEZE from all that ICE CREAM!"
"Huh? Oh, oh, . Oh. Well, you're probably right Pheebs, but I've been down that road before. I kind of need my ice cream."
"True, but you realize you will have to deal with this someday."
"Someday, yes, but not today. Maybe tomorrow."
"You sound like Scarlett O'Hara."
"Well, after all," Helga affected in her best Southern belle voice, "tomorrow is another day.", which drew giggles from Phoebe.
"One thing, tho," continued Phoebe after her laughing fit subsided, "If you're Scarlett, & we know who Ashley is, where is Rhett?"
"Who knows, Pheebs. Maybe Ashley will turn out to be Rhett. You know, things don't always turn out like they do in the movies."
"Or the book, & you have a point, Helga."
"The book? You read the whole book?"
"It wasn't that big a deal. Just two chapters a day; I was finished in less than a month. Now reading War & Peace took a bit longer."
"Why am I not surprised."
"You're avoiding the issue again, Helga."
"So what's new?"
"You will have to face your fears on this subject."
"I know, but I can't do that yet! Not for a while, not for quite a while."
"Helga, you must realize that there is a finite number of times until 'not for quite a while' becomes 'never'."
"I know, I know! And it's tearing me up; I want to spill my guts but I can't."
Silence on the line.
"Pheebs?"
"I'm still here. I was just thinking."
"What about?"
"What we've been talking about. I've been giving it a great deal of thought over the years & I'm still at a loss as to how to proceed on it. It's a very complicated situation."
"Yeah, complicated. That's probably the word for my whole life. Well, if you can't figure out a solution I don't know who can."
"Well, thank you for the compliment. I'll keep trying."
"Thanks, Pheebs."
"So, are you still coming over tonight?"
"Sure. Any excuse I can use to get away from Miriam & Big Bob. Is it okkay if I come over at 7 this time?"
"So early?"
"Yeah, like I said any excuse I can use."
"Well, I guess that would be alright. We won't have that long to get ready, though."
"Me neither. I guess we'd better get to it, then."
"Preparing."
After she hung up, Helga noticed the country station still playing on her boom box. Some story song about the ghost of a soldier killed in 'Nam, haunting his '66 'Vette & saving the life of its new owner when he crashed it. Helga scoffed. "Hm. I'd have let him fry. Serve him right for crashing my car." By now her hand was on the Off button, but before she could push it she heard the name of the next song, "Complicated". Her recent conversation with Phoebe coming back into her mind, she let her hand drop. "It'll probably stink, but I guess I can spare three minutes." As the song's story unfolded, though, she was awed at the words; whoever wrote this must have been looking through her little pink books, there was just no other explanation.
I'm so scared that the way that I feel is written all over my face,
When you walk into the room I wanna find a hiding place,
We used to laugh, we used to hug, the way that old friends do,
"Hmm, he has hugged me a few times," she started before the next line cut off her voice again.
But now a smile & a touch of your hand just makes me come unglued.
"...and then there was that time at the restaurant when he sprayed me. Was he flirting?"
It's such a contradiction, should I lie or tell the truth,
Is it fact or fiction, oh, the way I feel for you.
It's so complicated, I'm so frustrated,
I wanna hold you close, I wanna push you away,
I wanna make you go, I wanna make you stay.
Should I say it? Should I tell you how I feel?
Oh, I want you to know; but then again, I don't.
It's so complicated.
"Who wrote this thing?!?" Helga wanted to shout. Her thought were now running the gamut from worrying that someone else knew her secret, to suing for a share in the royalties as there could be no way the words couldn't have come from her.
Just when I think I'm under control, I think I finally got a grip,
Another friend tells me that my name is always on your lips.
"It is?" she wondered, mentally going over the times Arnold had called her name, usually in response to yet another emparrassing display of hers.
They say I'm more than just a friend, they say I must be blind.
Well, I admit I've seen you watch me from the corner of your eye.
"The restaurant again," she thought.
Oh, it's so confusing; I wish you'd just confess.
But think of what I'd be losing if your answer wasn't yes.
It's so complicated, I'm so frustrated,
I wanna hold you close, I wanna push you away,
I wanna make you go, I wanna make you stay.
Should I say it? Should I tell you how I feel?
I want you to go, but then again I don't,
It's so complicated.
As the violins played the instrumental bridge, Helga's mind went into overdrive, replaying Arnold-related events --- recent & not-so-recent --- over & over. She also racked her brain trying to think of a time when someone could have seen her writings. "Wait a minute, Simmons has seen some of my poems." she said, recalling writing assignments in class, poems by 'Anonymous'. He wouldn't have... would he?"
It's so complicated, I'm so frustrated,
I wanna hold you close, I wanna push you away,
I wanna make you go, I wanna make you stay.
Should I say it? Should I tell you how I feel?
I want you to go, but then again I don't,
It's so complicated.
I hate it, 'cause I've waited so long for someone like you.
Should I say it? Should I tell you how I feel?
Oh, I want you to know; but then again I don't.
It's so complicated.
As the song faded, Helga waited for the station identification. As soon as she had it, she turned off her boom box & hit the phone book. After looking up the phone number of the station, it was back to the phone, where after ten minutes of runarounds she had the name of the song & its authors. "Carolyn Dawn Johnson & ?, alright. Now, tomorrow I can run that lead down & start to find out where they got the idea; it had to have been from my writings, there's just no other explanation." Her curiosity satisfied for the moment, she turned to more pressing matters, preparing for her sleepover at Phoebe's.
Well, that's it. Like I said, I'd appreciate it if y'all would review, please. Thank you. And no, I don't think I'll put out a sequel to this. I will be writing more HA! fics; I have one on the drawing board now but it won't be seeing ff.n for some time. There's a lot of ground to cover before I get to that one. Thanks in advance for the reviews, nice or otherwise; it's the only way I'll learn.
Hello. Recent convert to Hey Arnold! & reviewer of record here, about to submit my first HA! fanfic. For my first fic I'm attempting the dreaded songfic. And it's not even a song from BackSync or any other group from what I call the Orlando Sound (Britney, Christina, 98Degrees, Destiny's Child, etc); no, it's a country song. I know, but just wailt until you read the lyrics; it sounds just like Helga. I'd appreciate reviews, of course. And if my attention doesn't wander, I have much more in mind. Keep in mind this is my first fic; with the proper feedback they can only get better, & that's up to y'all.
Hey Arnold! is owned by Craig Bartlett, Snee-Oosh, and / or Nickelodeon which in turn is owned by Viacom. Complicated is written by Carolyn Dawn Johnson --- who also sings it --- and Shaye Smith, & is from the album (yes, I still call them albums) Room With a View on the Arista label.
"AAAUUUUGGHHH!!!!!" was the first word that escaped the lips of 12 year old Helga G. Pataki upon entering the comparable sanctuary of her room, said word being uttered as she fell onto her bed. After the requisite minute to regain her spirit --- such as it was --- she chose to take out her frustration by banging her head on her headboard and pouring out her latest failure to the four walls of her room.
"AGAIN! I did it AGAIN! Again I had the perfect chance to tell him, & again I push his feelings down into the mud & tread across them! Why can't I just tell him? And why do I keep asking myself the same questions I can never answer? What's wrong with me? Am I crazy? No, Dr. Bliss confirmed that I'm not crazy, so what is it?"
At that moment the banging finally attracted some attention from downstairs. "Helga, are you alright?" came the annoying slurred voice of her mother, followed by Big Bob's usual barking. "Hey, Olga, whatever you're doing up there, stop it!" Helga steeled herself for talking with her poor excuses for parents yet again. "I'm fine, Mom. And I've stopped, BOB! Thanks for caring as usual." She didn't talk with her parents any more than she had to; she found talking to them usually brought more problems than it solved. "Maybe I should be grateful they pay any attention to me at all", she thought, followed by "And maybe the Jolly Olly guy volunteers at Boys Town."
Helga figured this would be a good time to spend in communion with her shrine to her beloved. So she opened the doors to her closet, pushed her clothes back, & pushed the button on her boom box which would start the tape containing her worship music. Then she donned the ceremonial robe & headdress & prostrated herself in front of the football-shaped image. "Oh idyllic ideal idol in my intemperate idylls..." "Hey, alliteration! Not bad, Pataki.", she stopped for a self-pat on the back before returning to her worship. "I won't keep asking why I can't tell you how I feel. A better request would be that I have the inner strength to tell you how I feel. Please..."
But her idolatry was cut short by a ringing phone. A minute later,...
"Hey Olga, it's for you."
"I've got it, BOB. And it's Helga, Helga!"
"That's what I said, Olga. And no back talk!"
"UHHNHNH!!", was the manifestation of exasperation that escaped Helga's head as she grabbed her phone & fell onto her bed. "Why do I even bother?", she asked to the air, forgetting for a second the phone receiver in her hand within earshot.
"I don't know, Helga."
"Oh, hi Pheebs."
"Konichiwa."
"Please, after today I'm barely in a mood for English, much less any other language."
"Sorry."
"Hey," Helga asked, hearing a familiar song over the phone, "that sounds like Mr. Hyunh's song playing."
"Hmm? Oh, yes, it's on the radio right now."
"I didn't know you liked country music."
"My mom does."
"Oh. Um, could you hold the phone a minute?"
"Holding."
Helga put the phone down & went to her boom box in the closet. She pushed STOP on the tape deck & switched to FM, where she turned the dial to the local country station. Country music wasn't really her favorite, but Mr. Hyunh lived in the same building as her beloved, and anything she could do to feel closer to the orzo-shaped Prometheus she did. "Now where was I?"
"Out of sorts. Does this have anything to do with that incident in class?"
"*Pfft*, you could say that. Why'd that throw pillow have to drag the ol' Truth Crown out of mothballs anyway? He knows I have problems in that area."
"It did seem like deja vu. You were trying to say something nice about Arnold and then..."
"...and then boom! my baser instincts take over & I insult him again. And I tried to apologize to him later, but I messed that up as well! I just can't be honest with him at all." By this point in her life, Helga had figured out that Phoebe knew her secret & that there was really no point in pretending when it was just the two of them talking. It was really a bit of a release in her lifetime of tension, being able to open up a little bit around Phoebe, who in turn liked it that her best friend could act a little more like it. Of course, they still used the old euphemisms for Arnold on occasion.
Phoebe continued the conversation, "Hmm, maybe you have a brain freeze from all that ice cream."
"What are you talking about? I haven't had any ice cream today."
"I said maybe you have a BRAIN FREEZE from all that ICE CREAM!"
"Huh? Oh, oh, . Oh. Well, you're probably right Pheebs, but I've been down that road before. I kind of need my ice cream."
"True, but you realize you will have to deal with this someday."
"Someday, yes, but not today. Maybe tomorrow."
"You sound like Scarlett O'Hara."
"Well, after all," Helga affected in her best Southern belle voice, "tomorrow is another day.", which drew giggles from Phoebe.
"One thing, tho," continued Phoebe after her laughing fit subsided, "If you're Scarlett, & we know who Ashley is, where is Rhett?"
"Who knows, Pheebs. Maybe Ashley will turn out to be Rhett. You know, things don't always turn out like they do in the movies."
"Or the book, & you have a point, Helga."
"The book? You read the whole book?"
"It wasn't that big a deal. Just two chapters a day; I was finished in less than a month. Now reading War & Peace took a bit longer."
"Why am I not surprised."
"You're avoiding the issue again, Helga."
"So what's new?"
"You will have to face your fears on this subject."
"I know, but I can't do that yet! Not for a while, not for quite a while."
"Helga, you must realize that there is a finite number of times until 'not for quite a while' becomes 'never'."
"I know, I know! And it's tearing me up; I want to spill my guts but I can't."
Silence on the line.
"Pheebs?"
"I'm still here. I was just thinking."
"What about?"
"What we've been talking about. I've been giving it a great deal of thought over the years & I'm still at a loss as to how to proceed on it. It's a very complicated situation."
"Yeah, complicated. That's probably the word for my whole life. Well, if you can't figure out a solution I don't know who can."
"Well, thank you for the compliment. I'll keep trying."
"Thanks, Pheebs."
"So, are you still coming over tonight?"
"Sure. Any excuse I can use to get away from Miriam & Big Bob. Is it okkay if I come over at 7 this time?"
"So early?"
"Yeah, like I said any excuse I can use."
"Well, I guess that would be alright. We won't have that long to get ready, though."
"Me neither. I guess we'd better get to it, then."
"Preparing."
After she hung up, Helga noticed the country station still playing on her boom box. Some story song about the ghost of a soldier killed in 'Nam, haunting his '66 'Vette & saving the life of its new owner when he crashed it. Helga scoffed. "Hm. I'd have let him fry. Serve him right for crashing my car." By now her hand was on the Off button, but before she could push it she heard the name of the next song, "Complicated". Her recent conversation with Phoebe coming back into her mind, she let her hand drop. "It'll probably stink, but I guess I can spare three minutes." As the song's story unfolded, though, she was awed at the words; whoever wrote this must have been looking through her little pink books, there was just no other explanation.
I'm so scared that the way that I feel is written all over my face,
When you walk into the room I wanna find a hiding place,
We used to laugh, we used to hug, the way that old friends do,
"Hmm, he has hugged me a few times," she started before the next line cut off her voice again.
But now a smile & a touch of your hand just makes me come unglued.
"...and then there was that time at the restaurant when he sprayed me. Was he flirting?"
It's such a contradiction, should I lie or tell the truth,
Is it fact or fiction, oh, the way I feel for you.
It's so complicated, I'm so frustrated,
I wanna hold you close, I wanna push you away,
I wanna make you go, I wanna make you stay.
Should I say it? Should I tell you how I feel?
Oh, I want you to know; but then again, I don't.
It's so complicated.
"Who wrote this thing?!?" Helga wanted to shout. Her thought were now running the gamut from worrying that someone else knew her secret, to suing for a share in the royalties as there could be no way the words couldn't have come from her.
Just when I think I'm under control, I think I finally got a grip,
Another friend tells me that my name is always on your lips.
"It is?" she wondered, mentally going over the times Arnold had called her name, usually in response to yet another emparrassing display of hers.
They say I'm more than just a friend, they say I must be blind.
Well, I admit I've seen you watch me from the corner of your eye.
"The restaurant again," she thought.
Oh, it's so confusing; I wish you'd just confess.
But think of what I'd be losing if your answer wasn't yes.
It's so complicated, I'm so frustrated,
I wanna hold you close, I wanna push you away,
I wanna make you go, I wanna make you stay.
Should I say it? Should I tell you how I feel?
I want you to go, but then again I don't,
It's so complicated.
As the violins played the instrumental bridge, Helga's mind went into overdrive, replaying Arnold-related events --- recent & not-so-recent --- over & over. She also racked her brain trying to think of a time when someone could have seen her writings. "Wait a minute, Simmons has seen some of my poems." she said, recalling writing assignments in class, poems by 'Anonymous'. He wouldn't have... would he?"
It's so complicated, I'm so frustrated,
I wanna hold you close, I wanna push you away,
I wanna make you go, I wanna make you stay.
Should I say it? Should I tell you how I feel?
I want you to go, but then again I don't,
It's so complicated.
I hate it, 'cause I've waited so long for someone like you.
Should I say it? Should I tell you how I feel?
Oh, I want you to know; but then again I don't.
It's so complicated.
As the song faded, Helga waited for the station identification. As soon as she had it, she turned off her boom box & hit the phone book. After looking up the phone number of the station, it was back to the phone, where after ten minutes of runarounds she had the name of the song & its authors. "Carolyn Dawn Johnson & ?, alright. Now, tomorrow I can run that lead down & start to find out where they got the idea; it had to have been from my writings, there's just no other explanation." Her curiosity satisfied for the moment, she turned to more pressing matters, preparing for her sleepover at Phoebe's.
Well, that's it. Like I said, I'd appreciate it if y'all would review, please. Thank you. And no, I don't think I'll put out a sequel to this. I will be writing more HA! fics; I have one on the drawing board now but it won't be seeing ff.n for some time. There's a lot of ground to cover before I get to that one. Thanks in advance for the reviews, nice or otherwise; it's the only way I'll learn.
